Have Hope. Please Vote

 

Have Hope. Please Vote.

I have grown up in Waterloo. My connection to this community is not something I acquired recently by deciding to run for city council. It is woven into my life.

I went to Lincoln Heights Public School beginning in Grade 8, in the year the school first opened. From there I went to Waterloo Collegiate through its five-year technical program, including Grade 13, and eventually earned an Honours degree in Geography from Wilfrid Laurier University. I have lived, learned and grown up within a remarkably small radius of this city.

Politics has also been part of my life for a long time. I became politically engaged in my twenties and, over the years, I have voted Conservative, Liberal and NDP. I have never felt particularly comfortable being told that I must belong permanently to one political camp. My interest has always been in ideas, people and the direction in which we are taking our community.

That is probably why, after all these years, I find myself back where I started: at the municipal level.

I actually ran for office in 2006, under the banner of Smart Growth. One of my major concerns then was sustainable water supply. Twenty years later, in 2026, water sustainability is again one of the defining issues facing Waterloo.

How ironic.

Perhaps we are slow learners.

This campaign has reminded me of something else: democracy is not really about elections. Elections are simply the moment when we count the consequences of whether we have been paying attention.

On average, only about a third of eligible voters participate in municipal elections. That is daunting when you are knocking on doors. There are certainly moments when I wonder why I am doing this.

There are days when I trek through the rain, knock on a door and hear nothing. I stand there wondering whether I have made a terrible mistake. But those moments are surprisingly rare.

Most of the time, I am having the time of my life.

People are curious. They ask difficult questions. They challenge me to defend my positions. They tell me where they think I am wrong. Some have invited me into their homes and sat down with me for extended conversations about their neighbourhood, their concerns and their hopes for Waterloo.

And something unexpected has happened.

I have changed my point of view.

Not dramatically. Not on everything. But on several issues, my position has moved a few degrees because somebody took the time to explain how they see the world.

I find that fascinating and invigorating.

That, to me, is democracy.

It is not standing on a platform and telling people what they should think. It is listening, arguing respectfully, reconsidering, learning and occasionally admitting that someone else has a better point.

There is an important lesson in that for all of us.

The world seems to be standing at a cusp. We are dealing with enormous changes in technology, the economy, the environment, demographics and the way we communicate with one another. There is uncertainty everywhere.

In such a world, local government may be more important than ever.

We need somewhere where people still know their neighbours. Somewhere where we can argue about a sidewalk, a pothole, a park, a traffic problem or a development proposal and still recognize one another the next morning.

We need community.

And we need to preserve a sense that our community belongs to all of us.

But there is a troubling side to what I am hearing as I campaign.

I have talked to many people who have simply given up.

They are cynical about government. They believe the system has failed them. Some mock the entire political process. Others tell me they will not vote because, in their minds, it makes no difference.

I don’t pretend to understand all the reasons for this apathy.

Some people are busy. Some are disengaged. Some have never developed an interest in politics. Some are frustrated. Some have been disappointed so many times that they no longer believe their participation matters.

And some have simply stopped believing that anyone is listening.

That last group concerns me the most.

Because I am beginning to see a connection between being ignored and becoming apathetic.

A person calls about a sidewalk that needs repair. Another reports a pothole. Someone wants a dangerous crosswalk made safer. Someone wants a traffic problem addressed. Another asks when an old stump will finally be removed.

These may seem like small matters to a bureaucracy.

They are not small matters to the person who lives there.

When people repeatedly make reasonable requests and receive no meaningful response, something begins to happen. Frustration becomes anger. Anger becomes cynicism. Cynicism becomes disengagement.

Eventually the person says, “Why bother?”

Then they don’t volunteer.

They don’t attend the meeting.

They don’t contact their councillor.

And eventually, they don’t vote.

That is how democracy slowly erodes—not necessarily through some dramatic event, but through thousands of small disappointments.

I am writing this as I wait for a call from my own city.

I recently contacted the City about planting trees on a popular toboggan hill in my ward. Residents have raised concerns and have made repeated efforts to get an answer. They feel they are being ignored.

The irony is not lost on me.

Here I am campaigning to become a city councillor while waiting for the very government I hope to serve to return my call.

I mention this not to embarrass anyone, but because it illustrates the problem.

Government has to listen.

It has to respond.

It will not always be able to say yes. In fact, responsible government must sometimes say no. But there should be an explanation. People deserve to know that their concerns have been heard and considered.

A responsive government may disappoint you.

An unresponsive government makes you feel invisible.

There is a difference.

I am not naïve enough to believe that electing one councillor will fix all of this. Nor do I believe that everyone who doesn’t vote is apathetic or doesn’t care. Life is complicated, and there are many legitimate reasons why people disengage.

But I do believe that participation matters.

I believe that talking to your neighbours matters.

I believe that challenging your councillor matters.

I believe that changing your mind when presented with a better argument is a strength, not a weakness.

And I believe that voting matters.

My campaign has actually strengthened my faith in democracy. Not because everyone agrees with me. Quite the opposite.

It is because so many people still care deeply about this place.

They care about their streets, their parks, their schools, their neighbours, their taxes, their water, their environment and the future of their children.

They care enough to open their doors and talk.

That gives me hope.

I have lived in Waterloo for most of my life. I have watched it change. I have participated in its politics before, and now, twenty years later, I am knocking on doors again.

I don’t expect everyone to agree with me.

I don’t even expect to get everything right.

But I do promise to listen.

And I hope that on October 26, you will do something equally important.

Please vote.

Even if you are disappointed.

Even if you are cynical.

Even if you have decided that your vote won’t make a difference.

Please reconsider.

Democracy survives because ordinary people decide that it is worth the effort.

So, after all the knocking on doors, the rain, the unanswered bells, the arguments, the conversations and the occasional change of mind, I have come to a fairly simple conclusion:

Have hope.

Stay involved.

Talk to your neighbours.

And on October 26, please vote.

Not just for me.

Vote for your community.

Vote because it is yours.

And never, ever lose that sense of belonging to something grander and more important than yourself.  

Marty Rempel