I can't forget Canada froze bank accounts of protesters. Now singing O Canada feels hollow

< warm>This number one mortal pillar is the see of Gord Larson, who lives in Calgary, and is part of a Canada Day series exploring what Canada means to people across this country. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ.

I've never felt more patriotic pride than when singing O Canada with a crowd of hundreds at a protest shutting down the Coutts border crossing.

It was February 2022. My wife had just lost her job after refusing to get vaccinated against COVID-19. I worried I might be next, but took heart as the trucker convoy headed to Ottawa. We couldn't join them, so instead we drove south from Calgary to Coutts, Alta., for two days to show our support.

The crowd was so big that we had to walk 15 minutes down the highway just to get to the protest. The spirit of community, where everyone just wanted to pitch in and help, was almost overwhelming.

A pastor led us in prayer and then the whole crowd launched into O Canada, just belting it out with everything we had. I even saw the RCMP join in the singing. Just typing this and remembering that moment makes the hair on my arms stand up.

What does Canada mean to me? In that moment, I was filled with pride. I saw Canada as a force for democracy and freedom in the world and felt sure it would listen to the voice of its own citizens. 

But this feeling didn't last. Ottawa's response to these protests left me feeling betrayed, and today I'm at a place where I never thought I'd be: in favour of separatism. 

I was born in Chilliwack, B.C. I was a bit of a nerd for politics and paid attention when Reform candidate Chuck Strahl came to speak with my high school graduating class in 1993. He shared the party's plans for a more inclusive system, one with a balance of power that wouldn't allow Quebec's separatist debates to keep dominating the national agenda.

Repeating the party slogan, he said, "The West wants in!"

And for me, as a young man eavesdropping on my parents' frustrated conversations, that made everything click. 

Later that year, I was old enough to vote.

I was standing in line at the voting location when I heard another voter say the election had already been called for the Jean Chrétien Liberals. The votes from Atlantic and Central Canada were enough for a win. It felt like my vote didn't even matter. 

I learned a lot about the roots of Western alienation in the years that followed. 

I studied political science at the University of Northern British Columbia in Prince George and learned we've never had true proportional representation in Canada because of the grandfather and senatorial clauses in the Constitution. The smaller provinces in Atlantic Canada are always overrepresented compared to provinces such as Alberta and Ontario.

In 2002, I moved to Calgary, where oil was fuelling an economic boom. It was heady stuff; I picked up a skilled trade and found a pride of purpose far greater than I had in university. 

But surrounded by other Albertans, I began to see Canada's equalization system as a personal issue — my taxes and my community being disrespected by an unfair system. 

I started reading about the details and learned, for example, about Quebec being the largest beneficiary of equalization. It subsidizes hydroelectricity for its residents but isn't required to account for the revenue it's giving up. That's a political decision and it would be richer if it charged full price.

Albertans pay full price for their electricity. But through equalization, Quebec gets to hold out its hand. Instead of a thank you, Quebec politicians insult our "dirty energy" while buying record amounts of gasoline.

That made me bitter and angry, but at that point, I still had hope for change and was loyal to Canada. In a referendum to separate, I wouldn't have checked the box to actually leave my country. Now it's changed.

The COVID-19 pandemic hit hard. I watched my personal rights erode. I was shocked at the pressure I felt to get vaccinated and how I'd be verbally attacked if I argued. I'm still so angry at this.

The convoy and the border protest were an effort to be heard, and I followed the developments from Ottawa closely, checking conservative news blogs each morning. I would have been with the trucker convoy if I could have taken time off work.

For two-and-a-half weeks before the Emergencies Act was invoked, the convoy occupied the blocks around Parliament Hill and not one car was burned, not one shop looted. There were charges, but none for police officers assaulted. I can understand why it was hard for Ottawa residents to live with. But personally, I saw nothing I thought could justify a government invoking that act, which I see as an extreme response.

I was horrified when, instead of talking with convoy protesters about why they were upset, the provincial government convinced a court to freeze the GiveSendGo account, and worse, without a court order, the RCMP got banks to freeze the personal bank accounts of people protesting. Then police moved in to clear the streets and there was a standoff.

To me, this was naked authoritarianism and two years later, a federal judge ruled the Liberal's use of the Emergencies Act was unreasonable.

But no one within the government or banking system has been disciplined. Not one new law was created to protect the integrity of personal banking, and now the Liberal government has even been re-elected.

I sang O Canada with another crowd this year. I was in a downtown Calgary pub in February for the Four Nations Cup. I tried to belt it out like before, but it felt hollow this time.

I've finally lost hope. I don't think "the West wants in" anymore. For me, the West wants out.

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Freelance contributor

Gord Larson lives in Calgary and works in a skilled trade within the oil and gas industry.

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