Category Archives: Transportation & Infrastructure

Thoughtful analysis of how we move and connect: via trains, planes, bikes, and broadband. These posts look at transit systems, public investment, rail revival, and the critical role of infrastructure in shaping equitable, sustainable societies.

Backroom Ontario: How the Ford Government Governs in the Shadows

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The Ford government’s recent actions paint a troubling portrait of a leadership increasingly comfortable with obfuscation, procedural shortcuts, and performative consultation. Across multiple files, from environmental policy to Indigenous relations, Queen’s Park has displayed a consistent pattern of backhanded governance, marked by secrecy, evasion, and a disregard for both democratic norms and legal obligations.

The Greenbelt scandal exemplifies this tendency in sharp relief. Ontario’s Information and Privacy Commissioner recently condemned the Ford government for deliberately making it difficult to track internal decision-making on land development. Staff used code words such as “GB,” “special project,” and most egregiously, “G*” in email subject lines, deliberately sabotaging searchability within the government’s own filing systems. Coupled with the use of private email accounts and a notable absence of meeting minutes or documentation, the evidence suggests not mere carelessness, but a concerted effort to obscure deliberations over one of the province’s most politically explosive issues.

This level of secrecy isn’t just bureaucratic mismanagement, it’s political damage control in real time. The government’s reversal of Greenbelt development plans did little to reassure the public, especially in the absence of any credible explanation or documentation as to how those decisions were made in the first place. When even watchdogs with statutory authority can’t access the paper trail, public accountability becomes a hollow phrase.

Meanwhile, Bill 5, part of the so-called “Unleashing the Economy Act”, reveals an equally unsettling willingness to bypass consultation and oversight in the name of economic development. This omnibus legislation fast-tracks industrial and mining projects across northern Ontario, including the ecologically sensitive Ring of Fire region, by reducing or eliminating requirements for municipal and environmental approvals. Most critically, it sidelines the constitutional duty to consult Indigenous communities.

First Nations leaders, particularly in Treaty 9 territory, were quick to denounce the bill. Chiefs burned environmental documents in protest and staged rallies in Thunder Bay, accusing the province of engaging in “consultation theatre”, informing communities of decisions only after they were made. Even a last-minute amendment to include optional post-passage consultations did little to mollify concerns. The government’s approach sends a clear message: consultation is something to be endured, not engaged.

What ties the Greenbelt and Bill 5 controversies together is not just their shared disregard for transparency and inclusion, but the mechanisms used to enforce that disregard. Whether through technical manipulation of record-keeping systems, suppression of documentation, or legislative sleight-of-hand, the government repeatedly avoids open debate and sidesteps legal and ethical responsibilities. It’s a governance style rooted in control, not collaboration.

These are not isolated incidents. The Ford administration has shown a consistent pattern of centralizing power through Minister’s Zoning Orders (MZOs), a tool meant for rare and urgent cases. Since 2019, the Premier has issued MZOs at an unprecedented rate, frequently overriding municipal decisions, and benefiting well-connected developers. Auditor General reports have raised red flags, and opposition parties have warned that such orders erode local democracy and set dangerous precedents. Still, the pattern continues, unimpeded.

Other examples confirm the trend. In 2018, the Ford government launched a controversial “snitch line” encouraging parents to report teachers who used an updated sex-ed curriculum, a move widely condemned as punitive and authoritarian. In 2019, sudden changes to autism services blindsided thousands of families, leading to mass protests and eventual policy reversals. Yet, even in those reversals, the government refused to acknowledge fault, framing retreats as “adjustments” rather than admissions of flawed policy-making.

This is politics by backchannel, a deliberate erosion of democratic norms dressed in the language of efficiency. Public engagement is reduced to afterthought; opposition voices are ignored or demonized; and when watchdogs raise the alarm, they are met with silence or spin. In each case, the common denominator is the Ford government’s willingness to weaponize the machinery of governance against transparency.

The implications are serious. Trust in institutions erodes when those in power show contempt for the very mechanisms designed to hold them accountable. The duty to consult Indigenous communities is not an optional courtesy, it is a constitutional requirement. Environmental stewardship and municipal autonomy are not bureaucratic hurdles, they are democratic protections. To dismiss them is not just arrogant, but reckless.

Unless reined in, this mode of governance threatens to become normalized. The lesson emerging from Queen’s Park is clear: when political expedience trumps process, communities lose their voice, environmental safeguards are gutted, and Indigenous sovereignty is sidelined. This should alarm all Ontarians, regardless of political stripe.

The Ford government’s backhanded approach may win short-term headlines or developer applause, but the long-term costs, to transparency, legitimacy, and public trust, are steep. If Ontario is to retain even the appearance of responsible government, it must reject this cynical model and restore meaningful consultation, clear record-keeping, and respect for constitutional obligations as non-negotiable principles of provincial governance. Anything less is a betrayal of public service.

OC Transpo: A Two-Decade Decline in Rider-Centric Service

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As a long-time Ottawa resident and observer of our city’s public utilities, I’ve witnessed firsthand the transformation of OC Transpo from a model of efficient public transit to a system riddled with challenges. Over the past two decades, a series of missteps, underinvestment, and a departure from rider-focused planning have led to a decline in service quality, reliability, and public trust.

From Transitway Triumph to LRT Troubles
In the 1980s, Ottawa’s Transitway was lauded as a pioneering bus rapid transit system, setting a benchmark for cities worldwide. Its dedicated bus lanes and efficient service made public transit a viable option for many residents. However, the shift towards the Light Rail Transit (LRT) system, particularly the Confederation Line, marked the beginning of a tumultuous era. 

Launched in 2019, the Confederation Line was plagued with issues from the outset. Frequent service disruptions due to door malfunctions, electrical failures, and even derailments became commonplace. These problems not only inconvenienced riders but also necessitated the reallocation of buses to cover LRT routes, further straining the bus network .

Service Cuts and Declining Reliability
In recent years, OC Transpo has implemented significant service reductions, often without adequate public consultation. For instance, in 2021, the agency planned service cuts without seeking rider input, leading to widespread criticism . By 2024, the city had cut $47 million from OC Transpo’s capital budget, removing 117 aging buses without replacements, resulting in a 3.5% reduction in bus service hours . 

These cuts have had tangible impacts on riders. Students, for example, have reported overcrowded trains, erratic service, and high fares, leading to dissatisfaction and calls for meaningful reforms . Community feedback has consistently highlighted issues with reliability and a lack of focus on the city core .   

Financial Strains and Leadership Challenges
The COVID-19 pandemic exacerbated OC Transpo’s challenges. A 38% drop in ridership since 2019 led to a $36 million revenue shortfall . Despite these financial strains, the agency increased fares in 2024, disproportionately affecting seniors and youth riders .  

Leadership changes have also marked this period. The recent departure of General Manager Renée Amilcar underscores the need for a strategic reevaluation of OC Transpo’s direction. Transit advocates have called for a “serious, honest” review of the system to address its myriad issues . 

A Call for a Rider-Centric Vision
To restore public trust and improve service quality, OC Transpo must adopt a rider-centric approach. This includes engaging with the community to understand diverse transit needs, investing in infrastructure to ensure reliability, and providing transparent communication about service changes. Equitable access must be prioritized, ensuring that transit services are affordable and accessible for all demographics.

The challenges facing OC Transpo are significant, but not insurmountable. By focusing on the needs of riders and committing to transparency and accountability, Ottawa can rebuild a public transportation system that serves its citizens effectively and efficiently.

The Northlander Returns: A New Era for Rail in Northern Ontario

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The vast majority of my readers know how enthusiastic I am about the continued development of public transportation capacity, and especially trains for regional services.  

After more than a decade of absence, the Ontario Northlander train is poised to make its triumphant return, and for many in Northern Ontario, it couldn’t come soon enough. This isn’t just a story about a train line being revived. It’s about equity, connectivity, environmental sustainability, and economic renewal. As someone who has spent the better part of my career analyzing and advocating for robust public transit solutions, I see the Northlander’s revival as a long-overdue correction to a critical transportation misstep.

The Ontario Northlander was first launched in 1976, operated by Ontario Northland Railway (ONR), as a passenger rail service running between Toronto and Cochrane. For decades, the train was a vital artery, an essential link between rural northern communities and the political, economic, and cultural hub of Southern Ontario. Students rode it to university. Seniors depended on it for healthcare visits in the city. Tourists boarded it in search of pristine lakes and forests. And entire communities built their sense of connection around it.

Then, in 2012, the service was cancelled. The provincial government at the time pointed to financial unsustainability and declining ridership, replacing the train with bus service. But buses, while useful, were never an adequate substitute for the comfort, reliability, and year-round stability of rail. For the people of the North, many of whom already feel excluded from Queen’s Park’s decision-making, the cancellation was a bitter pill. And so, for over a decade, the memory of the Northlander lived on not as a nostalgic curiosity, but as a symbol of something lost and needed again.

Fast-forward to 2021, when the Ontario government formally announced that it would restore Northlander rail service. The new plan is far more ambitious than a simple restart of the old route. This time, the train will run between Toronto and Timmins, with a continuation to Cochrane, and it will serve up to 16 stops along the way. North Bay, Temiskaming Shores, Kirkland Lake; these are not just waypoints, but communities that have long been underserved by modern transportation infrastructure. The revival is no half-measure. It’s a $139.5 million commitment, involving track upgrades, station refurbishments, and the acquisition of three brand-new Siemens Venture trainsets. These aren’t your grandfather’s rail cars. They’ll feature accessible washrooms, Wi-Fi, wider seating, power outlets, and onboard storage for mobility aids, meeting the full range of needs for modern travellers.

One of the most exciting aspects of the Northlander’s return is the attention being paid to operational timing and scheduling. Service is expected to begin by the end of 2026, with trains running between four and seven days per week, depending on demand and seasonal needs. The journey from Toronto to Timmins will take about 10 to 11 hours, and both daytime and overnight departures are being considered to best accommodate passengers. This scheduling approach reflects a deeper understanding of how people in the North actually travel, whether they’re making medical trips, visiting family, or commuting for work. It’s not just about frequency; it’s about relevance and reliability.

There are several layers of benefit to this project, each more meaningful than the last. First and foremost, it’s about connectivity. For too long, Northern Ontario has been left behind in the transportation conversation, despite its immense contributions to the provincial economy through mining, forestry, and tourism. Reconnecting the North to the South by train helps bridge not only physical distances but economic and cultural divides as well. Trains don’t just move people, they move opportunity.

Economically, this revival is a catalyst. Local businesses will benefit from improved mobility for both workers and customers. Tourism operators can expect a boost as more visitors opt for the scenic, stress-free route north. And for municipalities along the route, the return of passenger rail service is a magnet for investment in everything from hospitality to infrastructure. The Northlander isn’t just arriving—it’s bringing momentum with it.

There’s also a compelling environmental case. In a province increasingly focused on climate resilience, rail offers a significantly greener alternative to individual car travel and regional flights. Each trainload of passengers represents dozens of vehicles off the road, translating into measurable reductions in greenhouse gas emissions. For Ontario to meet its long-term sustainability goals, projects like the Northlander aren’t just helpful, they’re necessary.

Perhaps most importantly, though, this train is about accessibility and inclusion. Whether you’re a senior with limited mobility, a student on a tight budget, or a resident of a remote community without a driver’s license, the Northlander offers something invaluable: freedom. The freedom to travel without dependence on a car. The freedom to access services and opportunities that would otherwise be out of reach. And the freedom to feel seen and served by the systems meant to support you.

The Northlander’s return is not a silver bullet, and challenges will remain. Ridership must be cultivated through thoughtful marketing and community outreach. Service quality must be maintained. And long-term funding must remain a political priority, no matter who holds office. But none of these challenges are insurmountable. What matters most is that the train is coming back, new, improved, and loaded with promise.

For too long, the Northlander was a missing piece of the provincial puzzle. Its return is not only an act of restoration but of renewal. It affirms that every corner of this province matters, and that no community should be cut off from the future by virtue of its geography. So, all aboard. The North is on track once again.

Sources
• Ontario Northland: The Northlander
• Ontario Government Announcement: Passenger Rail in the North
• BayToday: All Aboard for the New Era of the Northlander
• Wikipedia: Ontario Northlander
• Northern Policy Institute: Passenger Rail and Northern Access

America’s Orbital Firewall: Starlink, Starshield, and the Quiet Struggle for Internet Control

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This is the fourth in a series of posts discussing U.S. military strategic overreach. 

In recent years, the United States has been quietly consolidating a new form of power, not through bases or bullets, but through satellites and bandwidth. The global promotion of Starlink, Elon Musk’s satellite internet system, by US embassies, and the parallel development of Starshield, a defense-focused communications platform, signals a strategic shift; the internet’s future may be American, orbital, and increasingly militarized. Far from a neutral technology, this network could serve as a vehicle for U.S. influence over not just internet access, but the very flow of global information.

Starlink’s stated goal is noble: provide high-speed internet to remote and underserved regions. In practice, however, the system is becoming a critical instrument of U.S. foreign policy. From Ukraine, where it has kept communications running amidst Russian attacks, to developing nations offered discounted or subsidized service via embassy connections, Starlink has been embraced not simply as an infrastructure solution, but as a tool of soft, and sometimes hard, power. This adoption often comes with implicit, if not explicit, alignment with U.S. strategic interests.

At the same time, Starshield, SpaceX’s parallel venture focused on secure, military-grade communications for the Pentagon, offers a glimpse into the future of digitally enabled warfare. With encrypted satellite communications, surveillance integration, and potential cyber-capabilities, Starshield will do for the battlefield what Starlink is doing for the civilian world; create reliance on U.S.-controlled infrastructure. And that reliance translates into leverage.

The implications are profound. As more countries become dependent on American-owned satellite internet systems, the U.S. gains not only the ability to monitor traffic but, more subtly, to control access and shape narratives. The technical architecture of these satellite constellations gives the provider, and by extension, the U.S. government, potential visibility into vast amounts of global data traffic. While public assurances are given about user privacy and neutrality, there are few binding international legal frameworks governing satellite data sovereignty or traffic prioritization.

Moreover, the capacity to shut down, throttle, or privilege certain kinds of data flows could offer new tools of coercion. Imagine a regional conflict where a state dependent on Starlink finds its communications subtly slowed or interrupted unless it aligns with U.S. policy. Or a regime facing domestic protest suddenly discovers that encrypted messaging apps are unusable while government-friendly media loads perfectly. These aren’t science fiction scenarios, they are plausible in a world where one nation owns the sky’s infrastructure.

To be clear, other countries are attempting to catch up. China’s satellite internet megaconstellation, Europe’s IRIS² project, and various regional efforts reflect a growing recognition that information access is the new frontier of sovereignty; but the U.S. currently leads, and its fusion of commercial innovation with military application through companies like SpaceX blurs the line between public and private power in ways few international institutions are prepared to regulate.

The result is a form of orbital hegemony, an American-controlled internet superstructure with global reach and few checks. The world must now grapple with a fundamental question: in surrendering communications infrastructure to the stars, have we handed the keys to global discourse to a single country?

Sources
• U.S. Department of Defense (2023). “DOD and SpaceX Collaborate on Starshield.”
• U.S. State Department (2024). Embassy outreach documents promoting Starlink in developing nations.
• Reuters (2023). “SpaceX’s Starlink critical to Ukraine war effort.”
• European Commission (2023). “Secure Connectivity Initiative: IRIS² Explained.”

Public Consultation or Box-Ticking Exercise? A Critical Look at a Local Battery Storage Project

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Last week, I attended a public consultation in my township concerning the proposed development and operation of a battery storage facility. While I support the idea of more distributed energy systems; including local generation, storage, and distribution, I left the session with more concerns than confidence.

The generational divide in the room was striking. The corporate representatives were mostly in their late 20s or early 30s, while the attending community members were primarily in their 50s and 60s. That’s not a critique of age, but it did highlight a gap in understanding and communication. One representative I spoke with didn’t even know the name of our village or the township they were in, and confused our location with the nearest city. That lack of local awareness is troubling.

When it came to questions about employment, the answers were just as vague. There are no local jobs being created by this facility. Pressed on this point, the company conceded that construction would likely be contracted out to a large regional firm. So much for community economic development.

Technically, this consultation was part of the process required to secure project approval. But calling it a “consultation” is generous. In practice, it was an information session for a project that already has funding and, by all appearances, a green light, once the required Environmental Assessment has been completed and approved. Input from residents was neither requested nor meaningfully incorporated. That’s not consultation—that’s optics.

There was discussion of the township gaining a $300,000 gift from the business, yet when this was explored further, it turns out that the gift is over the 20 year projected life of the facility; so by my calculations that’s $15,000/year for a township with an annual budget of around $4.5 million. 

I also learned that the company developing this project, which is ultimately owned by a private corporation through a series of businesses, partnered with a local First Nation to qualify for the contract. On paper, this is a positive step. I strongly support Indigenous involvement in provincial development, but I couldn’t help but ask: beyond a share of the profits, what is the First Nation partner actually gaining from this deal? Meaningful involvement? Job creation? Capacity building? Those questions went largely unanswered.

Many of the company reps struggled to answer even basic questions. When challenged, they became defensive, admitting they were not properly briefed or that statements about local benefits were merely “possibilities.” That kind of unpreparedness doesn’t inspire public trust.

Let me be clear: I’m not opposed to the project itself. I believe in the need for renewable energy infrastructure, and support the transition to a more decentralized grid. I have no “Not In My Backyard” objections here. My issue is with the process, and with the privatization of what should be a public utility. This kind of infrastructure should be owned and operated by the province for the benefit of its citizens, not by private firms whose primary accountability is to shareholders.

If this is the future of our energy system, we need a better framework, one rooted in public ownership, transparent processes, and genuine community engagement.

Starline Rising: Europe’s Bold Bid for a Unified Rail Future

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The proposed European Starline network is one of the most ambitious public transit visions in recent memory, something akin to a “metro for Europe.” Spearheaded by the Copenhagen-based think tank 21st Europe, Starline aims to stitch together the continent with a seamless, high-speed rail system connecting 39 major cities from Lisbon to Kyiv and from Naples to Helsinki. This isn’t just about faster travel; it’s about redefining the European journey altogether, and it’s rooted in a bold reimagining of what pan-European mobility can look like by 2040.

At the heart of the proposal is a network spanning some 22,000 kilometers, linking major hubs across western, central, eastern, and southeastern Europe. It would include lines reaching into the UK, Turkey, and Ukraine, signaling an inclusive and forward-looking approach that consciously resists narrow political borders. The idea is to create a truly integrated space where high-speed train travel is the norm, not the exception, where rail becomes the obvious choice over short-haul flights and intercity car travel.

Unlike fragmented current systems with varying standards and operating procedures, Starline envisions a unified travel experience. All trains would operate at speeds between 300 and 400 km/h, offering significant reductions in travel time and presenting a credible challenge to regional air traffic. The service concept is refreshingly egalitarian, with no first-class carriages, a commitment to accessibility, and a shared passenger experience across the board. Trains will include quiet zones, family-friendly areas, and social lounges, and even the design language, the distinctive deep blue exterior, is meant to invoke a sense of unity and calm.

Sustainability is not an afterthought here; it’s central. The project is committed to using 100% renewable energy, aligning with Europe’s broader decarbonization goals. This kind of modal shift, enticing millions of travelers out of planes and cars and into sleek, silent electric trains, could be transformative in reducing carbon emissions across the continent. It positions Starline not only as a transportation solution, but as a climate policy instrument, a concrete answer to many of the EU’s lofty green commitments.

The governance model proposed is equally forward-thinking. A new European Railway Authority would oversee everything from scheduling and ticketing to safety and security standards, providing a single-point authority for what is now a patchwork of national rail operators. The financing model would rely on a blend of public investment and private-sector partnerships, a necessity for infrastructure of this scale and ambition.

To be clear, Starline is still a proposal. The target date for launch is 2040, and the path to realization is strewn with political, technical, and financial hurdles, but as a vision, it is breathtaking. It offers not just improved travel times, but a new way of thinking about European identity and connectivity. For public transportation advocates, it’s a blueprint worth championing, and watching closely.

The Desert Reactor That Could Power the Future

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I’ve spent decades watching promising nuclear technologies come and go; from breeder reactors to pebble beds to compact fusion dreams. Most end up in the “what might have been” pile, but something different is stirring in the Gobi Desert, and for once, the promise feels within reach. China’s recent success with a small thorium-fueled molten salt reactor (MSR) might just be the beginning of the nuclear renaissance we’ve all been waiting for.

It’s not just that they got the reactor running, that’s impressive in itself. What’s groundbreaking is that China’s researchers, operating under the Chinese Academy of Sciences, didn’t just fire up the experimental two-megawatt reactor. They ran it at full power and, in a world first, reloaded it while it was still running. That kind of feat is only possible with molten salt designs, where the fuel is dissolved in a hot liquid and circulates through the reactor like lifeblood. That fluid nature allows for continuous refueling, which not only boosts efficiency, but also sidesteps many of the safety risks that haunt traditional pressurized water reactors.

Molten salt reactors have long been the “what if” of nuclear design. The U.S. tried this back in the ‘50s at Oak Ridge, looking for ways to power nuclear bombers. But once uranium became the fuel of choice, and the Cold War demanded weapons-grade material, thorium was shelved. China dusted off those old reports (many of which were openly published), studied them carefully, and got to work. Now, they’re ahead of everyone else in a race that could redefine what nuclear power looks like in the 21st century.

And it’s not just about the molten salt. Thorium, the element at the heart of this reactor, is a game-changer. It’s far more abundant than uranium,  about three to four times as common in the Earth’s crust, and it doesn’t carry the same baggage. While uranium reactors inevitably produce plutonium-239 (which can be used for bombs), thorium reactors don’t. In fact, the byproducts of the thorium fuel cycle are notoriously hard to weaponize. It’s nuclear energy with a built-in disarmament clause.

Safety, too, is baked in. Unlike conventional reactors that operate under enormous pressure, molten salt reactors run at atmospheric pressure. There’s no steam explosion risk. If things start overheating, a freeze plug at the base of the reactor melts, draining the fuel into a safe containment tank. The fuel simply stops reacting. This isn’t theory, China’s demonstration shows it works.

We’re talking about a reactor that produces less waste, can’t easily be weaponized, runs more efficiently, and might even be paired with renewables or used to generate clean hydrogen. Add in the fact that thorium is cheap and widely available, and you start to wonder: why didn’t we do this sooner?

The answer, of course, is politics, economics, and inertia, but that may be changing. China’s quiet, but steady march toward thorium MSRs has now captured global attention. If this tiny desert reactor is scaled up, it could provide a path toward carbon-free baseload power, without the nightmares of Fukushima, or the baggage of Cold War proliferation. It’s not just a technological breakthrough. It’s a glimpse of a world powered differently.

And for once, that’s a world I believe we can build.

Sources:
South China Morning Post: “China’s experimental molten salt reactor project achieves major milestone” (https://www.scmp.com/news/china/science/article/3247984)
Nuclear Engineering International: “China achieves online refuelling with MSR” (https://www.neimagazine.com/news/newschina-achieves-online-refuelling-with-msr-11607915)
World Nuclear Association: “Molten Salt Reactors” (https://world-nuclear.org/information-library/current-and-future-generation/molten-salt-reactors.aspx)
Oak Ridge National Laboratory archives on MSR development (https://info.ornl.gov/sites/publications/files/Pub29596.pdf)
National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine: “Thorium Fuel Cycle — Potential Benefits and Risks” (https://nap.nationalacademies.org/catalog/13368/thorium-fuel-cycle-potential-benefits-and-risks)

Ottawa’s Quiet Revolution: The 15-Minute City and the Rise of Local Commerce on Residential Lots

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The City of Ottawa is in the midst of a bold, transformative journey; one that’s reshaping how we live, move, and connect. It’s called the “15-minute neighbourhood,” a simple idea with radical potential.  What if everything you need; groceries, a decent cup of coffee, childcare, your barber, a pharmacy, were just a short walk from your front door? No car required. No long bus rides, just a neighbourhood that works for you.

Ottawa’s New Official Plan, approved in 2021, plants the seeds for this future. At its heart is a commitment to building inclusive, sustainable, and healthy communities. The plan explicitly prioritizes 15-minute neighbourhoods across urban areas, and even pushes for better access to local services in suburban and rural villages. That’s right, this isn’t just a downtown pipe dream. This is city-wide policy.

What’s especially exciting is the quiet, determined push to overhaul the zoning rules that have long governed what can (and can’t) exist in our neighbourhoods. The city is in the thick of writing a new Zoning By-law, and the early drafts reveal a big shift. Residents may soon be able to host small-scale businesses on their own properties. Imagine that, a ground-floor bakery under your neighbour’s apartment, a tiny yoga studio two blocks over, a tailor or vintage shop tucked into a backyard laneway suite. This is no longer just theoretical, it’s in the works.

Ottawa planners are calling these new “Neighbourhood Zones,” and they reflect a sea change in how we think about land use. Rather than rigidly separating residential, commercial, and institutional uses, the city is beginning to embrace a more flexible, mixed-use vision; one that makes space for life to happen more organically. And yes, that means you might be able to open that little business you’ve always dreamed of, without needing to rent expensive storefront space on a commercial strip.

It’s not all roses yet. The first draft of the new by-law has been published, and city staff are collecting public feedback. A second draft is expected in spring 2025, with final council approval tentatively set for fall of the same year. Until then, existing zoning remains in place, but if the final version holds true to its promise, we’ll see the biggest zoning reform Ottawa has seen in decades.

Of course, this kind of change raises questions. Will small businesses in residential zones create noise or traffic? How will parking be handled? Will local character be preserved or diluted? These are fair concerns—and ones the city must address carefully. But the potential benefits are enormous: stronger local economies, reduced car dependency, and vibrant, human-scaled communities.

My regular readers will know that I am a supporter of the 15-minute community. I grew up in NE England where nearly everything we needed on a daily basis was within a 15 min walk, and so I am happy to see that for Ottawa this isn’t just a slogan here, it’s becoming real. And if we get this zoning update right, we may just find ourselves living in a more neighbourly, resilient, and walkable city than we ever imagined.

The Ottawa Amalgamation Failure

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The amalgamation of the 13 municipalities into the single-tier City of Ottawa in 2001 was touted as a transformative move. It was expected to streamline governance, reduce redundancy, and create financial efficiencies. Promises of improved municipal services and lower taxes were at the forefront of the pitch made by the Harris government in Ontario. However, in practice, the amalgamation has faced widespread criticism for its failure to fulfill these expectations. I worked as a member of a geospatial applications team to support evidence-based decision making during this transition, and it soon became clear that politics rather than data and community requirements was driving the bus. 

Improved Services
One of the primary promises of amalgamation was to standardize and enhance municipal services across all former municipalities. However, this promise has not been fully realized, particularly for rural and suburban areas, which have often felt left behind. Several key issues have been noted:

Prior to amalgamation, smaller municipalities had tailored services suited to their unique needs. Post-amalgamation, rural areas, such as West Carleton and Rideau-Goulbourn, have voiced concerns over reductions in services like road maintenance, snow clearing, and public transit availability. Urban-centric planning has often overshadowed rural priorities. Rather than simplifying governance, the larger bureaucratic structure of the amalgamated city has at times hindered efficient decision-making. Residents have reported delays in service delivery and inefficiencies in resolving local issues.

One of the most visible struggles has been with Ottawa’s public transit system, particularly with the Ottawa Light Rail Transit (LRT) project. This has been plagued by cost overruns, operational challenges, and inadequate service in suburban and rural areas. Residents question whether the amalgamated city’s centralization has exacerbated these issues.

Lower Taxes
Another major promise was the reduction of property taxes due to economies of scale and centralized administration. However, this has not materialized, and in many cases, taxes have increased. Many residents of rural and suburban areas have seen tax hikes without proportional improvements in services. Before amalgamation, smaller municipalities often operated with lower budgets and tax rates tailored to their limited scope. Amalgamation brought uniform tax rates, which disproportionately impacted these regions.

Amalgamation created unforeseen administrative and operational costs. For example, the integration of different IT systems, payroll structures, and service contracts has led to ballooning expenses. These costs have been passed on to residents through higher taxes. The perception that rural residents are subsidizing urban infrastructure projects, such as the LRT, has deepened dissatisfaction. Rural areas often feel they are paying higher taxes for services that primarily benefit the urban core.

Loss of Local Control
Another often-overlooked consequence of amalgamation has been the loss of local decision-making. Smaller municipalities had more control over their budgets, development priorities, and service delivery. Post-amalgamation, these decisions are centralized, often resulting in policies that do not reflect the needs of individual communities. This has alienated many residents and fostered distrust in the amalgamated city’s leadership.

Evaluation and Criticism
Critics argue that amalgamation prioritized financial theories over the realities of local governance. While some benefits of centralization, such as unified planning and a larger economic development strategy, have been achieved, the overall failure to deliver on improved services and lower taxes has undermined public confidence. Amalgamation’s implementation lacked sufficient consultation with residents and did not adequately address the diverse needs of Ottawa’s urban, suburban, and rural communities.

The amalgamation of Ottawa’s 13 municipalities was envisioned as a way to create efficiencies and deliver better services at lower costs. However, the reality has been far more complex, with significant gaps between promises and outcomes. The perceived failure to deliver on these promises has left many residents, particularly in rural and suburban areas, feeling underserved and overtaxed. This has sparked ongoing debates about whether the amalgamation truly benefited the diverse communities it was meant to unite or whether it simply centralized problems under a single, unwieldy structure.

Beyond Alto: The Ripple Effect of High-Speed Rail on Local Transit and Business

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The Alto high-speed rail project is poised to do more than just transform intercity travel—it will also act as a catalyst for expanded local public transportation networks and economic growth in smaller communities along the corridor. High-speed rail doesn’t exist in isolation; it requires efficient first- and last-mile connections to ensure that travelers can seamlessly reach their final destinations. As Alto stations are developed in cities like Peterborough and Trois-Rivières, there will be a natural demand for increased bus services, light rail connections, and other forms of public transit to serve passengers arriving and departing from these hubs.

In cities like Ottawa and Montreal, where light rail transit (LRT) networks are already in place or under development, Alto will likely drive additional investment in urban transit expansion. Commuters traveling into these cities will need efficient ways to connect from high-speed rail stations to workplaces, universities, and residential areas. This could lead to the creation of new LRT lines, expanded bus routes, and improved transit hubs that integrate multiple modes of transportation under a single, seamless system. Toronto, for instance, may see an expansion of its GO Transit network or additional streetcar service to accommodate increased passenger flow from the high-speed rail station.

Smaller communities like Peterborough, which has long suffered from limited transit options, stand to benefit significantly. With an Alto station positioned in the city, businesses catering to travelers—hotels, restaurants, and retail establishments—will likely see increased activity. At the same time, local governments may prioritize the development of new transit services, such as regional bus routes that connect surrounding rural areas to the high-speed rail station. This increased connectivity could make Peterborough a more attractive destination for commuters who work in Toronto or Ottawa but prefer the affordability and quality of life found in a smaller city.

The economic ripple effects extend beyond just transit and business development. High-speed rail has been shown in other countries to attract new industries, create demand for office space near stations, and encourage residential development in previously overlooked areas. With Alto, towns along the route could see a surge in interest from businesses looking to take advantage of the improved connectivity. Real estate markets may also experience a boost as professionals and families consider relocating to these areas, knowing they can quickly access larger cities for work or leisure.

Ultimately, Alto is not just about linking major urban centers—it’s about reshaping the broader transportation ecosystem. By creating a high-speed backbone, it encourages cities and towns to rethink their own transit strategies, leading to improved local services that benefit both residents and visitors. If properly managed, this project has the potential to generate a more interconnected and accessible transportation network across Ontario and Quebec, fostering economic growth and enhanced mobility for generations to come.