I grew up in the country, the kind of place that some uncharitably call “the middle of nowhere.” Work was long and hot, and the church, that building at the center of a sprawling agricultural community, was an educator, social hub, and helper. The connection between the church and the land was easy enough to figure out. It was commonplace on a Sunday morning to give thanks for land, to pray for it, and to live with the dignity of a very earthy Christianity. In North America it seems that urban abstractions have destabilized this kind of intimate spirituality of land and community. How many residents of a new American suburb are liable to offer an earthy and robust thanks for their square patch of lawn, identically sculpted to fit the pattern of an endless row of McMansions? Or who might stare out of their high rise in Los Angeles to see a maze of granite, concrete, and the world’s most expansive road works and feel compelled to enter this kind of spiritual space? The urban paradox is this: Where human beings are most concentrated, and most capable of building and sustaining God-glorifying community, our urban structures and planning have often erected colossal artificial barriers to it. Wendell Barry, a Christian author, criticizes this new divide as unnatural and unbiblical. In his essay collection The Gift of Good Land, he writes, “I want to deal, at last, with my own long-held belief that Christianity as usually presented by its organizations, is not earthly enough; that a valid spiritual life … must have a practice and a practicality.” It must have a material result. It must reflect on God’s love for creation and the call of God to love our neighbors. Rightly then, these requirements cannot be fulfilled by smiling in abstract beneficence on our neighbors and on our scenery. It must come to tangible acts, which come from skills. Such love, Barry writes, calls for the study of agriculture, soil husbandry, engineering, architecture, mining, and manufacturing. “It calls not just for skills but for the study and criticism of skills, because in all of them a choice must be made.” How can we love our neighbor if we don’t know how to build or mend a fence, or how to keep filth out of his water and poison out of his air? Further, it makes biblical sense that if the earth is the Lord’s and we are His stewards, there are good and bad ways of doing community. We are right to ask: Is there such a thing as a Christian strip mine? A Christian transit system? Or a Christian waste disposal system? Does Christianity imply limitations on the scale of architecture, roadways, and residential complexes? If we are to recover an earthy Christianity, one that connects profoundly to streets, homes, and land, then we must agree, at the very least, that there are possible answers to these questions. And we must reject the argument that the Christian tradition does not provide an understanding of such commonplace issues. Biblical Christianity is about land, about subways, cars, and high rises. It affirms God as Creator, and as sovereign over every bit of creation. Therefore our responsibility as stewards, as those who have been given dominion, is to safeguard God’s work, and His pleasure in it. Our concern is that God be pleased when He looks to our cities. It is irrevocably human to build cities. Living in cities, in community, is part of being human. The Bible affirms this, but it further affirms that all such activity exists, as Luther would say, Corem Deo—before the face of God, and to the glory of God. Our concern for His honor is at the heart of decoding the urban paradox. To this end, New Urbanism flags some of the most salient urban issues in contemporary North America. At the very least it diagnoses the mess that plagues many cities, and proposes some solutions. And, importantly, New Urbanism tells us that the problem is not money. North America is affluent, capable of marshaling colossal resources. Yet our cities and suburban centers no longer seem to support human flourishing?they are often ugly, and dominated by consumerism and big box retailers. We must become theologically alert to the simple but disarming truth that cities can honor God. Church and City: Where did the Connection Go? Among urban geographers it has become clich? to say that a city's soul is its tallest building. It doesn't take a much historical imagination to remember that churches once dominated the urban skylines where banks and business towers now loom. Churches don't stand out in cities anymore, architecturally or otherwise, in much of the global North. Those that do, in Europe for example, often stand more as relics than sites of faith or centers of vibrant urban renewal. In Canada, Reginald Bibby, a sociologist of religion, predicted the death of religion?s relevancy in city landscapes. Religion generally was on its way out as a culture-shaper, he says. But in Restless Gods: The Renaissance of Religion in Canada (2002), Bibby suggests that questions of meaning and purpose are beginning to revitalize religious communities. Among other watershed events, 9/11 has profoundly demonstrated that faith cannot be ignored. The American sociologist Peter Berger agrees when he notes: "I think what I and most other sociologists wrote in the 1960s about secularization was a mistake. It wasn't a crazy theory. There was some evidence for it. But I think it was basically wrong. Most of the world today is not secular." The connection between church and city has therefore not been so much absent as under-theorized, or even anti-theorized. But if biblical Christianity demands concern for cities, then it is time for Christians and urban leaders to re-examine the connection. New Urbanism and an Urban Village Vanguard New Urbanism is one lens by which to examine this link. It is not an exclusively Christian effort, though it reflects many Christian concerns. It is a coalition of architects, developers, planners, journalists, and citizen activists who are committed to developing a physical environment that supports human flourishing. According to Eric Jacobsen in Sidewalks in the Kingdom: New Urbanism and the Christian Faith, the New Urbanist model is distinct because it articulates a new model for shared human life. It is also unique because unlike other more utopian efforts, New Urbanist projects have managed to be financially viable and have been favorably received by many communities. It is nevertheless difficult to pin New Urbanism down as a design method or a particular pattern of development. The New Urbanist commitment to context-sensitive design means that projects are oriented around local topography and climate, as well as the tastes and values of the community itself. In its emphasis on community, New Urbanism also rejects more atomistic approaches that see projects as self-contained. A city is organic, not a patchwork of hermetically-sealed individual buildings. It is an urban fabric, the whole of which must be considered. Although it?s tricky to fix something as historically entrenched as the church into more recent innovations like New Urbanism, the principles below aren't new. The concern of New Urbanism for community, whole development, and human flourishing is not merely the concern of the institutional church; it forms the matrix of what we Christians call ?good news.? In many ways what is striking is not why municipal leaders and New Urbanists should look at churches as allies, but rather, why church leaders have been conspicuously absent from this dialogue. Can community be built from within the physical form of traditional towns without under-girding social structures? What part can churches play in New Urbanism and the revitalization of urban spaces? I want to suggest three critical ways that churches can answer these questions. 1. Befriending the Stranger "People," comments Jean Vanier, the founder of L'Arche, a community for those with intellectual disabilities, "are yearning to discover community. We have had enough of loneliness, independence and competition? (National Catholic Reporter). Urban life is fast-paced, with penalties for those who fail to keep up. Perhaps the most important role a church can play in contemporary urban centers is as simple as presence." I had a friend who, not long ago, was in Vancouver working in its East End, a notoriously drug-ridden and depressed region. One day she was talking with a man at a street church, who had been dry for a month. "How'd you come out of it?" she asked. "Jus' comin' here for a hotdog every night, and the kindness they showed - just people accepting me, shaking my hand, saying hi." Surprised, she asked, "So all those little things are making a difference?" "Oh yea," he said, "just givin' someone the time of day is where it all starts." My friend spent a summer learning that "just giving someone the time of day," just being present, can be all the difference. Jean Vanier writes that presence is being present to people who are fragile, and being present merely to one another. However, New Urbanism is instructive in informing churches that this kind of radical presence means more than putting up a building and filling it. The kind of presence that Vanier is talking about connects churches to a local fabric of its weakest members. This practice of presence is for "those who believe that the renewal of the Church and the unity of the followers of Jesus will come as we serve those who appear to us as strange, different, the unwanted and lonely, and as we learn to befriend our own poverty, the strange and the lonely within us." Cardinal Ethegary adds that the "renewal of the Church always comes as we dare to live a life of covenant with the poor." Churches, like people, must make a pilgrimage of learning to befriend the poverty within and without, to live with the kind of strength and integrity upon which true urban renewal can be built. In some cities this has meant a young mothers' program, in others a refugee sponsorship program, and in still others special needs projects. 2. Spiritual Capital and the Urban Network Historically, churches have been an entrenched part of the community's economic and social infrastructure. Churches raise significant revenue, a great deal of which is funneled into mission. Statistics support the intuitive notion that people invest according to their values, and that values are often defined religiously. Robert Woodberry defines spiritual capital as "resources that are created or that people have access to when people invest in religion as religion." Churches draw significant capital into their orbits, and provide access to it for society's weakest members. The church not only creates spiritual capital, but social capital as well. Christian identity cuts across every other dividing line found in urban neighborhoods. David Sucher, in his book City Comforts: How to Build an Urban Village, tells how the former mayor of Seattle, Norman B. Rice, tried to make an urban village part of his administrative planning. The term might seem like an oxymoron. "How," Sucher writes, "can you have a place that feels like a village and like a big city at the same time? People want the diversity, choice, and independence of the urban. And the intimacy of the village." The task of cities, Sucher continues, has been made more complicated than it needs to be. It is no more complex than making people comfortable, the same task faced by the host of a party. Churches can create this level of human comfort, but too often they are complicit in creating forbidding, intimidating public spaces. It is time to imagine how churches can help cultivate an urban village. Kathleen Madden, in How to Turn a Place Around: A Handbook for Creating Successful Public Spaces (2000), suggests the following characteristics for a successful public place: A high proportion of people in groups. A higher than average proportion of women (because women - according to Madden - tend to be more discriminating about the places they use, perhaps because of choosiness about the seating available, perhaps because of their perceptions about safety). The presence of people of different ages over the course of a day. A variety of possible activities rather than a single use for the place. Public shows of affection. Madden writes, "There is generally more smiling, kissing, embracing, holding and shaking of hands, and so forth in good public spaces than in those that are problematic." 3. For the Art of It: Cities and Sacred Space There is an old legend about the conversion of Russia to Orthodoxy in 988 A.D. Prince Volodymyr of Kiev wanted to convert to a common religion to unite his people. He sent messengers to the lands of Catholicism, Islam, Judaism, and Orthodoxy. On their return they reported their impressions, favorable but not overly so of the great religions, until they related the Orthodox Christians of Constantinople, and the Hagia Sophia. Speaking of their worship in the Great Church they said, "We knew not whether we were in heaven or on earth. It would be impossible to find on earth any splendor greater than this. Never shall we be able to forget so great a beauty." There is something remarkable about a conversion based on the discovery of God through architecture. The sacredness of such space is not about God living only in those places, but rather about us setting space apart. While temples house gods, the Christian notion of church is communal, flesh and blood. The church as a building is a symbolic extension of this community, and as a physical space where Christians come together. Our building shapes, by means of design and placement, how we understand what it means to be a community. "Buildings [are] like human beings," writes David Sucher. "Conversations between buildings, as among humans, are a poignant sign of neighborliness. It is the height of rudeness - though all too often the expected norm in cities - for neighbors to speak not a word to each other for years on end. Buildings that do not talk to their neighbors are also rude." In many city neighborhoods, churches can be good neighbors by re-inhabiting existing church buildings, or by creating new buildings that respond to the surrounding space - finding ways of fitting into the context. The church should see it as part of its vocation to repair the urban fabric by repairing and constructing its own building in such a way that the neighborhood is aesthetically and socially knitted together. The physical institution of the church and its neighborhood should be an icon of the social cohesion of the church and its community. Polite architectural conversation can be as easy as doing simple things, like preserving green space and cultivating a garden, showcasing life and vibrancy. "We need Christians and churches everywhere there are people," writes Tim Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church (PCA) in New York City in "A New Kind of Urban Christian" (Christianity Today, May 2006). Urban renewal, requires the kind of vision and action that churches and people of faith possess. It is an urban vision firmly entrenched in the knowledge of the creator God, acted out faithfully in response to His Word, with contextual reflection. There is almost no limit to the imaginative manifestations that such a church can take. But churches and Christians must begin to take this kind of earthy Christianity, which bespeaks such pertinence to architecture, community, and transit more seriously if they are to realize a vision of urban centers built and sustained for human flourishing and the glory of God.

In a uniquely Canadian twist, the Alberta government may soon put an end to a royalties regime that achieved the goal of accelerating oil sands development and, in the process, turned the province's economy into the envy of the world. That's not to say that oil sands production will cease. It won't. But if the recommendations of a provincial government-appointed review panel are adopted, it definitely will slow. Everyone is agreed on that, including the royalty review panel's chairman, Bill Hunter. The question is whether activity will ease back to a more normal and yet still healthy pace or whether it will stutter and stall as capital looks for other jurisdictions that are as out of line with the international norm as the panel fears Alberta has been. The panel's report, embraced by some and branded as irresponsible by others, indicates that Albertans, as owners of the resource, have not been getting enough and should - at current prices - be taking in $2-billion more annually in royalties. It recommends: Increasing the people's take from oil sands revenue to 64 per cent from 47 per cent; Hiking royalties after payouts on development costs to 33 per cent from 25 per cent, plus a price-sensitive tax on each barrel of production from startup; Banning "grandfathering" of current projects and energy developments; Increasing price-related royalty caps to reflect current oil and gas prices. Premier Ed Stelmach, who recently described how difficult it had been to "give away $10-billion" to his municipalities, says he will decide in a matter of weeks on how much of this, if any, he will implement. His promise that he will not be intimidated is a pretty clear indication, however, that he is going to at least adopt parts of the package. The "problem," according to the review panel, is that Alberta's royalty structure has been far more beneficial to private industry than is the case elsewhere. (This has prompted serious people to weigh Alberta's merits against socialist and recovering Communist jurisdictions such as Angola, Venezuela and Russia - apparent examples of where the people's interests are more paramount). These differences have inspired opposition politicians and, for instance, the respected left-leaning Pembina Institute to point to the panel's report as proof that Albertans have been shortchanged over the past decade. Finding the appropriate balance is always important in these matters. Yet, it does seem a bit of a stretch to imagine that Albertans, who live in a deficit- and debt-free jurisdiction, with multibillion-dollar budget surpluses, have somehow been ripped off. Alberta has experienced close to the most rapid economic expansion, job growth etc. in the world in recent years. Workers making $100,000 in Alberta take home $5,000 a year more on average than Canadians in most other provinces, pay relatively modest property taxes and zero provincial sales tax. It is perhaps the most prosperous society in the course of human history, one in which the biggest problem facing its government hasn't been money but what to do with its massive surpluses (tax cuts oddly having been ruled out). If Albertans have been harmed by past public policy, well, what can you say other than what does a fellow have to do to get in the queue to be so victimized? Regardless, it is apparent that the leaves are falling from the boom-town tree. Already this year, drilling has slowed significantly. Low natural gas prices have combined with weak equity markets and massive cost increases so that the province's take from land sales is expected to do little better than $1.4-billion this year, compared with $3.43-billion in 2006 and $2.26-billion in 2005. The Canadian dollar's rise against its U.S. counterpart makes it likely that, despite rising oil prices, companies will be hard-pressed to increase profits beyond what they are today other than through cost containment (and we all know what that means). The review panel has placed the people's hands firmly on the throat of the golden goose. Much will be determined by how hard they squeeze.

On October 10th, the voters of Ontario will pass judgment not only on Dalton McGuinty’s Liberal government; they will also vote on whether or not to change the way we vote. In many respects, this is more important than the election itself. Under our current system, variously labeled “single-member-plurality,” “winner-take-all,” and “first-past-the-post” (FPTP), the province is divided into 107 electoral districts or ridings, each of which sends a representative to the provincial legislature at Queen’s Park in Toronto. Electoral contests within each riding are settled on the basis of plurality – that is, on which candidate receives more votes than any other single candidate. It is not necessary for that candidate to have received an absolute majority (50 percent plus one) of the votes cast. This means that in a closely-contested, three-way race it is possible for a candidate to win an election over the opposition of up to two-thirds of the voters. Even where the parties are not evenly matched, it is hardly unusual for the “winning” candidate to receive well under a majority. In this respect Ontario has not had a true majority government elected since 1937. The Ontario Citizens’ Assembly on Electoral Reform is proposing, not an outright abandonment of our current system, but its modification in a more representative direction. Under the mixed-member proportional system offered by the Assembly, Ontarians will have two votes, one for a party list and one for a local candidate. The province will be divided into 90 ridings, with up to 39 additional seats to be added to that number. The election for a single member to represent a riding will still be based on FPTP. But if, when the total votes are counted, a party remains under-represented, as the federal Progressive Conservatives were in 1993, its share of seats will be topped up from the party list side, ensuring that the partisan composition of the Legislature roughly reflects levels of support in the electorate. If a party does not receive at least 3 percent of the total vote, it will receive no seats from the party list. This is to ensure that there are not too many small parties in the Legislature, especially those that might represent fringe groups. What are the benefits of MMP? To begin with, it treats an election, not as a horse race with winners and losers, but as a means of measuring support for parties and their programs. If, say, 20 percent of the electorate votes for the Green Party, it will receive roughly 20 percent of the seats in the Legislature. One opponent of MMP complained that it rewards a party that cannot win riding elections. That misses the point. Democracy is about representation, and our current system penalizes those parties with a genuine following but whose support is too geographically diffuse. Second, it combines the best features of two electoral systems: FPTP and a more unadulterated form of proportional representation (PR). Both the Netherlands and Israel have a straight party list system, in which voters cast their ballots for a list rather than a local candidate. Most Canadians would agree that this would be inappropriate for a country like Canada, with its huge expanse of territory and diverse population. Ontario itself is scarcely less diverse than Canada as a whole. A member of the Citizens’ Assembly with whom I recently spoke observed that most people they consulted were strongly in favour of retaining local representation in the Legislature. This they did not wish to give up. Under MMP they will not have to. But they will have the added benefit of knowing that, if their favoured candidate loses the riding, their party list votes will nevertheless count. Third, MMP is likely to boost voter turnout, as PR has done in a number of democracies around the world. This is not just an educated guess; the relationship between electoral systems and voter turnout has been demonstrated empirically by the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance (IDEA) in Stockholm (http://www.idea.int/vt/survey/index.cfm). This organization maintains a continually updated database of election results since 1945 in 171 states. These data indicate a positive correlation between PR and a high voter turnout. Where voters’ choices are limited and where their votes are regularly wasted on losing candidates, the incentive to vote at all is weak. On the other hand, where there is some expectation that one’s vote really will count for something, people are more likely to go to the polls. (See my “Voter Turnout and Competitive Politics” http://www.cpjustice.org/stories/storyReader$509). Fourth, MMP is likely to break the monopoly of the two major parties, the Liberals and Conservatives, which have become used to relying on the distortions of FPTP to cling to power. New parties will almost certainly arise and minor parties will become stronger. If they have sufficient support to overcome the 3 percent hurdle, they will send MPPs to the Legislature. Likely beneficiaries will be the New Democratic Party, the Greens and the Family Coalition Party. Fifth, contrary to some expectations, MMP will not entail permanent minority government. Because single-party majority governments will become increasingly unlikely, parties will have to form coalition governments, which will be made up of more than one party. The closest we came to this in Ontario was the two-year accord between the Liberal and New Democratic Parties in 1985, the difference being that there were no New Democrats in David Peterson’s cabinet. Here is what MMP will not do: it will not cure all the ills of democracy. It will not end political corruption, which is rooted in the rebellious human heart. It will not bring about perfect justice. However, it will help to empower previously under-represented voices and give them a hearing in the corridors of political power. It will also offer a potent check on the power of the premier, whose position will be dependent on more than just leadership over his own party. Ontarians would do well to vote, not to get rid of FPTP, but to modify it so as to represent better the diversity of the province’s population. Vote for MMP on October 10th. David Koyzis is the Professor of Political Science at Redeemer University College in Ancaster, Ontario.

On Oct. 10, Ontarians will be called on to vote twice. They will (or won’t) vote in the general election that decides who sits in the next provincial parliament and who governs Ontario. And, they will be called on to vote in a referendum to say “Yes” or “No” to a new electoral system for Ontario provincial elections: “mixed member proportional” representation or “MMP.” What is MMP? Here’s the gist: instead of one vote, Ontarians would cast two votes. One vote would be cast for the local candidate of their choice in the electoral district where they live. The other vote would be cast for the political party of their choice. In each riding, the candidate who won the most votes would become the member of Provincial Parliament (MPP), just like now. But seats would be reserved for the political parties to choose the other MPPs based on how many votes the parties got. Why MMP? Supporters argue that MMP would result in a provincial parliament that better reflected each party’s popular vote. Pro-life supporters of MMP argue it would allow a pro-life party to put a pro-life MPP in the provincial parliament. Confused? You should be. What is really needed is not MMP reform, but “MPP reform.” What Ontario needs – what all governments need – is elected officials who speak and vote with the courage of conviction. MMP gives political parties and their leaders more power, not less. MMP gives local party members less power, not more. Now, the local riding associations of the parties select candidates. The process is open to any party member eligible to run for office. A party leader can impose candidates, but it’s bad politics for a leader to do so. It’s considered “anti-democratic.” So, why would people who want a “more democratic” system support MMP? MMP lets the party leader make the call, not party members. MMP is anti-democratic. Pro-life Ontarians can join any political party, organize to win their party’s candidate selection in any riding, stand for election, and win – with “smarts” and hard work. The problem is not just getting elected. It’s what some pro-life people do when they achieve office. Party discipline is part of the reason. If an MPP wants to curry favour with the caucus and party leader, he or she must go along with what the leader wants in order to advance in the caucus ranks. “Go along to get along.” In our system, votes on budget bills and motions are “confidence votes.” Votes on other “money bills” – bills requiring spending or a tax increase – aren’t always, unless the leader makes them so. When members fail to vote with the leader and caucus on a confidence vote, they risk being kicked out of caucus. But very few votes are confidence votes. How would MMP change this? The short answer is, it won’t. Our system upholds “cabinet solidarity.” Every member of cabinet is expected to support the government’s position. If the premier declares the government’s position on a bill or motion, other cabinet members must vote the same way. If a cabinet member won’t, he must resign from cabinet. Sometimes opposition party leaders insist on the same solidarity for opposition critics, but not always. How would MMP change this? Same answer: it won’t. Our system distinguishes between ?government bills and motions? and ?private members? bills and motions.? A government bill or motion is introduced by a member of the cabinet. A private members? bill or motion is introduced by an MPP who is not in cabinet. An MPP isn?t required to ask his leader or caucus for permission to introduce a private members? bill. Traditionally, votes on private members? bills are free votes. They?re not confidence votes and they don?t require cabinet solidarity, unless the government takes a position. How would MMP change this? Again: it won?t. What the pro-life cause needs are more MPPs who set aside advancing their careers in caucus and cabinet and focus, instead, on advancing life and family as a political issue. We need more MPPs who argue for life and family inside caucus, in committees and the legislative assembly and in media and public meetings. We need more MPPs who recruit pro-life volunteers to their campaigns and hire pro-life staff and interns so the next generation of activists is put in place. We need more MPPs who table pro-life bills on funding, information, parental notification and others, so that the law becomes more pro-life ? to achieve what Augustine called ?proximate justice.? MMP? No, we need more MPPs who advance a culture of life movement that celebrates family life, the aspirations of youth and the wisdom of age ? that sees all human life as sacred. ?Vote life? ? not MMP.

Not since 1992, when Don Getty's Progressive Conservative government was polling in the 15-per-cent range, have Alberta Tories been so nervous. They're accustomed to periods of anxiety only when polls dip Tory support below 50 per cent; Premier Ed Stelmach's government is now wandering in the low to mid-30s. Catastrophic? Maybe. Irretrievable? Not yet. Recall that when Mr. Getty's government was at its lowest point, at least one famous poll indicated the New Democrats were approaching the cusp of power in this bastion of libertarian/neo-/paleo-con enterprise. A human gestation period later, the Ralph Klein Revolution swept into office by re-energizing the Tories and outrighting Laurence Decore's Liberals. Equally intriguing is that, as the allegiance to Mr. Stelmach's government erodes, support for the Liberals under Kevin Taft isn't increasing in a way that makes that party look like a serious alternative. Albertans, preoccupied with either making money or trying to figure out why they are not making the money everyone else is, are spilling into the "undecided" category - a clear sign that the old consensus is eroding and a new one may be about to be born in a radical way. That, after all, is our pattern of behaviour: Since its creation as a province in 1905, Alberta has been ruled in succession by Liberals, United Farmers, Social Credit and Progressive Conservatives. Every governing party has ruled for longer than 10 years. In the current case, the Tories have been in office since 1971. No party has gained power, lost it, then returned to power in a later election. In the case of the UFA and Socreds, the parties pretty much disappeared in a relatively short time. Parties have successfully reinvented themselves to revolutionize and avoid oblivion. Every time the governing party has been overthrown (admittedly only four times in 102 years), it was not defeated by the Official Opposition but by a new, unexpected agent. In other words, once you are a loser in Alberta, it has so far been impossible to become a winner. Neither the current governing party nor the Official Opposition has recent polling numbers that indicate strong levels of public confidence. Within this context and current conditions, it appears Alberta is primed for a significant change. People are open, politically lonely and available for the siren call of an alternative. Some will argue that this sense of infidelity might be different from the past as a result of the impact of immigration. But immigration is not new to Alberta. It has been a constant feature - except during the Great Depression (1930s) and the Great National Energy Program Recession (1980s) - that so far hasn't proved to have any diluting impact on the generally entrepreneurial culture. In other words, neither change in population numbers nor political party supremacy necessarily equates to change in people's inclinations. One suspects that most Albertans still hope Mr. Stelmach's government will give them a reason to believe. If not, the option on the left is that a coalition of New Democrats and Liberals will form to capitalize on Tory ennui. On the right, the options are: the Alberta Alliance, which, under the guidance of sole MLA Paul Hinman, outperformed the New Democrats in most Calgary urban ridings and finished second ahead of the Liberals in a great many rural ridings; and the Wild Rose party, which is still gathering signatures to make itself official but has the backing of credible people such as senator-elect Link Byfield. The fact that both the Alliance and Wild Rose are ignored by the major media does stir memories of the early days of Reform. But if that same magic is there, it's not yet apparent. Alberta is not a colonial annex to Confederation any more. It is a powerful player whose thump factor grows with every passing year. What is happening here isn't exactly clear, but trust that, when it takes shape, the impact will be profound. That is our way.

Be not afraid! - John Paul II, 1978   You turn if you want to. The lady's not for turning. - Margaret Thatcher, 1980 I urge you to beware the temptation of pride - the temptation of blithely declaring yourselves above it all and label both sides equally at fault, to ignore the facts of history and the aggressive impulses of an evil empire, to simply call the arms race a giant misunderstanding and thereby remove yourself from the struggle between right and wrong and good and evil. - Ronald Reagan, 1983 John Paul II, Margaret Thatcher, and Ronald Reagan personified their faith traditions. John Paul II was a post-Vatican II Catholic. He was profoundly influenced by the philosophical theology of personalism grounded in the doctrine of Imago Dei that sees every human person as created in the image of God and, therefore, of inestimable value. Margaret Thatcher was a Great Awakening Christian. She was shaped from childhood by a Methodist faith that taught, "Earn all you can, save all you can and give all you can," modelled by her father, a grocer and mayor, and that sought solutions to the problems of humankind grounded in helping others toward self-reliance. Ronald Reagan was a Second Awakening Christian. His approach to life was informed by a "Campbellite" Scottish common sense realism and its post-Calvinist confidence in the ability of people of good will to reason and to work together in pursuit of the good on first principles. John O'Sullivan served variously as an editor of the National Review, editorial consultant to the National Post and as an adviser to prime minister Margaret Thatcher. In this, his first book, O'Sullivan describes the leadership qualities of John Paul II, Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher, exercised individually and in concert, and how these led to the defeat of communist totalitarianism and to a renewed confidence in the West. O'Sullivan frames his account with "spiritual biographies" of the three. He suggests that apart from recognizing how belief in God and how a faith commitment and perspective are central to each, we cannot understand their interpretations of contemporary events as they unfolded for a pope, a president and a prime minister, personally and globally. O'Sullivan implies, in turn, that the failure or refusal of many in the West to acknowledge the power of these commitments and perspectives effectively made the actions of this pope, this president and this prime minister incomprehensible and, even, seem nonsensical to them. O'Sullivan opens his book with a description of what amounts to "a two-front war": the expansionism and global ambition of Soviet totalitarianism on one side and the economic and cultural malaise of the West on the other. He offers a compelling account of the intransigence of what turned out to be the last gasp of Soviet ambition led by Leonid Brezhnev. This is put in counterpoint to John Paul II's cultural challenge mounted against the Polish communist regime. O'Sullivan paints a picture of a pope who preaches, not a political, but a cultural confrontation of Polish communism. John Paul taught Poles to refuse to accept the communist status quo as anything but an interregnum to which they should respond by living as faith-integral Catholics whose first loyalty was not to an all-encompassing state, but to an all-encompassing faith. His first instruction was delivered in his inaugural homily as pope, when John Paul quoted the admonition of Christ to his disciples: "Be not afraid!" The careers of Thatcher and Reagan are also put in context. It was not just counter-intuitive that someone of Thatcher's public policy outlook could be elected prime minister, but as leader of her party. Britain was living in a post-Imperial twilight of regress from confidence in foreign policy and in Britons' ability to compete with the world. The country that gave the world Adam Smith, the industrial revolution and (with the Dutch) invented capitalism was the sick man of Europe. But Thatcher advocated "the vigorous virtues" - Methodist virtues - of hard work, prudence, thrift and self-reliance. In 1970s Britain, Thatcher was deemed "too conservative." O'Sullivan traces the kernel of "the Reagan Doctrine" to the differing perspectives of Kissinger and Reagan on withdrawal of U.S. forces from South Vietnam in 1975. Reagan echoed Kissinger's urging U.S. congressmen to approve military supplies, already promised to the Thieu regime. Both worried about the impact of withdrawal on U.S. alliances elsewhere and "the stain on national honour." But Reagan differed sharply on the effectiveness, and even legitimacy, of détente as a defining foreign policy doctrine to inform dealings with the Russians for two reasons: the Soviets consistently got the better deal and, far more serious, détente gave an undeserved whiff of respectability and permanence to what Reagan considered to be "a form of insanity -- a temporary aberration." O'Sullivan calls this difference "an almost spiritual one." He describes at length the co-ordination of efforts between the three, although Thatcher and John Paul did not meet. Thatcher generally supported Reagan's foreign policy approach and sometimes led the way. Even when they disagreed, there was affection. During a phone call as Thatcher argued her case, Reagan held up the receiver to those in the room and said, "Isn't she wonderful?" Reagan lent military support to Thatcher for the Falklands War and Thatcher accepted INF missiles and allowed American planes to land on British soil. John Paul was convinced that Reagan was an advocate of disarmament and lent his moral support. Reagan channelled money and other support to Poland's Solidarity movement and briefed the pope on the Russians. O'Sullivan interprets John Paul's encyclical, Centesimus Annus (1991), as an endorsement of "the new economy" created by Reagan and Thatcher's reforms, consistent with his personalist understanding of humankind. When the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops issued its pastoral letter, "The Challenge of Peace" (1983), the first and second drafts equated pacifism and "just war" while the third and final draft - as a result of the Vatican's intervention - "made clear that the just war tradition was the sole authentically Catholic one." One point of difference highlighted is the Reagan and Thatcher positions on "the Strategic Defense Initiative." O'Sullivan argues that Reagan saw SDI as a means of eliminating nuclear arms and, therefore, made it a condition of disarmament. Reagan offered to co-operate with the Russians on SDI development, including sharing technology advances. But he refused to halt SDI research and testing, even in return for nuclear disarmament holus bolus , as offered by Gorbachev at Reykjavik in 1986. As the U.S. summit party departed Iceland on Air Force One, Reagan was told by Charles Zwick, "Ronnie, you just won the Cold War. They admitted they can't compete. They don't have the money to fight the dollar." But Gorbachev himself had already publicly announced "the beginning of the end of the Cold War." What he may not have realized was that this also signalled the end of the Soviet Union. There are some historical footnotes uncovered by O'Sullivan's access to secret, Soviet-era documents available to him by way of the Gorbachev Foundation archive, prior to President Vladimir Putin's ending access to it in 2003. He also relied on Vladimir Bukovsky's account, among others. O'Sullivan cites discussions the radical British unionist Arthur Scargill had with the Soviets and their funding his efforts in 1983 to shut down Britain and defeat Thatcher. Chilling are the accounts of U.S. Senator Edward Kennedy's advising the Soviet leadership on how to deal with Reagan and Kennedy's overture to the short-lived general secretary Yuri Andropov! Without using the term, O'Sullivan suggests that John Paul, Ronald Reagan, and Margaret Thatcher's survival of assassination attempts was providential. The loss of any of the three might well have delayed the end of the Cold War and the fall of the Soviet Empire. Those who would follow their models of leadership will do well emulate their faith commitments to that providence. In the words of John O'Sullivan's adaptation of Lady Thatcher's eulogy for Ronald Reagan: "We have an advantage that they never had. We have their example."   Russ Kuykendall is a senior researcher at the Work Research Foundation and is the eldest of his parents' six children.

Some years ago, Calgary cancelled its Cowboy Festival of poetry and all things western. It's difficult to remember the reasons stated, if any, at the time, but it was one of those delightful little pieces of culture that had fallen out of fashion. It too easily reinforced stereotypes and was deemed unsuited to the "new West" image of a modern "sophisticated" city. It was very nice but, really, what would the neighbours think? Nothing new took the place of the cowboy poets. They were just left on the cultural doorstep - children deemed to have lost their legitimacy and about whom we were never to speak again. After all, a lot of us in this country - including nouveau Calgarians - have a certain amount of difficulty viewing cowboy culture as something "Canadian." It has always been viewed a little suspiciously because most of us formed our view of cowboys through the lens of Hollywood, which gave us a distinctly American view of the genre. Americans had cowboys but, well, we had Mounties, and let's face it: Within our culture, there is nothing more un-Canadian than something that might be American. Just ask an American immigrant how free he feels to celebrate his diversity, and you get the picture. The truth is, cowboy culture and this week's Stampede is to Calgary what Celtic music is to Nova Scotia - an inescapable part of its history and foundation. The Bar U Ranch, for instance, is not one of Canada's better known or promoted historical sites. Nestled in the foothills about 60 kilometres southwest of Calgary, it is a monument to those two generations who lived, loved and died before the barbed wire went up and the wonder of the open range disappeared both for first and second nations people. At one time, the Bar U's population of three or so dozen people constituted the largest settlement between Calgary and Fort Macleod. It had a post office, a Royal North-West Mounted Police detachment, and (not a lot of people know this) was for a time the home of Harry Longabaugh, who, after moving to Calgary and working in the saloon at the Grand Central Hotel, returned to the U.S. as the Sundance Kid.Another 150 kilometres or so to the south is Cowley, near where the John Hoise wagon train of 12 men, women and children, on their way from Fort Benton to Fort Edmonton, was massacred in 1867 by a war party led by Medicine Calf of the Blood First Nation. Legend has it that a Longview bar once displayed a rifle bearing a serial number that identified it as belonging to a soldier in the U.S. 7th Cavalry. Apparently, it was brought north by one of the Sioux warriors who had triumphed in the Battle of the Little Big Horn. In fact, in southern Alberta, we not only have people who can trace their heritage to those same Sioux warriors, but we have cacti, scorpions, and rattlesnakes. And yes, whether or not we choose to acknowledge it, we have cowboys. Their numbers are in decline, but the values they maintain - the ones that should not and cannot be abandoned - live on. I golfed with two of them recently. One was a chiropractor, the other an exercise kinesiologist. They were former bull riders, compact in build like Formula One drivers and fighter pilots. As it always is with cowboys, they were transparently honest, disarmingly friendly and in possession of more work ethic and intelligence - in other words, character - than the God, guts and guns stereotype that so troubles today's faux urban sophisticates. The Canadian cowboy way built this city. As cowgirl poet Doris Daley puts it: "We knew drought and fire and heartache, we knew fat and we knew bone/ But we were silver lining people and we never rode alone."

There have been times when the most difficult thing about getting elected as a Conservative in Calgary was winning the nomination. This spring Brian Heninger won the Tory nomination for Calgary-Elbow - the seat vacated by retired premier Ralph Klein - by acclamation. Mr. Heninger's ambitions and talents were both laudable, as was an optimism that few other potential and ambitious Calgary Conservatives shared. But Calgary-Elbow had Liberal "upset" written all over it from the moment Mr. Klein's retirement was announced - and in Tuesday by-election Mr. Heninger lost to Liberal candidate Craig Cheffins. Calgary-Elbow, despite being held by the Conservatives since 1971, has been in play before. In making the transition from Calgary mayor to provincial MLA in Don Getty's government, Mr. Klein won the seat over Liberal Gib Clark by a mere 823 votes - roughly the size of Mr. Heninger's loss to Mr. Cheffins. Overcoming the relatively posh constituency's suspicions of his working-class roots, Mr. Klein then went on to more comfortable victories as premier, although his plurality slumped to 2,020 votes in the uninspired 2004 election. Into the latest electoral mix were thrown: Calgary's prolonged sulk over Edmonton-area Ed Stelmach's ascension to the premier's office to replace Mr. Klein; the low voter turnout typically associated with by-elections; and a series of increasingly angry criticisms of the provincial government by a Calgary mayor staunchly committed to his causes. Given all that, it comes as little surprise the Liberals were able to win this seat, particularly within Calgary's reality. Ever since Peter Lougheed's Progressive Conservatives swept to power in 1971 as the preferred party to the left of the Social Credit dynasty, Calgary has been a generally happy place for Conservative candidates. But by no means has it been as monolithically Tory as voting patterns created by Mr. Klein's populism from the mid-1990s until recently indicated. In 1986, for instance, Calgary elected 15 Tories (some narrowly), one Liberal and two - count 'em - New Democrats. Three years later, the election produced 13 Tories, three Liberals and the same two New Democrats. Liberals still managed to win three of 20 Calgary ridings in 1993, after Mr. Klein had become premier, although "Ralph's" popularity with the working man wiped out the New Democrats. Much of this context gets lost in discussions about the nature of change in Calgary. Liberal victories these days are commonly viewed as the result of newcomers importing their politics to the mix or - particularly among diehard Liberals prone to seeing themselves in the most fashionable intellectual categories - indications of a new urban sophistication. The truth - and there is much data to support this - is that Calgary is historically a much more pluralistic city politically than it has been fashionable to assume. The election of a clean slate of Tories, such as occurred in the 2001 election, hasn't been the norm since Mr. Lougheed's days and has never been the case when a non-Calgarian is premier. Even in 1997, when Mr. Klein appeared at the absolute height of his powers, Calgary Buffalo was retained by Liberal Gary Dixon. This week's by-election outcome is without doubt cause for Mr. Stelmach to be concerned about the health of the Tory franchise in Calgary. And it is a fabulous morale boost to the Liberals. But is Calgary changing so much that it is now possible to elect a Liberal? Well, maybe. But if it is, it might just be changing back to that which it was the last time a non-Calgarian was premier - a good but not yet great city full of a diversity of fresh ideas and established allegiances. Many other things have changed, but if we are to judge solely by its voting patterns, the current "new" Calgary looks an awful lot like the "old" Calgary of 20 years ago. PETER MENZIES Past publisher of the Calgary Herald and a senior fellow with the Work Research Foundation

Most frequently people of faith have inspired government to become more fully engaged in social services throughout the 20th century. by Michael Van Pelt CBC foreign correspondent Brian Stewart says his job involves reporting on the world's greatest human tragedies. Yet what he has found—and what he recently told Knox College's 160th convocation class—is that there is "no movement, or force, closer to the raw truth of war, famine, crises and the vast human predicament than organized Christianity in action." He continued, "I've never reached a war zone, or famine group or crisis anywhere where some church organization was not there long before me … sturdy, remarkable souls usually too kind to ask, 'What took you so long?' " When there are crises in our world, the people who move most swiftly to alleviate human suffering are almost always under the flag of a faith-based organization. The Salvation Army has been patrolling the streets of the world's cities and providing food and shelter to the homeless, the addicted, the mentally ill and anyone else who has fallen by the wayside for 140 years. Long before governments became engaged in the provision of social services, churches were opening their doors to the destitute. It was most frequently people of faith who inspired government to become more fully engaged in social services throughout the 20th century. It is worth recalling on this year's 200th anniversary of the abolition of the British slave trade, that the Christians were in the vanguard of the abolitionist movement. No matter what the current view of separation of church and state, the foundations of the compassion required to inspire the alleviation of human suffering can be found in the calling to "love your neighbour as yourself." So, how has it happened that we have now separated the foundation of social services from the state? The separation of church and state should not mean silence between these two great organs of society. Instead, if governments and citizens alike are interested in serving to enrich urban centres and restoring the broken and the downtrodden, a revitalized partnership between faith institutions and government is essential. And this isn't just in the downtowns of cities, where Brian Stewart and other correspondents might find concentrations of pain and headlines. Institutions of faith are unique because they connect people's most important beliefs locally, wherever they are. That's why cities such as Calgary, with booming housing industries and sprawling suburbs, need to pay close attention to the social and public space that faith institutions protect. Institutions of faith planted and flourishing in communities, especially suburbs, draw us out from behind our expensively mortgaged housing developments and into conversation with the land and the people around us. Planning for churches and other public spaces in suburbs is critical for the social future of these developments. In many ways, a lot of this is old news. Everyone knows about the Salvation Army, the downtown church that serves a bread-and-milk program, or the suburban church that brings in neighbourhood kids for sports and fundraisers. But why aren't city governments talking to these people, who have the local knowledge, support and motivation to make urban plans really work? Effective societies work to engage their various sectors to work for the greater good, not build walls between them. It's time to re-engage faith-based organizations in our changing social architecture to best serve those we find in need. Michael Van Pelt is president of the Work Research Foundation.