Tewin and the Shape of Ottawa’s Future

At the moment, I don’t feel I know enough about this developing issue to take a position, so I plan on monitoring the situation and perhaps look at the bigger picture.  

Four years ago, Ottawa city council voted to expand the urban boundary into lands southeast of the city to create a massive new suburban community called Tewin. The project, a partnership between the Algonquins of Ontario (AOO) and Taggart Group, envisions housing for up to 45,000 people on 445 hectares of land. This expansion was one of the most controversial planning decisions of the last decade, both for its symbolic weight and its long-term implications. Today, councillor Theresa Kavanagh has re-opened the debate, proposing that Tewin be stripped from Ottawa’s Official Plan. Her efforts highlight the difficult choices cities face between growth, climate goals, and Indigenous reconciliation.

The Promise of Tewin
Supporters of Tewin present it as a once-in-a-generation opportunity. For the Algonquins of Ontario, the project represents an unprecedented role in shaping Ottawa’s future. After centuries of dispossession, Tewin offers not only revenue streams and jobs but also visibility in the city’s urban fabric. This symbolic dimension, land not merely ceded or lost, but built upon in partnership, is difficult to dismiss.

Developers and some councillors also argue that Ottawa must accommodate population growth. With Canada’s immigration targets rising, pressure on housing supply is intense. Tewin promises tens of thousands of new homes, potentially designed with modern sustainability standards. Proponents emphasize that large master-planned communities can integrate parks, schools, and infrastructure in ways that piecemeal infill cannot. In this vision, Tewin is not sprawl, but a carefully designed city-within-a-city.

The Cost of Sprawl
Yet the critiques are no less powerful. City staff initially ranked the Tewin lands poorly during their 2020 evaluations, citing soil unsuitability, distance from infrastructure, and limited transit access. Servicing the site: extending water, sewers, and roads will cost nearly $600 million, much of it beyond the city’s 2046 planning horizon. These are funds that could otherwise reinforce existing communities, transit networks, and climate-resilient infrastructure.

Urban sprawl carries environmental and social costs. Tewin sits far from rail lines and job centres, ensuring that most residents will be dependent on cars. This contradicts Ottawa’s stated climate action commitments, which emphasize compact growth and reduced vehicle emissions. Critics also note that adding a massive suburb undermines efforts to intensify existing neighbourhoods, where transit and services are already in place.

Indigenous Voices, Indigenous Divisions
The Indigenous dimension of Tewin complicates the debate. On the one hand, the Algonquins of Ontario have secured a rare position as development partners, advancing reconciliation through economic participation. On the other hand, not all Algonquin communities recognize AOO’s legitimacy, and some argue that consultation has been narrow and exclusionary. The project thus embodies both progress and tension in the city’s relationship with Indigenous peoples. To reject Tewin outright risks appearing to dismiss Indigenous economic aspirations; to proceed with it risks deepening divisions and ignoring long-standing calls for more inclusive engagement.

A City at the Crossroads
Councillor Kavanagh’s push to remove Tewin from the Official Plan is more than a single motion. It reopens a philosophical question: what kind of city does Ottawa wish to become? If it seeks to embody climate leadership, resilient infrastructure, and walkable communities, Tewin appears to be a step backward. If it seeks to honour Indigenous partnership and ensure abundant housing supply, the project has undeniable appeal.

Ultimately, Tewin forces Ottawa to confront a contradiction at the heart of Canadian urbanism. We are a country that has promised climate action, but remains tethered to car-dependent suburbs. We are a nation that aspires to reconciliation, but often struggles to reconcile competing Indigenous voices. To move forward, Ottawa must do more than weigh costs and benefits; it must articulate a vision of growth that is both just and sustainable.

In this sense, Tewin is not merely a development proposal. It is a mirror held up to the city itself, reflecting both its aspirations and its unfinished work.

Sources:
• CTV News Ottawa. “Tewin development project passes latest hurdle but some say it still doesn’t belong.” August 2024. Link
• Ontario Construction News. “Ottawa councillor sparks renewed debate over controversial Tewin development.” April 2025. Link
• CTV News Ottawa. “Councillor withdraws motion to remove 15,000-home development from Ottawa’s Official Plan until after byelection.” April 2025. Link
• Horizon Ottawa. “Stop the Tewin Development.” Accessed October 2025. Link

Public Utilities in Public Hands: The Case Against Privatization in Ontario

The privatization of public utilities is one of the most serious threats to the well-being of Ontario’s citizens. Essential services such as electricity, natural gas, and potable water are not mere commodities; they are fundamental to public health, economic stability, and social equity. Yet, time and again, privatization has proven to be a short-sighted policy that prioritizes corporate profit over public interest, leading to rising costs, reduced accountability, and degraded service quality.

Ontario has already had a taste of these consequences. The partial privatization of Hydro One in 2015, sold as a way to fund infrastructure projects, stripped the public of full control over a critical utility. The result? Electricity rates surged while executive salaries ballooned, all while Ontarians faced an affordability crisis. Now, the same logic is being applied to water infrastructure, with growing interest in public-private partnerships (P3s) that risk putting a basic human right in the hands of profit-driven corporations.

The United Kingdom serves as a cautionary tale. Margaret Thatcher’s aggressive privatization agenda in the 1980s dismantled public control over water, gas, and electricity. Decades later, the consequences are glaringly evident—privatized water companies have failed to maintain infrastructure, leading to widespread sewage pollution in rivers and skyrocketing utility bills. In 2023, public outrage reached a boiling point as UK citizens demanded renationalization, fed up with a system that prioritized shareholder dividends over basic service quality.

Ontario does not need to look across the Atlantic to see privatization’s dangers. The sale of Highway 407 in the late 1990s remains one of the most infamous examples. Originally built with public funds, the highway was sold to a private consortium, which promptly implemented steep toll increases. Now, it is one of the most expensive toll roads in North America, generating billions in private profits while Ontario drivers pay the price.

Similarly, in the 1990s, Premier Mike Harris’s government moved to privatize parts of Ontario’s water services, leading to deregulation that contributed to the Walkerton tragedy in 2000. E. coli contamination in the town’s water supply led to seven deaths and thousands of illnesses. A key lesson from Walkerton was that water safety should never be compromised for cost-cutting measures—yet renewed interest in water privatization suggests that this lesson is being ignored.

Proponents of privatization often push P3s as a supposed middle ground, but the reality is that these arrangements often result in long-term financial burdens for taxpayers and reduced service quality. In Ontario, numerous P3 infrastructure projects, including hospitals and transit systems, have faced cost overruns, delays, and contract disputes that leave the public footing the bill. The Brampton Civic Hospital, one of Ontario’s earliest P3 healthcare projects, ended up costing nearly $200 million more than a traditional public model, demonstrating how these deals frequently benefit corporate interests at the public’s expense.

When it comes to water and electricity, the risks are even greater. Private firms operating under P3 models have strong incentives to minimize costs, which can lead to deferred maintenance, staff reductions, and lower service quality. Meanwhile, the public remains on the hook for any failures, as companies structure contracts to shield themselves from financial risk while reaping the profits.

Once essential services are privatized, reversing the decision becomes extremely difficult. Private companies, armed with deep lobbying power, fight fiercely to protect their revenue streams. In the case of Hydro One, the Ontario government now owns less than 50% of the company, making it virtually impossible to fully reassert public control without an expensive and politically complex buyback.

The simple truth is that profit should never be the primary driver in the management of public utilities. Roads, water, electricity, and natural gas are the backbone of a functioning society, and their operation must be based on public interest, environmental sustainability, and affordability—not corporate greed.

Ontario must resist further privatization and instead strengthen public ownership of essential services. This means investing in infrastructure, enforcing transparency, and ensuring that these utilities serve the people rather than the pockets of a few wealthy shareholders. The province has seen the consequences of privatization firsthand, and the path forward is clear: protect public utilities, prioritize public well-being, and reject the false promises of privatization before it’s too late.