I don't know many committed separatists. But I know people who are angry and hungry for change
Matthew Morin is a Calgary resident who is drawn toward Alberta separatism because daily life feels more precarious and he feels those on top don’t seem to care.
The feeling that life is now precarious shapes my view of independence
Matthew Morin · for CBC First Person
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This First Person column is the experience of Matthew Morin, who lives in Calgary. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ. Also, check out our series on the Alberta referendum here and learn how we selected the writers.
After work on a recent evening, I was waiting for the C-train on 8th Street in downtown Calgary, right by the convenience store we locally call Crack Macs.
Off to one side, I saw a woman slumped from a likely overdose while her friend pushed the Narcan dispenser up her nose. To my left, two police officers were handcuffing another woman on the cement.
A few minutes later, a man asked me if I was selling side (slang for methamphetamine). Apparently I looked like a drug dealer to him. But, I mean, in this economy, who wouldn’t be, right?
As I was about to board the train, I looked up and on the TV screens at the station as a written news announcement rolled by: StatsCan publishes data showing violent crime is down.
I chuckled. Welcome to the world of hypernormalization — where systems are broken, statistics don't reflect the lived reality and politicians carry on as if it's acceptable.
This is what is shaping my view of Alberta independence — the feeling that life is now precarious and those in charge don’t seem to care.
Downtown Calgary wasn’t like this when I used to come for a night out as a young man in the 2010s. And it’s not just the state of downtown. Friends looking for work aren’t getting interviews. Meat and fresh vegetables have become careful purchases for those in my circle. Plans to buy a home have quietly died for a lot of people I know.
I see it at my work in the health sector where we sometimes talk about the lack of resources for the vulnerable — shelters at capacity, waitlists for programs that were once quick to access, programs underfunded and stretched beyond capacity, a drug and mental health crisismismanaged by political and corporate entities.
It feels like they have left us — regular Canadians and Albertans — to manage the disarray.
When I first heard separatism being discussed, it was in the context of getting more of a voice for Alberta. Premier Danielle Smith was pitching her Sovereignty Within a United Canada Act and I thought that might be enough to quell that discontent and that it would provide Albertans a greater sense of control over their future.
But I was wrong. The discontent is larger than I first thought, and Smith and the federal government’s actions over the last three years haven’t improved life here on the ground.
Now when I think about the anger I feel and see around me, I think the rupture began even earlier, during COVID.
For me, it wasn’t about whether the rules were important or not. It was about how they were implemented and enforced. The dystopian experience of having to show vaccine passports, people getting in trouble for ice skating, the federal government freezing Convoy protesters’ bank accounts, closing small businesses while big-box stores stayed open, and seeing politicians dining together on a rooftop as if they’re exempt from their own rules — these rules made me realize how little political capital the average citizen actually holds.
In a video widely shared on social media in December 2020, Calgary police are shown telling a man to leave the ice. When he refuses, he is eventually taken to the ground by officers. Despite signage posted at the site, police said more than 40 people were using the outdoor rink — breaking gathering restrictions intended to prevent the spread of COVID-19. (Facebook)
Since then, the world has gotten more volatile. When politicians on both sides focus on pronouns and book bans, all the -isms, more DEI or less DEI, all the culture war issues that most people are exhausted by — it just seems tone deaf.
This is on both the federal and provincial governments. They can insist this is a “vibecession,” not a recession. They can announce that immigration is “under control,” that crime rates are stable, that tens of thousands of jobs were added, that GDP is up or that a pipeline might get built. None of that matters when a single tomato at the till costs $2.50 or broccoli is $3.99/pound, the neighbourhood feels less safe and that our wages aren’t keeping up.
Most people I know aren’t separatists; most people I know are angry. The line between those two groups gets blurred. And when I’m ticked off at the situation and it feels like no one in power actually cares, I feel the urge to look for a new solution, even if it’s radical.
But of course, I’m not about to just vote in anger.
As the debate over separation grew, I started to follow the separatist leaders on social media and watch their public comments. Some of this leaned into the conspiratorial: allegations of Chinese communist plots in Canada or of election fraud. There was a post, since taken down, that mocked Calgary’s mayor as too flamboyant, and others saying that Canada should have accepted the trade deal with the U.S.
The social commentary feels exclusionary, especially as a gay man myself, and the choice to align with the U.S. felt more 51st state adjacent rather than pro-Alberta.
Not all the leaders are like this. Keith Wilson articulates separatist thinking in a way that I can sometimes nod along with, especially when he’s talking about the material struggles of Albertans and the economic case for independence.
Keith Wilson, leader of independence group Let Alberta Decide. (Jennifer Chevalier/CBC)
But overall, these posts make me skeptical. I’m not sure I trust most of the separatist leaders to actually lead this movement.
I don’t know what will happen on Oct. 19. We might see a strong showing for separation simply as a protest vote. But I’ll bet even a strong showing for the remain side is not going to end talk of Alberta independence; the anger here is far larger than the people willing to entertain the idea of separation.
People are looking for hope, and when I’m standing in downtown Calgary, watching all this misery around me, I’m looking for hope, too.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Matthew Morin is a proud Albertan based in Calgary and holds a master’s of social work from the University of Toronto. His fiction has appeared in NōD Magazine and Inscape.
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