Tag Archives: Ottawa

From Vision to Momentum: Alto Enters Its Defining Phase

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For years, Canada’s ambitious dream of linking its greatest cities with true high-speed rail has hovered in the realm of feasibility studies and future pipe dreams. Now, in the closing weeks of 2025, that dream has shifted decidedly toward reality; not because steel is yet being laid, but because the Alto high-speed rail initiative has crossed a crucial threshold from concept to concerted preparation and public engagement.

At its core, Alto is a transformative infrastructure vision: a 1,000-kilometre electrified passenger rail network connecting Toronto to Québec City with trains capable of 300 km/h speeds, slicing travel times compared to what today’s intercity rail offers and binding half the nation’s population into a single, rapid mobility corridor. The design phase, backed by a multi-billion-dollar co-development agreement with the Cadence consortium, is well underway, and the federal government has signaled its intent to see this project delivered as one of the largest infrastructure investments in decades.  

The most noteworthy milestone in recent weeks has been a strategic decision about where Alto will begin to take physical shape. On December 12, officials announced that the Ottawa–Montreal segment – roughly 200 km – will be the first portion of the network to advance toward construction, with work slated to begin in 2029. This choice reflects a practical staging strategy: by starting with a shorter, clearly defined corridor that spans two provinces, engineering and construction teams can mobilize simultaneously in Ontario and Québec and begin delivering economic and skills-development benefits sooner rather than later.  

This announcement isn’t just about geography; it marks a shift in Alto’s progression from broad planning to community-level engagement. Beginning in January 2026, Alto will launch a comprehensive three-month consultation process that includes open houses, virtual sessions, and online feedback opportunities for Canadians along the corridor. These sessions will inform critical decisions about alignment, station locations, and mitigation of environmental and community impacts. Indigenous communities, municipalities, and public institutions will be active participants in these discussions as part of Alto’s ongoing commitment to consultation and reconciliation, a recognition that this project’s success hinges not only on engineering prowess, but on thoughtful, inclusive planning.  

Beyond route planning, Alto and Cadence are also turning to Canada’s industrial capacity, particularly the steel sector, to gauge the domestic supply chain’s readiness for what will undeniably be a massive procurement exercise. With thousands of kilometres of rail and related infrastructure components needed, early outreach to the steel industry is intended not just to assess production capacity, but to maximize Canadian content and economic benefit from the outset.  

Yet not every question has a definitive answer. Strategic discussions continue over the optimal location for Alto’s eventual Toronto station, with the CEO publicly acknowledging that a direct connection to Union Station may not be guaranteed; a decision that could shape ridership patterns and integration with existing transit networks across the Greater Toronto Area.  

As the calendar turns toward 2026, the Alto project sits at an inflection point: one foot firmly planted in detailed design and consultation, the other inching closer to the realm of shovels and steel rails. Political support appears robust, and fiscal planning, including major project acceleration initiatives and supportive legislation, has built momentum. Yet, as any transportation planner will tell you, the distance between planning and construction is long, often winding, and frequently subject to political, economic, and community pressures.

Still, for advocates and observers alike, the significance of the latest developments cannot be overstated. Alto has graduated from “what if?” to “when and how,” and that alone marks a major step forward in Canada’s transportation evolution.

Ottawa Amalgamation Failures: A Critical Reassessment  

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Bigger is not always beautiful, especially when it comes to communities or, more specifically, municipalities. The 2001 amalgamation of Ottawa and its surrounding municipalities was sold as a transformation: a streamlined government delivering better services, greater efficiency, and lower taxes. In practice the results have been far more ambiguous.

Background: What Was Amalgamated – And What Was Promised
On January 1, 2001, the former municipalities that made up the Regional Municipality of Ottawa–Carleton – 11 lower-tier municipalities plus the former City of Ottawa, were merged into a single-tier municipality: the modern City of Ottawa.  

The rationale was that this consolidation would reduce duplication, unify planning and services, and deliver cost efficiencies through economies of scale. The transition cost was estimated at about $189 million, with the province covering $142 million and the City paying roughly $47 million. The projection for savings from personnel reductions was substantial: roughly $30.7 million in the first year, rising to $84 million by 2003.  

Despite these savings projections, the Transition Board did not promise any tax reductions.  

Mixed Outcomes: Services – Gains, Losses, and Uneven Distribution
One of the primary promises was standardized and enhanced municipal services across the entire new city. In many respects there were improvements, but the benefits have been uneven, and in some rural/suburban zones residents still feel left behind.

What improved
• Services such as recreation programming and library access were expanded. After amalgamation, rural areas enjoyed a jump in activity: for example, by 2007 the rural recreation program catalogue offered 444 programs (up from 62 in 2002).
• The unified municipal structure also enabled coordinated economic development efforts. For example, rural-tourism initiatives (like “Ottawa’s Countryside”) and a “Directional Farm Signage Program” helped rural businesses and agriculture get city-wide support.
• In terms of per-household spending, in its early years the amalgamated city kept overall operating spending roughly on par with a seven-city average of Ontario municipalities; only about 4% higher. And compared with a large city like City of Toronto, Ottawa’s spending was about 30% lower.  

But many promises – Especially in rural and suburban zones, fell short
• Rural residents have repeatedly voiced that core municipal services (road maintenance, snow clearing, local transit, policing) received lower priority compared to urban wards. A longstanding sense of alienation persists among many rural communities toward City Hall.
• The transition diluted local, community-by-community decision-making. Individual municipalities had previously tailored services to local needs; under the amalgamated governance many rural or semi-rural concerns are subsumed under city-wide priorities. This resulted in delays and bureaucratic inefficiencies for issues that once had local responsiveness.
• Perhaps most glaring: the city’s signature transit project, the O‑Train / Ottawa LRT system, has been plagued by cost overruns, operational problems and service reliability issues – undermining its value as a major public-transit asset. A public inquiry’s recent report pointed out serious failures in municipal oversight and transparency around the LRT project.

That failure has broader consequences because many suburban and rural residents rely on a single bus line or intermittent routes, but see a disproportionate share of taxes diverted to an increasingly controversial urban rail system.

Taxes and Finances: Savings Promised – But Higher Costs and New Burdens
One of the largest expectations was that amalgamation would lower costs for taxpayers. That premise has proven questionable.
• Although the transition plan forecast substantial savings from staff reductions, the resulting efficiencies did not translate into widespread tax reductions. None were promised.
• From 2001 to 2005, Ottawa’s property-assessment base grew by 11.1%. Over the same period, education-tax levies on residential properties increased by 33.7%, costing Ottawa homeowners roughly $28 million more than in other Ontario municipalities.
• The uniform tax regime (rather than multiple municipal rates) had disproportionate impacts on suburban and rural homeowners. In many cases they faced tax hikes without corresponding improvements to local services.
• Meanwhile, certain structural costs increased: for instance, the cost share owed to the provincial property-assessment authority (Municipal Property Assessment Corporation or MPAC) rose by 25% since amalgamation, about 5% annually, outpacing inflation and municipal tax increases. That cost is borne by taxpayers.
• In more recent years, the city faces major financial stress. The municipal transit system alone is projected to run an annual operating shortfall of $140 million. Policing, infrastructure maintenance and other capital demands contribute to mounting city-wide debt burdens. As one commentary put it, “there was no tangible, financial benefit from amalgamation.”

These fiscal pressures undercut the core argument for amalgamation — that centralization would lead to stable or lower taxes with better services.

Loss of Local Representation and Identity
Amalgamation replaced dozens of municipal councils and local governance structures with a centralized city council responsible for a vastly larger and more diverse geography and population. That shift came with trade-offs.
• Rural and semi-rural communities lost significant political influence once they became part of a larger ward-based structure. Special “area” or “service” rates were introduced for rural areas, reflecting recognition that service needs differed, but also institutionalizing a two-tier system within the same city.
• Local identity and “small-town” character in villages such as Manotick was diluted. For example, development proposals in Manotick in the mid-2000s (for thousands of new homes) sparked strong concern among local residents that the community’s character would disappear under city-wide policies.
• According to early post-amalgamation polling (2002), many rural respondents rated the new city structure poorly. Among rural residents, 38% said services “need improvement” or rated city performance “terrible,” 43% said “OK,” and only 17% rated things “good” or “excellent.”

The sense of local alienation persists decades later: many rural residents still regard themselves as under-represented and overlooked by City Hall. 

Infrastructure, Planning and Transit: Centralization Meets Complexity – And Breakdown
One of the biggest undertakings after amalgamation has been transit and infrastructure. But the centralized city structure has struggled under the weight of that complexity.
• The O-Train / Ottawa LRT project was to be a flagship symbol of a modernized, unified city-wide transit network. Instead it has become a cautionary tale. A recent public inquiry blamed both the managing company and the city’s leadership for “repeated failures and an abrogation of municipal oversight.”
• Financial burdens from large capital projects like LRT expansion have stressed city budgets. After cost overruns for Stage 1 and 2 of the O-Train project, the burden has fallen heavily on Ottawa taxpayers – unlike comparable projects in the Greater Toronto Area, where provincial or federal funding covers a larger share.
• Meanwhile, suburban sprawl and rural-suburban developments, once under small local municipalities, now stretch the city’s infrastructure capacity. Roads, snow clearing, policing and transit are far more challenging to deliver equitably in a sprawling city than in smaller, more compact municipalities.

The core problem is scale: centralizing everything in a single administration has made it difficult to provide suitable, tailored services across widely different communities, from dense downtown to rural farmland.

Governance and Democratic Legitimacy: Promises of Efficiency at the Cost of Democratic Depth
The transition to a mega-city altered not just service delivery but democratic engagement.
•  Pre-amalgamation, many local decisions:  planning, development, budget priorities were made by small municipal councils familiar with the needs of their residents. Post-amalgamation, those decisions occur within a larger, more remote bureaucracy. Many rural residents feel they no longer have a meaningful political voice.
• The centralization also introduced a complexity of governance that can hamper accountability. As seen with the LRT fiasco, oversight over massive capital projects can become diffuse and abstract, weakening the ability of residents to hold decision-makers to account.
• The uniform tax and service model – despite the wildly different needs of urban, suburban, and rural zones, reflects what critics call “one-size-fits-all governance.” That rarely serves any locality optimally, and often disadvantages those outside the urban core.

A Complicated Legacy – Not an Unqualified Disaster, But Far From the Hopes
It would be unfair to paint the amalgamation as an unmitigated catastrophe. Some benefits have accrued: coordinated planning, a unified transit vision (even if imperfect), expanded recreation and library services, economic development strategies that support rural businesses and agriculture, and, in the early years, per-household spending relatively comparable to peer municipalities.

The long-term trade-offs have been steep: higher taxes (particularly education taxes), rising costs for essential services like property-assessment operations beyond inflation, growing debt burdens, inequitable distribution of services across geography, and a weakened sense of local representation, especially in rural and semi-rural areas.

The classic promise of “efficiency through scale” has often collided with the messy reality of delivering diverse, place-specific services across a vast and varied territory.

Centralization as Compromise
The 2001 amalgamation of Ottawa was a bold gamble: a bet that centralization would bring coherence, cost savings, and improved service delivery. Four decades of experience show that the outcome is deeply mixed.

For some residents the transition delivered real benefits: greater access to recreation, library services, coordinated economic strategies, and the possibility of a unified urban vision. For many others, especially outside the downtown core, it meant increased taxes, loss of local autonomy, and a sense of being perpetually overlooked as part of a sprawling bureaucracy.

In the end, amalgamation delivered some of its promises, but at a cost that, for many, outweighs the benefits. Ultimately the experiment reveals a fundamental truth: size and scale alone do not guarantee better governance. Without careful attention to representation, equity, diverse local needs and transparent oversight, centralization too often becomes a compromise, not a solution.

Tewin and the Shape of Ottawa’s Future

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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

Lansdowne 2.0: The half-billion-dollar deal that asks Ottawa to trust again

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There are moments in a city’s life when the decisions made at council chambers shape not just its skyline, but its soul. The redevelopment of Lansdowne Park has entered such a moment. The City calls it Lansdowne 2.0. Once again we are asked to believe that this time things will finally work out. I am respectfully saying: no thank you.

I support investing in our city’s infrastructure, in affordable housing, and in vibrant community spaces, but I am deeply opposed to the kind of public-private partnership (PPP) model that Ottawa keeps repeating – especially when the affordable housing promise is quietly reduced, when the public carries the risk, and the private partner walks away with much of the upside.

In the case of Lansdowne 2.0, the City and its private partner, Ottawa Sports and Entertainment Group (OSEG), propose to rebuild the north-side stands and arena, build new housing towers, bring retail/condo podiums, and “revitalize” the site. The projected cost is now $419 million, according to City documents. The City’s Auditor General warns the cost could be as much as $74-75 million more and that revenues may fall short by $10-30 million or more. That alone should give us pause, but the real problem goes beyond the balance sheet.

The public-private problem
The idea of PPPs sounds appealing: share risk, leverage private capital, deliver publicly beneficial projects faster. But the repeated pattern in Ottawa is that the public land, public debt and public oversight become the junior partner in the deal. When good times happen, the private side takes the returns; when costs rise or revenues shrink, the City and the taxpayer carry the burden. We know this from Lansdowne 1.0 and from other large projects in the city. The question is not simply “Is this a partnership?” but “Who bears the downside when things go off plan?”

The Auditor General’s review of Lansdowne 2.0 flagged that the City is “responsible for the cost of construction…..and any cost overruns” even though much of the revenue upside depends on later ‘waterfall’ arrivals. If we’re asked to commit hundreds of millions now in the hope of returns later, we must demand transparency, risk caps, guaranteed affordable housing and binding public-benefit commitments. Anything less is not renewal, it’s risk-shifting.

Affordable housing is not optional
At a time when Ottawa faces an acute housing affordability crisis, we are told that “housing towers” are part of the funding model for Lansdowne. But the developer’s track-record of promising affordable units, and then claiming they can’t deliver is worn and familiar. In the updated Lansdowne plan the number of guaranteed affordable units was cut or deferred and shifted toward “air-rights” revenues and condo sales, effectively betting public good on speculative real estate. Affordable housing should not be a line-item to trim when the spreadsheets wobble. It is the social licence that allows private profit on public land. Approving a plan that pares back affordable units yet asks for public exposure is indefensible.

Traffic, transit and neighbourhood liveability
The Lansdowne site sits beside the Rideau Canal, the Glebe and the Bank Street corridor – one of the most traffic-choked corridors in the city. Yet the plan envisions adding 770 new residential units (down from an original 1,200) on top of retail podiums. Meanwhile, the city’s own “Bank Street Active Transportation and Transit Priority Feasibility Study” (June 2024) underlines that Bank Street is already at capacity for cars and buses, that pedestrian and cycling infrastructure is insufficient and that any added vehicle traffic will further degrade mobility.

Without a clear strategy to manage car access, parking, transit loads, cycling/pedestrian safety and construction impacts, this redevelopment risks worsening gridlock and degrading the very neighbourhood livability the project claims to enhance.

Sports tenants and viability
One of the central rationales for Lansdowne 2.0 is that the existing arena and stands are aging and that new facilities will retain sports franchises and major events. Yet the plan, as approved, reduces capacity for hockey to 5,500 seats and concerts to around 6,500 – considerably smaller than many mid-sized arenas. Meanwhile, neighbouring downtown developments such as the proposed new arena for the Ottawa Senators raise questions: what is Lansdowne’s tenant strategy once the major franchise relocates? If the largest anchor tenant leaves, the revenue model collapses. The City is committing hundreds of millions without a transparent long-term sports strategy. Sports teams argue they cannot stay if capacity or amenities shrink. If they depart, the burden falls back on taxpayers.

Commercial podiums and vacant retail
The redevelopment includes a shift from 108,000 square feet of retail to 49,000 square feet; a cut because local business viability was weak in the first phase. Even today many of the commercial units around Lansdowne 1.0 remain vacant because rents are too high for independent businesses and the location’s infrastructure doesn’t support consistent foot traffic outside game days. The plan’s assumption that retail will compensate for public investment is shaky at best. Until we see real evidence of market demand and rental levels that support small business and serve neighbourhoods, not just downtown condo-dwellers, we are betting public money on commercial models that already failed once.

The opportunity cost
Let’s not forget what’s at stake. Nearly half a billion dollars in public exposure. Imagine what that money could do across the city: hundreds of affordable housing units in multiple wards, refurbished community centres, libraries, rinks, park renewal, neighbourhood transit links. Instead, we’re being asked to invest that money in one downtown site, tied to a private partner’s spreadsheet and future real-estate and event-market assumptions. This is a question of equity: do we serve one marquee site or many? Do we favour single big deals or dozens of small, proven community-led investments?

A better path forward
I believe in renewal. I believe Lansdowne and its broader site matter. But I cannot support the current model unless three things change:
1. Full transparency: release the full pro-forma, risk tables, debt-servicing schedules, and waterfall projections.
2. Binding affordable-housing guarantees: not aspirational “10 per cent of air-rights revenue,” but concrete units or legally-binding contributions to affordable-housing stock.
3. An urban-livability strategy: traffic and transit modelling for Bank Street and the Glebe; tenant guarantees for sports franchises; a retail strategy that supports small local business; and a cap on public exposure in cost overruns.

If a deal only works when the public is last in line for returns, when affordable housing is trimmed, when traffic worsens and local business fails, then we shouldn’t do it. That is not civic renewal. It is a subsidy for speculative dysfunction.

Public land, public money, public trust. If those three are not aligned, the right move is not to sign another 40-year partnership and hope for the best. It is to pause, open the books, redesign the deal and ensure the structure serves the city first, not the private partner. Ottawa can build better than this. It just needs to decide whose interests it wants to serve.

Sources:
• CityNews Ottawa: OSEG revamp cost jumps to $419 M.
• City of Ottawa / Engage Ottawa: Lansdowne 2.0 project/funding details.
• Auditor General of Ottawa: cost under-estimation, financial risk.
• Glebe Report: traffic/transportation study on Bank Street.

Why Ottawa’s Merivale Amazon Warehouse is a Strategic Blunder

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Ottawa’s approval of a massive Amazon warehouse on Merivale Road, a sprawling 3.1 million sq ft, 75‑acre facility, marks a strategic misstep in land-use planning. As the city’s largest such development yet, it will usher in heavy fleet operations directly into residential southern suburbs, undermining broader policy goals and community health.

🚚 Traffic Overload & Safety Impacts
Warehouses of this scale generate hundreds of heavy truck movements daily, estimated at around 500 trips, likely running 24/7. Local roads like Merivale and Fallowfield, designed for commuter cars and transit, cannot absorb this freight volume. Congestion, pavement deterioration, and heightened collision risks for pedestrians and cyclists will become daily realities. Safety margins shrink when trailers and semis share space with school buses and family vehicles.

🌬️ Air Quality & Environmental Inequity
Diesel trucks are major sources of PM2.5, nitrogen oxides, and greenhouse gases: pollutants strongly linked with respiratory and cardiovascular diseases. Locating such an operation mere hundreds of metres from homes, schools, and parks imposes environmental harm on vulnerable communities, violating the principles of environmental justice. Moreover, the warehouse’s massive rooflines and parking surfaces will intensify stormwater runoff, local flooding, and the urban heat-island effect, undermining efforts to green the suburbs.

🔊 Noise Pollution & Public Health
24/7 operations bring diesel engines, reverse beepers, dock doors, HVAC systems, and bright lighting, the sort of noises that erode sleep quality. The WHO has linked long-term noise exposure to stress-related illnesses, elevated blood pressure, and heart disease. Neighbouring communities have no indication this will be mitigated; Ottawa’s approvals lack clear buffers or acoustic controls.

🏙️ Contradiction of Ottawa’s “15-Minute Community” Vision
Ottawa’s Official Plan champions compact, walkable “15‑minute neighbourhoods,” minimizing reliance on cars. The Merivale warehouse is antithetical to that ambition. Its scale and related freight footprint impose highway-like impacts in areas meant for gentle suburban life. The contradiction runs deeper when paired with the city’s own Transportation Master Plan, which envisions pulling truck routes away from residential streets once new crossings are in place. This facility predates those crossings and will lock in freight patterns that degrade local mobility aspirations.

🌉 The Bridge under Discussion: Freight Over Neighbourhoods?
In parallel, federal planners are advancing a proposed eastern bridge – nicknamed the “sixth crossing”, between Aviation Parkway and Gatineau’s Montée Paiement. While billed as a transit and multimodal asset, this bridge is tailored to freight use. Approximately 3,500 heavy trucks currently traverse downtown each weekday, mostly over the Macdonald‑Cartier Bridge via sensitive King Edward and Rideau corridors. The new crossing aims to divert truck traffic, possibly 15% by 2050, though some analysts argue only a downtown bypass tunnel would deliver meaningful relief  .

That bridge will funnel freight to the very warehousing complexes like Merivale, entrenching heavy-traffic routes into suburbs and potentially accelerating new industrial developments near residential pockets. Existing policy suggests new freight corridors would better serve truly industrial zones, not communities striving to normalize suburban calm and accessibility.

🌍 Global Benchmarks in Logistics Zoning
Ottawa stands apart from leading planning cities:
• Utrecht and Paris locate logistics hubs on disused rail corridors or city peripheries, banning heavy trucks from neighbourhood cores.
• California municipalities such as Upland and Fontana enforce conditional-use permits that cap truck movements, define delivery windows, and mandate fleet electrification.
• Surprise, Arizona funnels warehousing into designated “Railplex” industrial zones, away from homes.

These policies uphold spatial separation between living spaces and freight operations, a principle Ottawa has ignored in the Merivale decision.

🛠️ Remedying Policy Drift
To realign with its 15-minute community goals and transit ambitions, Ottawa must:
1. Designate logistics zones near transport infrastructure, highways, rail spurs, and existing industrial nodes, while rezoning suburban fringe away from heavy industrial uses.
2. Implement conditional-use frameworks with strict operational caps: truck movement limits, depot hours, landscaped acoustic buffers, fleet electrification mandates, and real-time monitoring.
3. Reassess the eastern bridge’s role, ensuring freight routing doesn’t reward encroachment into suburban or environmentally sensitive areas. A genuine local truck bypass tunnel could separate through-traveling freight from city and suburbs alike.
4. Embed community consultation in both warehouse and bridge planning, matching global best practices and committing to binding environmental and health protections.

🚨 Intersection of Land‑Use and Infrastructure
The Merivale Amazon warehouse exemplifies a policy failure: a freight mega-site allowed inside a suburban living zone, eroding air, noise, traffic, and trust in civic plans. Compounding this is the emerging freight-focused eastern bridge: infrastructure seemingly tailor-made to serve such warehouses while bypassing genuine solutions. Ottawa must resist a slippery slope toward suburban industrialization. Recommitment to the Official Plan, strategic rezoning, nuanced permitting, and freight-oriented infrastructure could offer a path forward, where warehouses belong beside highways, not homes. Without that, this warehouse and bridge duo risk cementing a future at odds with the healthy, sustainable city Ottawa says it wants.

Public Drinking: A Study in Trust, Culture, and Control – Ottawa vs. Germany

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Public drinking reveals much about how societies balance freedom, responsibility, and trust. The stark contrast between Ottawa’s tentative, tightly-controlled 2025 pilot program for alcohol consumption in municipal parks and Germany’s longstanding acceptance of public drinking illustrates deeper social and cultural divides. In short, while Germans operate under a framework of collective behavioral expectations and trust, Canadians, at least in Ottawa, approach public behavior through a lens of institutional caution and control.

In Germany, it is not only legal, but culturally unremarkable to walk through a park or down a street sipping beer or wine. Public drinking is allowed in virtually all spaces: parks, streets, public transport, so long as behavior remains respectful. There is no need for signage, restricted hours, or opt-in zones. Instead, the rules are social: keep your voice down, clean up after yourself, and don’t cause a disturbance. The assumption is that most people, most of the time, can be trusted to enjoy alcohol in public without devolving into chaos. Enforcement is minimal and focused on conduct rather than consumption. The legal framework reflects this confidence in citizens’ capacity for self-regulation.

Ottawa, by contrast, is poised to take a small, hesitant step into public drinking territory. The 2025 summer pilot, if passed by full council, will allow alcohol in select municipal parks during restricted hours and away from certain facilities. Local councillors must “opt in” their parks, and enforcement mechanisms, signage, and safety protocols are emphasized. The premise is that public drinking is potentially risky, necessitating detailed restrictions and contingency planning. The policy does not presume that residents can handle this responsibility; rather, it cautiously tests whether they might.

This divergence is not simply legal, it is philosophical. German norms lean on a social compact that assumes citizens will behave decently in shared spaces. Canadians, or at least Canadian policymakers, appear to lack such confidence. Public drinking is imagined not as an ordinary act, but as a behavior to be fenced in, bounded, and watched. Ottawa’s delay in launching even a pilot underscores a broader cultural tendency: one that privileges regulation over trust, institutional control over social cohesion.

Underlying this is a question of what kind of public life a society envisions. In Germany, a Feierabendbier (after-work beer) on a park bench is an extension of civil society, part of a shared public realm. In Ottawa, such an act still falls outside acceptable norms, even as urban life becomes denser and more diverse. This points to a lingering paternalism in Canadian municipal governance: the belief that citizens must be managed rather than trusted.

Ultimately, the Ottawa-Germany contrast reveals a deeper social reality. Where Germans assume the public is capable and socialized, Canadians assume the public needs structure and limits. That divergence shapes not just laws, but the very character of public space, and what we are allowed to do within it. Public drinking, then, becomes a proxy for how much a society trusts its own people.

Lansdowne Park: A Case Study in Public-Private Partnership Failure

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In the heart of Ottawa lies Lansdowne Park, a public asset that has undergone over a decade of controversial redevelopment under the banner of public-private partnerships (P3). Initially hailed as a visionary collaboration between the City of Ottawa and the Ottawa Sports and Entertainment Group (OSEG), Lansdowne has instead become a cautionary tale; an emblem of how private interests can hijack public value, with taxpayers left holding the bill. Despite grand promises of economic revitalization, self-sustaining revenues, and community benefit, the Lansdowne project has consistently failed to deliver on its core goals.

The Origins: Lansdowne 1.0 and the Rise of the P3 Model
The current saga began in 2007, when structural concerns forced the closure of Frank Clair Stadium. In response, the City sought partners to reimagine Lansdowne as a revitalized hub for sports, entertainment, and urban life. The resulting Lansdowne Partnership Plan (LPP), approved in 2010, was a no-bid, sole-source agreement with OSEG. It created a 30-year limited partnership through which OSEG would refurbish the stadium, build retail and residential developments, and share profits with the City through a revenue “waterfall” model.

The City’s share of the original $362 million redevelopment was around $210 million, used for stadium upgrades, a new urban park, parking facilities, and relocating the historic Horticulture Building. OSEG contributed roughly $152 million, not as direct capital, but largely through operational losses rolled back into the project in exchange for an 8% return on equity. The land remained public, but OSEG was granted long-term leases for commercial components, at just $1 per year.

A Financial Model Built on Sand
The P3 structure was sold to the public with the assurance that Lansdowne would eventually pay for itself. Early forecasts predicted a $22.6 million net return to the City. In reality, those profits never materialized. Retail revenues rose steadily, but so did costs. By 2016, OSEG was reporting $14.4 million in losses. As of 2023, the partnership had not returned a cent to municipal coffers. The revenue waterfall prioritized OSEG’s return on equity before any surplus could flow to the City, meaning taxpayers bore the financial risk, while private partners had guaranteed returns.

Worse, the project locked the City into a complex financial structure that made renegotiation difficult. The Auditor General of Ottawa has since criticized the model, citing opaque accounting and a lack of oversight over cost estimates and projections.

Lansdowne 2.0: Doubling Down on a Broken System
Rather than reassess the underlying flaws of Lansdowne 1.0, the City has pressed forward with an even more ambitious sequel: Lansdowne 2.0. Approved by Council in 2023, this next phase proposes to demolish and rebuild the north-side stadium stands, construct a 5,500-seat event centre, and erect two residential towers atop a retail podium. The estimated cost is $419 million, with over $300 million of that funded by the City through new debt.

Despite lessons from the past, the same P3 framework persists. The City continues to rely on OSEG’s management and forecasts, despite repeated underperformance. Recent findings from the Auditor General suggest that construction costs may be underestimated by as much as $74.3 million, bringing the actual cost closer to half a billion dollars.

Community Concerns Ignored
One of the most damning aspects of the Lansdowne saga has been its consistent disregard for community needs. Neither Lansdowne 1.0 nor 2.0 includes affordable housing. This, in the midst of a housing crisis, is a glaring omission. Public green space will be reduced by more than 50,000 square feet in Lansdowne 2.0. Traffic and parking concerns persist, especially given the site’s poor access to Ottawa’s light rail system.

Environmental groups have flagged the project for increasing the urban heat island effect and ignoring climate resilience standards. Ecology Ottawa and other watchdogs note that the loss of mature trees, additional hard surfaces, and energy-intensive stadium lighting run counter to the City’s own climate goals.

Public feedback has been overwhelmingly negative. A survey by the advocacy group Better Lansdowne found that 77% of respondents opposed the new plan. Critics have called for a full reassessment, independent cost-benefit analysis, and alternative development models that prioritize public use and affordability.

The Broader P3 Problem
The Lansdowne project exemplifies the risks inherent in the P3 model. When private partners are guaranteed returns and public entities assume the risk, the result is rarely equitable or efficient. While the private sector pursues profit, as it must, government has a duty to prioritize public interest. In this case, the lines blurred, and profit came first.

Public-private partnerships are often promoted as a way to leverage private investment for public good. Yet in practice, they can enable private actors to extract value from public land and public funds, with minimal accountability. Lansdowne is a textbook case of this imbalance.

Time to Reclaim Public Space
As Ottawa moves forward, the Lansdowne experience should serve as a clear lesson: public infrastructure must be publicly driven. The City needs to step back, reassess its relationship with OSEG, and consider alternative models that place public interest at the centre. This could include establishing a municipal development corporation, returning retail management to the City, and mandating affordable housing in all new residential builds.

If Lansdowne Park is truly to be the “people’s place” as once envisioned, it must serve the city, not subsidize private profit. The future of Ottawa’s public assets depends on getting this right.

Sources
• Ottawa City Council Reports, 2023–2025 – ottawa.ca
• Ottawa Auditor General Report, June 2025 – link2build.ca
• Better Lansdowne Community Survey – betterlansdowne.ca
• Ecology Ottawa – ecologyottawa.ca
• Ottawa Business Journal Archives – obj.ca
• Lansdowne Park Redevelopment History – en.wikipedia.org

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.

Building the Future: Kemptville’s Affordable Housing Vision

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In communities across Canada, the housing crisis has become more than a policy debate, it’s a daily struggle. While costs rise and waitlists grow, the Municipality of North Grenville, just south of Ottawa, is offering a bold response. Its $25 million proposal to convert Bell Hall, a vacant dormitory on the Kemptville Campus, into more than 60 affordable rental units is both practical and symbolic, a microcosm of what’s possible when local governments lead.

The campus itself is a 630-acre hub of community, education, and sustainability activities. Once part of the University of Guelph’s agricultural network, it’s now owned by the municipality and governed by a 2021 master plan that prioritizes adaptive reuse, environmental responsibility, and deep community engagement. Bell Hall fits that vision precisely; a municipally owned, appropriately zoned, fully serviced building, already standing and waiting to be converted.

This is not a speculative plan. Developed over months with input from senior staff and not-for-profit partners, the Bell Hall project targets the real needs of North Grenville’s most vulnerable; seniors, veterans, and working families being priced out of their hometown. It offers not just housing, but stability, dignity, and a sense of belonging.

And yet, despite being shovel-ready, the proposal remains stalled in a growing backlog at the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CMHC). It’s a familiar story for municipalities across the country, many of whom are reporting delays due to limited federal processing capacity, particularly in underwriting. As federal priorities shift with the political winds, viable projects are left in limbo.

Mayor Nancy Peckford recently sounded the alarm in the Ottawa Citizen, arguing that the issue is not preferential treatment, but systemic inefficiency. Her call for transparency and faster turnaround is resonating with other small communities also ready to build. In an age where housing need is immediate, the logic is simple: when a plan meets all the criteria, and the groundwork is laid, it should move forward.

Some critics are suggesting that municipalities are just now “stepping up” on housing, but local governments have long managed zoning and development approvals. What’s new is the scale and pace of their engagement, assembling land, forming partnerships, applying for federal tools, and leading where senior governments lag.

North Grenville’s approach is part of a broader shift in small-town Canada, where pressures once confined to major cities are now spreading. The housing crisis isn’t urban anymore, it’s national. In this context, Bell Hall becomes more than a local project. It’s a test of the federal-municipal partnership that modern housing policy demands.

There’s also economic logic behind the urgency. A 2023 Deloitte report estimated that expanding community housing could add $70 billion to Canada’s GDP over five years. In places like Kemptville, where growth is manageable and materials can be sourced locally, the multiplier effects are significant with jobs, procurement, community stabilization, and reduced strain on health and social services.

And this is just one community. Rural municipalities across Eastern Ontario are facing similar challenges – aging populations, limited rental stock, and infrastructure that hasn’t kept pace. A regional alliance, or even a coordinated appeal, could elevate the urgency of rural housing and draw more attention to what’s at stake.

North Grenville is ready. Bell Hall is ready. The question is whether the federal system is ready to respond with the speed and seriousness the moment demands. If the next government wants to prove its commitment to housing, here is the perfect place to start.

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.