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First published at Global News on August 11, 2017.

Imagine an aviation working group that lacked pilots, or a doctorless task force tackling regulation of health-care providers.

That isn’t far off from the reality of the Canadian Firearms Advisory Committee (CFAC), the government-appointed panel charged with advising the Minister of Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness, Ralph Goodale, on changes to Canada’s gun laws.

As a gun owner, I’ve written about regulations that don’t enhance public safety in the least, but do pose a risk to otherwise law-abiding gun owners, who become criminals because of something as minor as missing paperwork.

The Liberals have previously suggested they’re open to rolling back some of the reforms enacted by the previous Conservative government, easing these restrictions.

They don’t seem too interested in listening to what gun owners have to say, however. Lawful gun owners have first-hand knowledge of the laws’ shortcomings, making us a valuable resource for lawmakers who are serious about enacting change.

Yet, the major organizations representing Canada’s gun owners are conspicuously absent from CFAC.

It’s been noticed. Over 14,000 people have signed a petition sponsored by Conservative MP Michelle Rempel, calling on the government to require each CFAC member to acquire “their Possession and Acquisition License (PAL), without which they lack a baseline understanding of the activities they are tasked with regulating.”

The petition is being championed by Tracey Wilson, the outspoken spokeswoman of the Canadian Coalition for Firearms Rights (CCFR), who says Goodale has fallen short of his promise of a balanced committee.

Despite Wilson’s request for consideration of a committee seat, no one from her organization is on the panel, nor from the National Firearms Association or the Canadian Shooting Sports Association (CSSA).

In the interest of disclosure, I am a paying member of the CSSA, though I have no formal role, nor am I connected to any other firearms groups.

These groups have tens of thousands of members, but they apparently aren’t as deserving of a seat at the table as, say, an emergency room physician or the head of the Canadian Women’s Foundation. If the government is going to take a “the-more-the-merrier” approach to building the committee, why exclude the most obvious choices?

The exclusion of these groups isn’t for lack of space. Only 10 of the committee’s 15 spots are filled, with half of its members connected to the anti-firearm Coalition for Gun Control.

The government does filter legislation through a gender-based lens, but there’s nothing balanced about women’s groups and public health advocates outnumbering those directly impacted by the laws in question.

In response to the petition, Goodale’s office told me it would be too triggering for committee vice-chair Nathalie Provost, a survivor of the massacre at Montreal’s Polytechnique school, to learn about the firearms she wants to ban.

“It would be insensitive and inappropriate to require a survivor of the Polytechnique shootings to work with firearms in order to serve on CFAC. [To obtain a Possession and Acquisition Licence, you are required to pass a Canadian Firearms Safety Course. While this is classroom-based, it involves handling disabled and inert firearms and ammunition]” said Scott Bardsley, Goodale’s press secretary.

He didn’t dispute the importance of firearms knowledge, but said it already exists on the committee.

“While we agree that members of the Canadian Firearms Advisory Committee (CFAC) should be well-informed about firearms safety training and licensing, we respectfully believe there are more appropriate means to achieve it,” Bardsley said of the petition. “Because decisions about firearms affect all Canadians, CFAC’s membership is representative of a broad range of interests — in addition to those who are part of the firearms community.”

Bardsley pointed to Olympic sport shooter Lynda Kiejko, Ducks Unlimited president and hunter James Ernest Couch and hunting lodge owner Barbara Genge in particular, as gun-savvy CFAC members.

“All are eminently capable of providing advice informed by the training the petitioners suggest,” Bardsley said.

In an interview on my radio show, Wilson said she’s not convinced.

“I understand that you’ve got to have some points of view on both sides, but there isn’t that existing on this committee,” she said. “The majority of gun owners may be hunters, but you’ve also got almost a million RPAL (Restricted Possession and Acquisition Licence) holders. These are people who are handgun or black rifle shooters. We’ve got no representation on there.”

It’s illegal for hunters to use the restricted guns of which Wilson speaks, so hunting advocates can’t really speak to the excessive transport regulations around them, for example.

The committee’s makeup suggests the Liberals are trying to stack the deck with those who will make the recommendations already desired by the government.

Appointing gun advocates to an advisory committee would be, at the very least, a commitment to listen. Though it looks like Trudeau and Goodale are afraid these groups might actually make sense.

First published at Global News on August 4, 2017.

This week delivered a rare victory for a victim of social media mob justice.

A Dallas wedding photographer was awarded US$1.08 million from two newlyweds who relentlessly lambasted her online over a $125 photo album fee.

Following a lengthy and vicious blogging and social media campaign – which later seeped into traditional media coverage – the photographer was forced to shut down her business and live off of savings after she was only able to sign two clients for the season.

By all accounts, the couple was in the wrong over the initial dispute, but the facts of any case grow increasingly insignificant when matters are litigated on social media.

The throngs posting tweets, Facebook updates and Internet comments are indiscriminate. Often, they’re filled with people who don’t even have a dog in the fight, but still want to fuel it 140 characters at a time.

The volume and tone of these messages make them as personally demoralizing as they are career-ending.

Take, for example, Ken Pagan, the former sports writer and newspaper editor who shot to infamy in Canada – and Maryland – after throwing a beer can onto the field of a playoff game between the Toronto Blue Jays and Baltimore Orioles last fall.

Earlier this summer, Pagan was given a discharge for one count of mischief, conditional on 12 months of probation and 100 hours of community service. The judge sagely noted the real punishment had come from the social media outcry over the previous eight months.

The 42-year-old lost his job and reputation over what he called a “weak moment,” chalking it up to alcohol. His apology for the incident appears sincere, so it was disappointing to hear how much he has paid for something so relatively minor above and beyond his official punishment.

Pagan has been subjected to continuous badgering, threats, harassment of his family and everything in-between. In an interview with CBC, Pagan’s mother shared a moment where his spirit dampened after a random message calling him a “loser” on Christmas morning – months after the incident. I imagine this wasn’t a rare occurrence given the volume of antagonism being thrown his way.

Most people would advise ignoring it, but that’s difficult to do when it’s your name and life in the mob’s warpath.

I went through my own digital hell a couple of years ago, when my own social media missteps exploded in my face.

I had erred. As had Pagan. As have others targeted by the virtual masses. The punishments rarely, if ever, fit the crimes.

My belief is not that comments and actions should be immune from criticism. Calling out wrongdoing is an important element of human communication; social media is a valuable tool for doing so.

But social media mobs have a bloodlust that goes far beyond wanting to simply right wrongs. Their goal is maximum damage.

Those driving these virtual lynchings are uninterested in nuance, instead favouring complete destruction of career, family and arguably personal happiness.

In the justice system, deciding whether someone is guilty is just one part of the equation. A judge also determines what sentence is appropriate. That doesn’t happen in the court of Twitter.

If a media personality says or does something offensive, the petitions and hashtags don’t demand an apology, or a backroom reprimand by human resources – they call for firing.

And even that isn’t enough generally, as there are those who want the “offender” prevented from ever working again. It worked on Pagan, who left media and is now working as a janitor.

I saw this during my own trials as my critics discussed, publicly, the best way to frame their comments in such a way that they could be found in Google searches about me for years to come.

This is neither healthy nor constructive. We’ve created a climate that could ruin anyone’s life at the drop of a hat – particularly as we move closer to a world in which everyone has a digital footprint from childhood onward, and every moment of one’s life is catalogued.

We’ve lost the willingness to engage with adversaries directly and privately to sort out grievances.

A restaurateur friend of mine told me recently that she doesn’t hear of most complaints until the customer types out a bad Yelp review from home – hours, days, or even weeks after they dined there.

Minor issues that could easily be dealt with at the side of the table, instead become public spectacles.

It’s no secret that most people say things through their keyboard they never would face-to-face. No one seems to consider the implication of these words on the receiver.

This is not to say that harmful actions shouldn’t be treated as such. Rather, it’s about recognizing that we all make mistakes, and some day, we will all be under the microscope for something.

Nobody wins when someone combats one’s indiscretion with a campaign intended to harm.

If you do this, proceed with caution – it’s only a matter of time until you’re the one in the crosshairs.

First published at Global News on July 28, 2017.

From his Niagara Falls interview on Live with Kelly and Ryan to this week’s cover story in Rolling Stone, Justin Trudeau’s media presence looks more like that of a washed-up actor plotting a comeback than of a world leader.

The Rolling Stone cover teased the magazine’s predominantly American audience with the question “Why can’t he be our president?”

Those of us anticipating an in-depth analysis of the presidency’s eligibility requirements as set out by Article II of the United States Constitution were instead met with a 6,800-word Trudeaupian love letter anatomizing the prime minister’s socks, wavy hair, and even the timbre of his voice.

No politician would turn down positive press, so I don’t fault Trudeau and his team for the tone of the article. I do, however, take issue with Trudeau’s pattern of seizing only the media opportunities seemingly guaranteed to be free of criticism.

The interviews for the Rolling Stone article, entitled “Justin Trudeau: The North Star” were conducted in multiple locations over several months, so the piece wasn’t the product of a phone call squeezed between summits and trade negotiations.

Author Stephen Rodrick appears to have had a level of access for which most Canadian journalists would kill. This isn’t a one-off, either.

The Rolling Stone piece was published the same week as an appearance by Trudeau on West Wing Weekly, an American podcast co-hosted by former West Wing star Joshua Malina.

In that interview, Trudeau said the political drama “coloured (his) approach” to being the prime minister. He even admitted that his debate prep involved watching West Wing episodes on YouTube. One man’s procrastination is another’s governing, I suppose.

It’s entirely possible these remarks were Trudeau’s attempt at flattery, but I haven’t seen evidence of any deeper influence in his premiership, which so far is as heavy on style as it is light on substance.

This article is the latest in Trudeau’s pursuit of a reputation of coolness rather than competence. He seems to revel in his status as a folk hero to American liberals, despite his primary obligation being to Canada.

Canadians suffer under this strategy, as they rarely get to see him engage with the press or public in a way that will see him challenged.

In the 20 months since Trudeau became prime minister, I have requested multiple interviews with him. Some of these requests have been met with radio silence — not even the courtesy of a reply. When his office has responded, the answer has always been no.

As a conservative talk show host critical of many of the Trudeau’s policies, I do understand his aversion to my show. Though it’s worth noting that my audience spans the political spectrum, as do my guests.

Take Ontario Premier Kathleen Wynne, for example, a Liberal politician who has come on my show myriad times, as have several members of her cabinet. The interviews have been challenging, but also cordial and civil.

A true leader shouldn’t be afraid to stand by their work and engage with critics.

I can’t find any record of Trudeau, as prime minister, having any dialogue with conservative interviewers, in fact. If the Prime Minister’s Office cites time constraints in turning down interview requests I’d be interested in seeing the tally of hours spent with Rolling Stone‘s Rodrick.

In fairness to Trudeau, I did interview him once before he was prime minister, in early 2015. He answered the majority of my questions without issue, but did stumble – according to a number of conservative and liberal commentators – when asked to articulate his position on military issues.

The interview may not have been as fun as his glitzy American ones – there was no talk of socks or anything like that, as is apparently now the protocol – but it was far more illuminating.

When Trudeau embarked upon his cross-country tour in January, I assumed a robust press tour would accompany the public town hall meetings.

But once again, there was no room in the schedule for an interview on my show. Though he did call into local music stations to request Tragically Hip songs and tell the giddy announcers he was “just here to say hi to people.”

There may be political value in these stunts, but they are shallow and vapid from a person more focused on likability than leadership.

Rodrick tells a story in the Rolling Stone article of Trudeau high-fiving reporters before issuing a glowing platitude about how “the back and forth between the press and government is essential to any good democracy.”

If Trudeau truly believed that, he’d open himself up to less predictable and fawning interviews. Until then, us conservative broadcasters remain, in the words of Bob Dylan, “like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone” to the prime minister.

First published at Global News on July 21, 2017.

From daily security briefings to a salary of over $200,000 per year to lifetime speaking privileges on the floor of the Senate, an American president’s term of office never truly ends.

Things are different in Canada, where a prime minister enters a life of relative obscurity after tendering their resignation to the Governor General. This inconspicuous, graceful exit from public office isn’t even shared among other Commonwealth nations, as former British and Australian prime ministers receive a handsome package of paid expenses to aid them in their post-political life.

Though Canadian prime ministers get to keep the “Right Honourable”, the Canadian Heritage department’s protocol guide says that in conversation, one should address a former prime minister as “Mr./Mrs./Ms./Miss (name)”, a far cry from the lifetime moniker of “Mr./Madam President” held by American heads of state.

In a thoughtful op-ed in the Ottawa Citizen this week, public historian and former prime ministerial speechwriter Arthur Milnes wrote that Canada’s former prime ministers should be treated as public officials, and given the respect – and money – that goes along with such recognition.

Milnes’ essay is part of a series penned for Canada’s sesquicentennial, but part of the piece’s motivation lies in the sheer volume of ex-prime ministers of Canada right now.

“What makes all this so important to discuss today is the very real fact that our country is blessed with more former prime ministers who are alive and still willing to serve — seven of them — than at any time in our nation’s history since 1867,” he wrote.

From John Turner, who entered and left office in 1984, to Justin Trudeau, almost a third of the 23 prime ministers the country has ever seen are still kicking.

Former prime ministers receive pensions, but no other privileges or perks. The Canadian Taxpayers Federation estimates Stephen Harper receives an annual Member of Parliament’s pension of $127,000, which will increase by $58,000 per year when he turns 67.

In Canada, the loss of public benefits seems to match the loss of reputation awaiting our former heads of government. When Joe Clark was assaulted in Montreal in 2007, it was only after the assailant asked him, “Are you Joe Clark, the former prime minister?”

Only in Canada does one need to double check the identity of a prime minister before clocking him in the face.

Though I disagree with Milnes on whether former prime ministers should hold an official role, we are in lockstep in the belief that many of them still have something to offer Canada.

However, I don’t think these offerings are ignored at present. Kim Campbell was tapped by the current government to chair the advisory board for appointing Supreme Court justices. Brian Mulroney has been brought in to help Trudeau’s government liaise with Donald Trump’s administration, in particular on trade issues.

These responsibilities are sometimes informal, but also unpaid. As Milnes points out, not every former prime minister is wealthy. Campbell, due to her short time in office, receives no pension as prime minister or even as a former member of parliament.

Any support staff, office expenses or travel budgets must be paid for privately.

When Harry Truman left the White House, he didn’t even have enough money to hire a correspondence secretary. This sparked the implementation of the Former Presidents Act, which mandated an ongoing salary, office budget and lifetime Secret Service protection for ex-presidents.

But the world has changed since the Truman era. Today’s media climate makes being a former head of government a lucrative job. American presidents make tens of millions of dollars annually from book royalties and speaking fees.

“I’ve never had any money until I got out of the White House,” Bill Clinton told CNN’s Wolf Blitzer in 2010. “But I’ve done reasonably well since then.”

Even in Canada, past prime ministers on the speaking circuit attract anywhere from $20,000 to $50,000 per speech, by many accounts, not to mention well-paying postings with think-tanks and law firms.

This allows them to remain accessible to advise the current government, but also to turn their attention towards whatever pet projects they’d like, generally outside of the limelight.

It seems to be working. Campbell has had more of an impact as an advocate and media commentator on non-proliferation, education and global democratization after public life than she ever did within it.

Similarly, Paul Martin has taken up Aboriginal issues with gusto through his foundation.

In the last two years, Stephen Harper has spoken out about Israel, suggesting this may shape at least a part of his post-political legacy.

All of this is done without the celebrity and fanfare that so often impede the work of active duty politicians.

When the sun sets on the political career of prime ministers, it often marks the beginning of another. This quiet power is uniquely Canadian, and we’re better for it.

First published at Global News on July 14, 2017.

“You were suicidal? That makes you mentally ill! Why would anyone give you a microphone?”

That was among the first messages into my radio show this week after I made an off-handed reference to my 2010 suicide attempt.

I say off-handed because it’s hardly a revelation at this point, having written and spoken about my struggles with depression and suicide publicly for several years now.

While living with depression, I was always good at putting on my game face. So much so that when I was planning to end my life, I was so used to burying my true emotions that I never even considered opening up to those around me.

When I raise the issue now, the response is overwhelmingly positive — though not exclusively so, clearly.

From time to time, a callous soul emerges from such a dialogue, as was the case with the above message not-so-subtly telling me those with mental illness don’t deserve a platform in life.

As a talk show host, it’s not a work day if I’m not called a name or accused of being something bad, so I can take it. My concern comes from knowing that somewhere else, this is the reaction awaiting a vulnerable person who, for the first time in their life, reaches out to a friend, co-worker or relative for help.

The Canadian Mental Health Association estimates one in five Canadians will personally experience mental illness in their lifetime. So, if you know more than four people, you’ll cross paths with someone personally impacted by it, if you haven’t already.

For those doing the math, that’s 7.2 million people in the country facing this kind of judgment for no other reason than being sick.

I don’t want to sell short the successful efforts we’ve seen in Canada tackling and breaking down the mental illness stigma, but we can’t rest on our laurels now.

“Awareness” is not the problem.

There’s Bell Let’s Talk Day in January, Mental Health Week in May, September’s World Suicide Prevention Day, and Mental Illness Awareness Week in October, not to mention at least half a dozen diagnosis-specific awareness days and weeks. We’re so busy being aware collectively that we’re not confronting the issue in our own lives.

Virtually every month of the year has some sort of designation addressing mental illness, yet those individuals who speak out personally are routinely shot down. Cultural acceptance of mental illness won’t happen if we don’t tackle individual intolerance.

Just this week, a Michigan software developer posted a screenshot of her company’s chief executive officer’s response to her announcement that she was taking two days off to “focus on my mental health.”

Olark CEO Ben Congleton thanked her for helping to “cut through the stigma” by reminding people how sick days are just as important for mental health as they are for physical health.

Of course, some people responded with the concern that employees can abuse the system if this becomes acceptable. So what? What’s to stop people from feigning physical illness to get out of work now? What those raising this possibility are actually saying is that they don’t believe the struggles of workers with mental illness are legitimate.

That isn’t to say there aren’t those who conflate sadness with depression, or stress with anxiety, but experiencing mental illness is not a rarity, so it shouldn’t be treated as a fringe phenomenon.

While encouraging, the reality is that Congleton’s reply is not a typical one.

After sharing the nasty message I received, I heard from countless others who have similarly been chastized or mocked when they opened up.

One was a journalist who, after writing about her depression experience, was patronized by a reader who felt bad about criticizing the journalist because she was clearly so sensitive.

Don’t get me wrong — we’re crazy sometimes, but we’re not children.

An acquaintance who lives with schizophrenia — a disorder that affects one per cent of the population but is still widely misunderstood — told me he “can’t count the number of times” people have assumed he’s dangerous when they learn of his situation.

More commonly I heard from people who would love to speak out but just don’t want to deal with the backlash.

The irony is that I may be contributing to that apprehension in writing this, but I feel it’s important for people to know the realities of mental health discourse.

When I first told the world of my suicide attempt, it was after I’d made a commitment to myself to leverage my pain for bigger change. Meanies won’t stop that, but they will stop others from seeking help.