Electing a Diverse Canada : The Representation of Immigrants, Minorities, and Women [1 ed.] 9780774814874, 9780774814850

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Electing a Diverse Canada

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Edited by Caroline Andrew, John Biles, Myer Siemiatycki, and Erin Tolley

Electing a Diverse Canada The Representation of Immigrants, Minorities, and Women

© UBC Press 2008 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the publisher, or, in Canada, in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a licence from Access Copyright (Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency), www.accesscopyright.ca. 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 08

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Printed in Canada on ancient-forest-free paper (100 percent post-consumer recycled) that is processed chlorine- and acid-free, with vegetable-based inks. Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Electing a diverse Canada: the representation of immigrants, minorities, and women / edited by Caroline Andrew ... [et al.]. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-7748-1485-0 (bound); ISBN 978-0-7748-1486-7 (pbk.) 1. Minorities – Canada – Political activity. 2. Immigrants – Canada – Political activity. 3. Women in politics – Canada. 4. Political participation – Canada. 5. Representative government and representation – Canada. 6. Canada – Politics and government – 2006-. I. Andrew, Caroline, 1942JL186.5.E44 2008

324’.08900971

C2008-903463-5

UBC Press gratefully acknowledges the financial support for our publishing program of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP), and of the Canada Council for the Arts, and the British Columbia Arts Council. This book has been published with the help of a grant from the Canadian Federation for the Humanities and Social Sciences, through the Aid to Scholarly Publications Programme, using funds provided by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. Printed and bound in Canada by Friesens Set in Stone by Artegraphica Design Co. Ltd. Copy editor: Andy Carroll Proofreader and indexer: Dianne Tiefensee UBC Press The University of British Columbia 2029 West Mall Vancouver, BC V6T 1Z2 604-822-5959 / Fax: 604-822-6083 www.ubcpress.ca

Contents

Maps and Tables / vii Acknowledgments / ix Introduction / 3 Caroline Andrew, John Biles, Myer Siemiatycki, and Erin Tolley 1 Reputation and Representation: Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto / 23 Myer Siemiatycki 2 Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver / 46 Irene Bloemraad 3 Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal: Dream or Reality? / 70 Carolle Simard 4 More than Just Cowboys with White Hats: A Demographic Profile of Edmonton and Calgary / 92 Shannon Sampert 5 Our Unrepresentative but Somewhat Successful Capital: Electoral Representation in Ottawa / 111 John Biles and Erin Tolley 6 Many Faces, Few Places: The Political Under-Representation of Ethnic Minorities and Women in the City of Hamilton / 136 Karen Bird

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Contents

7 Representation Deficits in Regina and Saskatoon / 156 Joseph Garcea 8 The Patterning of Political Representation in Halifax / 180 Karen Bridget Murray, with the assistance of Michael Caverhill 9 Diversity and Political Representation in Winnipeg / 205 Brenda O’Neill and Jared J. Wesley 10 Ethnoracial Minorities in the 38th Parliament: Patterns of Change and Continuity / 229 Jerome H. Black Conclusion / 255 Caroline Andrew, John Biles, Myer Siemiatycki, and Erin Tolley Contributors / 270 Index / 271

Maps and Tables

Maps 1.1 Federal electoral map of Toronto, 2001 / 28 2.1 Federal electoral map of Vancouver, 2001 / 53 2.2 Distribution of Chinese and East-Indian ethnic groups, Vancouver, 2001 / 62 3.1 Federal electoral map of the new City of Montréal, 2001 / 74 4.1 Federal electoral map of Edmonton, 2001 / 95 4.2 Federal electoral map of Calgary, 2001 / 96 5.1 Distribution of recent immigrants, Ottawa, 2001 / 118 5.2 Federal electoral map of Ottawa, 2001 / 119 6.1 Federal electoral map of Hamilton, 2004 / 146 7.1 Distribution of visible minorities and Aboriginals, Regina, 2001 / 162 7.2 Distribution of visible minorities and Aboriginals, Saskatoon, 2001 / 163 8.1 Federal electoral map of Halifax, 2001 / 181 8.2 Distribution of visible minorities, Halifax, 2001 / 196 9.1 Federal electoral map of Winnipeg, 2001 / 207 9.2 Distribution of Métis and French, Winnipeg, 2001 / 212 Tables 1.1 Visible minority population, Toronto, 2001 / 28 1.2 Ethnic origins, combined single and multiple responses, Toronto, 2001 / 30 1.3 Proportionality indices for select groups of Toronto’s elected officials / 33 2.1 Top ten countries of birth of immigrants, Vancouver, 2001 / 50 2.2 Top twenty-five ancestries, Vancouver, 2001 / 51 2.3 Diverse representation in Vancouver indices of proportionality / 59

viii Maps and Tables

3.1 Gender of population and elected representatives, Montréal, 2001 / 78 3.2 Ethnic origin of population and elected representatives, Montréal, 2001 / 81 3.3 Proportionality indices, Montréal / 82 4.1 Key demographic characteristics, Edmonton and Calgary, 2001 / 99 4.2 Sex by city and position, Edmonton and Calgary / 103 4.3 Position by immigrant status, Edmonton and Calgary / 104 4.4 Proportionality indices, Edmonton and Calgary / 108 5.1 Immigration to Ottawa, top source countries, 1996-2001 / 115 5.2 Visible minority groups, Ottawa (total responses), 2001 / 115 5.3 Selected ethnic origins, Ottawa (total responses), 2001 / 116 5.4 Proportionality indices for key variables, Ottawa / 121 6.1 Descriptive representation, Hamilton / 149 7.1 Socio-demographic profile of population, Saskatoon and Regina, 2001 / 159 7.2 Top twenty-five ethnic origins, Saskatoon and Regina CMAs, 2001 / 160 7.3 Proportionality indices, Saskatoon and Regina / 164 7.4 Demographic profile of elected officials, Saskatoon and Regina, 2001 / 166 8.1 Proportionality indices, Halifax / 181 9.1 Demographic profile, Winnipeg, 2001 / 211 9.2 Demographic profile of elected officials, Winnipeg, 2004 / 217 9.3 Proportionality indices, Winnipeg / 221 10.1 Ethnoracial origins of Canadian MPs elected in 1993, 1997, 2000, and 2004 / 234 10.2 Incumbency status of all MPs and minority MPs, 1993-2004 / 238 10.3 Party affiliation of minority MPs, 1993-2004 / 243 10.4 Party affiliation among three major categories of minority MPs, 1993-2004 / 244 10.5 Minority women elected, 1993-2004 / 247 10.6 Education and occupation of all MPs and minority MPs, 1993-2000 and 2004 / 249 10.7 Proportionality indices for MPs / 250 C.1 Electoral representation across Canada: Summary of results / 259

Acknowledgments

This volume examines the electoral representation of immigrants, minorities, and women in cities across Canada. It is the first of its kind and, perhaps most importantly, it provides a baseline of data against which we can compare future electoral outcomes. When researchers, policymakers, and civil society organizations think about integration and inclusion, much of their attention tends to focus on economic indicators, with far less attention being given to other indicators, including those related to political participation, electoral involvement, and civic engagement. This is unfortunate, and perhaps misguided, given that it is elected bodies and other decision-making structures that largely regulate labour market policies and thus have the potential to shape economic outcomes. We hope that this volume goes some distance toward readjusting this balance. A volume of this nature has a significant gestation period and complex parenthood. Its origins lie in the Third International Metropolis Conference, which was held in Israel in 1998. At that time, researchers from eleven cities from around the world came together to consider our existing knowledge of newcomers’ participation in formal electoral processes in Australia, Canada, Israel, Japan, the Netherlands, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, and the United States. This foundation led to nearly a decade of work within Canada and internationally under the aegis of the Metropolis Project, with this publication standing as one of the important results. Along the way, versions of some chapters have been presented at meetings of the Canadian Political Science Association in London, Ontario, the Seventh National Metropolis Conference in Montreal, and the Biennial Meeting of the Canadian Ethnic Studies Association in Ottawa. We are grateful to participants for their thoughtful insights and constructive feedback. Equally, we extend our gratitude to our chapter authors for their hard work and remarkable patience and for the collaborative spirit that is needed to create a truly comparative edited volume.

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Acknowledgments

We also thank the elected officials who participated in the research for this project; the graduate students who collected data in earlier iterations; Shuguang Wang and Andrea Kmetty of Ryerson University who developed the data tables and maps for each chapter; Eric Leinberger of the University of British Columbia who prepared the maps for production; the reviewers selected by UBC Press who provided valuable and constructive comments; Emily Andrew and Holly Keller at UBC Press for their support in the development of the manuscript and their capable assistance through every facet of the publishing process; and Leslie Kenny and her colleagues at the University of Victoria’s Centre for Studies in Religion and Society as well as Danielle Turpin of Llama Communications who ably formatted the manuscript. Finally, we recognize a number of collaborators who began this journey with us but were not able to stay with us to the end: Anver Saloojee who returned to South Africa to take an active role in the policy life of that country, Jim Curtis who sadly and unexpectedly passed away, and Tina Chui and Steven Bittle who, through the exigencies of life, were unable to continue with the project. This volume is based on a survey of elected officials at three levels of government from across the country, which was made possible through funding from the Metropolis Project, Citizenship and Immigration Canada, and the Department of Canadian Heritage. This funding supported data collection and the initial meeting of contributors that laid the groundwork necessary to complete a comparative volume of this scope. We also acknowledge support provided by the Aid to Scholarly Publications Program of the Canadian Federation for the Humanities and Social Sciences, as well as funding from Ryerson University and the University of Ottawa, which made the publication of the manuscript possible. We dedicate this volume to the brave men and women who willingly participate in the electoral life of our country; democracy is not a spectator sport.

Electing a Diverse Canada

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Introduction Caroline Andrew, John Biles, Myer Siemiatycki, and Erin Tolley

Canada has always been a country of diversity – one with indigenous Aboriginal populations and a history of immigration. This diversity is celebrated and is, indeed, a key feature of the Canadian identity. Nonetheless, while diversity may be present in our schools and workplaces, at folk festivals, and in our “ethnic” restaurants, grocery stores, and communities, it has not always been evident among our leaders and representatives. With the appointment of Adrienne Clarkson and then Michaëlle Jean as Governor General – both visible minority immigrant women – Canada’s public face was finally one that was more reflective of the country’s contemporary character. Although the office of the Governor General has few real institutional powers, the appointments were important symbolic gestures that signalled the recognition of Canada’s changing face and a desire to see that diversity represented in our institutions. The selection of representatives indeed reflects who we are. It influences how other countries see Canada and how Canada wishes to be seen. It also makes a statement about role models and about legitimacy, about who is included in our institutions and has access to public space, who is excluded, and who represents what and who we are. Those who occupy our institutions – our public space – are our public face, and that face has implications, not just for those who do not see themselves, but also for those who are affected by the decisions that are made, the policies that are implemented, and the public positions that are taken on behalf of Canadians. This volume looks at just one aspect of this public face – our elected institutions. It is about diversity among elected officials in cities across Canada. It is about the reflection of various identities and the extent to which certain identities are included and others excluded in Canadian electoral bodies. It looks at conventional wisdom regarding the participation of immigrants, minorities, and women in electoral politics and examines whether or not these “common-sense” understandings are supported by evidence or hold consistently across the country. It looks at a number of identities central to

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our understanding of Canada, including ethnicity, visible minority status, immigrant status, Aboriginality, gender, religion, language, age, and education, and it builds on our knowledge in these areas. This volume includes case studies of eleven Canadian cities, as well as an examination of the House of Commons, an introduction and a conclusion. The chapters were written using a standard template and a core set of variables. This allows readers to compare results from each of the chapters and across the cities examined. The cities included in this volume are Vancouver, Edmonton, Calgary, Regina, Saskatoon, Winnipeg, Toronto, Hamilton, Ottawa, Montreal, and Halifax. They were selected on the basis of their size and their history of immigration and diversity and to ensure that cities from across Canada were included. Among these cities are those with the highest proportions of visible minorities, urban Aboriginals, foreign-born populations, and ethnic and religious diversity, and also those with sizable populations of both official language groups. This collection thus allows for a rich discussion of the representation of diversity in electoral office in Canada. In this introduction, we situate the volume within the literature on diversity and electoral representation and introduce a number of key concepts and common themes that run throughout the subsequent chapters. We return to these themes in the conclusion of this volume and provide an overview of some of the volume’s principal findings. We began this project with a basic question in mind: To what extent do elected officials in Canada reflect the populations that elected them? We were curious about the municipal, provincial, and federal levels of government – not all of which have been the subject of research in this area – and we wanted to focus on a number of large urban centres, since this is where diversity is most present. Mirror representation, while a complex and contested concept, provides the empirical base for this volume. In other words, do the characteristics of elected officials mirror the characteristics of the population they represent? Moreover, we wanted to test some of the conventional wisdom that appears in the existing literature on women, immigrants, and minorities in politics and to see whether these beliefs are supported by empirical analysis. This volume is not just an examination of the results of the electoral process in Canada, but an evaluation of representative democracy in urban Canada. There has been much debate recently about the existence of the “democratic deficit” and the decline of our democratic institutions (Gidengil et al. 2004). Part of the aim of this volume is to raise questions, while also addressing some of the concerns raised in discussions about the democratic deficit. One of these concerns is the extent to which our system – and by extension our elected officials – reflect the characteristics of the electorate and, whether, in the absence of such reflection, there can be appropriate representation. A second is the apathy with which many approach the

Introduction 5

electoral process, the extent to which some voters feel they “don’t count” or cannot make a difference, and the sense that elected officials “don’t get it.” Although the chapters in this volume do not provide a definitive answer, the volume is premised on the idea that a healthy democracy must include mechanisms for translating citizens’ wishes into policy, legislation, and decision-making processes. The roles played by various actors in this translation process are taken up in existing research in this field, including examinations of various aspects of civil society, the public service, the nongovernmental sector, and the media (see, among others, Frisken and Wallace 2003; Good 2006; Lapp 1999; Savoie 2003; Trimble and Sampert 2004; Young and Everitt 2004). Thus, the chapters in this volume focus on the interplay between elected officials and the general population. Elected officials are not the only political channel linking citizens and their governments, but they are an important – and visible – channel, and as we outline below, there are still a number of important research gaps in this area, which this volume aims to address. Why Is This Important? Although there are examples of literature examining the electoral participation of immigrants and minorities in other countries (see, for example, Koopmans and Statham 2000; Ramakrishnan 2005; Saggar 1998), until recently, relatively little research in Canada has looked at the electoral – or even political – dimensions of the integration of immigrant, refugee, and minority populations in Canada. Rather, much of the integration literature focuses on economic, and to a lesser extent educational, social, and cultural dimensions, or on the theoretical underpinnings of inclusion and “full citizenship” (on the latter, for example, see Kymlicka 1995, 1998). This relative neglect is somewhat surprising, given that the political arena is often a space where social change can occur. It is through the political process that the rules of the game are established. Canada is constitutionally committed to “peace, order and good government,” and thus, not only is “playing by the rules” important, but so too is being able to influence those rules. Why has research not focused on the political or electoral participation of immigrants and minorities in Canada? Is the political process not viewed as an important mechanism for minority communities? Is decision making simply dominated by bureaucratic elites, rendering electoral bodies less relevant? Have we assumed – perhaps incorrectly – that research findings on the electoral representation of women can simply be applied to the situation of immigrants and minorities? Or have researchers in Canada given greater priority to the socio-economic situation of immigrants and minorities because it is felt that this is what “really matters”? Whatever the explanations, a new century has ushered in renewed scholarly attention to the political participation of the diverse identities that make up Canadian society, whether

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immigrants, minorities, youth, Aboriginal peoples, persons with disabilities, or women. (Notable exceptions in the 1990s were Black 1991; Black and Lakhani 1997; Chui, Curtis, and Lambert 1991; Lapp 1999; and Megyery 1991. For more recent examples, see Abu-Laban 2002; Biles and Tolley 2004; Bilodeau and Nevitte 2003; Bird 2004, 2007; Black 2000a, 2000b, 2002, 2003; Black and Erickson 2006; Black and Hicks 2006; Bloemraad 2006; Canada, Elections Canada 2003a, 2003b, 2004, 2006; Siemiatycki 2006; Siemiatycki and Matheson 2005; Siemiatycki and Saloojee 2002; Simard, 2001, 2003, 2004a, 2004b; Tossutti and Najem 2003; Tremblay and Trimble 2003; Trimble and Arscott 2003.) This volume is designed to build on this research and therefore to contribute to what we hope will be a growing body of research on the electoral representation of diversity in Canadian society. Although Canadian scholars are now giving greater attention to the political engagement of newcomers and minorities, gaps remain. Electoral representation is not always the focus, and when it is, virtually every study is narrowly focused on a particular city or a particular level of government (typically the federal Parliament). A major contribution of this volume is to present research on several cities never before analyzed, and more importantly to permit for the first time a comparison of newcomer and minority representation across many Canadian cities, attentive to the differentiated experience at three levels of government for a variety of identity groups. This volume offers a comprehensive overview of the electoral representation of immigrants, minorities, and women in cities across Canada. This provides a platform for testing “common-sense” assumptions and comparing the representation of groups that have often been examined in isolation. Moreover, this volume situates cities as important centres of electoral – and political – activity. Not only is the Canadian population increasingly located in major cities and their city-regions, but greater attention is being paid to cities as a locus for policy change and to the “urban agenda” in general (Andrew, Graham, and Phillips 2002; Bradford 2003, 2005; Lorinc 2006; Sandercock 2003). Federal and provincial election platforms, for example, now routinely reference matters of interest to cities, such as infrastructure, public transit, and sustainable development. As a result, the elected officials described in this volume are an increasingly important part of the political decision-making system in Canada. Not only is it important for us to know who they are – and perhaps who they are not – but also to increase awareness about Canada’s heterogeneity and the need to integrate this awareness into policy formulation and decision making. There is also the potential here to contribute to our understanding of electoral representation, of electoral involvement, and of the factors that may facilitate or impede that involvement. The literature on women and politics, for example, is quite extensive, but research on immigrants and minorities is less developed. Are there lessons that can be learned? Are there

Introduction 7

similar experiences, and therefore similar strategies to be employed? Thus we have included gender and other forms of diversity in this volume. This will enable us to ascertain whether previous findings on the factors that may encourage or discourage women’s involvement in electoral office remain valid, as well as whether these can tell us anything about the presence – or absence – of immigrants, minorities, and other under-represented groups in electoral office. Some suggest that women will be more present at the municipal level of government than at the federal or provincial levels, as the geographic proximity to one’s home facilitates involvement in the electoral arena. Others suggest that the absence of political parties in municipal elections – with the notable exceptions of Vancouver and Montreal – also makes the municipal level more open to women and other under-represented groups. Still other observers argue that it is the issues dealt with by the various levels of government that attract politically interested people to seek elected office at one level rather than another. Provincial jurisdiction around health policies and child care programs might draw women into provincial politics, while the federal level may appeal more to immigrants, given that issues related to citizenship and foreign policy are largely dealt with at this level (Trimble 1995; Tremblay and Trimble 2003; Trimble and Arscott 2003; Tremblay 2005; Maillé 1997). The chapters in this volume also look at how various forms of capital – human, economic, and social – play out in electoral politics. Human capital, such as education or one’s family background, as well as economic capital, or income, have long been considered political resources, with recent research looking at the importance of one’s social capital, or networks (Li and Kunz 2004; Hero 2003). Several chapters contribute to the rich literature on the impact of the disproportionate allocation of socio-economic power and privilege by exploring how one’s resources, or assets, may affect one’s involvement in the electoral arena, and whether human, social, and economic capital can have differential impacts on various groups. One difficulty in assessing these factors is that there is limited empirical evidence to explain individuals’ motivations for getting involved in electoral office. Moreover, it is not clear whether women’s motivations, for example, are the same as those for immigrants or other under-represented groups, nor is it clear whether the same impediments exist. Finally, as some of the chapters in this volume show, some of the findings of earlier research in this area do not necessarily continue to hold, and it is important that research continue. This volume offers, therefore, a rich basis for comparative analysis in major Canadian urban centres, and it will advance – and update – the debate on electoral representation. Indeed, as will be shown in the chapters that follow, there is no single experience with diversity and its representation in the electoral arena. There is much variation among cities, between jurisdictions, and within the diverse

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groups examined. Recognizing this, much emphasis is given to local specificities, with each chapter providing a historical portrait of diversity, including details on immigration, on demographic change, and on challenges that have arisen as the population has grown and become more diverse. Moreover, the chapters in this volume highlight local examples – local stories – that make Canada and its cities unique. While much emphasis is placed on these local specificities, the chapters are consistent in their use of variables, terminology, and methodology to increase the comparative nature of the analysis. This volume examines electoral representation in 11 cities as well as the House of Commons, and each chapter is based on a comparison between the demographic characteristics of the general population and those of the elected officials who represent them.1 Variables examined include ethnicity, visible minority status, country of birth, Aboriginality, gender, religion, language, age, and education. Of course, defining the various dimensions of diversity is highly complex and fiercely debated. Unless otherwise noted, the definitions used here are derived from those used by Statistics Canada, which allows us to make comparisons with census data (see Statistics Canada 2006). Ethnicity is defined as one’s ancestral origins, whether ethnic or cultural. This variable captures one’s ancestral ethnic origins – where one’s ancestors came from – rather than one’s ethnic identity or self-identification. For example, you may have little or no identification with Italian culture or heritage even if your ancestors originated in Italy, but your ethnic origin nonetheless remains Italian, and you would be asked to indicate this on the census form. This is the difference between one’s ethnic origins and one’s ethnic identity. Indeed, it is complex, and, recognizing this, the census allows respondents to specify as many groups as applicable. Some people indicate a single ethnic origin, but many indicate that they have multiple ethnic origins. Others are increasingly indicating Canadian, either alone or in combination with another ethnic origin because of intermarriage or new conceptions of ethnicity. We will see, in a number of the chapters that follow, additional examples of this complexity. This volume also looks at individuals labelled as “visible minorities,” a term that originates in the Employment Equity Act and includes “all persons, other than Aboriginal peoples, who are non-Caucasian in race and non-white in colour.” People who are Chinese, South Asian, Black, Filipino, Latin American, Southeast Asian, Arab, West Asian, Japanese, and Korean are visible minorities, as are individuals with multiple visible minority origins. A child of Black and Latin American parents, for example, would be a visible minority, and so too would a child of two Black parents. The term of “visible minority” is not without its critics, with some suggesting it is divisive or imprecise. Indeed, as Canada has become more diverse, visible minorities are, in a

Introduction 9

number of cities, becoming the majority, and while this makes the term somewhat out of date, it is still the term used in the bulk of the literature. In the case of Aboriginal persons, Statistics Canada uses two dimensions; the first is the question of one’s Aboriginal ancestry, and the second relates to one’s feeling of Aboriginal identity. Aboriginal ancestry refers to those who can trace their origins to the native or First Nations people who resided in what is now known as Canada at the time of European contact. Although some have gained Aboriginal rights through legislation (including legislation that provided Aboriginal status to the non-Aboriginal spouses of Aboriginal persons), Aboriginal ancestry is largely defined on the basis of blood. However, the census also asks questions about Aboriginal identity and notes that a person has an Aboriginal identity if “he or she identifies with, or is a member of, an organic political or cultural entity that stems historically from the original persons of North America” (Canada, Statistics Canada 2006). This is similar to the distinction between ethnic origins and ethnic identity, which we discussed earlier. Aboriginal peoples include Indian, Inuit, and Métis. Chapters in this volume largely use “Aboriginal” to refer collectively to persons of all three groups; however, in some chapters, particularly those with larger Aboriginal populations, a distinction is made between Indian and Métis. Immigrants are also examined in this volume. An immigrant is someone who was born outside of Canada and has been granted the right to live permanently in the country. Immigrants may come to Canada for economic reasons, such as to work, or they may come to join family members who are already here. In this volume, we use the generic label “immigrant” or “foreignborn” to describe these individuals, as well as to capture those who are classified as refugees and who came to Canada for humanitarian reasons or to escape persecution. It is important to note that Canadian legislation does distinguish between immigrants and refugees, but the public generally does not, so when “immigrant” is used in this volume, it should be taken to include all foreign-born individuals, regardless of their reason for coming to Canada. We also discuss, in some chapters in this volume, the Canadianborn children of immigrants, who occupy an interesting space between their foreign-born parents and other native-born Canadians (Chui, Curtis, and Lambert 1991). Although not, in fact, immigrants, these individuals are sometimes referred to as “second-generation immigrants” or “second-generation Canadians.” The volume also explores age, and this includes examining the median age of the population and comparing this to the median age of the elected officials. To calculate the median of a set of data, the numbers are arranged in a list from smallest to largest, and the median is the number that falls in the middle of the list. Age is increasingly important in politics, as concern

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has risen over the participation of youth in the political system in general and over declining voter turnout among youth voters in particular (Blais et al. 2002; Milner 2005; Pammett and LeDuc 2003). The chapters look at language, as well, using mother tongue as our variable; one’s mother tongue is the language first spoken at home and which is still understood. In Canada, language is one of our defining variables, given that the country was formed when English, French, and Aboriginal populations came together. Although official bilingualism remains one identifying feature of Canada, there are more than one hundred languages spoken by Canadians. Public institutions, such as government offices and schools, regularly provide documents and even some services in non-official languages. The predominance of signage in non-official languages has even sparked public debate in some cities, including the outlying suburbs of Vancouver and Toronto, leading some to question the integration of the cities’ large Chinese-speaking populations. Language, thus, remains contentious. Finally, the chapters in this volume discuss religion. Religion is examined in terms of one’s religious affiliation or identification; this is a selfidentification and is not necessarily based on one’s religious practice or participation in religious activities. One may thus identify as Catholic even if church attendance is limited to Christmas mass. Religion is an important variable, but one that is often forgotten or misunderstood. Although collecting data on religion can be difficult, its inclusion is vital if we are to properly understand diversity in Canada today. In addition to these concepts, the chapters in this volume are woven together by a common methodology, which used a standard survey to collect information about the characteristics of elected officials so that these could be compared to those of the general population. Survey responses were collected using a variety of methods including email, fax, and telephone, and where responses could not be obtained, secondary analysis through websites, media reports, and surname dictionaries assisted in compiling a more complete portrait. The survey allowed us to obtain a snapshot of elected officials at one moment in time, with the chapters in this volume covering elections up to 2005. Each chapter employs a proportionality index, which is a tool to facilitate comparisons between the general population and the elected officials on variables of interest. The index is calculated by taking the proportion of a particular demographic group within elected office and dividing that by the proportion of that demographic group in the general population. A score of 1.00 is an indicator of perfect proportionality. Anything above 1.00 indicates over-representation, while a score greater than 0 but less than 1.00 indicates under-representation, with 0 signifying a total absence of representation. Thus, if women comprise exactly 50 percent of the population, and if women held 50 percent of elected positions, the proportionality index

Introduction 11

would be 1.00. This would mean that the proportion of women in elected office perfectly mirrored their proportion in the general population. However, if women comprise 50 percent of the population but only 18 percent of elected officials, the index would be 0.36, indicating under-representation. The proportionality indices for three key groups – women, visible minorities, and the foreign-born – are highlighted throughout the volume, and the conclusion of this volume provides an overview of our findings on proportionality. As we shall see, however, disproportionality in representation is more the norm than proportionality. Theories of Political Representation Debates about the nature of political representation have existed for centuries, but their tenor and fervour fluctuates. The debate in Canada appears to be changing, driven by worries about growing political disaffection, particularly among young Canadians, and also by rapid changes in the country’s demography, particularly in larger urban centres. These changes raise questions about the extent of representation, its quality, and whether or not the presence of particular groups in elected office is proportionate to their presence in the population. As the literature on representation makes clear, there are a number of ways to conceive of “representation” and the relationship between the citizenry and its decision makers (Pitkin 1967; Phillips 1995). One’s conception of representation will influence not just the decisions that are made, but also how they are made. If we look, for example, at the ancient Greek city-states, direct democracy was favoured, and this was a model that saw no need for representatives. Rather, with this approach, decisions were taken directly by citizens; they were the decision makers. Although we have now largely moved to models of representative democracy, elements of direct democracy remain. For example, the participatory budget processes in Porto Alegre and other Brazilian cities contain an element of this model in that all citizens participate in initial meetings where decisions on neighbourhood budget priorities are taken. There is also space for some forms of direct democracy within a system of representative democracy. One example is the referendum. In a referendum, a question is posed by elected representatives to voters who then choose their preferred option. The results are binding, and representatives must act according to the will of the people. Although referenda have been used from time to time in Canada – referenda on Quebec’s secession are perhaps the examples that come most immediately to mind – decisions are generally taken by representatives. In a representative democracy, citizens select, through the electoral process, those whom they would like to represent them in the decisions that are taken in legislatures, on city councils, on school boards, and in the House of Commons. This model is firmly rooted in the franchise – in one’s right

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to vote – and those with the right to vote ultimately decide who will have the authority to take decisions. The parameters of the franchise, and particularly the criteria that determine who has the right to vote, are contested, and the criteria used to either include or exclude have varied depending on the period in history, the jurisdiction, and one’s background. How one defines the franchise ultimately determines who votes, and this may have a marked impact on decisions taken. Moreover, many of the groups that remain under-represented in the electoral arena today are those who were historically excluded from voting. A study of the franchise in Canada reveals many such exclusions (Canada, Elections Canada 1997). Exclusion has been based on race, with Chinese, Japanese, Aboriginal, and Indo-Canadians having all faced exclusion at various points in history. For example, if we look just at federal elections, Chinese and Indo-Canadians were not granted the franchise until 1947, while Japanese Canadians were not permitted to vote federally until 1948. The Inuit population did not gain the right to vote in federal elections until 1950, and while status Indians were given the right to vote in 1920, the condition that they would need to give up their status and treaty rights to do so was not removed until 1960. Some people have also been excluded as a result of their religion. Catholics, for example, were denied the vote in pre-Confederation Canada unless they swore to uphold the king and denounce Catholicism and the authority of the pope. Although the exclusion was intended to ensure loyalty to Canada, it discriminated against Catholics, and also against Jews and Quakers who were prevented by their religions from swearing oaths. While women were given the right to vote in most provinces in 1918, gender exclusion remained in Quebec until 1940. Importantly, the franchise can change, and those who may have at one time been allowed to vote can suddenly find themselves excluded. For example, property ownership has, at various points in time, been used to define one’s right to vote, excluding those who did not own property. This was the case in pre-Confederation Canada. Women who owned property could vote at this time, but when gender became the explicit criterion for exclusion, they could not vote. Inclusion, thus, is not necessarily a constant; it can be reversed or altered. While racial, religious, and gender exclusions have now been removed from the electoral process, questions about who should have the right to vote continue. The age at which one should be permitted to vote remains a perennial question. The voting age was lowered to eighteen from twenty-one in 1970, and there is currently some discussion on lowering it further to sixteen years of age. There are also other ways in which the franchise could be expanded. For example, some question exclusion based on citizenship and suggest that residency should be the criteria for voting, at least in municipal elections. Yet others question the extension of the franchise to all prison inmates, which was mandated by the Supreme Court in 2002. In

Introduction 13

short, while the right to vote is fundamental in a representative system of government, there are a variety of ways to define that right, and the definition has evolved over time. Moreover, there are a variety of perspectives on the nature of the relationship between voters and those they choose as their representatives; this is at the very heart of representative democracy. In the delegate model, representatives are viewed as the “voice of the people” and are elected to bring the wishes of their constituents to the decision-making arena. They are not autonomous actors, but rather agents of the people. This is a fairly rigid conception, and it presumes that representatives will have the means and the ability to accurately gauge and bring forward the views of their constituents. Moreover, it ignores the existence of party discipline, which can often pull representatives to vote according to their party ideology or party line rather than according to their constituents’ wishes. Nonetheless, this model is employed from time to time, often on questions of conscience. We saw this, for example, in 2005, when Parliament considered changes to the Civil Marriage Act, which would allow same-sex partners to legally marry. Many Members of Parliament (MPs) stated that they would canvass their constituents and vote according to their wishes. Some are even more rigorous. For example, Jay Hill, the MP for Prince George-Peace River in British Columbia, commissioned a poll of his constituents in advance of the vote on same-sex marriage. He voted based on his findings, although, admittedly, the poll results were a confirmation of his own personal view and the stance of his party; he was thus not forced to confront a clash between his constituents’ views and competing perspectives, a situation that can emerge in this model of representation. This model is not just employed on questions of conscience, however, but also because MPs believe they are there to represent their constituents. This was the explanation given by the late Chuck Cadman, an Independent MP for Surrey-North in British Columbia, when he voted for the minority Liberal government’s 2005 budget, a vote that prevented the government from falling. He polled six hundred of his constituents before the budget vote and, finding that two-thirds did not want an election, decided to vote with the government. The delegate model of representation can be contrasted with the trustee model, in which representatives are not viewed as agents but rather as trustees who have some autonomy to make decisions on the basis of the “common good,” even when this might clash with the wishes or interests of their constituents. In this model, representatives are entrusted with weighing the various perspectives, the impact of the decisions, and the interests of those beyond their constituency. In this model, voters may even try to influence representatives other than “their own,” and representatives may feel a sense of loyalty not just to their own constituents, but also to voters from other constituencies. This often arises when representatives belong to traditionally

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marginalized groups. Women and visible minorities, for example, are frequently entrusted with the responsibility of representing not just their constituents, but also the views of all women or all visible minorities. After the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001, for example, Rahim Jaffer, the MP for Edmonton North and also a Muslim, became an unofficial voice for Canada’s Muslim community and was viewed as a representative of this community. This raises questions about whom elected representatives are responsible to, and whether the representation of one’s constituency should take priority over the representation of one’s “group” or “groups.” Moreover, there are situations – some detailed in this volume – in which elected representatives have soundly refuted the idea that they represent particular groups outside of their constituents, whether they are women, visible minorities, Aboriginals, immigrants, youths, gays or lesbians, religious, linguistic, or ethnic minorities, or, significantly, combinations of any of these. Although the symbolic representation of these groups is important, representation must go beyond tokenism and the “famous firsts.” Representation depends not just on electing a few women, or the first Muslim MP, but rather, on working toward greater inclusion and having elected officials who are able to reflect the characteristics and the perspectives of their constituents. We find here different understandings of what types of representation matter. Should representatives merely “look like” their constituents (sometimes called mirror representation)? Or should they also make decisions that are in the interests of those they represent, whether those are their constituents or the individuals who belong to their group (sometimes called substantive representation)? The literature on mirror, or numerical, representation suggests that in order to be “representative,” the characteristics of elected officials must be similar to those of the population. This form of representation is primarily concerned with what elected officials look like or, as Hanna Pitkin might suggest, with who you are and not necessarily what you do (Pitkin 1967). Mirror, or numerical, representation is the central focus of this volume and the basis for the empirical description of the various cities. At the same time, mirror representation does raise a series of complex questions. Can someone represent other people simply because they share some common characteristics? Who decides about the representation – do visible minority voters decide whether they feel represented by an elected representative who is a visible minority, or does the elected representative decide that she or he will represent visible minority voters? What is the process by which groups to be represented are constituted? How does one represent visible minority voters, and does this imply that visible minority women have the same interests as visible minority men? Indeed, there is always heterogeneity within any defined group. Francophone racial minority voters may sometimes see their

Introduction 15

interests represented by an anglophone racial minority candidate and sometimes by a francophone candidate, yet, in both cases, those voters can be defined as part of the francophone group. There is, however, a body of literature that moves beyond “how many” and looks in addition at what elected officials do. This is often referred to as substantive representation, where the focus is on the results or the impact of elected officials on policies or programs. Research on substantive representation asks whether or not having more women in politics or more minority MPs will affect policy outcomes or lead to legislation that is more favourable to these groups. Although some chapters in this volume look briefly at the substantive representation of particular groups, the emphasis is on creating a portrait of elected officials in the House of Commons and the eleven cities we explore with a focus on determining just “how many” or, perhaps more appropriately, “how few.” Indeed, there is a common-sense reality check that reminds us that legislative bodies made up entirely of middle-aged White men make us uncomfortable, no matter how politically attuned they are to voters’ ideas. This discomfort indicates that we feel some degree of numerical representation to be a necessary element in political representation. A variety of theories or perspectives provide us with ways of thinking about the degree of representation that is adequate or optimal. For example, the idea of symbolic representation suggests that it is not the exact number of young elected representatives that determines whether youth are, or feel, represented, but rather that some youth are elected so that they can act to symbolically represent youth. In this perspective, one elected representative is perhaps not enough – think of the negative connotation of a “token” – but the symbolic representation of various politically salient categories is important. It is not necessarily the exact replication of the general population that is needed but certainly a mixture of individuals from the group that comprise the general population. On the other hand, arguments about “critical mass” do depend on numbers (Trimble and Arscott 2003; Bystydzienski 1992; Skjeie 1991). There are, in fact, a number of ways in which the idea of critical mass is used in this volume. In some cases, it is used to describe the needed residential concentration for some particular minority group to have a chance to elect one of its own members. Others use the idea of critical mass to suggest that minority groups must have a certain number of elected representatives if they are to have real influence. It is argued that below a critical mass the representation of minorities is ineffective, as the representatives are not able to effectively represent the groups they belong to or wish to represent. The idea of a critical mass is appealing in suggesting that simply being elected with certain characteristics does not necessarily mean that one can

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be effective in acting for people who share those characteristics, but an understanding of just how a critical mass operates is more elusive. Moreover, this idea assumes that all the representatives sharing some characteristics would want to represent that shared characteristic. The example of Margaret Thatcher, the former prime minister of Britain, is a reminder that not all women want to represent women. Although Thatcher was Britain’s first female prime minister, critics argue that she undermined women’s position in society, in part because of cuts to social programs and services. Likewise, several visible minority representatives described in this volume refute their membership in the “visible minority” category. It is therefore not easy to apply the idea of a critical mass, although again we can recognize in a common-sense way that being the only woman on a twenty-person municipal council would make it harder to promote the interests of women than being one among a group of eight women on the same council. There has been research (Tremblay 1992, 1998; Erickson 1997) exploring the degree to which female elected representatives see themselves as representing women and whether they are more likely to espouse positions favourable to women’s equality or feminism than are male representatives. The results suggest that women are somewhat more likely to take positions favourable to women’s equality. Less research has been done on the municipal level, but there is anecdotal evidence that suggests that elected women have, in some cases, been leaders in measures promoting women’s equality (in Ottawa, for example), although there is also evidence of male representatives initiating measures to promote women’s equality (in Toronto, for example). What about representatives with immigrant and minority backgrounds? Are they more likely to espouse pro-immigrant or pro-multicultural perspectives? The research here is less developed, but as the chapter on Toronto points out, representatives from minority backgrounds will not necessarily espouse positions that reflect the views of those from “their communities.” However, if as preliminary research by Karen Bird suggests, visible minority MPs are more likely than other MPs to address ethnicrelated issues in debates in the House of Commons, then the number elected can have an impact on the attention given to particular issues (Bird 2007). If one is interested in the overall composition of the collective group of elected representatives of some particular city, questions relating to the electoral system are also important. For some, a system involving some element of proportional representation is the remedy (Milner 1999). Party slates, it is argued, would be more likely to include minorities than the present system of single-member constituencies. There are a multitude of different versions of proportional representation, and it is not the purpose of this introduction to discuss them, but it is important to note that the question of the electoral system takes on greater pertinence given our current

Introduction 17

preoccupation with the representation of under-represented groups. Interestingly, several different electoral systems are covered in the different chapters in this volume. The standard model is geographically based wards, each electing one member to sit on city council, and a mayor elected at large across the municipality. The system for electing mayors does mean, for instance, that the mayor of Toronto has more people voting for him or her than for any other elected official in Canada. However, there are some variations on this pattern, from the entire council being elected on an at-large basis in Vancouver, to wards where two representatives are voted for in Edmonton, to councils and mayors being elected at both the borough and city levels in Montreal. Some of the representatives voted for within the ward sit on city council, but some sit only at the ward level. These different systems provide a background against which to think about the relative receptivity of different electoral systems to representing diversity. If people are voting for more than one representative, for example, does this make it more or less likely that they will choose diverse candidates? This kind of reflection is also true for questions of quotas, an issue that relates primarily, although not exclusively, to the representation of women. In this volume, the individual case studies deal primarily with the profiles of the elected representatives and only secondarily with the contents of their decisions as legislators. It is, however, important to remember that, in the final analysis, it is the actions of the various legislative bodies that determine the degree to which traditionally under-represented groups have their interests truly represented. Our analysis of the profiles of the elected representatives is, however, a first step to understanding the nature, and present state, of electoral representation in Canada. The chapters in this volume consist of case studies about numerical representation in Canadian cities, as well as one chapter that details the representation of various groups in the federal House of Commons between 1993 and 2004. The chapters on particular cities allow us to compare local specificities and regional variations, while the chapter on the House of Commons provides a more national perspective, as well as a longitudinal analysis. One principal advantage of such an analysis is that it gives us an opportunity to examine change over time and to test the common-sense hypothesis that representation will naturally improve over time. Although each of the chapters looks at the numerical representation of groups, and we use a proportionality index or a comparison of proportions to illustrate this, the intent is not to make a mechanical argument for a perfect mirror-system of representation. Rather, our aim is to illustrate patterns of representation; to draw attention to those groups that are underrepresented, those that are over-represented and, perhaps, most importantly, those groups that are completely absent in elected bodies; as well as to test assumptions about electoral representation.

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Throughout the chapters, a number of themes are evident. These relate either to patterns of representation or to the broad picture of democracy and diversity in Canada. Political parties are seen as important actors in many of the chapters, notably those of Edmonton-Calgary, Winnipeg, Regina-Saskatoon, Montreal, and the federal Parliament. The weight of incumbency is highlighted in several of the chapters, particularly in the longitudinal federal study. Moreover, the impact of municipal amalgamation in Toronto, Montreal, Hamilton, and Ottawa is linked to incumbency in that a reduced number of elected representatives, in a system where incumbency is important, may dramatically narrow the opportunities for new candidates to have a chance to win elections. The degree of group cohesion and the group’s resources are also seen in several cities to be a factor in electing members of a group. One of the indicators of what Raymond Breton (1964) describes as “institutional completeness” is the existence of ethnic media, and the chapters on Toronto, Winnipeg, and Regina-Saskatoon mention such examples. Another theme that runs through the chapters is the importance of multiple identities and of questions about how we should understand these multiple identities (Andrew 1996). A related question is what people mean when in response to the census question on ethnic origin, they describe themselves as having a “Canadian” identity. These questions underline the fact that we live in an era of identity politics and that the categories we use to illustrate our arguments about representation oversimplify – sometimes necessarily – the highly complex ways in which individuals, and their elected representatives, think of their identities. Although the chapters in this volume deal primarily with the composition of elected bodies, some of the chapters do look at decisions taken by the elected representatives. Indeed, the Toronto and Ottawa chapters argue that those two city governments have, in fact, taken a number of decisions that go in the direction of recognizing diversity, even though the elected representatives are not representative of the cities’ diversity. On the other hand, the Halifax chapter describes municipal decision making in the area of planning that did not take account of the diversity within the population but rather mirrored the composition of the elected officials. This leads us in a number of directions: the need for more research on public policies that recognize diversity, but also the need for more research on the organizations of civil society, their recognition of diversity, and their capacity to advocate for, partner with, or put pressure on, governments to act in ways that fully recognize diversity (Frisken and Wallace 2003; Good 2006). There is an archetype of the Canadian elected official – male, White, middle-class, middle-aged, Christian, Canadian-born, and majority-language speaking – that runs through the chapters, explicitly described as such in Edmonton-Calgary, Ottawa, Toronto, Winnipeg, and Montreal. This is clearly

Introduction 19

the dominant pattern – the archetype. But we also see what we might call emerging archetypes of greater diversity – the multi-ethnic elected officials in Winnipeg, the elected officials of Italian and Jewish origin in Toronto and Montreal, the elected representatives of Filipino origin in Winnipeg, the success of Asian-origin and foreign-born officials in Vancouver, and the election of visible minority women in both Toronto and the House of Commons (Black and Hicks 2006). These emerging archetypes may represent the beginning of a challenge to the national and historical archetype, but, as we are reminded in this volume, the “inevitable, over time” argument is neither true nor useful. In addition, the chapters also illustrate that certain groups remain considerably under-represented in Canadian elected assemblies. These are important themes, which we will return to in the conclusion when we take up the task of evaluating the current state of electoral representation in large urban centres in Canada and help readers understand the patterns revealed in the individual chapters, as well as the factors that explain the current status of electoral representation in Canada. Note 1 Note that the geographic area examined in each chapter varies. Some use data that cover the entire Census Metropolitan Area (CMA), while others use data based on city boundaries. This depended on local specificities as well as the boundaries of the geography in question and is noted in chapters where applicable. The Ottawa-Gatineau CMA, for example, includes Hull, Gatineau, Aylmer, and other Quebec districts not examined in the survey of elected officials, so census data are drawn from the City of Ottawa proper, not the CMA. References Abu-Laban, Yasmeen. 2002. Challenging the gendered vertical mosaic: Immigrants, ethnic minorities, gender and political participation. In Citizen politics: Research and theory in Canadian political behaviour, ed. Joanna Everitt and Brenda O’Neill, 268-82. Don Mills: Oxford University Press. Andrew, Caroline. 1996. Ethnicities, citizenship and feminisms: Theorizing the political practices of intersectionality. In Ethnicity and citizenship: The Canadian case, ed. Jean Laponce and William Safran, 64-81. London: Frank Kass. Andrew, Caroline, Katherine Graham, and Susan Phillips. 2002. Urban affairs: Back on the policy agenda. Montreal: McGill-Queens. Biles, John, and Erin Tolley. 2004. Getting seats at the table(s): The political participation of newcomers and minorities in Ottawa. Our Diverse Cities 1: 174-79. http://canada. metropolis.net/publications/index_e.htm. Bilodeau, Antoine, and Neil Nevitte. 2003. Political trust for a new regime: The case of immigrants from non-democratic count ries in Canada. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Canadian Political Science Association, Halifax, Nova Scotia. Bird, Karen. 2004. Obstacles to ethnic minority representation in local government in Canada. Our Diverse Cities 1: 182-86. http://canada.metropolis.net/publications/ index_e.htm. –. 2007. Patterns of substantive representation among visible minority MPs: Evidence from Canada’s House of Commons. Paper prepared for the European Consortium for Political Research (ECPR). Joint Sessions, Helsinki, Finland. Black, Jerome H. 1991. Ethnic minorities and mass politics in Canada: Some observations in the Toronto setting. International Journal of Canadian Studies 3: 129-51. –. 2000a. Entering the political elite in Canada: The case of minority women as parliamentary candidates and MPs. Canadian Review of Sociology and Anthropology 37: 143-66.

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–. 2000b. Ethnoracial minorities in the Canadian House of Commons: The case of the 36th Parliament. Canadian Ethnic Studies 32: 105-14. –. 2002. Ethnoracial minorities in the House of Commons: An update on the 37th Parliament. Canadian Parliamentary Review 25 (1): 24-28. –. 2003. Differences that matter: Minority women MPs, 1993-2000. In Women and electoral politics in Canada, ed. Manon Tremblay and Linda Trimble, 59-74. Don Mills: Oxford University Press. Black, Jerome H., and Lynda Erickson. 2006. The ethnoracial origins of candidates and electoral performance: Evidence from Canada. Party Politics 12 (4): 541-61. Black, Jerome, and Bruce Hicks. 2006. Visible minority candidates in the 2004 federal election. Canadian Parliamentary Review (Summer) 29 (2): 26-31. http://parl.gc.ca/infoparl/ 29/2/29n2_06e_Black.pdf. Black, Jerome, and Aleem S. Lakhani. 1997. Ethnoracial diversity in the House of Commons: An analysis of numerical representation in the 35th Parliament. Canadian Ethnic Studies Canada 29: 1-21. Blais, André, Elizabeth Gidengil, Richard Nadeau, and Neil Nevitte. 2002. Anatomy of a Liberal victory: Making sense of the vote in the 2000 Canadian election. Peterborough: Broadview. Bloemraad, Irene. 2006. Becoming a citizen. Berkeley: University of California Press. Bradford, Neil. 2003. Cities and communities that work: Innovative practices, enabling policies. Ottawa: Canadian Policy Research Networks. –. 2005. Place-based public policy: Towards a new urban and community agenda for Canada. Ottawa: Canadian Policy Research Networks. Breton, Raymond. 1964. Institutional completeness of ethnic communities and the personal relations of immigrants. American Journal of Sociology 70 (2): 193-205. Bystydzienski, Jill. 1992. Women transforming politics: Worldwide strategies for empowerment. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Canada. Elections Canada. 1997. A history of the vote in Canada. Ottawa: Public Works and Government Services. –. Elections Canada. 2003a. Aboriginal participation in elections. Electoral Insight 5 (3). http://dsp-psd.pwgsc.gc.ca/Collection/SE2-1-5-3E.pdf. –. Elections Canada. 2003b. Youth participation in elections. Electoral Insight 5 (2). http:// dsp-psd.pwgsc.gc.ca/Collection/SE2-1-5-2E.pdf. –. Elections Canada. 2004. Persons with disabilities and elections. Electoral Insight 6 (1). http://dsp-psd.pwgsc.gc.ca/Collection/SE2-1-6-1E.pdf. –. Elections Canada. 2006. Electoral participation of ethnocultural communities. Electoral Insight 8 (2). http://dsp-psd.pwgsc.gc.ca/Collection/SE2-1-8-2E.pdf. –. Statistics Canada. 2006. Concepts and variables. http://statcan.ca/english/concepts/ definitions/index.htm. Chui, Tina, James Curtis, and Ronald Lambert. 1991. Immigrant background and political participation: Examining generational patterns. Canadian Journal of Sociology 16 (4): 375-96. Erickson, Lynda. 1997. Might more women make a difference? Gender, party and ideology among Canada’s parliamentary candidates. Canadian Journal of Political Science 30 (4): 663-88. Frisken, Frances, and Marcia Wallace. 2003. Governing the multicultural city-region. Canadian Public Administration 46 (2): 153-77. Gidengil, Elizabeth, André Blais, Neil Nevitte, and Richard Nadeau. 2004. Citizens. Vancouver: UBC Press. Good, Kristin. 2006. Multicultural democracy in the city: Explaining municipal responsiveness to immigrants and ethno-cultural minorities. PhD diss., University of Toronto. Hero, Rodney. 2003. Multiple theoretical traditions in American political and racial policy inequality. Political Research Quarterly 56 (4). Koopmans, Ruud, and Paul Statham, eds. 2000. Challenging immigration and ethnic relations politics: Comparative European perspectives. Toronto: Oxford University Press. Kymlicka, Will. 1995. Multicultural citizenship. Toronto: Oxford University Press.

Introduction 21

–. 1998. Finding our way: Rethinking ethno-cultural relations in Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Lapp, Miriam. 1999. Ethnic group leaders and the mobilization of voter turnout: Evidence from five Montreal communities. Canadian Ethnic Studies 31 (2): 17-42. Li, Peter, and Jean Kunz, eds. 2004. Special issue, Journal of International Migration and Integration 5 (2). Lorinc, John. 2006. The new city: How the crisis in Canada’s urban centres is reshaping the nation. Toronto: Penguin. Maillé, Chantal. 1997. Gender concerns in city life. In The politics of the city: A Canadian perspective, ed. Timothy Thomas, 103-13. Toronto: ITP Nelson. Megyery, Kathy. 1991. Ethnocultural groups and visible minorities in Canadian politics: The question of access. Vol. 7 of the research studies of the Royal Commission on Electoral Reform and Party Financing. Toronto: Dundurn Press. Milner, Henry. 1999. The case for proportional representation in Canada. In Making every vote count, ed. Henry Milner, 37-49. Peterborough: Broadview Press. –. 2005. Are young Canadians becoming political dropouts? Choices 11 (3). Pammett, Jon, and Larry LeDuc. 2003. Explaining the turnout decline in Canadian federal elections: A new survey of non-voters. Ottawa: Elections Canada. Phillips, Anne. 1995. The politics of presence. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Pitkin, Hanna F. 1967. The concept of representation. Berkeley: University of California Press. Ramakrishnan, S. Karthik. 2005. Democracy in immigrant America: Changing demographics and political participation. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Saggar, Shamit, ed. 1998. Race and electoral politics. London: UCL Press. Sandercock, Leonie. 2003. Cosmopolis II: Mongrel cities in the 21st century. London: Continuum. Savoie, Donald J. 2003. Breaking the bargain. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Siemiatycki, Myer. 2006. The municipal franchise and social inclusion in Toronto: Policy and practice. Toronto: Inclusive Cities Canada and the Community Social Planning Council of Toronto. Siemiatycki, Myer, and Ian Andrew Matheson. 2005. Suburban success: Immigrant and minority electoral gains in suburban Toronto. Social Issues (Summer): 69-72. Siemiatycki, Myer, and Anver Saloojee. 2002. Ethnoracial political representation in Toronto: Patterns and problems. Journal of International Migration and Integration 3 (2): 241-74. Simard, Carolle. 2001. La représentation des groupes ethniques et des minorités visibles au niveau municipal: candidates et élus. Report prepared for the Conseil des relations interculturelles. Montréal: Immigration and Metropolis. –. 2003. Les élus issus des groupes ethniques minoritaires à Montréal: perceptions et représentations politiques: une étude exploratoire. Politique et Sociétés 22 (1): 53-78. –. 2004a. Municipal elites in Quebec’s amalgamated cities. Our Diverse Cities 1: 187-90. http://canada.metropolis.net/publications/index_e.htm. –. 2004b. Qui nous gouverne au municipal: reproduction et renouvellement? Politique et Sociétés 23 (2-3): 135-58. Skjeie, Hege. 1991. The rhetoric of difference: On women’s inclusion into political elites. Politics and Society 19 (2): 233-63. Tossutti, Livianna S., and Tom Pierre Najem. 2003. Minorities and elections in Canada’s fourth party system: Macro and micro constraints and opportunities. Canadian Ethnic Studies 34: 85-112. Tremblay, Manon. 1992. Quand les femmes se distinguent: Féminisme et représentation politique au Québec. Canadian Political Science Review 25 (1): 55-68. –. 1998. Do female MPs substantively represent women? A study of legislative behaviour in Canada’s 35th parliament. Canadian Political Science Review 31 (3): 435-65. –. 2005. Femmes et parlements: Un regard international. Montréal: Éditions du remueménage. Tremblay, Manon, and Linda Trimble, eds. 2003. Women and electoral politics in Canada. Don Mills: Oxford University Press.

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Trimble, Linda. 1995. Politics where we live: Women and cities. In Canadian metropolitics: Governing our cities, ed. James Lightbody, 92-114. Toronto: Copp Clark. Trimble, Linda, and Jane Arscott. 2003. Still counting: Women in politics across Canada. Peterborough: Broadview. Trimble, Linda, and Shannon Sampert. 2004. Who’s in the game? The framing of election 2000 by The Globe and Mail and The National Post. Canadian Journal of Political Science 37 (1): 51-71. Young, Lisa, and Joanna Everitt. 2004. Advocacy groups. Vancouver: UBC Press.

1 Reputation and Representation: Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto Myer Siemiatycki

By its own self-definition, the City of Toronto should be a model of equitable political inclusion. Toronto has, after all, branded itself as a cosmopolitan city extraordinaire. “Diversity Our Strength,” proclaims the city’s official motto. Indeed, the city’s messaging routinely strives to position Toronto in a demographic league of its own. In 2000, the city saw fit to declare: “Toronto is the most diverse city on earth, with more than 150 ethnic backgrounds” (City of Toronto 2000, 4). Similar claims of statistical supremacy abound in the city’s communications (Doucet 2001). But beyond numbers and quantity, Toronto also frequently asserts the unmatched quality of its multicultural integration. “Nowhere else in the world,” a 2002 city council report declared, “do so many people from so many different cultures, different ethnic backgrounds, different religions, races, creeds, colour, sexual orientation, live together in peace, harmony and mutual respect” (City of Toronto 2002, 2). So much for the inferiority complex and identity crisis Toronto is said to harbour. This city has come to define itself in terms of the many immigrants who have chosen to make Toronto their home. But does this idyllic description of Toronto’s experience of diversity extend to the city’s political arena? Is diversity of membership a strength of its elected governmental bodies? Paradoxically, this chapter contends that Toronto’s record of political inclusion is both worse and better than one would expect. Toronto’s elected politicians do not reflect the city’s population profile. Yet, the policies they have espoused and enacted have been significantly attuned to the diverse communities that comprise Toronto. In short, inclusive policies have been promoted by decision-making bodies that themselves are not inclusive of the city’s diversity. As we will see, the “politics of difference” in Toronto are considerably more ambiguous and interesting than the city’s self-styled reputation for unproblematic integration suggests.

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Coming to Toronto: Past to Present In its early years – as today – Toronto’s population came from diverse streams. In between, however, the city was more commonly associated with demographic homogeneity. Toronto is therefore historically notable for its trajectory from demographic diversity to uniformity and back to unprecedented diversity. Toronto’s experience reminds us that the population makeup of cities can change dramatically. “Long before it became an urban community, long before incoming Europeans reached it,” historian J.M.S. Careless notes, “Toronto was a recognized location in wilderness America” (Careless 1984, 9). For centuries, Toronto served Aboriginal peoples as the entrance to a valued shortcut. Located at the head of Lake Ontario, the “Toronto passage” was a well-worn Indian travel corridor between Lake Ontario and northerly Georgian Bay on Lake Huron. Traversing this passage by land was far quicker than navigating the waters between the lower and upper Great Lakes. These origins bequeathed several lasting legacies to Toronto: Aboriginal foundations, commercial activity, and, most symbolically, the site’s name. Derived from the name of a significant Iroquois settlement, “Toronto” prophetically meant “Place of Meeting” (Armstrong 1983, 12). Suitable beginnings for a site now identified as “The World in a City” (Anisef and Lanphier 2003). European colonizers quickly recognized the strategic significance of Toronto’s location. During the eighteenth century, the French twice established outposts of New France at Toronto – first as a fur-trading post and then as a military fort. After the British conquest of New France, Toronto reverted to being a trading post in the fur trade. The turning point in Toronto’s urban destiny was triggered by a late eighteenth-century refugee movement emanating from the United States. Following the successful American Revolution, thousands of British Loyalists left the newly formed American Republic to resettle in British North America. Through the 1780s and ’90s, many moved into present-day Ontario. This prompted the Toronto Purchase of 1787, whereby the British bought title to vast tracts of land in present-day Toronto from the Mississauga Aboriginal nation. Four years later, the British divided their Quebec colony into two provinces of Lower Canada (Quebec) and Upper Canada (Ontario). The new province needed a capital, and the nod went to the tiny settlement of York (later renamed Toronto), rather than the larger urban centres of Kingston or London. York’s site was deemed better suited to repel American invasion across Lake Ontario. However, many were unimpressed with the choice. Colonel Thomas Talbot of London, Ontario, called York “better calculated for a frog pond, or beaver meadow, than for the residence of human beings” (cited in Spelt 1973, 11). York’s early years seemed to confirm Talbot’s assessment. The town soon took on its first identity as “Muddy York,” and its population grew slowly. Home to fewer than a thousand persons in 1800,

Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto 25

the town’s population barely exceeded five thousand in 1834 when it was renamed Toronto, on the occasion of becoming Upper Canada’s first incorporated municipality with an elected council. (Toronto’s first mayor set a standard for historical significance difficult for his successors to match: Scottish-born William Lyon Mackenzie led the failed Rebellion of 1837 in Upper Canada and bequeathed to Canada a grandson who would be its longest-serving prime minister, William Lyon Mackenzie King.) Fuelled by immigration, Toronto grew dramatically through the nineteenth century. By 1851 the city had over 30,000 residents – more than twice the population of the next largest Ontario city, Hamilton. By 1901, its population was 208,000 – almost four times the size of Ottawa, by then the province’s second-largest urban centre. Migration from Britain accounted for the vast bulk of Toronto’s nineteenth-century population growth. Toronto was demographically a British town. In 1851, fully 97 percent of its population claimed British ethnic origin; by 1901, through the city’s sustained massive population growth, Torontonians of British ancestry still accounted for 92 percent of the city’s population (Careless 1984, 202). Yet it must be noted that “British” was no synonym for homogeneity. Animosities among English, Scottish, and Irish identities could collide, not to mention religious differences among Catholics and Protestants. These ethnic and religious clashes played out on the streets of nineteenth-century Toronto. The most vulnerable and marginalized of British subjects to arrive in Toronto were the Irish Catholic. Driven by famine, arriving impoverished and practising a “minority” religion, their reception in nineteenth-century Toronto set a sorry precedent according to J.M.S. Careless: “The reactions of established Toronto society to the displaced Catholic Irish collecting in its midst were a good deal like those the host society would show to subsequent ethnic groups who also entered at nearbottom levels. These newcomers seemed entirely too cohesive and distinct as they crowded into mean shanty dwellings” (Careless 1984, 74). The most significant non-British migration to Toronto during the nineteenth century involved American Blacks fleeing slavery and discrimination through the Underground Railway. The numbers settling in Toronto are difficult to estimate, but likely amounted to many hundreds by the middle decades of the nineteenth century. While some encountered prejudice in Canada, others made remarkable advances in Toronto public life. Mary Shadd was the first Black woman editor of a newspaper in North America, publishing the Provincial Freeman in Toronto. Wilson Abbott prospered in local real estate and served on Toronto City Council. Early in the twentieth century, Toronto-born Black William Hubbard not only was elected to Toronto City Council, but also served as acting mayor (Winks 1997). The first years of the twentieth century also witnessed the first significant flow of non-British European migration to Canada. While newcomers came from many different countries, by far the largest single newcomer community

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was Eastern European Jews. Like Loyalists and Blacks before them, Jews looked to Toronto as a haven from persecution and poverty. Significantly, from 1901 to 1951, Jews were the only non-British ethnic group in Toronto with (barely) over 5 percent of the city’s population (Siemiatycki et al. 2003, 377). No other ethnic group would break the 5 percent ceiling until the great post-Second World War migration of Italians brought their community to 7.7 percent of Toronto’s population by 1961 (Breton et al. 1990, 17-18). Through the first half of the twentieth century, Toronto consolidated an uncharacteristically narrow demographic profile and civic culture. In 1931, one local historian observed that “no other city of comparable size ... is as homogenous” (cited in Lemon 1985, 50). The city was commonly referred to as the “Belfast of Canada,” a bastion of Irish Protestantism where the Orange Order (imperially British and suspicious of Catholicism) set the political and moral standards of the day. Endorsement by the Orange Order was understood to be a requisite for winning a seat on Toronto City Council (Careless 1984, 64; Lemon 1985, 33). By the 1940s, when Toronto’s metropolitan population approached one million, a decidedly unhappy Wyndham Lewis (English writer and painter) described the Toronto he had lived in for several years as “a sanctimonious ice-box ... this bush-metropolis of the Orange Lodges” (cited in Fulford 1995, 2). Clearly, cities can change. By the end of the twentieth century, Toronto was proclaiming itself the most diverse city on earth. Toronto’s demographic transformation may be categorized in two stages. The period from the late 1940s through the 1960s saw massive European migration to Toronto, particularly from Italy, Greece, and Portugal. The city’s metropolitan population climbed from just under one million in 1941 to over two and a half million in 1971. As James Lemon notes, such large numbers of newcomers challenged conventional norms in “old, British Toronto the Good” (Lemon 1985, 116). An early sign of new beginnings was the election of Toronto’s first non-British Protestant mayor in 1954. Not only did Nathan Phillips, child of Jewish immigrants to Toronto, win the mayoralty; he did so defeating the Orange Lodge-backed incumbent, Leslie Saunders. Today, Toronto’s most beloved public space – the civic square at City Hall, used for political, community, and cultural gatherings – is named Nathan Phillips Square. The city’s most cherished “place of meeting” is named for a minority-community elected politician. Toronto’s second stage of demographic transformation has been ongoing since the introduction of the immigration point system in the 1960s. As Kelley and Trebilcock note, with the adoption of objective merit-based criteria for immigrant selection, “the 1967 regulations finally removed all traces of racial discrimination from Canada’s immigration laws” (Kelley and Trebilcock 1998, 351). The past forty years have witnessed the most sustained flow of

Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto 27

immigrants to Canada ever, and Toronto has been by far the destination of choice for newcomers. Thus, from 1991 to 2001, 43 percent of all immigrants to Canada settled in the Toronto census metropolitan area. This compares with 18 percent and 12 percent going to the next most popular destinations – the Vancouver and Montreal areas respectively. Put more graphically, the 792,000 immigrants added to the Toronto area’s population between 1991 and 2001 exceed the combined 2001 metropolitan population (778,000) of Halifax, Regina, and Saskatoon. Moreover, the newest Torontonians certainly reflect the globalization of Canadian immigration. Almost eight of every ten newcomers to Toronto in this ten-year period have been visible minorities, and almost half the total came from the top five Toronto-bound source countries of China, India, Philippines, Hong Kong, and Sri Lanka (Schellenberg 2004). Few cities have changed so much and so fast as Toronto. Writing at the end of the twentieth century, the Globe and Mail’s Toronto affairs columnist John Barber nicely compressed the transformation into a generational comparison. “I grew up,” Barber wrote, “in a tidy, prosperous, narrow-minded town where Catholicism was considered exotic; my children are growing up in the most cosmopolitan city on Earth. The same place” (Barber 1998, A8). A place, we will see, where Catholicism is now by far the largest religious affiliation, and the fastest-growing faith communities are non-Christian. Profiling Toronto’s Population As if to underscore its impressive recent growth, there are now three territorial incarnations going by the name “Toronto.” This chapter focuses on the Municipality of the City of Toronto. The City of Toronto underwent major restructuring in 1998, when the provincial government imposed full amalgamation on six previously federated municipalities. By 2001, the City of Toronto’s population stood at 2.48 million, making it North America’s fifthlargest municipality. The Toronto census metropolitan area (CMA) that same year had a population of 4.68 million. And since the 1980s, the Greater Toronto Area (GTA) has described the City of Toronto and its four neighbouring two-tier municipalities of Durham, York, Peel, and Halton Regions. The Toronto CMA and GTA largely, but not entirely, overlap. In 2001, the GTA population stood at 5.08 million, and this is the geo-political space most often associated with the Toronto city-region. Unless otherwise specified, every reference to “Toronto” in the remainder of this chapter describes the City of Toronto. The city’s boundaries are shown in Map 1.1. The City of Toronto is indeed a remarkably diverse place. This is strikingly evident from 2001 census data on the immigrant, visible minority, linguistic, ethnic, and religious composition of the city. Unless otherwise specified, all subsequently cited demographic data for Toronto in this chapter is derived from the 2001 Canadian census.

28 Myer Siemiatycki

Map 1.1 Federal electoral map of Toronto, 2001 Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001a).

Just under half (49 percent) of Toronto’s 2.45 million population was foreign born – compared with an 18 percent immigrant population for Canada as a whole. And many of Toronto’s immigrants are very recent arrivals. As of 2001, 21 percent of all city residents were immigrants who had arrived Table 1.1 Visible minority population, Toronto, 2001

Total Visible minority Chinese South Asian Black Filipino Latin American Other visible minorities West Asian Southeast Asian Korean Arab Multiple visible minorities Japanese Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

Number

% of city population

2,486,800 1,051,125 259,710 253,915 204,475 86,460 54,350 37,980 37,200 33,870 29,755 22,355 19,855 11,595

100.0 42.3 10.4 10.2 8.2 3.5 2.2 1.5 1.5 1.4 1.2 0.9 0.8 0.5

Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto 29

during the previous ten years. Visible minorities comprised 43 percent of the city’s population, compared to a national rate of 13 percent for visible minorities across Canada. Particularly noteworthy in Toronto is the variety of large visible minority communities who now call the city home. The three largest visible minority groups in Toronto are Chinese (259,710), South Asians (253,915), and Blacks (204,075). (Here is a telling indicator of how large these three visible minority communities are: if they were the only people living in Toronto, the city would be Canada’s fourth most populated municipality after Montreal, Calgary, and Ottawa.) Table 1.1 identifies Toronto’s various visible minority communities in 2001. It was no accident that Canada’s most successful sitcom television series about ethnic diversity – the 1970s King of Kensington – was set in a downtown Toronto neighbourhood. Well over a hundred different ethnic groups have established a collective community presence in Toronto. An interesting dimension of this diversity is the number of Torontonians bearing hybrid ethnic ancestry themselves. Based on the 2001 census, 27 percent of Torontonians declared multiple ancestry, while 73 percent declared a single ethnic ancestry. As the census further revealed, there are many large ethnic communities in Toronto. Based on both single and multiple ethnic ancestry responses, nine groups each totalled over 100,000 residents in the city. In order, these are Canadian, English, Chinese, Scottish, Irish, Italian, East Indian, Jewish, and French. An additional fifteen ethnic ancestry groups in 2001 registered between 25,000 and 100,000 members in Toronto. Table 1.2 identifies the twenty-four largest ethnic origin groups in the city. Beyond these largest communities, there are dozens of smaller ethnic groups from around the world who have also imprinted their identity on the Toronto landscape with distinctive retailing, places of worship, cultural events, and community publications. One indicator of Toronto’s rich multiculturalism is its diverse ethnic press. A comprehensive scan of this sector identified 157 different ethnic publications, each aimed at one of 40 different ethnic groups. Fifty-six of the publications appeared weekly, and Toronto also boasted 7 daily ethnic newspapers: 3 in Chinese, and 1 in each of Italian, Spanish, Polish, and Korean (Doucet 2001, 65-70). Languages from around the world are spoken on the streets of Toronto. Of all transformations experienced by Toronto over the past fifty years, the change in religion is perhaps the most dramatic. In 1951, two of every three Torontonians were Protestants (Lemon 1985, 197). The Anglican, Methodist, and Presbyterian churches had long been the mainstays of civic morals, propriety, and politics. However, by the 2001 census, barely two in ten residents declared a Protestant affiliation. Roman Catholicism had become by far the largest religious attachment in Toronto, with 755,465 followers compared to 150,220 Anglicans and 131,825 United Church members.

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Table 1.2 Ethnic origins, combined single and multiple responses, Toronto, 2001 Ethnic ancestry

Number

% city population

Canadian English Chinese Scottish Irish Italian East Indian Jewish French German Portuguese Filipino Jamaican Polish Greek Ukrainian Spanish Russian Sri Lankan Dutch Korean Vietnamese Iranian Hungarian

373,540 345,890 273,855 232,025 222,880 185,230 167,005 101,380 100,470 97,945 95,225 90,215 88,305 79,215 56,000 55,060 40,205 39,610 34,060 30,880 30,205 29,990 26,445 26,280

15.2 14.1 11.1 9.4 9.1 7.5 6.8 4.1 4.1 4.1 3.9 3.7 3.6 3.2 2.3 2.2 1.6 1.6 1.4 1.3 1.2 1.2 1.1 1.1

Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

But the 2001 census also showed that the city’s fastest-growing faith communities were non-Christian. For instance, Toronto’s Muslim population of 165,135 had surpassed the number of Anglicans. This is a new Toronto, where “making space for mosques” and for Muslims is now redefining the civic identity (Isin and Siemiatycki 2002). Toronto’s religious profile in 2001 showed the following distribution: Roman Catholics, 31 percent; Protestants (all denominations), 22 percent; no religion, 19 percent; Muslims, 7 percent; Hindus, 5 percent; Jews, 4 percent; Christian Orthodox (all denominations), 4 percent; and Buddhists, 3 percent. Interestingly, there is one significant identity that does not find a place in our narrative of ever-deepening diversity in Toronto over the past half century. The group that first inhabited Toronto and gave it its name, today barely has a foothold in the city. In 2001, there were 11,370 Aboriginal persons in Toronto, accounting for less than half of 1 percent of the total

Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto 31

population. As Toronto has grown, its First Nations communities have become ever more marginal to overall population in this urban “place of meeting.” Identifying Who Represents Toronto Is the diversity of Toronto’s population reflected in its elected government representatives? To answer this question, we will explore the identity of all municipal, provincial, and federal politicians elected in the City of Toronto. The politicians to be studied are those who were elected in the Ontario provincial election of October 2003, the City of Toronto municipal election of November 2003, and the Canadian federal election of June 2004. In total, the voters of the City of Toronto elected 90 politicians across all three levels of government. Municipally, Toronto City Council is comprised of 44 councillors (one elected in each of the 44 wards), plus the mayor (elected at large across the entire city). Provincially, Toronto elected 22 of the 103 Members of Provincial Parliament (MPPs). Federally, Toronto elected 23 of the country’s 308 Members of Parliament (MPs). Due to population growth and constituency redistribution, the 2004 federal election featured a new constituency (Pickering-Scarborough East) encompassing residents of both Toronto and the neighbouring municipality of Pickering. This constituency is included in this study. Two methodologies were followed to establish demographic and biographical information about these 90 elected politicians in Toronto. First, all politicians were sent a survey inviting them to provide information about themselves. This survey was conducted in the summer of 2005. Previously, between the fall of 1998 and winter of 1999, I had conducted a similar survey with members of Toronto City Council for another study (Siemiatycki and Saloojee 2003). These initial surveys were used for this study in instances where an elected politician had completed the earlier survey, but not the most recent. In total, 55 of 90 politicians responded to the survey, for a 61 percent response rate. Participation rates varied significantly across the three levels of government. The municipal response rate was by far the highest at 80 percent, compared with the 48 percent federal and 36 percent provincial response rates. It should be noted that 5 respondents indicated that it was not their practice to reply to such information requests. For those who did not respond to the survey, I relied on assorted sources to determine relevant demographic and biographical information. These included media coverage, politicians’ websites, phone enquiries to politicians’ offices, and Internet searches. Considerable information about our elected officials is available from these sources. The net effect is that information on 50 Toronto politicians is based on their own survey answers, and information about the remaining 40 is based on the sources identified above.

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Methodologically, this research poses a number of challenges. As is apparent, securing the co-operation of all elected officials is difficult. Despite repeated requests, a good number chose not to supply information. Illustrative of the difficulty a researcher may encounter was the reply from one federal MP when reached by phone and asked to complete the survey sent earlier. “I don’t have time”, the long-time parliamentarian complained, “for people to pick my brain” (Anonymous 2005). Additionally, there are differing orders of clarity or ambiguity in the information sought about elected politicians. Biographical information such as age and educational attainment involve precise measurable facts – date of birth and level of study completed. I have established this information for the great majority of Toronto’s elected officials. Other identity issues of interest rely on the subjective attachments or beliefs of individual politicians. Like Canada’s census, I am interested in the religious “identification or affiliation” of our elected officials. In this case, I relied exclusively on survey replies for our information. Finally, some of the identity markers of interest are inherently fuzzy, and open to differing interpretations. Ethnic ancestry is a prime example. Following the lead of the Canadian census, my survey asked elected officials to identify “the ethnic or cultural group to which your ancestors belonged.” In probing ethnicity, therefore, politicians were not asked to define their own sense of ethnic identity, nor what ethnic group their voters may believe the politician belongs to or is attached to. Rather, respondents were asked to identify their ancestors’ ethnic origins. Consequently, for politicians who did not complete the survey, I have been able to attribute their ethnic ancestry based on such factors as place of birth, surname, and ethnic references in their biography or media coverage. Yet, notwithstanding any of the afore-cited methodological challenges and ambiguities, a clear, and even stark, picture of identity and politics does emerge. Toronto’s elected politicians are neither a random nor a reflective cross-section of the city’s diverse population. Elected in Toronto In very few significant demographic categories does the profile of Toronto’s elected politicians mirror – or even approximate – the general population profile of the city. Particularly under-represented in positions of elected office are women, young adults, immigrants, visible minorities, ethnic and religious minorities, and people from non-business or non-professional careers. Moreover, with few exceptions, these imbalances of representation apply across all three levels of government. Table 1.3 lists proportionality indices measuring the representation of various groups among Toronto’s elected officials. Recall that the proportionality index measures a group’s share of total elected positions relative to its share of total population.

Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto 33

Statistically under-represented groups have a proportionality index under 1.00, while over-represented groups are over that mark. Women comprise the majority of Toronto’s population, but they are badly outnumbered by men in elected office. While 52 percent of the population is female, women hold only 25 (28 percent) of the 90 political positions in Toronto. As Table 1.3 shows, this yields a poor proportionality index of just 0.54 for women. Toronto would have to elect twice its current number of women for them to achieve statistical parity with their share of total population. Relatively speaking, women’s representation is better at the municipal

Table 1.3 Proportionality indices for select groups of Toronto’s elected officials % of elected officials (2004)

% of Toronto population (2001)

Proportionality index

Gender a Male Female

72.2 27.8

49.3 51.7

1.46 0.54

Visible minority a Total Black South Asian Chinese Filipino

11.1 4.4 3.3 2.2 0

42.8 8.3 10.3 10.6 3.5

0.26 0.54 0.32 0.21 0

Immigrant/foreign-bornb

33.3

49.4

0.67

Ethnic origin Italian Anglo-Saxon Ukrainian Polish Greek Jamaican Portuguese

18.9 45.6 3.3 4.4 2.2 3.3 1.1

7.5 24.9 2.2 3.2 2.3 3.6 3.9

2.52 1.83 1.5 1.38 0.96 0.92 0.28

Religious affiliation a Christian Jewish Muslim Hindu Buddhist

92.2 5.5 2.2 0 0

62.2 4.2 6.7 4.8 2.7

1.48 1.31 0.32 0 0

7

32.6

0.21

Group

a

Young adults (age 20-39) c

a Based on information on 90 elected officials. b Based on information on 84 elected officials. c Based on information on 73 elected officials. Source: Author’s calculations and Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

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level, where females hold 31 percent of seats, compared with 26 percent of federal and 23 percent of provincial seats. Gender is the sole identity characteristic for which there is a significant “municipal advantage” over other levels of government. Toronto has more women serving on city council (14) than sitting in the federal and provincial parliaments combined (11). Toronto, then, may be taken as evidence of the continued relevance of earlier academic studies that identified the greater participation and success rate of women in municipal politics (Trimble 1995; Maillé 1997). Age is a particularly stark marker of electoral success in Toronto. It pays to be grey(ing), it would appear. Based on the 73 politicians whose ages I could establish, in the year 2005, 7 percent were aged 18-39, 70 percent were from 40 to 59, and 23 percent were aged 60 or over. The youngest politician is 28 years old, the most elderly is 74. However, the general population is distinctly younger than its political representatives. Across the city, 33 percent of the population is aged 20-39, 27 percent is from 40 to 59, and 17 percent is 60 years of age or older. Accordingly, as Table 1.3 shows, young adults aged 20-39 have a worse rate of representation, measured by their 0.21 proportionality index, than other groups such as women and visible minorities. Clearly, political office is a career that favours the middle-aged and elderly over the young. This under-representation has not been helpful to a city grappling with problems of youth unemployment and youth violence. There is also an evident premium for electoral success attached to length of residency in the city. Toronto’s elected politicians (based on the 55 for whom we have such data), have lived in the city for an average of forty-one years. Length of stay confers a number of benefits, including familiarity with local institutions and issues, enhancement of reputation and networks, opportunities for career and status advancement, etc. A particularly significant advantage of longer residency in the city is the time it takes to climb the political ladder. Of the 72 politicians for whom we have such data, 31 (43 percent) held another elected office in Toronto prior to the position they currently occupy. In most instances, the initial stepping stone was a school board trustee position leading to a municipal council seat, or a municipal council seat leading to a federal or provincial seat. The benefit of longer residency in the city does not augur well for the huge numbers of recent immigrants to Toronto. Recall that by 2001, over one in every five Torontonians had only been in Canada for ten years or less. As can be inferred, the proportion of immigrants in elected office – especially recent immigrants – lags behind their population share. While immigrants in 2001 comprised 49 percent of Toronto’s population, only 33 percent (28 in number) of our politicians were born outside Canada. (This is based on 84 of the 90 politicians for whom I could ascertain place of birth.) Moreover, the vast bulk of these 28 immigrant-origin politicians arrived long ago from Canada’s “traditional” source countries of migration. Seventeen were born

Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto 35

in Europe and 2 in the United States. By far the largest “exporter” of future politicians to Toronto was Italy – 10 of Toronto’s 28 foreign-born politicians migrated to Canada from Italy. The Caribbean is the next regional source of note, accounting for 5 politicians: 3 hailing from Jamaica and 1 each from Trinidad and Grenada. Rounding out the foreign-born cohort, 2 were born in Asia (South Korea and Hong Kong), 1 in Africa (Tanzania), and 1 in South America (Ecuador). Interestingly, for the 9 Toronto politicians born outside Europe or North America, their average length of residency in Toronto stands at 35 years, with the lowest period of stay among the group being 29 years. Clearly, the massive wave of immigrants who have arrived in Toronto over the past 30 years are encountering difficulty taking their place in the political arena. A later section of this chapter seeks to explain the statistical mismatch between the population of Toronto and its elected representatives. Visible minorities are especially under-represented in the ranks of Toronto’s politicians. Comprising 43 percent of the city’s population in 2001, visible minorities held only 10 (just 11 percent) of the 90 elected positions in the city. As Table 1.3 shows, this yields a particularly low proportionality index of 0.26 for visible minorities in elected office. Toronto would need to elect four times as many visible minority politicians for them to achieve a statistical representation equal to their share of city population. Of Toronto’s 10 visible minority politicians, 4 are Black, 3 are South Asian, 2 are Chinese, and 1 is Korean. The representation gap is more pronounced among some visible minority groups than others. As Table 1.3 indicates, all large visible minority communities in Toronto are significantly under-represented in elected office, but some are excluded to more extreme degrees than others. The proportionality indices for the city’s four largest visible minority communities are 0.21 for Chinese, 0.32 for South Asians, 0.53 for Blacks, and 0 (none elected) for Filipinos. The converse of this picture, of course, is the statistical overrepresentation of Caucasians (Whites) in elected office. Whites comprised 57 percent of the city population in 2001 but held 89 percent – 80 of the 90 – elected positions, for a proportionality index of 1.48. Relatively small variations exist in visible minority representation across the three levels of government: 5 representatives are municipal, 3 provincial, and 2 federal. Visible minority politicians thus comprise 11 percent of city councillors, 14 percent of provincial MPPs, and 9 percent of federal MPs in Toronto. Interestingly, the representation of women among Toronto’s visible minority politicians is significantly higher than the gender distribution among Caucasians. Women comprise 40 percent of the 10 visible minority politicians, but only 26 percent of Caucasian politicians. This pattern matches findings in this volume for Vancouver and the federal Parliament, suggesting a greater opening for women of colour than for White women, relative to their male counterparts.

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Ethnic origin representation among Toronto politicians highlights the overwhelming pre-eminence of two groups: persons of Anglo-Saxon and Italian ancestry. Anglo-Saxons account for 41 of 90 elected positions. This total includes politicians who variously self-identified their ancestry as AngloSaxon, British, English, Scottish, and Irish. Thus, while Toronto’s Anglo-Saxon community in recent decades has diminished in population predominance, it continues to supply by far the largest number of city politicians. Italians are the second largest ethnic group in the ranks of city politicians, holding 17 seats. Across the remaining 32 seats, only six ethnic groups hold more than a single seat: Jewish (5), Polish (4), Jamaican (3), Ukrainian (3), Chinese (2), and Greek (2). As Table 1.3 shows, both Anglo-Saxons and Italians are significantly overrepresented in elected office relative to their population. Anglo-Saxons hold 46 percent of positions with 25 percent of the population, while Italians claim 19 percent of the seats with under 8 percent of the population. Thus, Italians have the highest rate of statistical over-representation of any group in Toronto, with a proportionality index of 2.52, followed by the AngloSaxon rate of 1.83. The rate of Anglo-Saxon representation shows little variation across all three levels of government, while Italian representation is greater municipally and provincially than federally. Nor is this preponderance of Anglo-Saxons and Italians in elected office a new phenomenon. For instance, four municipal elections earlier, in 1994, Anglo-Saxons made up 51 percent of Toronto’s municipal politicians while Italians accounted for 14 percent (Siemiatycki and Saloojee 2003, 254). Much as in Hamilton and Montreal, which are discussed later in this volume, Italians have proven to be Toronto’s most successful ethnic minority community in electing members to public office. And as in most Canadian cities, Aboriginals in Toronto hold no elected municipal, provincial, or federal positions. Religious identity also reproduces uneven patterns of electoral representation in Toronto. The city’s recently burgeoning non-Christian religions have minimal representation. Muslims, who comprise 7 percent of the city population, hold 2 elected positions for only 2 percent of all seats. Faring worse still are Hindus at 5 percent of the population and Buddhists at 3 percent. Neither group has elected any members in Toronto. The position of the Jewish community, with its considerably longer presence in Toronto, is significantly better. Accounting for 4 percent of the city’s population, Jews hold almost 6 percent of elected positions – 3 municipal and 2 provincial. The vast majority of Toronto politicians are Christian. At 62 percent of Toronto’s population, Christians hold 83 (92 percent) of the elected positions. Occupationally, the great majority of politicians are drawn from the professions and the business sector. I have information on the earlier occupations of 82 of 90 politicians. Forty politicians had earlier careers in the professions,

Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto 37

with 17 educators (teachers, principals, professors, instructors) and 13 lawyers leading the way. Twenty-three politicians were business owners or executives before being elected. The next largest career path to elected office was being employed as staff to an elected politician (assistant, researcher, community liaison). Nine politicians had served in such roles, and this was particularly prevalent among current municipal politicians, who accounted for 7 of the 9 former staff. It would appear that in municipal elections, where the absence of political parties makes name recognition and personal networks so important, serving as political staff to a municipal council is a significant way to build a personal base of contacts and supporters. Very few elected politicians emerged from leadership positions in community organizations or the labour movement – only 4 and 2 respectively. None appear to have come from Toronto’s vast retail, clerical, hospitality, or manufacturing workforce. Given their occupational backgrounds, most politicians enjoyed aboveaverage income and educational attainment, compared with the city’s total population. Thus, while 25 percent of Toronto residents reported holding a university undergraduate degree or higher in the 2001 census, this applied to 92 percent of the 72 politicians for whom we could establish an educational profile. Like the cities discussed in other chapters of this collection, Toronto’s elected politicians may be said to embody something of a civic identity crisis. They differ markedly in their identity and background from the pluralistic population they represent. As we have seen, there is such a thing as a “typical” politician in Toronto. The winning formula is: Canadian-born White male, middle-aged or older, long-time city resident, Christian, of Anglo-Saxon origin, with a university degree and either professional or business career experience. Beyond this prototype, four other groups should be acknowledged as having positions of note among Toronto’s elected officials. First, since women constitute over half the city’s population, even at a rate of representation that is barely half of what their numbers warrant, women hold a significant number of positions – 25 of 90. Second, Toronto has elected openly gay and lesbian politicians at all levels of government: a total of 4 (3 gay, 1 lesbian) among Toronto’s 90 elected politicians. Third, as members of statistically the most over-represented ethnic group, politicians of Italian origin hold an impressive 17 seats. Finally, Toronto’s Jewish community is the only non-Christian religion statistically over-represented in elected office, with 5 elected positions. The groups that remain offer a compelling profile of those statistically most marginalized in terms of Toronto’s elected officials: young adults, immigrants who arrived in the past three decades, racial minorities, adherents of non-Christian religions, and those not in business or professional careers.

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More Torontonians today fit these characteristics than the more restrictive prototype for a successful politician described above. Why does Canada’s most diverse city not elect a more diverse cohort of politicians? Explaining Toronto’s Political Identity Gap It would be prudent to adopt a spirit of intellectual modesty in attempting to explain who gets elected in Toronto. Election results, after all, reflect the decisions and choices made by huge numbers of people. For instance, the 2003 municipal election in Toronto had a total eligible electorate of 1,825,483 (City of Toronto 2004). Nonetheless, several important contexts and causes shaping Toronto’s political profile are clear. To begin, it should be noted that the current patterns of relative over- and under-representation of groups among elected politicians are not a new phenomenon. Siemiatycki and Saloojee found the same relative overrepresentation (of Anglo-Saxons, Italians, and Jews) and under-representation (of women and visible minorities) among Toronto’s elected officials resulting from the previous round of elections across all three levels of government held in 1999 and 2000 (Siemiatycki and Saloojee 2002). The municipal arena exemplifies how entrenched these patterns of political inclusion and exclusion are. Reaching back four municipal elections earlier, to the civic vote of 1994, the profile of Toronto’s elected municipal politicians then included Anglo-Saxons (51 percent), women (25 percent), Italians (14 percent), and visible minorities (8 percent). After the 2003 municipal vote, the distribution was Anglo-Saxons (45 percent), women (31 percent), Italians (20 percent), and racial minorities (11 percent). While there have been some fluctuations for each group, the compelling picture is of sustained electoral imbalance over four trips to the ballot box through a ten-year period of massive migration and population change in Toronto. Several aspects of our electoral system, identified in other chapters as well, have come into play here. As in Halifax, Montreal, Ottawa, and Hamilton, a municipal merger in Toronto substantially reduced the number of available municipal council seats from 106 in 1994 to 58 in 1997 to the current 45 since the year 2000. At the same time, the Ontario government reduced the number of seats in the provincial legislature, eliminating 6 positions in Toronto. Thus, at the very time Toronto was experiencing its greatest wave of global migration, the number of elected positions shrank substantially. The total number of municipal, provincial, and federal positions in Toronto in 1994 was 156; the current total is 90. The ripple effects were not only fewer available positions but also the consequent creation of much more populous constituencies (especially at the municipal level), which raised the cost of running for office and reduced the ability of particular ethnoracial population concentrations to determine voting results.

Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto 39

In normal times, unseating an incumbent in municipal politics is difficult enough. But new faces stood little chance as 106 incumbents scrambled among themselves to hold onto a substantially reduced number of positions following the municipal amalgamation. Thus, after the civic vote in 2000, only 3 of 45 members of Toronto City Council had not held a pre-amalgamation seat in the 1994 election. One “career transition” exercised by embattled municipal politicians was to seek provincial or federal office. Eight of Toronto’s 45 current provincial and federal elected members had held municipal council seats prior to amalgamation. The effect of Toronto’s municipal amalgamation, therefore, was to delay the entry of new faces into elected office at all three levels of government. However, the elections of 2003 and 2004 showed that a change in the guard among Toronto politicians would not necessarily enhance the position of traditionally excluded groups. The elections of these years produced the greatest turnover in decades, amounting to 36 percent, 31 percent, and 17 percent among provincial, municipal, and federal politicians for Toronto respectively. But of the 26 newly elected members at all three levels, only 1 (4 percent) was a young adult under the age of 40, only 4 (15 percent) were visible minorities, and 14 (54 percent) were Anglo-Saxon. More impressive were the gains made by women, who won 11 (42 percent) of these seats. Also noteworthy among this cohort of newly elected were the first Muslims ever elected in the city – 1 federally and 1 provincially. Yet, given the rate of turnover in these elections, it is disappointing that more youthful and visible minority candidates, in particular, were not elected. At the municipal level, the problem is not a lack of candidates so much as their apparent lack of sufficient networks and support to mount a credible challenge. In the 2003 municipal election, visible minorities accounted for one of every five candidates running for office. But barely one in ten winning candidates was from a visible minority community. And the great majority of visible minority candidates fared poorly at the polls, with 80 percent failing to win even 10 percent of the votes secured by the winner. Federally and provincially, as well, the great majority of visible minority candidates running for office for one of the major political parties polled far behind the winning candidate. Elsewhere, Siemiatycki and Saloojee have contended that the identity outcomes of elections “reflect and reinforce basic social power relations” (Siemiatycki and Saloojee 2003, 259). Thus, Toronto’s Anglo-Saxon, Italian, and Jewish communities (each statistically over-represented among elected officials) have a number of collective advantages that position them well for electoral success. Anglo-Saxons are Toronto’s traditional dominant culture, and they have controlled the City’s political institutions for two centuries. Significant residual status still accrues to Anglo-Saxons as the “natural”

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political leaders in Toronto. Thus, of the five federal ridings in Toronto with the highest visible minority population, four have elected Anglo-Saxon MPs; the other has an MP of Greek origin (Matheson 2005, 41). Minority communities typically require large residential concentration in a constituency in order to elect a politician of their own identity. Anglo-Saxons, by contrast, are electable anywhere as a result of their historic identification as the founding, dominant culture. Anglo-Saxons also, of course, occupy major positions of leadership in Toronto’s economic and professional spheres, and as a group they enjoy well-above-average income and home ownership – key markers of successful political participation (Ornstein 2000). Toronto’s most successful minority communities in the political arena have been Italians and Jews. Both have drawn on relatively similar collective capacities to achieve electoral gains for their members. These are large, longstanding communities in Toronto. They have strong institutional roots in the city (including advocacy and service organizations, ethnic press, religious institutions, and corporate organizations) that have nurtured community leaders and an active tradition of civic participation. Both groups have a strong sense of collective identity, which may explain their high degree of residential concentration in the Toronto area. As a result, both Italians and Jews comprise significant blocs of population in some electoral constituencies. Both groups also enjoyed above-average income and homeownership rates – Italians, in fact, had the highest rate for any ethnoracial group at 89 percent (Ornstein 2000). Thus, both inside the City of Toronto and in its neighbouring suburbs, Italians and Jews have succeeded in electing politicians of their own identity. To enumerate the electoral advantages of the Italian and Jewish communities in Toronto is also by contrast to identify some of the barriers impeding the electoral success of visible minorities. Thus, in his comprehensive study of ethnoracial inequality in Toronto, Michael Ornstein concluded that “visible minorities are prominently represented among the most disadvantaged groups in the City of Toronto” (Ornstein 2000, ii). Nowhere that free elections are practised does socio-economic disadvantage constitute a political advantage. Undue rates of unemployment, poverty, lack of official language skill, and relatively low home ownership – alone and certainly in combination – will inhibit community political participation and efficacy. Add to this a recent arrival in the country and the challenges of newcomer resettlement, and the barriers for immigrant communities can mount even higher. Yet, we also need to be cautious in generalizing about the diverse communities comprising the categories of immigrants and visible minorities. Different visible minority communities, for instance, reveal significant variation in electoral representation. As we have seen, politicians in Toronto of Jamaican origin have achieved elected office at a rate close to their share of the population. Compared with other visible minority groups, Jamaicans

Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto 41

have benefited from relatively earlier arrival in Canada, facility with English as a mother tongue, and a well-developed set of community institutions. It may also be noted that while South Asian representation lags badly behind this community’s share of Toronto’s population, this group is achieving considerably better electoral representation in the suburbs. Particularly compelling is the case of Brampton, northwest of Toronto, where South Asians hold 3 of 4 federal seats and 2 of 3 provincial seats. All 5 of these positions are held by individuals of Punjabi Sikh origin, giving this community a proportionality index of 3.55 – one of the greatest rates of overrepresentation for any demographically identifiable group anywhere in Canada. A variety of factors contribute to this pattern of electoral “suburban success,” including dramatic increases and concentration of residential settlement in periphery edge cities, the strong homeland political participation traditions of South Asians and Punjabi Sikhs in particular, and the eagerness of political parties to field minority candidates in these suburban constituencies (Siemiatycki and Matheson 2005). And, as other chapters show, South Asian candidates have also been successful in Vancouver, Calgary, and Edmonton. Toronto’s Chinese community constitutes a stark contrast. As we saw, it accounts for 11 percent of Toronto’s population, yet it holds only 2 of 90 seats in the city. (Recall, for contrast, that Italians hold 17 seats with under 8 percent of the population, and Anglo-Saxons hold 41 seats with 25 percent of the population.) The difficulty of explaining electoral outcomes is evident from the Chinese experience. This is a group with large concentrated numbers in Toronto. Indeed, in 2001 they were the largest “single response” ethnic origin group in more wards in Toronto (12) than any other group! They have major communal institutions in the city, including three daily newspapers, a host of service and advocacy organizations, and significant economic holdings. They also have considerably above-average home ownership rates and at-average university degree completion rates (Ornstein 2000). So why are so few Toronto politicians of Chinese origin? Beyond the electoral and institutional factors we cited as inhibiting immigrant and minority representation, some ethno-specific factors may enter into play. The majority of Chinese in Toronto are recent arrivals whose mother tongue is not English. Settling, integrating, and acquiring English proficiency are critical initial adaptations that take time. Moreover, while our census identifies Chinese as a single community, there are significant divisions of language and nationality among them that may interfere with the emergence of a single voice for the entire community (Lo and Wang 1997; Szonyi 2002). Additionally, homeland political traditions and culture may have an impact. Some scholars have identified the relative absence of liberal democracy in China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan as a factor in retarding the political and electoral participation of Chinese-origin immigrants in Western societies

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(Ku and Pun 2004; Lam 2005). More community-specific research would illuminate barriers and pathways to political involvement, integration, and inclusion. Toronto’s Culture of Political Inclusion As we have seen, Toronto’s diverse demographics are not reflected among its elected politicians. There are many reasons one might wish they were: to signal the inclusion of all segments of society in making the rules by which we will live; to leave no segment of society feeling marginalized and excluded; to assure the widest range of experiences are heard before decisions are taken; to draw leaders from the widest possible pool of talent. In particular, there is a fear that imbalanced patterns of representation may lead to one-sided government, favouring some segments of society over others. Paradoxically, Toronto’s experience suggests that political inclusion does not primarily depend on the identity of elected politicians. Their values may well be more significant. In matters of political access, equity, and human rights, the Toronto record over recent decades is one of non-reflective elected bodies championing the rights of minorities. Toronto City Hall is the clearest arena in which to see this pattern at play. Over the years, Toronto’s White, male, Anglo-Saxon dominated city councils have adopted an impressively broad range of inclusive policies and initiatives. These include a Workplace Human Rights and Harassment Policy, a Hate Activity Policy and Procedures initiative, an Employment Equity Policy, a Multilingual Services Policy, a Vision Statement on Accessibility and Diversity, a Plan of Action for the Elimination of Racism and Discrimination, an Immigration and Settlement Policy Framework, and an Immigration and Settlement Communications Framework. The tenor of these policies is reflected in council’s resolve, through its Plan of Action for the Elimination of Racism and Discrimination, to “act upon the City’s multiple roles as policy maker, employer, service provider, grants provider, regulator, and purchaser of goods and services to ensure an equitable society.” In particular, council resolves to “lead a responsive organization that recognizes that diverse groups experience discrimination based on the intersection of their identity, including gender, race, disability and sexual orientation” (City of Toronto 2003). Beyond these policy initiatives, Toronto has established a series of permanent advisory committees designed to promote the participation and voice of diverse communities in civic affairs. Five community advisory committees have been established, creating a venue where community representatives meet regularly with select city politicians and staff. These five are the Aboriginal Affairs Committee, the Disability Issues Committee, the Status of Women Committee, the Race and Ethnic Relations Committee, and the Committee on Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Issues. Beyond these, four working groups have been established whereby intersecting issues can

Reaching for Political Inclusion in Toronto 43

be addressed by community members, city politicians, and staff. These are the Working Group on Immigration and Refugee Issues and the Working Group on Language Equity and Literacy Issues. Finally the city’s staff structure and appointments reflect a commitment to diversity. Administratively, Toronto is led by a city manager and three deputy city managers. Currently, the city manager is a racial minority female, and the deputies include a racial minority male, a White female, and a White male. This team oversees the entire municipal scope of policy development and program delivery. Additionally, the city has established specific organizational units such as the Access and Equity Centre, the Human Rights Office, and the Office for Disability Issues to support specific equity policies and programs cited above. Interestingly, the political lead on these equity initiatives at Toronto City Hall has typically been taken by White politicians. Thus, the chair of Toronto’s Task Force on Community Access and Equity, established shortly after municipal amalgamation in 1998, was Councillor Joe Mihevc of Slovenian ethnic ancestry. The head of Toronto’s Working Group on Immigration and Refugee Issues has been the current mayor and former councillor David Miller of Anglo-Saxon ancestry. And on the city’s important Police Services Board, Councillor Pam McConnell of Anglo-Saxon ancestry has been a consistent voice for heightened police responsiveness to diverse minority communities. Conversely, it is ironic that some of the more controversial interventions on issues of diversity in Toronto happen to have come from visible minority members of council. In 1997, a councillor of Chinese origin referred to Roma refugees as a community full of “pimps and criminals” (Swainson 1997). In the summer of 2005, amidst escalating gun violence linked to the city’s Black community, a Black city councillor sparked an outcry of his own with calls for police to step up random searches of Black youth in problem areas. Against a backdrop of longstanding Black complaints over racial profiling by police, the councillor’s suggestion was roundly condemned by civic, police, and media leaders (Lewington 2005; Gonda and Teotonio 2005; James 2005). In an earlier study of political representation in Toronto, Siemiatycki and Saloojee found that minority community leaders and the city’s leading social justice organizations endorsed the re-election of few of the visible minority members of Toronto City Council. The electoral system appears to privilege the election of more moderate, rather than militant, voices within visible minority communities (Siemiatycki and Saloojee 2002). Toronto reminds us that identity markers such as race and ethnicity cannot predict the outlook of politicians. Interestingly, Rose Lee, the coordinator of diversity management for the City of Toronto, has stated: “I don’t think there is a correlation between the number of visible minority councillors and diversity friendly policies” (cited in Matheson 2005, 13).

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At the same time, minorities have been crucial to the consolidation of Toronto’s civic culture of political inclusion. The existence of a large and diverse civil society network of identity-based service and advocacy organizations has created the climate in which Toronto politicians of all backgrounds have embraced commitment to diversity and inclusion. Pressure from a wide array of movements – feminist, gay and lesbian, immigrant and refugee, minority ethnic, racial, and religious – anchored in the growing size of these communities, has transformed Toronto’s image of itself. In recent decades, Toronto has come to redefine itself as a diverse city. Global migration, in particular, has conferred on Toronto the reputation of a city that values its varieties of population. But Toronto’s experience reminds us that our political process can be very slow to reflect the representation of such diversity in elected office. Women and youth, visible, ethnic, and religious minorities, and working-class Torontonians are badly under-represented in elected office. The enduring success of Italian-origin politicians has been the most notable exception to the pattern. The level of government has not been a significant factor of differentiation in representation; as we saw, Toronto does not bear out the assumption that municipal government, being “closest to the people,” will have consistently more diverse membership than its federal and provincial counterparts. But Toronto’s experience also suggests that regardless of who is elected, a city can develop a civic culture of valuing diversity and inclusion. Better still if our elected, governing institutions themselves fulfilled such laudable goals. Acknowledgments The author gratefully acknowledges the fine research assistance provided by Sean Marshall, Peter Murphy, and Julie Young in gathering and tabulating survey data. References Anisef, Paul, and Michael Lanphier. 2003. The world in a city. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Anonymous. 2005. Telephone conversation with a Toronto federal Member of Parliament. 11 July. Armstrong, Frederick H. 1983. Toronto: The place of meeting. Burlington: Windsor Publications. Barber, John. 1998. Different colours, changing city. Globe and Mail, 20 February. Breton, Raymond, Wsevolod W. Isajiw, Warren E. Kalbach, and Jeffrey G. Reitz. 1990. Ethnic identity and equality: Varieties of experience in a Canadian city. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Careless, J.M.S. 1984. Toronto to 1918: An illustrated history. Toronto: James Lorimer and Company. Canada. Statistics Canada. 2001a. 2001 federal electoral district (FED) profiles (1996 Representation Order), 2001 Census. http://www12statcan.ca/english/census01/products/ standard/fedprofile/index.cfm. –. Statistics Canada. 2001b. 2001 census core data tables. Provided through the Data Liberation Initiative. City of Toronto. 2000. Profile of Toronto: 2000 operating and capital budget. Summaries 4.

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–. 2002. Increasing Toronto’s profile internationally and at home (all wards). Report No. 10, Economic Development and Parks Committee (November). –. 2003. Plan of action for the elimination of racism and discrimination (April). –. 2004. Number of spoiled ballots in the 2003 election and an automatic recount mechanism. Toronto Staff Report. 14 June. Doucet, Michael. 2001. The anatomy of an urban legend: Toronto’s multicultural reputation. Working Paper 16, CERIS. Fulford, Robert. 1995. Accidental city: The transformation of Toronto. Toronto: Macfarlane Walter and Ross. Gonda, Gabe, and Isabel Teotonio. 2005. Police, politicians reject idea to fight gun “crisis.” Toronto Star. 17 August. Isin, Engin, and Myer Siemiatycki. 2002. Making space for mosques: Struggles for urban citizenship in diasporic Toronto. In Race, space, and the law: Unmapping a White settler society, ed. Sherene Razack, 185-209. Toronto: Between the Lines Press. James, Royson. 2005. An illegal, repugnant, divisive suggestion. Toronto Star. 17 August. Kelley, Ninette, and Michael Trebilcock. 1998. The making of the mosaic: A history of Canadian immigration policy. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Ku, Agnes, and Ngai Pun, eds. 2004. Remaking citizenship in Hong Kong: Community, nation, and the global city. London and New York: Routledge Curzon. Lam, Wai-Man. 2005 Depoliticization, citizenship, and the politics of community in Hong Kong. Citizenship Studies 9 (3): 309-22. Lemon, James. 1985. Toronto since 1918: An illustrated history. Toronto: James Lorimer and Company. Lewington, Jennifer. 2005. Councillor’s racial remark sparks furor. Globe and Mail. 17 August. Lo, Lucia, and Shuquang Wang. 1997. Settlement patterns of Toronto’s Chinese immigrants: Convergence or divergence? Canadian Journal of Regional Science 20 (1-2): 72-102. Maillé, Chantal. 1997. Gender concerns in city life. In The politics of the city: A Canadian perspective, ed. Timothy L. Thomas, 103-13. Toronto: ITP Nelson. Matheson, Ian Andrew. 2005. Seeking political inclusion: The case of South Asian political representation in Peel Region. MA paper, Ryerson University. Ornstein, Michael. 2000. Ethno-racial inequality in the City of Toronto: An analysis of the 1996 census. Toronto: City of Toronto. Schellenberg, Grant. 2004. Immigrants in Canada’s census metropolitan areas. Ottawa: Ministry of Industry. Siemiatycki, Myer, and Ian Andrew Matheson. 2005. Suburban success: Immigrant and minority electoral gains in suburban Toronto. Social Issues (Summer): 69-72. Siemiatycki, Myer, Tim Rees, Roxana Ng, and Khan Rahi. 2003. Integrating community diversity in Toronto: On whose terms? In The world in a city, ed. Paul Anisef and Michael Lanphier, 373-456. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Siemiatycki, Myer, and Anver Saloojee. 2003. Ethnoracial political representation in Toronto: Patterns and problems. Journal of International Migration and Integration 3 (2): 241-74. Spelt, Jacob. 1973. Toronto. Don Mills: Collier-Macmillan. Swainson, Gail. 1997. Council slams Chong for Gypsy remarks. Toronto Star. 26 September. Szonyi, Michael. 2002. Paper tigers. National Post Business (July): 34-44. Trimble, Linda. 1995. Politics where we live: Women and cities. In Canadian metropolitics: Governing our cities, ed. James Lightbody, 92-114. Toronto: Copp Clark. Winks, Robin. 1997. The Blacks in Canada: A history, 2nd ed. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s Press.

2 Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver Irene Bloemraad

In March 2006, Vancouver City Council called a special public meeting over a report warning of a municipal budget shortfall of $29.2 million. Residents were asked for advice on how to reconcile revenues and expenditures. Those who appeared before council included business owners, staff and members of community-based organizations, and other city residents. Everyone in Vancouver would be affected by the budget shortfall, so we might expect the participants at the special council meeting to reflect the diversity of Vancouver’s population. Yet, almost every speaker was White, used unaccented English, and appeared to be Canadian born.1 In the general population, about half of Vancouver’s residents are of non-European origins, making the city of Vancouver a “visible majority” municipality.2 Almost half were born outside of Canada, and half report that the language they first learned as a child, and can still speak, is a language other than English or French.3 If Vancouver’s diversity is not represented in special council meetings, can we see it reflected elsewhere? Are those elected – those who represent the city’s residents and make policy affecting Vancouverites – as diverse as the city’s population? As this chapter will show, the diversity of representation in the City of Vancouver falls short in many ways but has also made great strides toward equity over time. The proportion of those elected who are immigrants, visible minorities, ethnic minorities, or women is almost always lower than it would be if those elected mirrored the city’s demographics. In some cases, the disjuncture is stark: we find very few women, many fewer people of East Asian origins than in the city population, and very few representatives with modest levels of schooling. Yet, Vancouver can also claim some notable successes. One hundred years ago, the city and region were stridently anti-Asian, wanting to keep Canada White and to relegate Asian Canadians to second-class citizenship through disenfranchisement and economic marginalization. Today, Vancouver stands out among Canadian cities as the place with the largest proportion of visible

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

minority elected representatives. The city has undergone a demographic revolution in the last three decades that, by and large, took place in a peaceful manner. Indeed, Vancouver regularly ranks at or near the top of global surveys of the best or most liveable cities in the world. The city and its residents have made substantial progress, but there also remains substantial progress to be made. Vancouver’s History: Opportunity, Growth, and Asian Exclusion Vancouver sits on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, with the Fraser River to the south, the coastal mountains to the north, and the Fraser Valley to the east. The city’s origins lie in the decision of the Hudson’s Bay Company to set up a series of trading posts along the waterways of the Pacific, where members of various First Nations had long lived. The first permanent non-native settlement in the Vancouver area, Fort Langley, was constructed in 1827. Following the discovery of gold in the Fraser River in 1858, the area experienced dramatic demographic growth, economic expansion, and political change. What is today Vancouver owes its prominence to William Van Horne’s decision to move the endpoint of the Canadian Pacific Railway from Port Moody to a town Van Horne christened Vancouver, incorporated as such in 1886. It had only about 400 residents in 1884, but by 1891 the census recorded a population of 13,709.4 Explosive growth followed as settlers arrived. Speculators bought and sold real estate, logging and fishing provided jobs, and the city became a hub of transportation and commerce. At the dawn of the twentieth century, the city had a population of 29,432. After South Vancouver and Point Grey amalgamated with Vancouver in 1929, the city became the third most populous municipality in Canada. By 1941, the city’s population had surpassed the quarter million mark. Astonishing economic and demographic growth dominated Vancouver’s history from the 1860s to 1940s. This period was also marked by intolerance and racism. After Chinese migration, which began during the 1858 Gold Rush, swelled, White residents reacted with political exclusion, hostility in the labour market, and, at times, physical attacks (Roy 1989). In 1875, royal assent was given to the British Columbia legislature’s decision to deny Chinese and Aboriginal peoples a vote in provincial elections.5 A provincial law passed in 1878 made it illegal for Chinese people to be employed on construction projects paid for by the provincial government. In 1887, a White mob attacked and wrecked a Chinese camp in False Creek for purportedly undermining local wages. By the first decade of the twentieth century, residents were lashing out at all those with origins in Asia. In 1903, the Chinese head tax, first passed by federal Parliament in 1885, was raised to $500, and, in 1923, a new Chinese Immigration Act made it virtually impossible for anyone from China to migrate

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to Canada. Fear of Japanese migration, which had started in the 1870s, led to the formation of the Asiatic Exclusion League in 1907. Following one large rally in September of that year, those calling for British Columbia and Canada to remain White rioted in Vancouver and destroyed the property and businesses of Chinese- and Japanese-origin residents (Roy 1989). Following the riot, Canada reached an agreement with Japan to restrict Japanese migration to 400 men a year. In 1928, this “gentlemen’s agreement” was revised to allow only 140 migrants per year. The federal government also made an amendment to the Immigration Act, brought into force in 1908, requiring all would-be immigrants to make the trip to Canada in one continuous voyage (Kelley and Trebilcock 1998; Knowles 1992). The rule was directed against Asian, especially Indian, migration. In a bid to challenge the law, the ship Komagata Maru arrived at Vancouver on 23 May 1914 carrying 376 Indians, almost all of whom were Sikh (Basran and Bolaria 2003). After a two-month standoff, the boat was forced to leave, disembarking only 22 passengers who had resident status in Canada. A later Order in Council, passed in 1919, allowed “British Hindus residing in Canada” to bring their wives and children into the country, but the continuous journey regulation remained in effect until 1947. Being born in Canada was also no guarantee of protection from anti-Asian sentiment. In early 1942, following the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor in December 1941, about 22,000 Japanese Canadians in Vancouver and elsewhere on the West Coast were forced to relocate to the BC interior and other Canadian provinces (Roy et al. 1990). Government and local authorities took the internees’ fishing boats, homes, and other property with little or no compensation. Steps to reverse discriminatory and racist practices and, in some cases, to apologize for past behaviours, only came after the Second World War. In 1947, Canadians of Chinese and East Indian backgrounds were given the provincial vote, and in 1949, provincial suffrage was extended to Japanese Canadians and Aboriginal peoples. Laws barring Asians from certain professions or occupations were reversed. In 1988, the Canadian government formally apologized for the internment of Japanese Canadians and offered compensation to those affected, and in 2006, Prime Minister Stephen Harper offered a formal apology for the Chinese head tax and compensation to those who paid it. Members of the Indo-Canadian community have called for a similar apology for the Komagata Maru incident. An apology was issued in August 2008, but, unlike earlier apologies, it was extended at a community meeting in Surrey, British Columbia rather than in Parliament. The postwar period also brought a demographic transformation to Vancouver. Census figures from 1941 show that 67 percent of residents in British Columbia were Canadian born and 22 percent were British born, which includes those born in the United Kingdom and British possessions such as

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

Newfoundland (Canada, Dominion Bureau of Statistics 1950, 199, 176-77).6 Another 9 percent of BC residents were born in Europe, and 3 percent were born in Asia, including 14,677 individuals from China and 8,701 from Japan. In the 1960s, federal immigration regulations were changed to eliminate racial restrictions, opening Canada to people from around the world. For the five years preceding the 2001 census, Citizenship and Immigration Canada reports that almost 35,000 people migrated to the metropolitan Vancouver area from China, just over 22,000 migrated from Taiwan, and 15,700 came from India (Canada, Citizenship and Immigration Canada 2005, 7). These top three sending countries, in addition to the next three – Hong Kong, the Philippines, and South Korea – accounted for two-thirds of all immigrants to the Vancouver region. These inflows transformed Vancouver into a Pacific Rim metropolis and continue to do so. Vancouver’s Diverse Population: Who Lives in Vancouver? The Vancouver metropolitan area, brought together through the Greater Vancouver Regional District, comprises twenty-one municipalities and one electoral area. Home to over two million people, greater Vancouver remains the third-largest metropolitan area in Canada after Toronto and Montreal. However, the City of Vancouver proper – the focus of this chapter – only ranks eighth in population among Canadian municipalities; British Columbia’s cities have not amalgamated like Toronto, Montreal, Ottawa, Halifax, and Hamilton. At 545,671 residents in 2001, the City of Vancouver is smaller than, in order, Toronto, Montreal, Calgary, Ottawa, Edmonton, Winnipeg, and Mississauga. In contrast to its rapid growth from 1886 to the Second World War, Vancouver grew slowly in the postwar era and even saw a decline in its population from 1971 to 1981. Former residents of Vancouver and newcomers to the area increasingly settled in suburbs and outlying communities in the Lower Mainland. Vancouver remains a focal point, but its share of the regional population has declined.7 Ethnocultural Diversity One constant is the immigrant character of Vancouver. Census statistics from 1911 show that among the potential voting population of Vancouver – men twenty-one years of age and older – only 15,682 of 54,358, or 29 percent, were born in Canada. Another 43 percent were born in the British Isles or British possessions, and 28 percent were born elsewhere, including the United States (Canada 1913, 456). Ninety years later, in 2001, 48 percent of Vancouver’s residents were born outside Canada, a proportion two and a half times greater than the national figure of 19 percent.8 These immigrants – 73 percent of whom hold Canadian citizenship – overwhelmingly trace their origins to Asia. Twenty-four percent of the foreign-born in Vancouver came from China, and another 14 percent were born in Hong Kong. The

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Table 2.1 Top ten countries of birth of immigrants, Vancouver, 2001 Country of birth

Number

% of total

China Hong Kong Philippines United Kingdom Vietnam Taiwan India United States Italy South Korea Total, top 10 immigrant origins Total immigrants, all origins

59,030 35,095 18,075 14,955 13,895 13,160 12,385 7,445 5,010 3,695 182,745 250,095

24 14 7 6 6 5 5 3 2 1 73

Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

next five largest immigrant groups are, in order, from the Philippines, the United Kingdom, Vietnam, Taiwan, and India, as shown in Table 2.1. In 2001, 43 percent of Vancouver’s immigrants were recent arrivals with fewer than ten years of residence in Canada, and 22 percent had arrived in the last five years. Unlike the other two major immigration cities, Toronto and Montreal, Vancouver is home to relatively few immigrants from the Caribbean, the Middle East, or Africa. Recent arrivals to Canada, as well as the descendents of Asian migrants from one hundred years ago, have transformed Vancouver into a visible majority city. In 2001, 49 percent of residents were visible minorities. Those identifying as Aboriginals, who are not counted as visible minorities, made up an additional 2 percent of the population.9 The immigrant experience also touches those born in Canada, including the 45 percent of Canadian-born Vancouverites 15 years of age and older who have one or more immigrant parents. Given the large number of first and second generation immigrants, many Vancouver residents speak multiple languages. While more than 92 percent of city residents reported being able to speak one of Canada’s official languages, only 51 percent had English or French as their mother tongue.10 Twenty-six percent of residents had a Chinese language as their first language. The strength of English is nonetheless apparent since, despite the high proportion of non-English and non-French first languages, 78 percent of Vancouver residents speak English at home, either as the only language of the household or in addition to another language. Among those who use a language other than English or French at home, 66 percent speak Cantonese or Mandarin, 6 percent speak Vietnamese, and 5 percent speak Punjabi. Tagalog, Japanese, Korean, and Spanish speakers

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each account for 2 percent of Vancouver residents who do not speak an official language in their homes. Because of Vancouver’s 120 year history with immigration, contemporary Vancouverites claim diverse and often multiple ethnic origins. Of those reporting only a single origin, by far the largest group is ethnic Chinese, who make up 40 percent of the total. The next four largest groups, each accounting for less than 7 percent, reported single ethnicities as Canadian, East Indian, English, or Filipino. Slightly less than one-third of city residents reported multiple origins, and of this group, almost half (46 percent) reported that they have English heritage, while one in three (35 percent) noted Scottish Table 2.2 Top twenty-five ancestries, Vancouver, 2001 Ancestry Chinese English Canadian Scots Irish German French East Indian Filipino Italian Ukrainian Vietnamese North American Indian Jewish Polish Dutch Japanese Russian Welsh Norwegian Spanish Korean Swedish American Greek Total, top 25 ancestries Total, all responsesa

Number of responses

% of residents

163,975 101,065 78,380 69,420 55,955 37,650 31,200 26,420 23,485 17,660 15,630 13,585 12,330 11,665 11,465 10,980 9,590 8,810 8,100 7,200 7,115 6,770 6,320 6,000 5,145 745,915 806,805

30 19 14 13 10 7 6 5 4 3 3 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

a In all, 546,070 Vancouver residents responded to this question. The total of all responses is higher than the number of residents because many gave multiple responses. The resident number is used to calculate the percentage of Vancouverites reporting at least some of the indicated ancestry. Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

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roots. Of those with multiple origins, between three in ten and one in ten claimed some Canadian, Irish, German, or French ethnicity. Combining single and multiple ancestries, the most prevalent ethnic origin in the city of Vancouver is Chinese, as shown in Table 2.2, with 30 percent of Vancouver’s residents reporting at least some Chinese background. Six of the ten most frequent backgrounds reflect European origins, “Canadian” is the third most prominent, and two other Asian-origin ethnicities round out the top ten. Vancouver is also a city of religious diversity, and it includes a significant group of people professing no religion. Just over 40 percent of Vancouver residents reported no religion in the 2001 census. It is not clear, however, whether these reports reflect atheism or whether these figures poorly report the diverse and complex religious traditions of various East Asian groups. Beyond those indicating no religion, another 40 percent of people reported being Christian, just under half of whom were Roman Catholic. The other major religious faiths in Vancouver are, in order, Buddhists (7 percent), Sikhs (3 percent), Jews (2 percent), Muslims (2 percent), and Hindus (1 percent). Vancouver’s Socio-Economic Profile In Vancouver, as elsewhere in North America, traditional economic sectors have shrunk while the service industry, ranging from the provision of medical and financial services to tourism and education, has expanded. Vancouver continues to be a major hub for commerce and transportation, and it is home to Canada’s largest port. Some new industries, such as movie and television filming, have developed. Overall, as recorded in the 2001 census, Vancouver residents had employment and unemployment rates on par with the province of British Columbia, 60 and 8.3 percent respectively. Over half of the men in the labour force, 57 percent, worked in finance, real estate, business, or other services, while only 15 percent worked in manufacturing and construction. Another 14 percent worked in wholesale and retail trade, and 11 percent worked in health and education. Reflecting the well-known gender division of the economy, a higher proportion of women, 26 percent, worked in health and education, and another 53 percent worked in finance, real estate, business, or other services. Thirteen percent worked in wholesale or retail trade, and only 8 percent worked in manufacturing and construction. An additional 1 percent of men and women living in Vancouver worked in agriculture and other resource-based industries. In Vancouver, as in most large cities, stark income differences separate the richest and poorest residents. Vancouver is home to multi-million dollar mansions and luxury condominiums, many found in the federal Vancouver Quadra riding. It also includes residents battling unemployment, drug addiction, and homelessness, especially in Vancouver East. The average income across the almost thousand census block clusters that make up the city of

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

Map 2.1 Federal electoral map of Vancouver, 2001 Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001a).

Vancouver range from two clusters where residents have average incomes over $180,000 to four others where the average income is under $11,000. Comparing Vancouver’s Population to Its Elected Representatives Vancouver has an 11 member city council composed of 10 councillors and 1 mayor. All 11 are elected at large by the entire Vancouver voting population. City residents are also divided into 10 provincial electoral districts and 5 federal ridings. To create a profile of Vancouver’s representatives, the 26 municipal, provincial, and federal officials holding office in March 2005 were contacted to complete a short survey.11 The overwhelming majority – 77 percent – responded by mail, email, or phone: 10 city representatives, 8 Members of the Legislative Assembly of British Columbia (MLAs), and 2 MPs. Relatively complete profiles on those who did not respond were put together using press reports, official web profiles, and campaign material. Unless otherwise specified, the statistics that follow refer to all Vancouver elected officials. Comparing the demographic profile of those who held office in Vancouver in March 2005 to those representing other Canadian cities, we find a number of similarities. Women are significantly under-represented, and those who are middle-aged and have high levels of education are over-represented. Unlike most other cities, Vancouver has slightly better representation of

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immigrants and visible minorities among the political elite, although there remains substantial room for improvement. Vancouver’s Elected Representatives: Mostly Well-Educated, Older Men One of the most striking areas of under-representation in Vancouver is the dearth of women at all levels of government. Women constituted 51 percent of Vancouver’s population, compared to only 23 percent of elected representatives in March 2005, a proportion on par with most other cities discussed in this volume. Interestingly, gender equality was higher at the federal level, with women holding 2 of the 5 seats. At both the provincial and municipal levels, only 2 women held elected office. While some have suggested that women might be more likely to get involved in local politics because the issues hit closer to home and the costs of involvement might be lower, women in Vancouver have been more successful at the federal level (Maillé 1997; Trimble 1997). As in many other Canadian cities, the median age of those who hold office in Vancouver is significantly higher than that of the general population. The median age of all residents stood between 35 and 39 years in 2001, while the median age of those in office in 2005 was 57. The youngest elected official was 38 years old, while the oldest, provincial MLA Val Anderson, was 76. Twenty-seven percent of those elected were 60 years of age or older, but only 17 percent of the general population was in that age group. The older ages of those elected probably reflect the time politicians need to establish networks, raise money, and build support for political campaigns, as well as the power of incumbency. Also, political scientists tell us that those who own homes and have families – characteristics less prevalent among those 18 to 30 – are more likely to become engaged in politics (Rosenstone and Hansen 1993). As other authors in this volume point out, the lack of electoral representation among younger residents might reflect and contribute to young adults’ disengagement from politics. Nevertheless, the three youngest Vancouver representatives, city councillor Raymond Louie, MLA Rabinder (Rob) Singh Nijjar, and MLA Jenny Kwan, were all under 40 when they first broke into politics. In fact, Kwan became the youngest person ever elected to Vancouver City Council when she won office in 1993 at the age of 27, and she was elected to the provincial legislature at 30 in 1996. Their election suggests that some younger people are active and successful in politics. Especially noteworthy, all three are young visible minorities. A third commonality Vancouver shares with other Canadian cities is the significant over-representation of people with high levels of education. Among Vancouver residents, 30 percent hold a university bachelor’s degree or higher. Thirty-nine percent have some post-secondary education, but not

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

a bachelor’s degree, and 31 percent hold a high school diploma but have no post-secondary education. In comparison, 50 percent of those holding elected office in 2005 had a master’s degree or higher, while just 8 percent (2 representatives) held only a grade 12 diploma. All of the remaining representatives had a bachelor’s degree. This over-representation of the highly educated, with 92 percent of those elected in Vancouver holding a university degree, might be especially pronounced in urban centres with extensive professional private and public service industries, as in Vancouver, Toronto, and Ottawa. Given their high levels of education, it is not surprising that 2 elected officials were previously lawyers, 2 were doctors, and 3 worked in higher education as professors or lecturers. A bit less than a third, 9 individuals, were business people, and another large group, 8 representatives, worked in community advocacy or for a union prior to being elected. The significant representation of people from community advocacy and the labour movement is noteworthy, standing in contrast to the occupational profiles of representatives from most other Canadian cities. The remaining 2 representatives were ministers with the United Church of Canada. Unlike many city residents – who work in sales, service, and clerical occupations – Vancouver’s elected officials stand out as being highly educated professionals, business people, or community advocates. Representatives’ backgrounds fail to include major occupational positions held by city residents. Looking at elected officials’ former occupations and their political affiliations, we find a clear tendency among those from a business background to represent right-of-centre politics, while those from community organizing tend to the left of centre. Interestingly, both elected officials with a grade 12 education – and thus with less formal education than their elected peers – came into politics through community advocacy and the union movement. Libby Davies, NDP MP for Vancouver-East, is a former ombudsperson for the Hospital Employees’ Union, and Raymond Louie, Vancouver city councillor, was an organizer for the Communications, Energy and Paperworkers Union of Canada.12 The union movement appears to facilitate entrée into politics for those with less education and human capital. Progress and Challenges: Immigrant Origins and Ethnocultural Diversity The proportion of elected representatives who are foreign born or visible minorities does not mirror the general Vancouver population, but the representation is better than in many other Canadian cities. The proportion of foreign-born elected officials in Vancouver, 31 percent, is on par with that of Toronto as being among the highest in Canada. Of course, Vancouver also has one of the highest proportions of immigrants in its general population, 48 percent. If we calculate an index of proportionality – done by dividing the proportion of foreign-born elected officials by the proportion of the

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foreign born in the general population – we find an index of 0.65. An index of 1 indicates perfect proportionality, an index less than 1 indicates underrepresentation, and an index over 1 indicates over-representation. The index of proportionality for women stands lower, at 0.45, and the index for those with a high school degree or less education is even worse, a very low 0.26. Those holding a bachelor’s or higher degree are significantly over-represented, with an index of 3.08. In short, those with fewer years of schooling see few people like themselves in office; women are slightly better represented, but still by less than half the representatives we would expect given their numbers; and immigrants are relatively better represented, although not proportionately with their numbers in the general population. The origins of foreign-born representatives reflect both traditional immigration to Canada and newer streams. Three of the 8 immigrant politicians were born in the United States, and 1 was born in the United Kingdom. Of the others, 1 was born in each of Trinidad and Tobago, India, China, and Hong Kong. All of these immigrants have, however, been Canadian residents much longer than the average immigrant in Vancouver. All came to Canada between 1968 and 1975, with an average of thirty-three years of residence in 2005. Complete data on the immigrant origins of representatives’ parents is not available, but at least 4 representatives were second-generation immigrants, 2 with parents hailing from the United Kingdom, Ireland, or the United States, 1 with parents from India, and 1 with parents from Hong Kong and China. Interestingly, representation of the foreign born (the first generation) is highest at the federal level: 3 of 5 MPs – a majority – were born outside of Canada. Three immigrants sat on city council and 2 held office at the provincial level. As is the case for women, federal politics appear more attractive or more open to those of foreign birth or those who are both foreign born and women. If we instead consider the racial makeup of those elected, we find that 23 percent of Vancouver’s elected representatives are visible minorities, the highest proportion of any Canadian municipality surveyed in this volume. Three of these individuals are of Chinese origin, two are South Asians, and one is West Indian. We again find a greater degree of diversity at the federal level, where 2 of the 5 MPs were visible minorities, compared to 3 of 10 MLAs, and only 1 of 11 members of city council.13 It is worth underscoring that not all immigrants are visible minorities, and not all visible minorities are immigrants. Four of the 6 visible minorities were born outside of Canada, as were 4 of 20 White representatives. The greater diversity of representation at the federal level is in part due to the overlap of various categories of diversity within a single individual. Hedy Fry, Liberal MP for Vancouver-Centre, is an immigrant, visible minority woman who has overcome triple “jeopardy” to be elected. In line with the

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

national picture (Black 1997, 2000) and the case in Toronto, gender representation in Vancouver is better among immigrants and visible minorities than among the White Canadian-born. That is, of those elected, 2 of 6 visible minorities (33 percent) and 4 of 6 immigrants (66 percent) are women, but only 2 of 16 (13 percent) White native-born Canadians are women. Future research will need to examine whether federal political parties make more of an effort to reach out to traditionally under-represented groups or whether minorities with political ambitions are more interested in federal politics. While Vancouver can boast a higher proportion of visible minority representatives than any other Canadian city discussed in this volume, there is room for significant improvement. Because visible minorities make up 49 percent of Vancouver’s population, the index of proportionality for visible minorities is only 0.47, which is just slightly higher than for women and lower than for immigrants. Mirror representation would require a doubling of visible minority officials. The preceding statistics employ complete data on all of Vancouver’s representatives; information about ethnicity and religion come only from those representatives who answered these survey questions. Of the 21 representatives who answered a survey question about their ancestry, the majority reported some combination of English, Scottish, Irish, and “Canadian” roots. Two reported some French background, and two had origins in Eastern Europe. Based on these data, elected politicians in Vancouver largely reflect “old stock” Canadians (though in a few cases those reporting English ancestry are themselves immigrants). The oldest stock of Canada’s population, the First Nations peoples, is not represented at any level of government in Vancouver, as is the case in many other Canadian cities in this volume. Of those with ancestry outside Europe or Canada, 3 elected representatives are of Chinese origin (1 of whom primarily identifies as Canadian) and 2 are Punjabi. Given that 30 percent of the general Vancouver population reports some Chinese ancestry, the proportionality index for Chinese-origin residents was only 0.40 in March 2005, a significant level of underrepresentation, but slightly higher than in Toronto, the other Canadian city with a large Chinese-Canadian population. In contrast, those with origins in India are over-represented in politics: only 5 percent of the general population reports some East Indian ancestry, while 8 percent of the representatives are of Indian (Punjabi) background. The other Asian-origin group in the top-ten-reported ethnicities in the general population – the 23,000-strong Filipino community – did not have a single elected representative at any level of government, producing an index of proportionality of 0.14 Conclusions about the religious makeup of Vancouver’s elected representatives must also be tentative due to incomplete data. Of the 19 representatives who answered this question, a plurality reported a Christian religion, most

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often a Protestant affiliation such as the United Church of Canada or Anglican. Only 1 person reported being a Roman Catholic and 2 reported being Sikh. About a third of those responding said they have no religion, a proportion slightly lower than the 2 of 5 Vancouverites who claimed the same. With no one responding to the survey saying they were Buddhist, Jewish, Muslim, or Hindu, these religious faiths were apparently not represented among Vancouver’s representatives. In contrast, the 2 Sikh representatives accounted for almost 8 percent of all elected politicians, a proportion that is more than double the proportion of Sikhs in the general Vancouver population (3 percent), generating a proportionality index of 2.56. Other Sources of Diversity: Disability and Sexuality This volume examines diversity primarily as reflected in the gender and ethnocultural makeup of Canada’s cities and elected representatives. However, two additional facets of diversity merit mention in Vancouver. First, in spring of 2005, one of Vancouver’s city councillors, Sam Sullivan, was making municipal government more representative for Canadians with disabilities. Sullivan, who is quadriplegic and uses a wheelchair, was subsequently elected mayor of Vancouver in November 2005. He has become a role model for the disabled around the world, especially after accepting the Olympic and Paralympic flags in Turin, Italy, on behalf of the Vancouver region, which will host both sets of games in 2010. Second, Vancouver is home to a vibrant lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) community that finds reflection in politics. At each level of government, those elected include at least one person who has publicly identified himself or herself as lesbian, gay, or bisexual. Explaining Patterns of Representation Groups considered “minorities” in a sociological sense – that is, who face greater inequality, discrimination, or other barriers to full participation because of gender, foreign birth, skin colour, accent, religion, disability, or sexuality – presumably also face these barriers in the political realm. The demographic profile of Vancouver confirms that older White men of higher occupational status and more education are significantly over-represented among Vancouver’s elected representatives. Barriers to full representation clearly exist, as we can see from the summary of proportionality indices in Table 2.3. Under what conditions do people from minority groups succeed in politics? Those who study politics usually argue that local politics, electoral contests with small electoral districts, the presence of political parties, and the presence of a concentrated “critical mass” of electors with similar characteristics enhance minorities’ chances for office (Pelletier 1991; Trimble and Arscott 2003). In Vancouver, some of these predictions hold, but we

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

Table 2.3 Diverse representation in Vancouver indices of proportionality % in population

% those elected

Index of proportionalitya

Gender Women Men

51 49

23 77

0.45 1.57

Education More than Bachelor’s degree Grade 12 or less

30 31

92 8

3.07 0.26

Ethno-cultural diversity b Foreign birth Visible minority Chinese ancestry East Indian ancestry Filipino ancestry

48 49 30 5 4

31 23 12 8 0

0.65 0.47 0.40 1.60 0.00

a Calculated by dividing the percentage among those elected by the percentage in the general population. b Ancestry data are provided for the three largest non-European groups. European and Canadian ancestry figures are not calculated due to incomplete information on elected officials. Source: Author’s calculations based on 2005 survey data and Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

also find puzzling anomalies, implying a need to rethink theories of electoral representation. Office-Holding across Levels of Government Some suggest that municipal and provincial politics might appeal more to minority groups because these levels of governments deal more directly with issues affecting their lives (Tremblay 1992; Trimble and Arscott 2003). Since education and health care directly impact children’s lives – and women often fulfill traditional roles as the person “in charge” with children, even when they work outside the home – women might be more interested in provincial politics. Or a lack of linguistic diversity in local transportation, public libraries, and neighbourhood community centres might spur someone from a non-official language community to run for municipal office. Although plausible, the profiles of Vancouver’s representatives in March 2005 do not fit this theory. We find the greatest gender, visible minority, and immigrant representation among members of federal Parliament. This pattern results, in part, from having certain people represent multiple types of diversity, as discussed previously, but it also suggests greater interest in or access to federal politics, or both, than is commonly assumed. Incumbency and prior political experience traditionally make it difficult for political newcomers to get elected, but they can help minorities once in office. In some cases, minorities and women have been successful in moving

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“up” the political ladder, with an electoral win at a lower level of government being followed by one at a more senior level. This is the case for former MLA and former BC premier Ujjal Dosanjh, who is now a member of federal Parliament. At the provincial level, Jenny Kwan first sat on municipal council before becoming an MLA. More generally, 2 of 11 municipal councillors first held positions on the Parks Board or as school trustees before winning city office, 3 MLAs first held municipal office before being elected to the provincial legislature, and 2 MPs, Dosanjh and Libby Davies (a former city councillor) held other elected positions before their successful runs for federal office.15 Prior electoral success can help a politician’s bid for office, but it is not necessary, nor is it sufficient. A number of MPs and MLAs had never held political office before their election. The Size of Electoral Districts and Vancouver’s At-Large Municipal System Vancouver stands out as an anomaly among Canadian cities because it does not have a municipal ward system with specific city councillors representing certain areas of the city. Instead, the city’s entire voting population chooses municipal councillors in an at-large system. A would-be city councillor must consequently reach out to ten times as many people as someone running for the BC legislature and five times more people than someone running for federal office. Smaller electoral districts are often assumed to be more winnable by minority candidates because such districts require fewer financial resources and social networks to build a winning bloc of voters. Yet, even though provincial ridings are the smallest of all three levels of government, Vancouver’s MLAs were not particularly diverse in 2005. The majority were White men from Canada’s historically dominant ethnic groups. There is, therefore, no automatic relationship between riding size and diverse representation. At the same time, the size of the electoral districts makes some difference. Vancouver’s at-large city elections are frequently cited as a reason for relatively low levels of ethnoracial diversity among municipal representatives. City neighbourhoods often bring together people with similar characteristics. Such clustering is most obvious around economic differences: those with more money live in neighbourhoods with better and more expensive housing, while those with modest incomes live in areas with more affordable housing. Residents also cluster based on ethnicity and common languages, either because of discrimination or due to the desire to live near others of the same background. When electoral boundaries overlap with such social characteristics, it is easier for residents to elect someone like themselves (Pelletier 1991). Vancouver abolished the ward system in 1935, in large part to keep those with social democratic ideologies out of local politics. This conservative

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

motivation has probably contributed to the predominantly White makeup of Vancouver’s city council.16 Although electors in Vancouver have many choices – they can mark up to 10 names on ballots – name recognition becomes extremely salient in a pool of up to 200 municipal candidates, a factor that usually hurts minorities and women. The first visible minority (and only Indo-Canadian) elected to Vancouver City Council was Venkatachala Setty Pendakur, who sat on city council for one term from 1973 to 1974. After Pendakur, no other visible minority was elected until Bill Yee’s successful bid in 1982. Yee held office for four years, and in 1988 Susan Wilking became the first Chinese-Canadian woman elected to Vancouver municipal office.17 Since her election, Vancouver’s city council has always included at least one person of Chinese ancestry, but no councillors from other visible minority groups. In October 2004, the city held a referendum to re-institute a ward system. Proponents argued that it would increase diversity on city council and compensate for the political dominance of richer and more highly educated westside Vancouverites. Those opposed responded that such a change would lead neighbourhoods to fight with each other, and it would be more costly because the proposal also included an increase in the number of city councillors. To both sides’ surprise, the opponents of the ward system won, with 54 percent of the vote. Interestingly, one analysis of the referendum vote showed that while those on either side of the city’s traditional economic divides largely voted as predicted – those in the richer south and southwest suburbs voted against wards, and those in the poorer east and northeast areas voted in favour – a clear ethnic pattern is more difficult to discern. Polls in the southeast, where large numbers of Chinese-Canadian residents live, showed clear opposition to the ward system, while the poll closest to the heart of Vancouver’s Indo-Canadian community went the other way (Bula 2004). Critical Mass, Residential Concentration, and Group Threat While visible minorities make up a growing number of elected representatives in Vancouver, almost all of them are of Chinese or East Indian background. How do we account for these patterns of ethnic representation? First, and most obviously, there is the question of numbers, or what some refer to as the need for a “critical mass” of co-ethnic voters. Those of Chinese ethnicity are by far the most numerous non-European ancestry group in Vancouver, so it is not surprising to see representatives of Chinese origin. East Indians are the second most numerous group with non-European ancestry. Clearly, groups with larger numbers of co-ethnics appear to have an easier time electing “one of their own.” At the same time, we find no simple correlation between the size of an ethnic group and the number of elected representatives. Those of Chinese origin are significantly under-represented in Vancouver politics at all levels

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Map 2.2 Distribution of Chinese and East-Indian ethnic groups, Vancouver, 2001 Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001a; 2001b).

of government, while those of East Indian ancestry are over-represented if we consider the entire group of those elected. Filipinos, with only slightly fewer numbers than East Indians, have never had anyone of Filipino origin elected to office in Vancouver, at any level of government, unlike in Winnipeg. We consequently need to consider the relative residential concentration of an ethnic group, not just its absolute numbers. While residential concentration in a particular Vancouver neighbourhood does not matter at the level of city politics (because of the at-large system), it has paid off for those of East Indian origins at the provincial and federal levels. As is evident in Map 2.2, those of Chinese ethnicity are dispersed throughout the city, whereas those with roots in India are heavily concentrated in the southeast of Vancouver, an area that has elected a number of Indo-Canadians to office. The first elected to federal office, Herb Dhaliwal, represented Vancouver South for the Liberals from 1993 to 2004. Since then, Ujjal Dosanjh, also of Indian origin, has held the seat.18 Other smaller Asian-origin groups, such as Filipinos and Vietnamese, are relatively dispersed throughout the city. Yet, residential concentration is no guarantee of elected representation. For example, in the federal riding of Vancouver South, where Dhaliwal and Dosanjh were elected, East Indians only make up 11 percent of the riding’s population, as calculated by the 2001 census, compared to 39 percent for those with Chinese origins. Those of Chinese origin also made up almost

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

40 percent of residents in the federal riding of Vancouver Kingsway, the second-greatest concentration of ethnic Chinese in any Canadian riding. Although Sophia Leung, the first Chinese-Canadian woman to win federal office, held this seat from 1997 to 2004, David Emerson, a White anglophone born in Montreal, has represented the riding since 2004.19 A concentrated mass of co-ethnics is also not necessary to win elected office. Vancouver boasts a very small West Indian community, yet, in 1993 Hedy Fry, MP for Vancouver Centre, along with Jean Augustine from Ontario, became the first West Indian-born women elected to Parliament. Similarly, Vancouver is home to a relatively small Black population – only 4,780 individuals identified as such in the 2001 census – but as early as 1972, Vancouver residents elected Rosemary Brown, born in Jamaica, and Emery Barnes, born in New Orleans, as the first Black MLAs in the BC Legislative Assembly. These individuals succeeded through a combination of impressive personal achievements – Fry is a physician and former head of British Columbia’s Medical Association, and Barnes starred as a professional football player in Vancouver before contesting public office – and affiliation with a political party attractive to local residents (see also Chapter 10). Almost no candidate can win office based on surname or ancestry alone, so candidates need to appeal to voters based on both the strength of a party’s platform and personal qualifications. It is even possible that individuals from relatively small minority groups might have a better chance at garnering votes from historically dominant groups than individuals from larger minority groups. American literature on “group threat” suggests that when a minority group accounts for a large proportion of an area’s population, members of the majority are more likely to perceive them as a direct threat, a feeling that shapes political attitudes (Bobo and Tuan 2006; Quillian 1995, 1996). Under this scenario, a minority candidate has a better chance of success when his or her election is not taken as a symbol of an ethnic group’s arrival on the political scene. It is unclear whether similar dynamics occur in Canada, but some Vancouver voters (from the traditional mainstream or other minority groups) might see Chinese candidates as more of a threat – given the group’s overall numbers – than members of smaller groups such as West Indians. Some people also try to explain inter-ethnic differences in electoral representation by considering characteristics of the ethnic community. Ethnic Chinese in Vancouver are far from a homogeneous group, hailing from a range of countries (most prominently, the People’s Republic of China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Vietnam), different language groups, and a range of socio-economic statuses. Internal divisions are regularly cited as a barrier to electoral representation. Others point to cultural values or prior political socialization, noting that a large number of Chinese immigrants have little experience with democracy and a distrust of politics.

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Prior experiences with democracy might play a part in the success and political participation of those from the West Indies and India, although cultural accounts can quickly become cultural stereotyping. It is not clear whether internal community divisions among ethnic Chinese differ greatly from those among other groups. Those with origins in the West Indies or India, for example, come from different regions, countries, religions, cultural backgrounds, and social statuses, and even within the Sikh community, deep divisions exist between those who are orthodox in their practices and views and those who are not. Political Parties: Beyond Mirror Representation? Finally, political parties are a central part of any story about representation. While parties can shut out potential minority candidates (Abu-Laban and Stasiulis 1992), they can also help women and members of under-represented groups win office. At election time, many Canadians cast votes first and foremost for (or against) a party; the characteristics of the candidate are a secondary concern. Thus, when parties provide mechanisms allowing underrepresented individuals to run in winnable seats, political diversity can increase (Black, Chapter 10 in this volume). Conversely, even when parties do little to reach out to minorities, would-be candidates can take matters into their own hands by recruiting new party members from their community and becoming active in riding associations and party politics (Abu-Laban and Stasiulis 1992). If we consider the party affiliation of Vancouver’s representatives, we find some striking patterns. Women tend to affiliate with the political left, while visible minorities tend to the political centre. White immigrants are largely on the political left, while other foreign-born office-holders tend to centreleft affiliations. White Canadian-born men – the traditional majority in Canadian politics – span the political spectrum at the municipal level but tend to be affiliated with parties characterized as right of centre at other levels of government. Thus, the relationship between political parties and the biography of elected representatives depends in part on which level of government is considered. Jerome Black’s observation that most visible minority members of the House of Commons belong to the Liberal party holds true in Vancouver: the 4 elected Liberal MPs include the 2 visible minority representatives, Fry and Dosanjh.20 The fifth MP, British-born Libby Davies, was elected for the NDP. At the provincial level, in 2005, BC politics were split between two parties: the NDP and a centre-right provincial Liberal party. Both female MLAs represented the NDP, while the visible minority legislators were split: Jenny Kwan is a member of the NDP, and the two men, Rob Nijjar and Patrick Wong, are Liberals.

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

At the municipal level, Vancouver city politics, unlike those of some Canadian cities, has long included party slates. In 2005, these were the leftist Coalition of Progressive Electors (COPE), formed in 1968 by social justice activists, trade unionists, and people active in community organizations, and the rightist Non-Partisan Association (NPA), which generally favours private enterprise over government intervention and has been the dominant municipal party since its origins in the 1930s. In March 2005, only 2 councillors, Peter Ladner and Sam Sullivan, were members of NPA. The remaining 9 members of city council had been elected under the COPE banner, which included every female, visible minority, and immigrant municipal representative. The COPE victory was likely one reason that the occupational background of Vancouver’s elected officials includes a significant number of community and labour activists. In 2005, splits appeared in the left camp, and the more centrist members of COPE broke off to form a new Vision Vancouver party. It would later run a separate slate in the fall 2005 municipal elections.21 Both women on city council stayed with the more leftist COPE, the 1 visible minority on council, Raymond Louie, joined Vision Vancouver, and the 3 immigrants on city council (all born in the United States) split, one going with Vision Vancouver and two staying with COPE. At least in this particular city council, Canadian-born White men spanned the political spectrum, while women and immigrants (all White) stood more firmly with the political left. Mirror Representation, Substantive Representation, and the Future If one measure of democratic equity is mirror representation, those who held office in Vancouver in March 2005 did not reflect the city’s population. Women are significantly under-represented, as are immigrants and visible minorities, though in the latter two cases, representation of the foreign-born and visible minorities is better than in most other Canadian cities. We also find variation between different visible minority groups, with some representation of Chinese-origin Canadians, who make up 30 percent of the city’s population, and significant representation by those of Indian origin. Other large minority communities, such as Filipinos, Vietnamese, and Aboriginal peoples, are completely absent among those elected in Vancouver. In contrast, the middle-aged, Whites, and, especially, those with high levels of education are over-represented. While ethnicity, race, and gender are important obstacles to political power, we must not ignore the real challenges of class and educational differentials, especially in a city like Vancouver. In Vancouver, deficits in minority representation are especially stark at the municipal and provincial levels. This suggests that while the city of Vancouver’s at-large electoral system might hurt minorities, the provincial system of relatively small ridings does no better. The municipal party system,

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unusual in Canadian cities, might mitigate the difficulties of running at large, though it is only recently that Vancouver municipal party politics has become competitive, with the defeat of the Non-Partisan Association in 2002. Perhaps competitive federal elections have made federal political parties more open to historically under-represented groups. But does mirror representation matter? If White Canadian-born men span the political spectrum on Vancouver’s city council, does it matter that they hold over 50 percent of council seats but only account for a quarter of Vancouver’s population? Might they not represent the views of Vancouverites well, regardless of biography? The statistics used here to describe Vancouver’s elected representatives provide only a narrow view on those who hold office, largely ignoring their experiences, motivations, and beliefs about politics. As the chapters on Toronto and Ottawa suggest, those who are not members of minority groups can promote policies attractive to women, immigrants, and visible minorities. A thorough evaluation of policy and legislation is beyond the scope of this volume, but the city of Vancouver has recently taken a number of steps to formally address issues of access and representation of visible minority and immigrant residents. While these steps are not nearly as extensive as what has been done in Toronto, Vancouver has produced a Newcomer’s Guide, which offers information about the City of Vancouver, other levels of government, and community agencies and services for recent migrants. As early as 1986, Vancouver City Council approved a Civic Policy on Multicultural Relations, and the city has long had a series of neighbourhood houses and community centres, which, in diverse or immigrant neighbourhoods, offer a range of programs and services to people of different backgrounds and language abilities. Since 2002, the mayor’s office, within the framework of the Federation of Canadian Municipalities, has become increasingly vocal in lobbying the federal government for a seat at the table in discussions of immigration and settlement. These initiatives, and encouragement by some Vancouver residents, led then-mayor Larry Campbell to form a Mayor’s Working Group on Immigration in May 2005, co-chaired by city councillor Raymond Louie and immigration lawyer Zool Suleman. The committee’s report, presented to council in October 2005, outlined a framework and six priority areas for further activity around immigrants at the municipal level, ranging from education, employment, and service access to civic engagement and anti-racism efforts. More generally, Vancouver is consistently rated as one of the most liveable cities in the world. It has garnered this distinction while undergoing a radical demographic transition, largely in a spirit of accommodation and compromise. Thus, despite the lack of mirror representation – especially for women, ethnoracial minorities, Aboriginals, and those with lower levels of education – the City of Vancouver can boast many successes.

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

Yet, we see some ideological differences between those elected from groups traditionally excluded from politics and those who traditionally walk the corridors of power. Why do successful female politicians tend to the political left in Vancouver? Is the left more open to women’s participation, or are women more attracted to the platform of left-of-centre parties? Similar questions arise for immigrants and visible minorities. Interestingly, White immigrants in Vancouver tend to the political left while those of visible minority background tend to the centre. These patterns of party affiliation raise some important questions of ideology, political motivation, resources, and the other determinants of successful election. We can also raise an important question of principle: Should those representing a city – either in local politics or at other levels of government – reflect not only the political preferences of residents but also the demographic makeup of the city? If we assume that interest and ability in politics can be found equally among women and men, among European-origin Canadians and those with origins in other parts of the world, among the Canadian-born and those born elsewhere, we should expect political bodies to be as diverse as the people they represent. We have some evidence that women politicians bring different legislative issues to the table than men (Bashevkin 1993; Tremblay 1998) and that immigrant residents perceive co-ethnic representation to be important for symbolic and substantive reasons (Bloemraad 2006). This suggests that Vancouver politics and policies might well have been different with greater representation of under-represented groups. As Vancouver moves to become a majority-minority city and continues to welcome immigrants from around the world, residents will need to work hard to ensure equal access for all city residents to all spheres of life, including into the corridors of political power. Notes 1 Video of these special budget meetings is available at http://www.city.vancouver.bc.ca/ ctyclerk/cclerk/20060322/sc20060322.htm (accessed 31 July 2006). 2 The 2001 census reports that 49 percent of residents are visible minorities. Given sustained and substantial Asian migration in the first five years of the new millennium, the 2006 census will surely show a “majority minority” city population. 3 If we use the special budget meeting to extrapolate about the city’s gender ratio, one would conclude that two-thirds of Vancouver residents are women. 4 The 1891 count comes from the Census of Population for that year. Unless otherwise noted, all statistics are from census data. 5 Racial exclusions would be extended to the Japanese in 1895, and in 1897, the law specified that exclusions were based on race, not birthplace or citizenship, effectively attempting to deny suffrage to those born in Canada. In 1907, disenfranchisement would be further extended to “Hindus,” which was used as a racial term for all those with origins in India. 6 Because of limited data for the city of Vancouver, I report figures for the entire province. 7 The discussion that follows focuses on the City of Vancouver, excluding important – and diverse – communities such as Richmond, Burnaby, Surrey, New Westminster, North Vancouver, and Abbotsford.

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8 I include in these statistics non-permanent residents, which include refugee claimants, foreign students, and temporary workers, since these people form an integral part of Vancouver’s population. However, many of the statistics that follow do not include nonpermanent residents because Statistics Canada does not collect detailed information for this group. 9 Three percent of Vancouverites report some Aboriginal ancestry, a slightly different question than whether one identifies as Aboriginal. Among those reporting some Aboriginal origins, more than half also reported another non-Aboriginal ethnicity. 10 For the purposes of the census, mother tongue is the first language learned as a child and still spoken as an adult. Forty-nine percent of Vancouverites report English as their first language, 2 percent report French as their first language, and 49 percent report a mother tongue that is not one of Canada’s official languages. 11 My sincere appreciation to Leslie Dickout, David Andrews, and Paul Browning for collecting the bulk of the data on elected representatives. The statistics that follow include Colin Hansen, who was elected to the provincial legislative assembly in 2001 but resigned in December 2004. In March 2005, his seat was empty, pending a general election scheduled for May 2005. 12 Prior to working for the Hospital Employees’ Union, Davies was a Vancouver city councillor and worked extensively in community advocacy, most notably with the Downtown Eastside Residents’ Association. 13 Following the municipal election of November 2005, two additional Chinese Canadians joined Vancouver’s city council. 14 Proportionality indices can change dramatically with the election of a single person, since there are only twenty-six representatives across the three levels of government in Vancouver. Thus, the “over-representation” of East Indians stems from the election of only two individuals. Similarly, in 2006, three people of Chinese origin sat on city council, a degree of municipal representation (27 percent) not far off the proportion of Chinese in the city population. 15 In some cases, politicians also move “down” the political ladder. Tim Stevenson went back to city politics after serving in the provincial legislative assembly. 16 On the other hand, as the chapters on Toronto and Ottawa indicate, cities with ward systems also have poor records of visible minority representation on city council, including for large, long-standing communities such as Chinese Canadians. 17 Wilking is apparently the first elected Chinese-Canadian woman to hold office at any level of government in British Columbia. Wilking’s surname stems from a mistake made by South African immigration officials when her father, Wilking Wong, migrated there. 18 East Indians are concentrated in other areas of greater Vancouver, notably in Surrey, and elsewhere in British Columbia. Indo-Canadians from British Columbia have made remarkable inroads into politics over the past decade and are now over-represented, in a demographic sense, in federal Parliament. 19 The first Chinese-Canadian man to hold federal office was Douglas Jung, who represented Vancouver Centre for the Progressive Conservative Party from 1957-1962. Jung was born in Victoria in 1925, making him one of Canada’s youngest MPs ever. 20 After the 2006 federal election, one of those MPs, David Emerson, switched his affiliation to the Conservative party, to the ire of many constituents. 21 In the fall 2005 municipal vote, only 1 member of COPE was elected, 4 people were elected from the Vision Vancouver slate, and 6 were elected from NPA, including the mayor. References Abu-Laban, Yasmeen, and Daiva K. Stasiulis. 1992. Ethnic pluralism under siege: Popular and partisan opposition to multiculturalism. Canadian Public Policy 18 (4): 365-86. Bashevkin, Sylvia B. 1993. Toeing the lines: Women and party politics in English Canada, 2nd ed. Toronto: Oxford University Press. Basran, Gurcharn S., and B. Singh Bolaria. 2003. The Sikhs in Canada: Migration, race, class, and gender. New Delhi: Oxford University Press.

Diversity and Elected Officials in the City of Vancouver

Black, Jerome H. 1997. Minority women in the 35th Parliament. Canadian Parliamentary Review (Spring): 17-22. –. 2000. Entering the political elite in Canada: The case of minority women as parliamentary candidates and MPs. Canadian Review of Sociology and Anthropology 37 (2): 143-66. Bloemraad, Irene. 2006. Becoming a citizen: Incorporating immigrants and refugees in the United States and Canada. Berkeley: University of California Press. Bobo, Lawrence D., and Mia Tuan. 2006. Prejudice in politics: Group position, public opinion, and the Wisconsin treaty rights dispute. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Bula, Frances. 2004. Ward activist says change now dead for a decade: Yes side ‘slapped in face’ by surprise result. Vancouver Sun, 18 October. Canada. 1913. Religions, Origins, Birthplace, Citizenship, Literacy and Infirmities, by Provinces, Districts and Sub-Districts. Fifth Census of Canada, 1911, vol. 2. Ottawa: C.H. Parmelee. –. Dominion Bureau of Statistics. 1950. Eighth census of Canada, 1941. Ottawa: King’s Printer. –. Citizenship and Immigration Canada. 2005. Facts and figures, immigration overview, permanent and temporary residents, 2004. Ottawa: Minister of Public Works and Government Services, Canada. –. Statistics Canada. 2001a. 2001 federal electoral district (FED) profiles (1996 Representation Order), 2001 Census. http://www12statcan.ca/english/census01/products/standard/ fedprofile/index.cfm. –. Statistics Canada. 2001b. 2001 census core data tables. Provided through the Data Liberation Initiative. Kelley, Ninette, and Michael Trebilcock. 1998. The making of the mosaic: A history of Canadian immigration policy. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Knowles, Valerie. 1992. Strangers at our gates: Canadian immigration and immigration policy, 1540-1990. Toronto: Dundurn Press. Maillé, Chantal. 1997. Challenges to Representation: Theory and the Women’s Movement in Quebec. In In the presence of women: Representation in Canadian governments, ed. Jane Arscott and Linda Trimble, 47-63. Toronto: Harcourt Brace. Pelletier, Alain. 1991. Politics and ethnicity: Representation of ethnic and visible minority groups in the House of Commons. In Ethno-cultural groups and visible minorities in Canadian politics: The question of access, ed. Kathy Megyery, 101-59. Vol. 7 of the research studies of the Royal Commission on Electoral Reform and Party Financing. Toronto: Dundurn Press. Quillian, Lincoln. 1995. Prejudice as a response to perceived group threat: Population composition and anti-immigrant and racial prejudice in Europe. American Sociological Review 60 (4): 586-611. –. 1996. Group threat and regional change in attitudes toward African-Americans. American Journal of Sociology 102 (3): 816-60. Rosenstone, Steven J., and John Mark Hansen. 1993. Mobilization, participation, and democracy in America. New York: Macmillan. Roy, Patricia E. 1989. A White man’s province: British Columbia politicians and Chinese and Japanese immigrants, 1858-1914. Vancouver: UBC Press. Roy, Patricia E., J.L. Granastein, Masako Iino, and Hiroko Takamura. 1990. Mutual hostages: Canadians and Japanese during the Second World War. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Tremblay, Manon. 1992. Quand les femmes se distinguent: féminisme et representation politique au Québec. Canadian Journal of Political Science 25 (1): 55-68. –. 1998. Do female MPs substantively represent women? A study of legislative behaviour in Canada’s 35th Parliament. Canadian Political Science Review 41 (3): 435-65. Trimble, Linda. 1997. Feminist Politics in the Alberta Legislature, 1972-1994. In In the presence of women: Representation in Canadian governments, ed. Jane Arscott and Linda Trimble, 128-54. Toronto: Harcourt Brace. Trimble, Linda, and Jane Arscott. 2003. Still counting: Women in politics across Canada. Peterborough, ON: Broadview.

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3 Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal: Dream or Reality? Carolle Simard

Montréal has been, and still is, a major centre for immigration. Like Toronto and Vancouver, it continues to receive many immigrants to Canada, and it, along with Toronto and Vancouver, has the highest proportion of recent immigrants among Canadian census metropolitan areas, according to 2001 data. For anyone who wants to examine the political representation of minority groups, Montréal is fertile ground. Montréal is first and foremost a francophone city; its history can only be understood through the lens of the constant battles between the francophone majority and the anglophone minority that have long dominated the city’s economic and cultural life. It is also a city where descendents of European (Jewish, Italian, Greek, and Portuguese) immigrants live alongside newcomers who come primarily from French-speaking countries such as France, Haiti, Algeria, Morocco, and Lebanon. Throughout the late 1970s and the 1980s, Quebec was gradually granted powers for selecting its own immigrants. Montréal’s immigration model – a strongly francophone model – has been unique in Canada. The analysis of the political representation of minority groups in Montréal must also take into account other specific factors such as the official recognition of municipal political parties, which continues to be rare in other Canadian cities, with Vancouver being another exception. Finally, a paper on the political representation of minority groups must acknowledge that Montréal has been and remains a politically exciting city. In fact, Montréal was the site of the toughest battles led by Quebec nationalists in the past, and Montréal is today the place where the supporters of a French Quebec clash with those who believe that the time has come for Montréal to live in the age of globalization by accepting de facto bilingualism. Obviously, both camps court newcomers, who often have no choice but to adopt the point of view of one faction or the other – yet another characteristic of Montréal. Montréal’s ethnic and linguistic composition makes it unique in Canada, but it resembles other cities in terms of representation: most of Montréal’s

Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal 71

elected representatives are male members of the two traditionally dominant groups in Montréal politics, drawn from the middle or upper classes. In short, power in Montréal remains concentrated in the hands of a social and ethnic elite. This chapter examines this hypothesis by analyzing the demographic, ethnic, and cultural profile of Montréal’s municipal representatives, Members of Parliament (MPs), and Members of the National Assembly (MNAs) from ridings within the boundaries of the City of Montréal. I will first present an overview of the history of Montréal and an outline of its main demographic, ethnic, and cultural characteristics. I will also look closely at the city’s political environment, which offers important clues to studying the political representation of minorities in Montréal. In this chapter, the term minority refers to all multicultural groups, visible minorities, and women. However, some data do include anglophones, and this is noted where applicable. Montréal: Historical Background Aboriginals were the first people to live in the Montréal area. In 1642, Montréal became the site of a missionary settlement, with the fur trade being the main occupation of its inhabitants. Relations between the Europeans and the Aboriginals were characterized at times by co-operation and mutual tolerance and at other times by conflict, as the increase in European immigration brought with it a drop in the proportion of the Aboriginal population. Montréal was then the springboard for French expansion westward, but in 1763, the defeat of France at the hands of the English struck a death blow to the plan for a French empire in the Americas. As a conquered city, Montréal was to live through some difficult years with British merchants controlling its economy and with its destiny in British hands. Similarly, Aboriginal customs were not always respected under European colonization, especially the distinct forms of social organization, and the Europeans constantly tried to change them. In the first half of the nineteenth century, Montréal experienced an unprecedented wave of immigration. With the arrival of immigrants from the British Isles, particularly the Irish, who were fleeing economic privations, the British became a majority within the city’s population. Montréal enjoyed increasingly diversified economic development – construction, retail commerce, services – that led to a reorganization of its transport system. At that time, Montréal was the most populous city in Canada, and it was to remain so for almost one hundred years. It also had an anglophone majority, although French Canadians would be in the majority once again after 1870. It was at this time that the “two solitudes” came into being, separated both by language and by religion. The French Catholics and the English Protestants lived in separate worlds, and each group developed its own schools, hospitals, and social and cultural institutions. Political life was filled with

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turmoil; the city was poorly run and endured a merciless struggle for control. Gradually, francophones made gains on city council, forming a majority after the 1910 election. Two years later, by means of a mobilized Jewish community, which was geographically concentrated, Montréal’s first Jewish alderman was elected. In 1914, the election of Médéric Martin ended the customary alternation between the two majority groups in the choice of a mayor: since that date, every mayor of Montréal has been a francophone. At the end of the First World War, Montréal was hit hard economically. The divisions between anglophones and francophones over participation in the war left scars, and the city’s dynamic character was affected. Within a few years, an exodus from the countryside into Montréal and the resumption of immigration from Great Britain and eastern and southern Europe helped the economy to recover. Montréal became a major financial centre, and the service sector expanded. The rise of the middle class enabled the city to build and invest in the property market. The growth of ethnic groups whose origins were neither British nor French continued; when the Great Depression of the 1930s hit, nearly 18 percent of Montréalers had been born abroad. In addition to the British, the city’s Jewish and Italian communities were important. Canada’s entry into the Second World War brought prosperity back to Montréal, ending fifteen difficult years marked by ethnic and linguistic tensions between anglophones and francophones, and between those two groups and the Jewish community. The political arena was also highly active. The city was deep in debt, and at the height of the economic crisis, it was simply unable to meet its financial obligations. In 1940, the provincial government placed the city in stewardship, which continued until 1944. In addition, the provincial authorities restructured the city council, creating three categories of councillor – one group was to be elected by property owners, another was to be elected by the entire electorate (property owners and tenants), and another group was to be appointed by organizations. This increased the power of the most prominent citizens: the business owners, who made up only 10 percent of the population, and the anglophones, who from then on held just over a third of the seats on council. The system was to endure essentially unchanged until 1962. In Montréal, the postwar period was marked by strong expansion. Montréal became a modern city. In 1951, its population was one million, its economy was booming, and urbanization within the boundaries of greater Montréal was proceeding apace. Suburbs were springing up farther and farther from the city centre to take the overflow from new Montréal neighbourhoods. It was also during this period that plans were laid for the modernization of downtown Montréal; the gestation process had begun for the high-rise buildings and underground shopping malls that were to appear in the 1960s.

Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal 73

In the 1950s, favouritism and corruption characterized municipal politics. A public inquiry led by Judge François Caron denounced the collusion of the police and many politicians with organized crime. A young lawyer named Jean Drapeau made a key contribution to the work of the inquiry. Then, for the 1954 election, he created his own political party, the Civic Action League, and ran for mayor. Drapeau was to reign almost supreme over the city until 1986 (defeated in 1957, but re-elected in 1960), when health problems compelled him to step aside. Montréal has never been an easy city to govern. From 1960 on, however, as leader of the Civic Party, Jean Drapeau ran Montréal at the head of a team often made up entirely of elected members of his own party. This united power to act enabled His Honour to carry out grandiose projects: the Métro (Montréal’s subway system), Expo 67, and the 1976 Olympics. In the early 1960s, powerful forces for change were making themselves felt in Montréal. A wave of reform was sweeping the province. This was the beginning of the Quiet Revolution, and Montréal became the primary focus of the self-assertion of francophones who were determined to wrest back the political place occupied up to that time by Montréal’s English-speaking minority. The voice of Quebec nationalism was heard loud and clear, especially in Montréal, where the two language groups faced off. In 1976, with the coming to power of the Parti Québécois, the political modernization of Montréal gathered momentum. In 1978, the new government passed legislation to reform municipal elections, allowing official recognition of municipal political parties, with their names appearing on the ballot. The reform also set limits on funding for candidates and parties. Today, Montréal is a North American city with a unique character: an increasingly assured French-speaking leadership coexists with an ethnocultural diversity that is growing in strength, transforming neighbourhoods, ways of life, and ways of doing things. It is a French-speaking city in which bilingualism is a fact of life. The proportion of anglophones in the city’s population is admittedly dwindling steadily, but francophones nevertheless continue to feel vulnerable. To help counter the decline of French on the island of Montréal, a new group, Mouvement Montréal français, has been formed. The extremely diversified population of present-day Montréal is very different from what it was even in the late 1940s. Like Toronto and Vancouver in their respective provinces, Montréal has always absorbed almost all immigrants settling in Quebec. Unlike previous waves of immigrants, dominated in turn by people from the British Isles, then eastern and southern Europe, today’s newcomers come from every corner of the globe. This change followed Canada’s adoption in 1967 of a point-based selection system that made merit, rather than ethnic origin, the key criterion in choosing immigrants. In the

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Map 3.1 Federal electoral map of the new City of Montréal, 2001 Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001a).

1980s, Quebec acquired the power to choose its immigrants and gave preference to those from French-speaking countries. This government action has further increased the ethnic diversity of the city: Jewish, Italian, Greek, and Portuguese Europeans have given way to Haitians, Chinese, Vietnamese, Indians, Pakistanis, Moroccans, Tunisians, and Algerians. Montréal as a Megacity The City of Montréal recently underwent an administrative upheaval as a result of the municipal reform carried out by the Quebec government in the fall of 2000 and the effects of that reform on the electoral framework.1 With the passage of Bill 170,2 the new boundaries of the City of Montréal match those of Montréal island and take in all the municipalities that made up the former Montréal Urban Community, as depicted in Map 3.1. The new city has twenty-seven boroughs. Montréal’s city council includes the mayor, elected by voters across the city; and the councillors, elected by the voters of the boroughs they represent. There is also a council for each borough, consisting of the mayor of the borough (appointed in 2001, elected in 2005) and district councillors elected by the voters of the borough they represent. Each borough is divided into smaller areas. The voting method is single-constituency, single-ballot, and

Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal 75

a simple majority wins. In 2001, Montréal had 105 elected municipal representatives, including the mayor; in 2005, despite the de-amalgamation of fifteen cities, the number of positions remains the same. In Quebec, as with Ottawa, Hamilton, Toronto, and Halifax, municipal restructuring prompted debate, which was often strident. While opponents of the plan felt that mergers would weaken feelings of identification and increase bureaucratization, its supporters saw it as an ideal opportunity to question the concept of representativeness. The City of Montréal: A Demographic Portrait In 2001, Montréal’s population was 1,812,725: 945,225 females and 867,495 males, or, in other words, 52.1 percent female and 47.8 percent male.3 The median age was 38.3. The females were slightly older than the males, with a median age of 39.8 compared to 36.8. In Montréal, the median income of those aged 15 or older (1,491,910 people) was $20,007. As in Toronto, new immigrants represent a large portion of residents of low-income neighbourhoods (for example, Hochelaga-Maisonneuve, Parc Extension, and Côtedes-Neiges). In 2001, the population of Montréal worked in management (10 percent), business, finance, and administration (20 percent), and sales and services (21 percent). The other main sectors of activity were trades, transport, and equipment operating (9 percent), processing, manufacturing, and utilities (8 percent), and natural and applied sciences (8 percent). In Montréal, a division of labour based on gender persists: men are in the majority in management, natural and applied sciences, and trades, transport, and equipment operating. Women are mainly employed in business, finance and administration, health care, social sciences, education, public administration, and sales and services. The population of Montréal aged 20 or older is highly educated. While 15 percent of the city’s population has not completed grade 9, 14 percent have a secondary school diploma, 8 percent a trade school diploma, 15 percent a college diploma, and 23.1 percent a bachelor’s degree or better.4 In Montréal, almost two people in three speak one of the official languages in the home: 16 percent English and 46 percent French. Other languages are used in the home by 10 percent of the population,5 while almost 27 percent say they speak more than one language in the home. Almost two people in three are Roman Catholics (1,134,555 people in all, or 64 percent). While a little over 9 percent say they have no religion, Protestants account for 4 percent, Muslims for 5 percent, and Jews for 4 percent of the population. More women are Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, or Buddhist, while more men than women are Muslim or have no religion. The population of Montréal is becoming increasingly diversified ethnically and culturally. The number and proportion of those belonging to ethnic

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minorities has increased since 1996, and those of multiple origins are also on the rise. In 1996, 21 percent of the population reported multiple origins, and in 2001, it was 26 percent. This five-point increase reflects the difficulty of drawing an ethnic profile of the city’s population. Should this trend continue, we would have to conclude that the multifaceted nature of the population corresponds less and less to the single categories that Statistics Canada uses. In Montréal, 66 percent of the population states its origin as French, Quebec, or Canadian. Those in the Anglo-Saxon group represent 14 percent of the total. Ethnic minorities represent 47 percent.6 The Aboriginal population is 24,175, or slightly more than 1 percent of the total. The ethnic breakdown varies widely from district to district. In 2001, nevertheless, we find the same familiar trends: high percentages of particular groups concentrated geographically. At election time, such concentrations can give an advantage to ethnic candidates, particularly at the municipal level, where electoral units are smaller. In my analysis, we will see that this is true in Montréal. In 2001, almost 500,000 people born abroad lived in Montréal, representing a third of the total population 15 or older.7 The proportion of immigrants from Europe in Montréal has fallen, while the percentage from the Middle East and western Asia has risen steadily. In 2001, the five main countries of birth of immigrants living in Montréal were Italy, Haiti, France, Lebanon, and Vietnam. The People’s Republic of China, Morocco, Greece, Portugal, and Algeria complete the list of the ten main countries of birth of Montréal’s immigrants. Almost one in two is from one of the ten countries named. The Profile of Montréal’s Elected Representatives While the presence of representatives of ethnocultural groups in parliamentary bodies is not an end in itself, their relative absence can explain the feelings of frustration among community leaders who complain of being politically marginalized. Admittedly, an increase in the numbers of elected representatives from ethnic minorities is not a panacea, since it does not always produce radical changes in public policy. That said, researchers feel that, in theory at least, ethnic communities will have a greater capacity to demand consideration of their specific interests if they are better represented on democratically elected bodies. Moreover, the exploratory conversations I had with Montréal city councillors in the fall of 1999 made this factor very clear (Simard 2001). As we will see, with respect to political representation in Montréal, ethnocultural groups do not occupy the place to which their numbers entitle them. To verify the level of ethnocultural diversity among those elected to municipal, provincial, and federal office from the City of Montréal, I included all

Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal 77

those elected to office in Montréal in November 2001, to the Quebec National Assembly in April 2003, and to the Parliament of Canada in June 2004. At the three levels of government, the voters of Montréal elected a total of 151 politicians: 105 city councillors, including the mayor of Montréal, 28 MNAs (out of 125), and 18 MPs (out of 308). Method I used a number of tools to prepare a demographic and biographical outline of Montréal’s elected representatives. At the municipal level, I used information that had been compiled shortly after the November 2001 election and was analyzed in two published articles (Simard 2004a, 2004b). For the MNAs and MPs, I used the candidate biographies published by the political parties during the campaigns; I also obtained from the parties most of the brochures distributed by candidates at public meetings or during their door-to-door canvassing. While their quality was uneven, these documents, nonetheless, offered some interesting data. Apart from age and sex, my compilation covered ethnic origin, social and occupational characteristics, and some details of the candidates’ history as activists and party members. Lastly, to fill the gaps in my information, I sent a questionnaire to all the elected representatives concerned, with a personal covering letter, in the summer of 2004. To increase the response rate, a number of telephone calls were made during the summer. For each level of government, however, the participation rate barely exceeded 30 percent. The reasons given were lack of time, lack of interest in such surveys, and refusal to answer impertinent questions (particularly those concerning religion and ethnic origin). I was, nonetheless, able to update the demographic and biographical information on most of the elected representatives with the help of their office staff or based on media coverage of the election campaigns. My personal acquaintance with a number of them was also most helpful, and I was ultimately able to complete a profile of almost 90 percent of them. Montréal’s Elected Representatives If we assume that representation implies a certain resemblance to the population as a whole, we have to admit that Montréal’s elected representatives are very different from the electorate that voted them into office, which is increasingly made up of members of ethnic minorities, and particularly visible minorities, as we have seen. Montréal is by no means an exception. In many representative democracies, including Canada, parliamentarians have a rather elitist profile (Black 2000; Black and Lakhani 1997; Boily 1967; Desrosiers 1972; Megyery 1991; Pelletier 1999; Tremblay 1996). The phenomenon alarms many members of the political class. In fact, for the groups traditionally excluded from the

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political arena, it reinforces the loss of legitimacy by democratic institutions. Almost everywhere in the Western world, middle-aged White males dominate parliamentary and representative institutions. In recent years, admittedly, women in some countries have managed to make some electoral gains;8 in general, however, their representation in elected bodies remains marginal. According to Manon Tremblay (2005), only 15 percent of seats in the world’s parliaments today are held by women. Clearly, successive waves of immigration have profoundly altered the ethnocultural and religious composition of the populations in most host countries. The new diversity of the developed countries is by no means reflected in their parliaments, and this further emphasizes their elitist character. Montréal has been and remains a city open to immigration, and its ethnocultural diversification, rooted in its urban fabric, increasingly shapes social relationships, yet, the political class in Montréal is still slow to reflect the new ethnocultural situation. The demographic and biographical data indicate that the politicians elected in Montréal are not representative of the population. I will, therefore, compare the profile of city councillors with that of MNAs and MPs. In doing so, I will use these customary characteristics: gender, age, education, occupation, mother tongue and knowledge of both official languages, religion, and ethnic origin. Gender With men in the majority, holders of elected office in Montréal are not representative of the city’s population, 52 percent of which is female. The group of elected officials consists of 105 men and 46 women, which means that men make up almost 70 percent of the total. Women are under-represented by 22 percentage points, which translates into a proportionality index of 0.57. Federally, women hold 5 out of 13 positions (28 percent); provincially, 9 out of 19 (32 percent); and municipally, 32 out of 73 (30 percent). While in Toronto the proportion of women is higher at the municipal level, in Montréal their share of the seats is slightly higher in the Quebec National Assembly. Thus, in Montréal, the conventional wisdom that the municipal level is the level most open to women simply does not apply.

Table 3.1 Gender of population and elected representatives, Montréal, 2001 % of population

% of municipal reps.

% of MNAs

% of MPs

Male

48

70

68

72

Female

52

30

32

28

Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b), and election results.

Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal 79

The Liberal Party of Canada, the Liberal Party of Quebec, and the Montréal Island Citizens Union (MICU), all of which took power, were the parties that elected the most women. These encouraging results are at odds with the idea that women candidates generally end up in opposition. This is admittedly a recent development in Canada, in the sense that political parties with a chance of winning no longer block women candidates. On the contrary, in recent campaigns we have seen most parties in contention actually inviting women to run. At one point, Prime Minister Chrétien went so far as to impose women candidates in some ridings across the country, including in Quebec. Age The median age bracket in Montréal is 35-39. With a median age bracket of 55-59, the city’s elected office-holders are substantially older than the people they represent. Only 13 percent of them were 40 or younger when elected (15 percent at the municipal level, 11 percent at the provincial level, and 5 percent at the federal level). The advanced age of Montréal’s elected representatives is a differentiating factor that is not without consequences: young people are less and less interested in being politically active, and fewer of them are voting in elections (Canada, Elections Canada 2004). In fact, there is a danger that they will be further alienated if political parties cannot rejuvenate their membership, their candidates, and their sitting members. Education In determining whether those elected to office constitute an elite in relation to their constituents, education is an important criterion. Indeed, the survey data suggest that the population of Montréal is substantially less well educated than its politicians. Most elected officials in Montréal have a university education, with a very high percentage holding at least a bachelor’s degree. The MPs and MNAs have the most education: 82 percent of the MNAs have a university degree, as do 83 percent of the MPs. Proportionally speaking, the educational profile of city councillors is closer to that of their constituents than that of their provincial and federal counterparts, although the municipal response rate for this question was lower, at 55 percent. In fact, less than 40 percent of municipal officials have a university degree. Interestingly, councillors who belong to Vision Montréal, which forms the opposition at city hall, are definitely better educated than the MICU council members, with 15 percentage points separating them. Occupation Along with education, occupation is a characteristic commonly used by researchers to determine whether elected officials are an “elite” group or are reflective of the characteristics of the general population (Simard 2004).9

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Census data show that half of Montréalers work in one of three categories of employment: trades, transport, and machinery; business, finance, and administration; or management. Given that the vast majority of office-holders (60 percent) worked in management or in business, finance, and administration when elected, they are representative of the general population. The MPs differ from their municipal and provincial colleagues: 72 percent say they worked mainly in the social sciences, education, and public administration. With respect to the occupational sector in which they acquired the most experience, the MPs also differ from the population of Montréal. Mother Tongue and Knowledge of the Official Languages Montréal’s elected representatives are also distinguished from the population by their mother tongue. While French is the mother tongue of 50 percent of Montréalers, the proportion of all elected representatives with the same characteristic is higher – almost 60 percent. At the municipal level, the mother tongue of one in three councillors remains unknown. We do know, however, that 53 percent of the remainder have French as their mother tongue. While 78 percent of MNAs have declared French as their mother tongue, the figure for MPs is 61 percent. On the other hand, fewer than 20 percent of Montréalers and only 7 percent of elected representatives claim English as their mother tongue. Another indication of the ethnocultural diversity of Montréal is the size of the “other” mother tongue category: 20 percent. Among elected representatives, only 6 percent have declared an “other” mother tongue, with the largest such group – 4 percent – being at the municipal level. Most of Montréal’s elected representatives are bilingual, although the MNAs have a lower rate of bilingualism than the group as a whole.10 A number of elected representatives – 21 percent in all, including 14 percent of council members – also speak a third language, the most common being Italian (15 people), Spanish (6), Arabic (4), Greek (4), and Portuguese (2). In comparison, 57 percent of Montréalers say they are bilingual and speak English and French. In addition, many know a third language. After English and French, Italian is the most common language spoken by Montréalers, followed by Spanish, Chinese, and Arabic; this is an accurate reflection of the city’s ethnocultural mosaic. Religion A majority of the population of Montréal, like its representatives, is Catholic. Proportionally speaking, however, there are more Catholics among elected representatives (66 percent) than in the population as a whole (61 percent). A higher proportion of MNAs (75 percent) than MPs (66 percent) and city councillors (64 percent) state they are Catholic. At the municipal level, 10 percent of councillors are Jewish and 3 percent are Greek or Eastern Orthodox

Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal 81

Christians; 11 percent of MNAs and 5.5 percent of MPs are also Jewish. Finally, 5 percent of the MPs are Protestant. While 3 percent of the elected representatives (2 provincial and 2 federal representatives) do not acknowledge a religion, the proportion of Montréalers with no religion is almost 10 percent. Almost 5 percent of the population is Muslim, although the city has yet to elect anyone from that group. Ethnic Origin The ethnocultural diversity of Montréal is only imperfectly reflected by its elected representatives. The two traditionally dominant groups in Montréal politics account for a majority of the office-holders: 58 percent are of French, Quebec, or Canadian origin, and 13 percent are of Anglo-Saxon origin.11 While politicians of French origin are under-represented, the same is not true for those from the Anglo-Saxon group, whose percentage does reflect their numbers. Provincially, those of French origin are over-represented, but they are under-represented at the municipal and federal levels. Anglo-Saxons are more of a presence (16 percent) on city council than in the National Assembly (7 percent) or in Parliament (5 percent). Together, these two groups total 107, or 70 percent of all Montréal’s elected representatives. While it is not true to say that members of these two communities continue to monopolize the positions of power, they are advantaged relative to the members of minority groups when it comes to getting the nod from a political party or getting elected. While minority groups account for 47 percent of the total population of Montréal, only 29 percent of the elected representatives (44 individuals) come from such groups. The proportion of those belonging to neither of the two traditionally dominant groups in Montréal politics is higher federally (38 percent) than municipally (30 percent) or provincially (18 percent). For all three levels of government, there are 44 office-holders of minority origin, including 5 (3 percent) from visible minorities, which translates into a proportionality index of 0.15 for the latter group. The under-representation

Table 3.2 Ethnic origin of population and elected representatives, Montréal, 2001 % of population

% of municipal reps.

% of MNAs

% of MPs

Majority

66

70

82

62

Minority groups (visible minorities are included)

47

30

18

38

Visible minorities

21

4

0

6

Source: Based on Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b), and election results.

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of visible minorities by almost 18 percentage points, is similar to that of the minority groups, giving a proportionality index for all the minority groups elected of 0.61. While there is no representative from a visible minority in the National Assembly, there are 4 on city council and 1 in Parliament. Most of the representatives of minority ethnic communities were elected under the banner of the federal or provincial Liberal party or the MICU: the winning parties. This encouraging fact suggests that the winning parties no longer seem to hesitate, as they did until recently, to run candidates of minority origin in winnable ridings and districts. Thus, party strategy with respect to ethnic groups seems to be shifting (Stasiulis and Abu-Laban 1991). The ethnic diversity of those elected remains limited, however, since the 44 representatives (29 percent) who are of minority origin come mainly from countries in central and southern Europe. They are mainly (68 percent) Jews and Italians, with Jews accounting for 8 percent of all office-holders and Italians for 17 percent. Given the makeup of the city’s population (4 percent Jewish and 9 percent Italian), these two communities are slightly over-represented among elected office-holders at all three levels of government, with the over-representation being greater for Italians than for Jews. There is a similar over-representation in Toronto. There is an absence of elected representatives from communities that have immigrated more recently. In the case of Haitians, Chinese, and Vietnamese, there are a few factors that may explain their lack of political representation. With respect to Haitians, the explanation doubtless lies in their reluctance to apply for Canadian citizenship, and to thereby lose their Haitian citizenship, since Haiti does not accept dual nationality (Simard 2006). Despite their strong geographical concentration, which favours the election of minority representatives, only naturalized Haitians or those born here can seek party nomination.12 As for the Chinese and Vietnamese communities, the cause surely lies in the weak power base of individuals who want to stand.13 For most communities that have immigrated recently, moreover, internal Table 3.3 Proportionality indices, Montréal % of elected officials

% of population

Proportionality index

70 30

48 52

1.45 0.57

Minority groups

29

47

0.61

Visible minorities

3.3

21

0.15

7

33

0.21

Gender

Male Female

Foreign-born

Source: Based on author’s calculations, Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b), and election results.

Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal 83

ideological differences can jeopardize the unity required to elect one of their own. These are, of course, mere assumptions, pending the development of more sophisticated methods of analysis. The preceding data show that openness to ethnocultural diversity varies among the different levels of government, and, in that regard, the Quebec National Assembly’s record is dismal. None of the Montréalers sitting in the National Assembly belongs to a visible minority, and only 18 percent (5 of them) belong to an ethnocultural minority, compared with 38 percent at the federal level and 30 percent at the municipal level. Candidacies from different ethnic groups were not always successful. One factor that may partly account for the gaps lies in what Carty and Eagles (2005) call “constituency characteristics,” which refers to the numerical weight of ethnic groups within ridings. At the federal level, Gerber (2006) has shown that the percentages of immigrants and visible minorities in a constituency affect the results of the vote significantly. According to Gerber, the federal Liberals in Ontario benefited from the ethnocultural diversity of electoral districts because ethnic groups tended to support candidates from the Liberal Party. In Quebec, the Bloc Québécois did not have an equivalent advantage because candidates from the Bloc do not receive mass support from the ethnic groups. Gerber studied only the federal level, but her analysis reveals important links between ethnicity, income, and support for a political party. Quebec’s political landscape is known to be very different from that in the rest of Canada, but, as Gerber clearly indicates, it would be wrong to underestimate the importance of regional political cultures. This factor could explain why the representation of ethnic groups reflects – or does not – the ethnic pluralism in the society. Since the late 1960s, major battles have taken place in the Quebec political arena between nationalists and federalists, and this climate of conflict has undoubtedly worked against ethnocultural diversity. It was only recently that the relative absence of members from ethnocultural minorities in the National Assembly became a concern, both for individual politicians and for the political parties themselves. Jacques Parizeau’s remark about “the ethnic vote” on the night of the 1995 referendum probably widened the gap between the nationalists and the rest of Quebec society, which has been becoming more and more ethnoculturally diverse. To sum up, the political arena in Montréal has been the preserve of French and Anglo-Saxon White males from the beginning. True, the days are long gone when a candidate for mayor could run on the slogan, “No more English mayors here” (Magnusson and Sancton 1987, 67). However, judging from the objective indicators I used to study political representation in the city, we have to conclude that representation of minority groups and their resultant voting patterns and levels of political involvement are highly variable

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from one community to another. The demographic weight of ethnic groups and their concentration in an area are some of the factors most often cited to explain these variations (Simard 1991, 2001; Siemiatycki and Matheson 2005). In this regard, the results of Montréal’s 2001 municipal election are telling: all of the elected individuals belonging to minority ethnic groups are in ridings where more than 20 percent of the population is from one of these groups. In many cases, their presence exceeds that of the two traditionally dominant groups in Montréal politics. This is the case in Saint-Léonard, which has a large population of Italians; Saint-Laurent, where a majority of residents are Lebanese and Chinese; and Côte-de-Neiges/Notre-Dame-deGrâce and Côte-Saint-Luc, which are predominantly Jewish. Today, admittedly, being a woman is no longer an insurmountable obstacle for those who want to embark on a career in politics. In Montréal, nevertheless, as in the other cities discussed in this volume, women are still clearly under-represented in relation to their numbers in the population (the proportionality index is 0.57). This is the conclusion I reached in a study conducted in 2000 for the Conseil des relations interculturelles du Québec (CRI) (Simard 2001), in which I looked at the success rates for male and female candidates in municipal elections in eleven cities within Greater Montréal and five outside it. Although 37 percent of all male candidates were elected, only 28 percent of female candidates were. On the other hand, the success rate for candidates from ethnic minorities matched that for candidates from the two traditionally dominant groups in Montréal politics: 34 percent. However, this last figure for the success rate of ethnic candidates may prove deceptive: as Alain Pelletier (1991) has so clearly pointed out, the success rate may conceal significant distortions among these communities. As in the case of women, the rate can vary with the number of candidates from ethnic groups and visible minorities. In the case more specifically of Montréal, the assumption here is that Italians, as well as the greater number of francophone and anglophone representatives, may contribute to the diminishing of the number of visible minority politicians. In the study for the CRI just mentioned (Simard 2001), I noted in particular that the success rate for visible minorities was much lower than for all other groups: 20 percent. Other indicators, such as power base and community involvement, must also be taken into consideration in assessing the level of political integration of members of visible minorities, because such indicators are dominant factors in the greater difficulty the latter experience in the political arena, relative to other minorities. However, this explanation merits more detailed analysis to validate its scope. In their study on Ottawa, John Biles and Erin Tolley (Chapter 5 in this volume) stress that minority groups must create and build networks, not only in their group of origin but also with other groups in the host society.

Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal 85

Causes and Consequences In political terms, ethnic pluralism has yet to be achieved in Montréal. Among the many changes the city has undergone, the constant increase in numbers of the ethnic groups within its population is certainly among the most significant, and yet all these ethnocultural changes are slow to become apparent at the political level. In a study conducted for the Royal Commission on Bilingualism and Biculturalism, Guy Bourassa (1971) showed that at the end of the 1960s, francophones were in complete control of Montréal’s political system. This dominance by the francophone middle class was at the expense of other ethnic groups, particularly the anglophone minority. Things have admittedly changed since then, although Montréal’s anglophone minority has shrunk considerably. The arrival in Montréal of large numbers of ethnic groups that were neither Jewish nor Italian put an end to the postwar ethnic partitioning, and the Government of Quebec became directly involved in programs designed to integrate newcomers into the French-speaking community. This new dynamic in interethnic relations has yet to bring about full integration into the dominant political system, but city councillors from minority groups have been elected in certain districts where there is a strong concentration of members of ethnic minorities. Although geographical concentration of ethnic groups can affect election results, this cannot be achieved automatically, since voters, whether they are members of a minority or of the majority, can transfer their allegiance to an opposing party. Since there is no such thing as “the ethnic vote,” in the sense that no political party can count on unshakeable support from any community (which would require the community to be cohesive and homogeneous), other factors have to be considered, such as party platforms and ideological bases. In earlier research on municipal office-holders (Simard 2004a), I noted that most of those from minority groups curiously resembled those from majority groups with respect to age, education, and occupation. However – and the difference is a significant one – minority office-holders were active in community organizations to a greater extent than other office-holders. Their community base was thus fully exploited, and in order to win elections they did not hesitate to work closely with ethnic organizations. Moreover, elected representatives from minority groups were more likely than most of their colleagues to already hold elected office when they ran. This was true of 83 percent of elected representatives from minority groups, as compared to 70 percent of those from the two traditionally dominant groups in Montréal politics. The low rate of renewal among the city councillors included in my study is but another illustration of the difficulty that groups traditionally excluded from political bodies have in seeking to alter the status quo. The concentration of power in the hands of those already in office is not restricted to municipal politics. Such a concentration is also found at the

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provincial and federal levels. However, many candidates are knocking at the doors of city councils and legislatures. For one thing, political parties are opening up more to female candidates and those from minority groups. For another – and this is a paradox – two out of three of the elected representatives in my study already held elected office when the election was called. In short, one conclusion that emerges from my study is that anyone who wants to stand for election has a better chance of being elected if he or she already holds elected office; this confirms the idea of an incumbency advantage. However, apart from the structural, cultural, and organizational obstacles that continue to hamper candidates from minority groups, we should ask ourselves why in Montréal, the largest French-speaking city in North America and the crucible of Quebec culture, office-holders are still so unrepresentative of the population as a whole. The fact that French is the language in common use may in some cases constitute an additional obstacle for minority groups that want to become politically active. This is an opinion held by Montréal municipal officeholders interviewed for an exploratory study of the perceptions of representatives of ethnic minorities (Simard 2003). Since the passage in 1977 of Bill 101, French has been established in Quebec as the language of common use. Under the law, allophone children – those whose mother tongue is neither English nor French – must attend a French school, and businesses are required to make French their language of work. While Bill 101 has been attacked with varying intensity by the English-speaking community since it was passed, its impact remains considerable. The elected representatives studied in my previous work (Simard 2003) on the perceptions of representatives of ethnic minorities do not have French as a mother tongue. More than that, they were not required to attend French school at the time, and most were educated in English schools. Many of the elected representatives from minority groups who agreed to answer my questions find their ability in French is not always sufficient. For them, living in a French-speaking society is an obstacle, and most believe that the obligation to speak French discourages political participation. Researchers in the Netherlands and the United States have already looked into this question of language and concluded that it does handicap political participation, in particular because it impairs understanding of election issues and the exercise of the right to vote. Many of the city councillors I interviewed admitted to me that they delayed their involvement in politics because they had an insufficient mastery of French. Without questioning the promotion of French – la francisation – in Quebec, city councillors stress the de facto bilingualism of Montréal. This means allowing for the coexistence of the French-speaking majority with the anglophone and allophone minorities in order to respond to the linguistic

Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal 87

particularities that result. In other words, offering citizens service in their own language is a given for many elected representatives. Francophones’ long struggle for their language has an impact on the integration of newcomers. More specifically, in Montréal, a city marked increasingly by cultural and linguistic pluralism, some elected officials feel that Quebeckers’ insistence on fighting still and always for the primacy of French leads to inattention to other problems that are just as important, if not more so. As I have shown, members of ethnic and cultural minorities in Montréal, as in Canada’s other major cities, lag behind the majority in achieving equitable representation. Under-representation of visible minorities is also a problem, particularly for certain communities that are geographically concentrated and experiencing substantial growth in their numbers, including the Haitian, Algerian, and Vietnamese communities. On the other hand, the situation in Montréal is no worse than in other cities: its minorities are no worse off than those in other cities. In fact, despite the importance of French as the language of the workplace and the potential barrier this might pose to newcomers and minorities, it does not appear to change the overall result. In most democratic countries, different groups in society quite clearly do not have equal access to the political system. The reasons for this have to do both with the political parties themselves, which are still seen as insensitive to ethnocultural differences, and with the electorate, which is slow to accept differences. For members of ethnic groups, membership in the political networks of the host society is not always a given, and the obstacles mentioned most often by those who have succeeded in being elected, apart from belonging to an ethnic minority, are religion and being a woman. Minorities have nevertheless been able to make progress, electorally speaking, since political parties – including those at the municipal level – no longer hesitate to work with the ethnic networks, particularly in electoral districts where the ethnic concentration is high. Electoral districting can thus be used either to maximize the strength of certain groups, like Jews and Italians in Montréal and Toronto, or to exploit ethnic pluralism, as is the case in many Montréal districts where ethnocultural diversity is very strong, such as Côte-des-Neiges, Saint-Laurent, and Montréal North. It thus seems that “ethnicity” can pay large dividends for political parties, which count increasingly on ethnic candidates to win districts where the ethnic concentration is high. Does this mean, however, that ethnic groups vote as a block and that splintering of their vote remains the exception to the rule? Overall, there is no doubt that the level of election participation and the weight of ethnic groups’ numbers have political effects, but when a number of candidates from such groups run in the same riding or district, voters have tended to

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ignore ethnic allegiance in favour of the candidates’ platforms and personal characteristics (Simard 1991). That being said, for Montréal, the result of the 2001 municipal elections shows that, in certain boroughs, the geographic concentration of ethnic minority groups works to the advantage of candidates from those groups. This is particularly true for Jewish and Italian candidates in Montréal North, Côte-des-Neiges, and Côte-Saint-Luc. We know that ethnic candidates are useful to political parties, particularly where ethnic minorities are geographically concentrated. To get elected, ethnic candidates can count on the support of their particular community, but the levels of political commitment and participation among minorities vary enormously from community to community. While a number of variables must be considered in order to understand from what point and at what pace members of minorities become politically active (Pelletier 1991), it seems that the differences between groups are mainly attributable to economic factors. We also know that in Montréal the Jewish and Italian communities are politically more committed than other groups who have arrived more recently. Their activism has borne fruit: in my study of Montréal, I found that almost all office-holders drawn from a minority came from one of these two groups. Apart from the fact that they seem to have the financial resources that more recent arrivals lack, the interest they display in politics has to be taken into consideration in explaining the differences in political behaviour between these two communities and the others, whether they immigrated long ago or more recently (Simard 2001).14 Robert Putnam (1993) establishes a connection between political commitment and participation in ethnic and community organizations, each of which reinforces the other. Political commitment is part of a process that takes time, since it demands community maturation (Stasiulis and Abu-Laban 1991) and the development of political competence (Simard 1991) – two steps that newcomers must take before becoming active participants in politics. Community maturation, for immigrants, means the achievement of a certain level of social and economic security. Political competence relates to the knowledge required to understand the operation of the electoral system and the issues that flow from it. Conclusion The obstacles in the way of access to positions of power are legion. As indicated previously, many factors may account for the low rate of representation of ethnic minorities among elected office-holders. In the case of Montréal, which is similar to Toronto in a number of important ways, my analysis shows that a model persists that seems to be destined to repeat itself from one election to the next, a model that has a few features that differ

Political Representation of Minorities in the City of Montréal 89

depending on the level of government. In all three levels of government, there is an over-representation of the two traditionally dominant groups in Montréal politics. However, in the National Assembly, the over-representation of members from the francophone community is far more significant than at the other levels. At all three levels, the Jewish and Italian communities are also over-represented. Finally, the under-representation at the federal and municipal levels of new immigrants, who are predominantly members of visible minorities, as well as the total absence of members of those groups in the National Assembly, raises a number of issues. Montréal is a city of paradoxes. Although it is highly diverse ethnoculturally, it also has one of the lowest rates of productivity of all large cities in Canada and North America, according to a recent OECD report (OECD 2004). Of course, I do not pretend diversity and productivity are linked. In fact, the city’s relative poverty alone does not explain the fact that the political authorities have been dragging their heels for too long in taking that diversity into account. Recognizing that they are not an end in themselves, actions designed to promote the political representation of citizens of all origins, cultural backgrounds, and skills echo the requirements of pluralism in a democratic society. The openness of the political system to all citizens, whatever their origin, flows from the principle of institutional equality. At the end of the day, achieving pluralism in Montréal makes sense for the people who live there. Montréal is a place of collective action and representation where any public action aimed at better integrating ethnocultural minorities into the political sphere could be key to its future. Notes 1 My research was based on the territory of the City of Montréal. Under Bill 170 on municipal reorganization, its borders match those of the old Montréal Urban Community. 2 An Act to reform the municipal territorial organization of the metropolitan regions of Montréal, Québec and the Outaouais, passed in December 2000. 3 Calculations were based on the total population related to each variable cited. Percentages were rounded. 4 The remaining 25 percent have gone to school but do not have a diploma. 5 In descending order, the languages are Italian, Spanish, Chinese, Arabic, Vietnamese, and Greek. 6 The responses total over 100 percent because I have counted each place of origin for those who report a multiple origin; there are significant numbers of such people in Montréal. According to Statistics Canada’s data, some groups report a multiple origin in greater numbers than others do, particularly those descended from the two founding peoples, 55 percent of whom claim a multiple origin. Only 34 percent of members of minorities do so. 7 The total population aged 15 or older is 1,491,910. 8 The French example comes to mind: through parity legislation, women have succeeded in changing the political rules. That said, parity should not be considered a panacea. Countries such as Denmark and Norway have successfully achieved some of the highest rates of female representation (Denmark, 38 percent; Norway, 36 percent) without such legislation. 9 Since many office-holders have had very varied careers, the results exceed 100 percent for each level of government.

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10 A few MNAs declined to answer this question. 11 I have counted all Canadian origins with the French origins, based on the work of Jean-Guy Prévost and Jean-Pierre Beaud (2002, 105). They write as follows: “As a result of Statistics Canada’s decision, more than 30 percent of respondents have declared themselves as being of Canadian origin, with the effect of reducing drastically, as compared with the 1991 census, the number of those declaring a French origin. Indeed, in Quebec itself, more people declared themselves as being of Canadian origin than of French origin: this apparently curious phenomenon can be largely ascribed to the fact that the words ‘Canadien’ and ‘Canadian’ have radically distinct connotations, the first traditionally referring to descendants of French immigrants as opposed to ‘les Anglais’...” 12 In the 2001 municipal election in Montréal, only 4 of the 294 candidates were of Haitian origin. 13 This explanation flows from the fact that candidates from these two communities are usually independents. They probably stand as independents because the parties are not interested in their candidature. 14 According to the material available, major differences are apparent between immigrants of European extraction and those from visible minorities. Various factors may explain these differences, such as social and economic status, the migration route followed, the length of residence, and political skills. References Black, Jerome. 2000. Minority representation in the Canadian Parliament following the 1997 election: Patterns of continuity and change. Paper presented at the Fourth National Metropolis Conference, Toronto. Black, Jerome, and Aleem Lakhani. 1997. Ethnoracial diversity in the House of Commons: An analysis of numerical representation in the 35th Parliament. Canadian Ethnic Studies 29 (1): 1-21. Boily, Robert. 1967. Les hommes politiques du Québec, 1867-1967. Revue d’histoire de l’Amérique française 21: 611-14. Bourassa, Guy. 1971. Les relations ethniques dans la vie politique montréalaise. Doc. 10 of the research studies of the Royal Commission on Bilingualism and Biculturalism. Ottawa: Information Canada. Canada. Elections Canada. 2004. Report of the chief electoral officer of Canada on the 38th general election held on June 28, 2004. Ottawa: Chief Electoral Officer of Canada. –. Statistics Canada. 2001a. 2001 federal electoral district (FED) profiles (1996 Representation Order), 2001 Census. http://www12statcan.ca/english/census01/products/standard/ fedprofile/index.cfm. –. Statistics Canada. 2001b. 2001 census core data tables. Provided through the Data Liberation Initiative. Carty, R. Kenneth, and Munroe Eagles. 2005. Politics is local: National parties and the grassroots. Don Mills, ON: Oxford University Press. Crowley, John. 2001. La désethnicisation de la représentation minoritaire au Royaume-Uni. Migrations Société 13: 131-43. Desrosiers, Richard, ed. 1972. Le personnel politique québécois. Montréal: Boréal Express. Geisser, Vincent, and Paul Oriol. 2001. Les personnes d’origine étrangère dans les assemblées publiques belges. Migrations Société 13: 41-55. Gerber, Linda M. 2006. Diversité urbaine: la composition des circonscriptions électorales et l’appui aux parties lors des élections fédérales canadiennes de 2004. Special issue, Canadian Journal of Urban Research 15: 123-38. Kymlicka, Will. 1995. Multicultural citizenship. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Magnusson, Warren, and Andrew Sancton, eds. 1983. City politics in Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Megyery, Kathy, ed. 1991. Ethno-cultural groups and visible minorities in Canadian politics: The question of access. Vol. 7 of the research studies of the Royal Commission on Electoral Reform and Party Financing. Toronto: Dundurn Press.

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Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). 2004. OECD territorial review of Montreal. OECD Policy Brief. Paris: Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development. Pelletier, Alain. 1991. Politics and ethnicity: Representation of ethnic and visible minority groups in the House of Commons. In Ethno-cultural groups and visible minorities in Canadian politics, ed. Kathy Megyery, 101-59. Vol. 7 of the research studies of the Royal Commission on Electoral Reform and Party Financing. Toronto: Dundurn Press. Pelletier, Réjean. 1999. Le personnel politique québécois: un bilan. In L’année politique au Québec, 1997-1998, ed. Robert Boily. Montréal: Presses de l’Université de Montréal. Phillips, Anne. 1995. The politics of presence. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Prévost, Jean-Guy, and Jean-Pierre Beaud. 2002. Statistical inquiry and the management of linguistic plurality in Canada, Belgium and Switzerland. Journal of Canadian Studies 36: 89-117. Putnam, Robert D. 1993. Making democracy work: Civic tradition in modern Italy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Siemiatycki, Myer, and Ian Andrew Matheson. 2005. Suburban success: Immigrant and minority electoral gains in suburban Toronto. Canadian Issues (summer): 69-72. Simard, Carolle. 1991. Visible minorities and the Canadian political system. In Ethno-cultural groups and visible minorities in Canadian politics, ed. Kathy Megyery, 161-261. Vol. 7 of the research studies of the Royal Commission on Electoral Reform and Party Financing. Toronto: Dundurn Press. –. 2001. La représentation des groupes ethniques et des minorités visibles au niveau municipal: candidats et élus. Research report, Conseil des relations interculturelles. Montréal: Immigration and Metropolis. –. 2003. Les élus issus des groupes ethniques minoritaires à Montréal: perceptions et représentations politiques: une étude exploratoire. Politique et Sociétés 22 (1): 53-78. –. 2004a. Qui nous gouverne au municipal: reproduction et renouvellement? Politique et Sociétés 23: 135-58. –. 2004b. Municipal elites in Quebec’s amalgamated cities. Our Diverse Cities 1: 187-90. http://canada.metropolis.net/publications/index_e.htm. –. 2006. The political involvement of New Canadians: An exploratory study. Electoral Insight 8 (2): 30-34. Stasiulis, Daiva, and Yasmeen Abu-Laban. 1991. The house the parties built: (Re)constructing ethnic representation in Canadian politics. In Ethno-cultural groups and visible minorities in Canadian politics, ed. Kathy Megyery, 3-99. Vol. 7 of the research studies of the Royal Commission on Electoral Reform and Party Financing. Toronto. Dundurn Press. Tremblay, Manon. 1996. Conscience de genre et représentation politique des femmes. Politique et Sociétés 29: 93-137. –, ed. 2005. Femmes et parlements: Un regard international. Montréal: Éditions du remue-ménage.

4 More than Just Cowboys with White Hats: A Demographic Profile of Edmonton and Calgary Shannon Sampert

The icon for the province of Alberta is the lone cowboy wearing a battered cowboy hat and chaps, riding his trusted horse on the prairies against the brilliant blue sky. Despite the fact that most Albertans live in urban areas, the idea of the noble rancher who owns and works his land serves as a metaphor for the industrious and entrepreneurial Alberta spirit. Every July in Calgary during Stampede and every fall in Edmonton with the Canadian Finals Rodeo, urbanites put on their designer blue jeans and pretend that they are cowboys. Of course, this image is decidedly White and masculine. The cowboy does not wear a turban. His skin is brown only because of the sun, not because of his ethnicity. Moreover, despite the introduction of the rancHER (sic), an advertising campaign featuring female ranchers used to sell Alberta beef products, the Alberta cowboy is all male. In this chapter, I argue that like the province’s icon, the demographic profile of the elected officials in Edmonton and Calgary is also overwhelmingly White and overwhelmingly male and does not truly represent the two cities’ diverse populations. This is, in part, due to the popularity of the Conservative parties, both federal and provincial, which tend to eschew multiculturalism and feminism and focus instead on the individual. Despite this, however, there are some interesting exceptions to the all- White landscape. These exceptions epitomize the true spirit of the west – politicians who are successful because of their entrepreneurial spirit and individualism and who have not relied on party intervention to win their electoral ridings. This chapter explores the demographic makeup of the two main communities in Alberta – Edmonton and Calgary – and compares it to the demographics of their elected MLAs, MPs, and city councillors or aldermen. I begin by examining the immigration and settlement patterns in Alberta and more specifically in Edmonton and Calgary. Then I look at the demographic characteristics of the citizens of the two cities, relying on the census data provided by Statistics Canada, and I explore the differences in the demographic makeup between these two major urban centres. Finally, I

Demographic Profile of Edmonton and Calgary 93

compare those characteristics to the demographic profiles of elected officials at the federal, provincial, and municipal levels to see whether they match the populations they represent. Calgary’s and Edmonton’s Immigration Patterns At the outset, it is important to note that Edmonton and Calgary are two very different cities. Indeed, there is a great deal of competition between these two main centres and there are clear differences socially, economically, politically, and culturally. Despite the fact that Calgary was Alberta’s first incorporated town in 1884 (McAllister 2004, 85), it was Edmonton that was chosen as the provincial capital in 1906 (Palmer 1990, 139). The decision to make Edmonton the capital reflected the partisan differences that continue to mark relations between the two communities. As early as the first part of the twentieth century, Edmonton was considered a Liberal city while Calgary was seen as more Conservative (Palmer 1990, 138-39). More than one hundred years later, Edmontonians voted in Alberta’s two lone federal Liberal MPs in 2004, has repeatedly seen NDP and Liberal MLAs sit as the voice of opposition, and has been the home of the last four provincial Liberal leaders. On the other hand, Calgary is where the Reform party, the Canadian Alliance, and its most recent incarnation, the Canadian Conservative Party, have received their strongest support. Provincially, the Conservative Party, including members such as Alberta’s extremely popular former premier Ralph Klein, calls Calgary home. Calgary is seen as “private sector oriented, white collar, entrepreneurial, and politically conservative, Edmonton is described as public sector oriented, blue collar, and liberal” (Graham and Phillips 1998, 111). Despite Edmonton’s status as the capital, Calgary has long outstripped Edmonton in terms of economic performance. While Calgary’s downtown is dotted with corporate logos from American oil and gas companies, Edmonton’s downtown struggles with boarded-up windows, cheque cashing operations, and urban blight. Calgary has outgrown Edmonton in population as well. According to Statistics Canada, the total population for the census metropolitan area (CMA) of Edmonton in 2001 was 927,020 people while Calgary’s CMA population was 943,310.1 As is the case in most populations, there are slightly more women than men living in both urban areas.2 Since the purpose of this chapter is to compare elected officials’ demographics to the populations they represent, it is important to understand the immigration patterns of the two cities under study. Immigration patterns for the two cities differ slightly due to the nature of their industrial base and the federal government’s immigration program, and this has had an impact on both cities’ cultures and economies. In the early 1900s, distinct ethnic groups immigrated to specific rural regions within the province. Thus, southern Alberta, including Calgary, saw the settlement of American Mormons and Germans while central Alberta, including Edmonton, saw the influx of

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Scandinavians, and Central and Eastern Europeans (Palmer and Palmer 1985, x). After the Second World War, Alberta became home to Britons, Northern Europeans, and Americans, who were seen as the most “culturally similar and readily assimilable” immigrants by the Canadian government (Palmer and Palmer 1985, 39). American immigrants had an important impact on the culture of Calgary and played a key role in the development of the oil and gas industry. When American oil companies located in Calgary decided to “Canadianize their personnel at the senior levels of management” in the 1960s (Palmer and Palmer 1985, 41), some Americans decided to stay in Canada and take out Canadian citizenship. These managers brought their talent for involvement in volunteer organizations and helped give Calgary its dynamic “let’s go do it” social attitude, which characterized postwar life in that city. Given the large amounts of money in the oil industry and the Americans’ spending habits, they undoubtedly contributed to Calgary’s image as a materialistic city (Palmer and Palmer 1985, 41). This American influence in Calgary remains today. Calgary is flashier, more moneyed, and has a faster pace than Edmonton to its north. Revisions to federal immigration laws in the 1960s resulted in changes in the immigration patterns, and Calgary and Edmonton were often the sites for the relocation of new settlers. The new immigration Act resulted in a diversification of the countries of origin of immigrants to Alberta. While Britain and the United States remained the top two source countries, increasing numbers of immigrants from China, the Philippines, India, Pakistan, and many Latin American countries began to arrive in Calgary and Edmonton (Palmer and Palmer 1985, 42). For example, in 1980, the Canadian government implemented a special program for Southeast Asian refugees, and, because of this, one of the top three source countries for immigrants to Canada in that year was Vietnam. Later, in 1990, the uncertain conditions in the Middle East and Central America meant an increase in the number of immigrants from countries like Lebanon and El Salvador, and many of these immigrants settled in Calgary and Edmonton (Alberta Career Development and Employment, Immigration and Settlement 1992, 17-180). As Palmer and Palmer outlined, there are differences in the settlement patterns between the two cities, but immigration settlement differs in terms of numbers as well. In 1990, the percentage of immigrants to Alberta that settled in Edmonton and Calgary was relatively even, at just over 43 percent of the total immigrants (Alberta Career Development and Employment, Immigration and Settlement 1992, 11).3 That shifted significantly by 1999, with Calgary attracting 56 percent of Alberta’s total immigrants and Edmonton receiving only 31 percent of immigrants to Alberta (Alberta Learning 2002, 5). The differences between the two cities increased even more by 2003, with most newcomers to Alberta settling in Calgary (58 percent, while only 29 percent went to Edmonton) (Alberta Learning 2004, 1). One reason

Demographic Profile of Edmonton and Calgary 95

for this may be that Calgary has a much more robust economy, which would suit the majority of immigrants who came to Alberta as independent – or economic – immigrants. These immigrants are selected for their potential to contribute economically to Canada and include skilled workers, business immigrants, provincial nominees, and live-in caregivers (Canada, Citizenship and Immigration Canada). In order to compare the demographic profiles of the communities of Calgary and Edmonton to those of their elected officials, I relied on Canada’s 2001 census and used the census metropolitan area (CMA) of each. Although

Map 4.1 Federal electoral map of Edmonton, 2001 Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001a).

96 Shannon Sampert

Map 4.2 Federal electoral map of Calgary, 2001 Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001a).

the CMA does not align perfectly with the municipal boundaries of either city, the areas included within the CMA that are outside of the municipal boundaries are not large or densely populated, and the mismatch is not significant enough to affect the analysis. The demographic profile of the 2001 census was then compared to the profile of the elected officials in Calgary and Edmonton following the civic, provincial, and federal elections all held in 2004.

Demographic Profile of Edmonton and Calgary 97

Calgary and Edmonton Immigration Settlement in 2001 Today, there are significant similarities – as well as important differences – in the demographic compositions of Calgary and Edmonton. According to the 2001 Canada Census, in Edmonton, almost 18 percent of the total population (165,235 people) identified themselves as immigrants, compared to close to 21 percent in Calgary (197, 410). The majority of the immigrant population in both cities arrived prior to 1986. In Edmonton, 61 percent of the immigrant population arrived prior to 1986 (Canada, Statistics Canada 2005b, 2), while in Calgary that number is slightly lower at 53 percent (Canada, Statistics Canada 2005a, 2). More than 25 percent of the Edmontonians surveyed (237,735 people) and slightly more than 27 percent of the Calgarians surveyed (257,010) identified themselves as Canadian in the 2001 census.4 Slightly more than 23 percent of those living in Edmonton identified themselves as English (214,505) compared to more than 26 percent in Calgary (252,635). Scottish, German, and Irish rounded out the top-five ethnic identities in both cities. Calgary still has a slightly higher percentage of people who identified their ethnic background as American – just less than 2 percent (16,000) as compared to just over 1 percent in Edmonton (13,405). Visible minorities make up 15 percent of Edmonton’s overall population (135,775) and 18 percent of Calgary’s (164,900). In keeping with the national demographics, Chinese people made up the largest percentage of those who identified themselves as visible minorities in both cities. There were 41,290 people in the city of Edmonton (5 percent of the total population and 30 percent of the visible minority population) who identified themselves as Chinese in the 2001 census. In Calgary, 51,850 people (6 percent of the total population, and 31 percent of the visible minority population) identified themselves as Chinese. South Asians made up 3 percent of the total population (29,060) and 21 percent of the visible minority population in Edmonton, while in Calgary, they comprised 4 percent of the total population and were 22 percent of the visible minority population. Blacks (14,095) and Filipinos (14,165) each made up 2 percent of the total population in Edmonton in 2001 and each constitutes about 10 percent of the visible minority population in the capital city. In Calgary, the Filipino and Black populations are about the same, at 2 percent of the total population (16,380 and 13,665 respectively), and made up close to 10 percent of the overall population in Calgary. Edmonton had almost twice the number of Aboriginal people as Calgary. According to the 2001 census, 4 percent of Edmonton’s population (40,930) is Aboriginal, including North American Indian, Métis, and Inuit. In Calgary, 2 percent identified as Aboriginal (21,915). There has not been a great deal of work done to examine the factors affecting migration of Aboriginal people (Norris and Clatworthy 2003, 66), but there are three potential explanations affecting the differences between the populations in Edmonton and Calgary.

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First, Edmonton has built its reputation as the “Gateway to the North,” with travellers from northern communities in the Northwest Territories, the Yukon, and Northern Alberta having to travel through Edmonton on their way south. Edmonton, therefore, is a somewhat familiar place for Aboriginals from northern reserves. Second, Edmonton offers more affordable housing than does Calgary. According to Norris and Clatworthy, affordable housing is an issue for urban Aboriginals (2003, 70). Finally, Edmonton is viewed as a blue-collar town, offering better opportunities for those who are not university educated. The low educational attainment of Aboriginal peoples is a growing concern, particularly as it is seen to relate to high poverty rates (Norris and Clatworthy 2003, 71). While Edmonton’s urban Aboriginal community is growing and is younger than the non-Aboriginal population in the capital city, it is still not as large as the Aboriginal communities in Saskatoon and Regina (which stand at 15 percent – discussed in Chapter 7 of this volume) or in Winnipeg (which stands at 10 percent – discussed in Chapter 9 of this volume), and as such may not be viewed as significant enough to focus upon as an electoral project. It is interesting that in Edmonton, an inner-city provincial riding elected an Aboriginal representative in 1997 and again in 2000; however, when the provincial government redrew the electoral boundary lines, this riding was dismantled and the constituents were subsumed by neighbouring ridings. Overall, it would appear that in 2001, Calgary had a slightly higher educational attainment level than Edmonton. Only 22 percent of Edmonton adults (203,770) have some university education; in Calgary, 28 percent do (261,185). Almost 3 percent of Edmontonians have a trade certificate or diploma (22,650) compared to 2 percent in Calgary (18,665). The average income for men in Edmonton in 2001 was $38,782 and for women it was $22,404. In Calgary, men earned more on average, with an annual income of $45,808, while the average for women was $25,669. Again, this is not surprising given that Edmonton is considered to be a blue-collar city with a skilled-trade labour force to service Alberta’s oil and gas operations, while Calgary’s downtown is home to several international oil and gas companies’ Canadian offices that require skilled managerial labour. Slightly less than 33 percent of Edmonton’s population in 2001 (308,900) identified with a form of Protestant Christianity. This included members of the United Church, Lutherans, Anglicans, and Baptists. Another 28 percent stated that they were Roman Catholic (258,515), while 23 percent stated that they had no religion at all (213,350). In Calgary, 34 percent were Protestant (323,350), 26 percent were Roman Catholic (243,165), and another 25 percent said they had no religion at all (231,780). Calgary had almost double the Jewish population of Edmonton in 2001, with 6,530 Jews (0.69 percent of the total population) compared to only 3,980 in Edmonton (0.42

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Table 4.1 Key demographic characteristics, Edmonton and Calgary, 2001 Edmonton Total population (CMA)

927,020

Immigrant population Immigrated prior to 1986 Reported Canadian origins Visible minority Aboriginal University education

165,235 100,060 237,735 135,775 40,930 203,770

Average income, males Average income, females

$38,782 $22,404

Calgary 943,310

(18%) (61%) (25%) (15%) (4%) (22%)

197,410 105,500 257,010 164,900 21,915 261,185

(21%) (53%) (27%) (17%) (2%) (28%)

$45,808 $25,669

Note: Numbers have been rounded up. Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

percent of the total population). Calgary also had a slightly higher number of Muslims, at 3 percent of its total population (25,920), while Edmonton had only 2 percent (19,580). Overall, then, there are some differences in the key demographic characteristics in Edmonton and Calgary. Calgary has a higher percentage of immigrants and a higher percentage of newer immigrants compared to Edmonton. Calgary also has a higher percentage of individuals who report Canadian origins. Edmonton’s Aboriginal population is almost twice that of Calgary’s, while Calgary has a higher percentage of university-educated persons and a higher average income for both men and women as compared to Edmonton. Demographics of Calgary’s and Edmonton’s Elected Representatives Surveys were used to determine the demographics of Calgary’s and Edmonton’s elected representatives in 2004.5 In 2003, surveys of MPs, MLAs, city councillors, city aldermen, and school board trustees were conducted, and some of the results of that survey were used in this study. Additionally, Calgary and Edmonton MPs, MLAs, and city representatives elected or re-elected in the municipal, provincial, and federal elections held in the fall of 2004 were surveyed. Surveys were sent out by email to the politicians’ offices, and in the case of provincial and federal representatives, to both constituency and legislative offices. Initially, there was a particularly poor response rate; however, a research assistant active in the federal Conservative Party followed up with phone calls to those who had not responded, and this boosted the response rate considerably. Overall, the response rate was 55 percent, with 47 of the 64 elected officials in office in 2004 responding. It is important to note that three individuals responded but refused to participate.

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For those who did not reply to the survey, additional research was conducted involving the use of newspaper clippings and biographies available online through the Legislative Assembly Office in Alberta, the House of Commons’ website, and the websites for both Edmonton and Calgary City Councils. Gender was obviously easy to determine; however, race was slightly more difficult. In the end, I inspected the photographs available for all the elected officials, and that, combined with what has been written both about and by the individuals, allowed for a determination. Ethnicity and religion were significantly more difficult to determine unless the officials self-disclosed. Not surprisingly, there are more men than women at all levels of government in both cities. As has been pointed out by Trimble and Arscott, the number of women elected to positions of power at all levels of government has always been lower than the number of men, and there is growing evidence that women are losing ground in electoral positions across the country (see Trimble and Arscott 2003). Edmonton has a slightly higher percentage of female politicians than Calgary. In both Edmonton and Calgary, male elected representatives outnumber female representatives. In Edmonton, 77 percent of the elected representatives are male (30 people), while 23 percent are female (9), and in Calgary, 78 percent are male (36) and 22 percent are female (10). On Edmonton and Calgary City Councils, there are higher percentages of women representatives than those elected federally or provincially. Edmonton is divided up into six wards with two councillors representing each ward. In Calgary, the system is slightly different, with the city divided into fourteen wards with one city alderman responsible for each ward. The two councillors per ward system in Edmonton may be the reason that women hold a slightly higher percentage of seats on city council in Edmonton compared to Calgary. Edmonton City Council is made up of 38 percent (5) women and 62 percent (8) men, including the mayor. Three of the Edmonton wards have a male and a female city councillor; in two wards, the city councillors are both men, and in one of the wards, the city councillors are both women. By comparison, Calgary has 5 female city aldermen (33 percent), while there are 9 male city aldermen and a male mayor (67 percent). The overall higher number of women elected municipally is perhaps not surprising. Women are thought to be more likely than men to run for office municipally for a number of reasons. First, municipal politics typically do not involve a party system, and thus women candidates do not face the additional hurdle of having to win a party nomination before running for city council. Second, women are seen as more likely to run in the cities they represent because their domestic workload precludes their running for positions that would take them away from their homes (Maillé 1997, 109). Third, the financial resources required to run for municipal office are lower than for federal or provincial positions (Maillé 1997, 109). Finally, according

Demographic Profile of Edmonton and Calgary 101

to Trimble, women run in municipal elections because it is “politics where we live” (1995, 93). City councils “plan transportation routes, set bus rates, provide lighting on city streets, and write the zoning laws which regulate the type of housing that is built in a given area. Along with community groups, city councils also decide whether or not to support low-income housing projects, food banks, after-school programs, shelters for the homeless and for battered women and children and rape-crisis centres. The manner in which these various issues are handled helps to determine how, and often where, we live” (1995, 93). Thus, municipal governments provide services that are more in tune with women’s concerns and issues. However, more recently, researchers have determined that the role of the political party in actively recruiting women to run for political office may translate to higher participation for women at federal and provincial levels. This does not seem to be the case in Alberta, however. As Trimble and Arscott (2003) and Black (2003) detail, the NDP and, to a lesser degree, the Liberals have been aggressive in recruiting women to run for politics at the national and provincial levels. In Alberta, one could argue that the failure of those parties to regularly elect members at the federal and provincial levels has had an impact on the number of women elected at these levels. The outcome could be that politically active women instead have opted to run for office at the municipal level. Certainly, in Edmonton and Calgary, the percentage of women who hold a seat at city council is higher than in other cities discussed in this volume (in Edmonton, 38 percent of city council members are women, while in Calgary, 33 percent are). See, for example, Chapters 3, 5, and 9 in this volume for discussions of Montréal with 30 percent of city council composed of women, Ottawa with 27 percent, and Winnipeg with 13 percent). Indeed, on Edmonton’s city council in 2004, there were 3 city councillors who used to be Liberal MLAs and who ran in the municipal election following their defeat in the provincial election in 2001. Two of those are women. In 2004, Edmonton returned to its pattern of electing opposition members to the Alberta legislature, while Calgary remained strongly Conservative. Because Edmonton is a capital city, Edmonton women would not be deterred from running for provincial politics by the prospect of long-term absences from home; thus, it would make sense that there would be more female representatives at the provincial level from Edmonton. However, the number of female MLAs representing Edmonton ridings is still dishearteningly low at only 11 percent (2 women). Calgary had a slightly higher percentage of women MLAs at 17 percent (4 women). All of the 4 female Calgary MLAs are members of the Progressive Conservative Party, which has been in power in Alberta since 1971. The 2 female Edmonton MLAs are members of the Liberal party, Alberta’s official opposition. The NDP, which traditionally has worked on gender equality in political representation, has not been particularly

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successful in Alberta. The 2 lone New Democrats in Alberta represent Edmonton ridings, and both are men. The higher percentage of women elected in Calgary under the Tory banner seems almost counterintuitive, given the Klein Conservatives’ neo-liberal agenda. There was some evidence, particularly in the mid-1990s during the government’s cutbacks and layoffs, that the Conservatives’ policies were viewed as being particularly deleterious for women (see Dacks, Green, and Trimble in Laxer and Harrison 1995). This hurt then-premier Klein in the polls, which indicated that he was not as popular with women voters as he was with men (Canadian Press, 18 November 1996, N4). Moreover, the Alberta Conservatives have made it clear that they do not see the sex of the politician as important. Klein, himself, has typified politics as a “young man’s game” (Cryderman, 15 April 2006, A2). Despite this, there are 4 women who represented Calgary in the provincial cabinet in 2004. Two of these MLAs have been particularly strong in representing women’s issues. Yvonne Fritz, the MLA for Calgary-Cross, has been a strong advocate for women’s health initiatives and introduced the Alberta Council on Women’s Health Act in 1999 to ensure that women are given up-to-date and accessible information on health issues. As Minister of Children’s Services, Heather Forsyth, MLA for Calgary Fish Creek, introduced the Protection of Children Involved in Prostitution Act, which recognizes that children engaged in prostitution are victims of sexual violence. At the same time, Forsyth was one of several Conservative MLAs who questioned the administrative costs for the Alberta Advisory Council on Women’s Issues and the Women’s Secretariat, and both were eventually dismantled under Klein (Dacks et al. 1995, 291). Thus, Fritz and Forsyth serve as examples of the contradictory nature of the Alberta Conservatives on women’s issues. At the federal level, researchers have suggested that women are less likely to run federally because of the onerous commuting requirements (Maillé 1997, 109). Again, the federal NDP and the Liberal Party, to a lesser degree, have been aggressive in attempting to recruit more female politicians to run under their banners. However, as stated earlier, those two political parties have not been particularly successful in winning seats in Alberta. Instead, it is the Conservative Party that has consistently had the most support, and as Trimble and Arscott detail, this is a party that has historically rejected “the notion of encouraging women candidates through formal or informal means” (2003, 62). Indeed, in the 2004 federal election, only 12 percent of the Conservative candidates were women, compared to 24 percent for the Liberals and 31 percent for the NDP (Heard, n.d.). Thus, it is not surprising that only 1 of the 8 MPs elected in Calgary as Conservatives is female (12.5 percent), while in Edmonton, of the 8 federal MPs, 2 (25 percent) are women – Liberal Anne McLellan and Conservative Rona Ambrose.

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Table 4.2 Sex by city and position, Edmonton and Calgary Position Edmonton City council Provincial MLA Federal MP Total Calgary City council Provincial MLA Federal MP Total

Male 8 16 6

(62%) (89%) (75%)

Female (38%) (11%) (25%)

13 (100%) 18 (100%) 8 (100%)

30 (76.9%)

9 (23.1%)

39 (100%)

10 19 7

5 4 1

(33%) (17%) (12%)

15 (100%) 23 (100%) 8 (100%)

10 (21.7%)

46 (100%)

(67%) (83%) (88%)

36 (78.2%)

5 2 2

Total

Note: Numbers have been rounded up. Source: Based on author’s survey (2003 and 2004).

Of the elected officials in Edmonton and Calgary whose birthplace is known, the majority were born in Canada. Eighty percent (56 out of 70) responded that their place of birth was Canada, while 20 percent (14) said they were born outside of the country. It is interesting to note, however, that there were more Canadian-born political representatives in Calgary than in Edmonton, despite Calgary’s higher numbers of immigrants. In Calgary, 82 percent of its representatives whose birthplace is known were Canadian-born, while 78 percent in Edmonton were Canadian-born. Overall, these numbers are close to representing the populations the elected officials represent, with 79 percent of Calgary’s population and 83 percent of Edmonton’s stating that they were born in Canada. Four Edmonton MLAs, 2 Edmonton MPs, and 2 Edmonton city councillors were born outside of Canada. By comparison, 2 Calgary MPs, 3 Calgary MLAs, and 1 alderman were born outside of Canada. Overall, 4 respondents out of 70 were born in the United States. Two of the American-born representatives live in Edmonton, while 2 live in Calgary. Three of the officials were born in Europe or the United Kingdom, with 1 from Scotland, another from Britain, and a third from Poland. Two other officials were born on the Indian subcontinent. Three elected officials were born in Africa: 1 was born in Uganda and 2 were born in Tanzania. Finally, 2 elected representatives were born in the Middle East – 1 in Lebanon and 1 in Egypt. Of those whose ethnicity is known (44 respondents), most consider their ethnic background to be English, Scottish, or Canadian.6 Fifteen respondents (34 percent of those who responded) stated their ethnic background was

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Table 4.3 Position by immigrant status, Edmonton and Calgary Position Edmonton City Council Provincial MLA Federal MP Total Calgary City council Provincial MLA Federal MP Total

Born in Canada 11 11 6

(85%) (73 %) (75%)

Immigrated (15%) (27%) (25%)

13 (100%) 15 (100%) 8 (100%)

28 (77.8%)

8 (22.2%)

36 (100%)

8 14 6

1 3 2

(11%) (18%) (25%)

9 (100%) 17 (100%) 8 (100%)

6 (17.6%)

34 (100%)

(89%) (82%) (75%)

28 (82.4%)

2 4 2

Total

Source: Based on author’s survey (2003 and 2004).

English. Nine respondents stated they were Scottish (20 percent of those who responded), and 8 stated their ethnic background was Canadian (18 percent of those who responded). Six respondents described their ethnicity as German or Irish (14 percent of the respondents). This reflects quite closely the population that the politicians represent. In the 2001 census, the top five ethnic categories Edmontonians or Calgarians reported were Canadian, English, Scottish, German, and Irish. Thus, the ethnic backgrounds of the elected officials in both Edmonton and Calgary reflect the pattern of Canada’s first wave of immigration, which saw immigrants from Western Europe and the United Kingdom settling on the Prairie homesteads. However, the second wave of immigrants from Asia, Africa, Eastern Europe, and Central and Latin American countries are not represented in any great numbers by their elected officials, except those who are ethnically South Asian. Six representatives considered their ethnicity to be South Asian (7 percent). Not surprisingly, most of the individuals elected in Calgary and Edmonton are White. Slightly more than 89 percent of the elected officials are White (75 people), with Edmonton holding a slightly higher percentage than Calgary at 90 percent. Of those who responded, 6 were South Asian (7 percent), 2 were West Asian (2 percent), and 1 was Chinese (1 percent). These percentages do not reflect the demographics of the population the elected officials represent. In Edmonton, visible minorities make up 15 percent of the population, while 17 percent of Calgary’s population identify themselves as visible minorities. Perhaps more importantly, almost 5 percent of Calgary’s population is Chinese, and slightly more than 4 percent is South Asian. In Edmonton, those numbers are slightly lower, with 4 percent being Chinese and 3 percent South Asian. The number of South Asian or Chinese elected

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representatives does not reflect the two major visible minority groups in either city. Racist or negative attitudes toward those perceived to be different may be one reason for the lower numbers of visible minorities holding elected office (Azmier 2005, 7). Indeed, visible minority candidates in Edmonton’s 2004 civic election acknowledged that there is a “lack of colour on council ... But they’re reluctant to play the race card for votes” (Mah 2004, B4). One city council candidate from Hong Kong “tried not to make an issue of her race,” but because she created campaign posters in both Chinese and Vietnamese, she was labelled as “an ethnic candidate” (Mah 2004, B4). A Lebanese Canadian who ran for Edmonton City Council in 1995 said that people “would not vote for him because his skin colour was too dark” (Mah 2004, B4). Another reason for the poor showing may be the fact that there is no residential concentration along specific racial lines in either city. That is not to say that there are not pockets of communities within each city that seem to attract racial and ethnic minorities, particularly recent immigrants to Canada. However, while there may be a Chinatown in both cities, the visible minority population is still quite spread out through all parts of the cities, making it difficult to create a critical mass of minority support for one racial or ethnic group in a specific area. These pockets of communities in both cities do, however, elect provincial representatives that are ethnic or racial minorities. For instance, in Calgary’s multicultural northeast neighbourhoods, Vietnamese-born Hung Pham was elected to represent Calgary Montrose, and Shiraz Shariff, who was born in Tanzania, was elected in the riding of Calgary McCall. In Edmonton, the multicultural ridings of Edmonton Ellerslie and Edmonton Castle Downs are represented, respectively, by Bharat Agnihotri who is South Asian and Thomas Lukaszuk who was born in Poland. Another difficulty may be the popularity of the federal Conservatives. As Jerome Black indicates in Chapter 10 of this volume, the Liberals and the NDP altered their nomination rules to facilitate greater participation by under-represented groups, including visible minorities. Black suggests that in their bid to “unite the right,” the new Conservatives may have found that recruiting minorities could spell greater electoral success. However, the party is already successful in Alberta. Indeed, following the 2004 federal election, there were only two Alberta seats, both in Edmonton, that were held by Liberal MPs. The rest were held by Conservatives. Thus, the status quo, with incumbents that are predominantly White and male at the federal level, is allowed to continue. Again, however, there are interesting exceptions to that rule. Deepak Obhrai represents Calgary East and was born in Tanzania, while Rahim Jaffer represents Edmonton Strathcona and was born in Uganda. Both men are South Asian and both men have been working within the various iterations

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of the Conservative party since 1997. In 1997, Jeffrey Simpson suggested that Jaffer and Obhrai, along with Inky Mark, the Dauphin MP, and Gurmant Grewal, an MP from Surrey Centre, signalled that “the Liberals’ dominance among at least some visible-minority communities” was “being contested by Reform” (Simpson 1997, A20). Despite the fact that Edmonton has a much higher percentage of urban Aboriginals than Calgary, neither community has an Aboriginal representative elected. As stated earlier, Aboriginals do not make up a substantive percentage of the population, and socio-economic conditions may have an additional impact. Urban Aboriginals have lower educational attainment and, as a result, reduced employment opportunities than their non-Aboriginal counterparts. In Calgary, the Aboriginal unemployment rate in 1996 was 14 percent compared to 6 percent for non-Aboriginal populations. In Edmonton, it was 22 percent compared to 8 percent for non-Aboriginals (Hanselmann 2001, 6). Since politics can be an expensive game, low incomes among urban Aboriginals may be another factor affecting their opportunities to run for public office (Hanselmann 2001, 6). Finally, urban Aboriginals are strongly over-represented among homeless populations and are over-represented in the criminal justice system (Hanselmann 2001, 7). The majority of the individuals who responded with information about their religion (38 respondents) were Protestant (12 respondents, or 32 percent). There were 9 Catholics (24 percent) and 6 who responded that they do not practise a religion (16 percent). There were 2 Jews (5 percent), 2 Muslims (5 percent), and 3 Hindus (8 percent). Four individuals stated that they were Christians, but did not specify their denomination (11 percent). Again, the percentage of individuals who responded that their denomination is either Protestant or Catholic closely reflects the population that is represented. However, it is interesting that there is a slightly higher percentage of Jews, Muslims, and Hindus among the elected officials as compared to the general populations in Calgary and Edmonton. Compared to the population that they represent, elected officials in both cities are relatively well educated. Seventeen have PhDs (20 percent of the elected representatives), 6 hold law degrees (7 percent of those elected), while 15 hold a master’s degree (20 percent of those elected), and 18 have a bachelor’s degree (25 percent). In total, 66 percent of the elected officials have at least one university degree, compared to 22 percent of Edmonton adults and 28 percent of Calgary adults. Only 8 respondents (9 percent of the elected officials) said that they had only a high school education. The demographic profiles of Vancouver and Winnipeg demonstrate a similar trend in higher education (see Chapters 2 and 9 in this volume), with half of Vancouver’s elected representatives and 40 percent of Winnipeg’s holding graduate degrees. It could be argued, then, that higher educational attainment is one

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characteristic that may improve a candidate’s chance of being elected. They may have the social contacts or life skills necessary to be successful politically. As well, higher educational attainment may mean a career in which an individual has more control over his or her time. Of those whose career prior to election was known, 19 were entrepreneurs (23 percent), while 16 (19 percent) were in management. Seven (8 percent) were lawyers prior to becoming elected. These three occupations do allow individuals a great deal of freedom to pursue other interests. Another characteristic that may affect an individual’s likelihood of being elected is age. Of the respondents whose age is known, the average age is 51 years old and the range is from 34 to 78 years of age. Surprisingly, female politicians were slightly younger on average than male politicians, with an average age of 49 years and a range from 35 to 60. Male politicians on average were 52 years of age, but the range was from 34 to 78 years, which drove the male average age upwards. Some studies have indicated that female politicians generally are older than their male counterparts because they often wait for their children to grow before they take on political responsibilities (Crossley 1997, 298), but this does not appear to be the case in Alberta. Indeed, there were 2 female politicians under the age of 40 and 3 female politicians between the ages of 40 and 50. Overall, the MPs tended to be younger than the rest of the representatives, with 4 MPs under the age of 40. Conclusion If you have lived in Edmonton or Calgary, you will be acutely aware of the rivalry between the two cities, with either side quick to point out what makes their city different and better than the other. Indeed, there are subtle differences between the two cities that make each unique. Compared to Edmonton, Calgary tends to have more immigrants who settled in Canada after 1986, and it has a larger percentage of visible minorities. Calgary also has higher educational attainment and a higher average income than Edmonton. Despite these differences, the political representatives of Alberta are similar in appearance to the province’s icon – the lone cowboy with a white Stetson, riding the range. The face of the elected representative in both cities is dominantly the face of a White man. Alberta politicians represent the old immigration settlement patterns, with most of the elected officials disclosing a background ethnicity (apart from being Canadian) of English or Scottish, representing the wave of immigrants from the United Kingdom that arrived prior to the 1970s. Not surprisingly, most are Protestant or Roman Catholic. From a human capital perspective, the representatives tend to be older, are more settled into the community, and have higher educational attainment than the population they represent. As the proportionality indices in Table

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Table 4.4 Proportionality indices, Edmonton and Calgary

Edmonton Gender

Male Female Visible minority Immigrant/foreign-born

Calgary Gender

Male Female Visible minority Immigrant/foreign-born

% of elected officials

% of population

Proportionality index

76.9 23.1 10.0 22.2

49.5 50.5 15.0 18.0

1.55 0.45 0.66 1.23

78.2 21.7 11.0 17.6

49.9 50.1 17.0 21.0

1.57 0.43 0.64 0.83

Source: Based on author’s survey (2003 and 2004) and Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

4.4 show, among elected officials in both Calgary and Edmonton, women and visible minorities are under-represented, while immigrants are underrepresented in Calgary but over-represented in Edmonton, despite Calgary having a higher proportion of foreign-born residents than Edmonton. Perhaps what is most fascinating about the demographic analysis of Edmonton and Calgary’s elected officials is that there are clearly individuals who have been elected in spite of their party’s stance on feminist or multicultural recruitment strategies. Provincial Tories like Alana DeLong and Hung Pham and federal Conservatives like Rahim Jaffer and Deepak Obhrai stand out because their success was won without overt involvement by their parties in the nomination process. These are the true pioneers of the West in many ways – individuals who have fought against the hegemonic cultural and gendered barriers to win a place at the political table without assistance from, and perhaps in spite of, their party. They may not be true cowboys with white Stetsons, but they have indelibly become part of the persona of the West’s individualism. Acknowledgments As always, I am indebted to the assistance provided to me by Linda Trimble and Byron Sheldrick – for their insight and good humour while acting as my “second set of eyes.” Thanks as well to the editors of this volume for their assistance in working out the bugs in the earlier iterations. Finally, thanks to Renza Nauta, my research assistant, and Anjana Prihar, who graciously saved her survey results. Any errors or omissions are the responsibility of the author. Notes 1 All statistics cited were obtained from Statistics Canada census information unless noted otherwise.

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2 The CMA census information is used for the cities because the CMA boundaries more closely match the federal electoral boundaries in both cities. 3 Numbers have been rounded up. 4 These numbers denote total responses that identified ethnicity. Some individuals identified themselves as having multiple ethnic identities. 5 Many thanks to Anjana Prihar for sharing her Calgary data with me. Also, Renze Nauta provided me with invaluable assistance in administering and following up on the survey requests. 6 Again, some respondents identified more than one ethnic category in their responses. References Alberta Career Development and Employment, Immigration and Settlement. 1992. Immigrating to Alberta: A decade in review. Edmonton: Alberta Career Development and Employment, Immigration and Settlement. Alberta Learning. 2002. Immigrating to Alberta: Decade in review 1990-1999. Edmonton: Alberta Learning (May). –. 2004. Integrating skilled immigrants in the Alberta economy. Edmonton: Alberta Learning. Azmier, Jason J. 2005. Improving immigration: A policy approach for Western Canada. Calgary: Canada West Foundation (March). Black, Jerome. 2003. Differences that matter: Minority women MPs, 1993-2000. In Women and electoral politics in Canada, ed. Manon Tremblay and Linda Trimble, 59-74. Don Mills: Oxford University Press. Canada. Citizenship and Immigration Canada. Skilled workers and professionals. http:// www.cic.gc.ca/english/immigrate/skilled/index.asp (accessed 26 March 2008). –. Statistics Canada. 2001a. 2001 federal electoral district (FED) profiles (1996 Representation Order), 2001 census. http://www12statcan.ca/english/census01/products/standard/ fedprofile/index.cfm. –. Statistics Canada. 2001b. 2001 census core data tables. Provided through the Data Liberation Initiative. –. Statistics Canada. 2005a. Recent immigrants in metropolitan areas: Calgary. Ottawa: Statistics Canada (April). –. Statistics Canada. 2005b. Recent immigrants in metropolitan areas: Edmonton. Ottawa: Statistics Canada (April). Canadian Press. 1998. Alberta battle of the sexes looms. Globe and Mail, 18 November, N4. Crossley, John. 1997. Picture this: Women politicians hold key posts in Prince Edward Island. In In the presence of women: Representation in Canadian governments, ed. Jane Arscott and Linda Trimble, 278-307. Toronto: Harcourt Brace. Cryderman, Kelly. 2006. Contest to replace Klein needs a woman’s touch. Edmonton Journal. 15 April, A2. Dacks, Gurston, Joyce Green, and Linda Trimble. 1995. Road kill: Women in Alberta’s drive toward deficit elimination. In The Trojan horse: Alberta and the future of Canada, ed. Gordon Laxer and Trevor Harrison, 269-85. Montreal: Black Rose Books. Graham, Katherine A., and Susan D. Phillips. 1998. Citizen engagement: Lessons in participation from local government. Toronto: IPAC. Hanselmann, Calvin. 2001. Urban Aboriginal people in Western Canada: Realities and policies. Calgary: Canada West Foundation (September). Heard, Andrew. n.d. Women and elections. http://www.sfu.ca/~aheard/elections/women. html (accessed 2 July 2006). Mah, Bill. 2004. City council is not as diverse as the community it represents: While 15 percent of Edmontonians are visible minorities and half are women, most councillors are White men. Edmonton Journal, 24 September. Maillé, Chantal. 1997. Challenges to representation: Theory and the women’s movement in Quebec. In In the presence of women: Representation in Canadian governments, ed. Jane Arscott and Linda Trimble, 47-63. Toronto: Harcourt Brace. McAllister, Mary Louise. 2004. Governing ourselves? The politics of Canadian communities. Vancouver: UBC Press.

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Norris, Mary Jane, and Stewart Clatworthy. 2003. Aboriginal mobility and migration within urban Canada. In Not strangers in these parts: Urban aboriginal peoples, ed. David Newhouse and Evelyn Peters, 51-78. Ottawa: Policy Research Initiative. Palmer, Howard. 1990. Alberta: A new history. Edmonton: Hurtig Publishers. Palmer, Howard, and Tamara Palmer. 1985. Peoples of Alberta: Portraits of cultural diversity. Saskatoon: Western Producer Prairie Books. Simpson, Jeffrey. 1997. Reform’s visible-minority members support its line on equality. Globe and Mail, 2 October. Trimble, Linda. 1995. Politics where we live: Women and cities. In Canadian metropolitics: Governing our cities, ed. Jim Lightbody, 92-114. Toronto: Copp Clark. Trimble, Linda, and Jane Arscott. 2003. Still counting: Women in politics across Canada. Peterborough: Broadview Press.

5 Our Unrepresentative but Somewhat Successful Capital: Electoral Representation in Ottawa John Biles and Erin Tolley

Ask Canadians what comes to mind when they think of Ottawa and, invariably, they will mention government. Although the city has tried in recent years to shed its image as simply a “government town,” as Canada’s capital, home to Parliament and a large section of the federal bureaucracy, this reputation is fairly firmly ingrained. Interestingly, however, Ottawa is actually home to less government now than it was in the past. In 1996, the Government of Ontario passed the Fewer Politicians Act and followed this in 1999 with the Fewer Municipal Politicians Act. This legislation decreased the number of elected representatives in Ontario’s provincial and municipal governments. Moreover, in 2000, the Ottawa-Carleton region and its twelve municipal governments were amalgamated into one megacity, further decreasing the number of elected officials in Ottawa. While there were 102 elected officials representing Ottawa at the three levels of government in 1996, there are just 38 today, and, as a result, the ratio of constituents to elected representatives has increased dramatically. At the same time, the diversity of Ottawa’s residents has increased as a result of several factors, including immigration from an increasingly diverse number of source countries, growing minority communities, and intermarriage. Elected officials now represent not just a greater number of constituents, but also a more diverse citizenry with a broader range of perspectives. According to recent demographic projections by Statistics Canada, this diversity is likely to continue to grow at a rapid pace until at least 2017 (Canada, Statistics Canada 2005). The result has been, and will continue to be, a more complex relationship between elected officials and those they represent. In this chapter, we examine the diversity of Ottawa’s elected officials and compare this to the diversity of Ottawa’s residents. When viewed on this basis, the representational picture in Ottawa is fairly sombre. In general, Ottawa’s federal, provincial, and municipal elected representatives do not reflect the diversity of their constituents, and we explore a number of explanations for this disconnect. Much of this discussion suggests that traditional views

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of diversity in politics must be revisited to incorporate a more complex understanding of the factors affecting diversity in elected bodies. We then turn to other forms of representation; how can diverse communities ensure their perspectives are included when decisions are made if the elected officials making decisions are not demographically representative? We find that when we look beyond the demographic profile of elected officials, there are glimmers of hope. There is evidence that residents have used a number of avenues outside of the electoral arena to ensure their voices are heard. As a result, the needs and perspectives of Ottawa’s diverse communities are increasingly brought to the attention of its elected officials. Governments are now more likely to consult or attempt to connect with diverse communities, and we argue that this is a positive development. Increased consultation, however, is a change in the policy process, and this has not necessarily translated into different policy outcomes. History of Ottawa In spite of Ottawa’s reputation, historians Jeff Keshen and Nicole St-Onge note, Ottawa has “always been much more than a government town” (2001). Indeed, Ottawa has, for several thousand years and long before the arrival of Europeans, been an important site for inter-tribal trade among Aboriginal peoples. Some Europeans arrived in the later part of the eighteenth century, but they only began to arrive in large numbers in the 1830s and ’40s, when a sizable French-Canadian population took up residence in the region to provide labour for timber operations and the construction of the Rideau Canal under the supervision of Lieutenant-Colonel John By. It was after Colonel By that Bytown was named. This population was quickly supplemented by military families who received land grants. Upon completion of the canal in 1832, Bytown’s fortunes declined, and its economy became primarily dependent on the lumber trade. This pitted the French and Irish labourers against one another, a tension that was exacerbated by religious and linguistic cleavages, with the population evenly divided among Irish Catholics, French-Canadian Catholics, and a Protestant community comprised of English, Irish, and Scottish settlers (Mullington 2005, 3). Even within communities there were tensions, including a concern among Irish Protestants that the more recently arrived Irish Catholics would dominate the city’s politics. This concern was largely unrealized, as Elliott points out in his chronicle of the elections of the 1850s in Nepean Township (which eventually became the City of Nepean, and later, part of the City of Ottawa as a result of amalgamations in 2001). He notes that “the Catholics, a statistical minority in the township largely gave up trying to secure representation on the local council after the 1850s, and only three would serve as township councillors between Confederation and 1950” (Elliott 1991,

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67-72). As we will detail, even at the outset of the twenty-first century, this inequity persists for some minority communities. The dependence on one industry, and the tensions that accompanied this, fortunately did not last. Following the Act of Union in 1841, Queen Victoria selected Ottawa in 1857 as the capital of the province of Canada. Keshen and St-Onge argue that “no single factor was more important to Ottawa’s growth than its selection as Canada’s Capital” (2001, 3). Between 1851 and 1871, Ottawa’s population tripled in size, and the ethnic origins of the population began to shift. Over the next twenty years, the percentage of residents reporting origins other than British or French increased from 1 to 9 percent, with a significant proportion reporting Jewish or Polish backgrounds. This was augmented following the Second World War when, as in other parts of Canada, sizable German and Italian populations came to Ottawa as a result of immigration. Between 1871 and 1951, residents of Italian origin increased from 23 to 2,150 (roughly 1 percent of the total population by 1951), while residents of German origin increased from 179 to 3,938 (roughly 2 percent of the total population by 1951) (Taylor 1986). During the postwar period, Ottawa witnessed a gradual opening of its electoral arena. In 1951, Ottawa became the first major North American city to elect a female mayor, Charlotte Whitton, who served as mayor and councillor until 1972 (Mullington 2005, 2). Lorry Greenberg, mayor of Ottawa from 1975 to 1978, was of Jewish descent, and he was followed by two female mayors: Marion Dewar, who was elected to council in 1972 and went on to serve as mayor from 1978 to 1985, as well as Jacqueline Holzman, also of Jewish descent, who was mayor from 1991 to 1998. It was Marion Dewar who, as an organizer of Project 4000, was instrumental in shaping the diversity of present-day Ottawa. Between 1979 and 1980, Project 4000 sought to bring 4,000 privately sponsored refugees to Ottawa from South East Asia, and Vietnam in particular (Vietnamese Canadian Federation 2004). This was a coming of age for Ottawa, as the community embraced these new residents. Indeed, Ottawa was changing as immigrants and refugees arrived from a wider range of countries and, often, in increasing numbers. These communities include the Jamaicans and Portuguese who arrived in the 1970s, the Lebanese who have arrived gradually since the 1970s, the Chinese whose population has been growing since the 1970s, and a continuous flow of South Asians. These have been followed by the arrival in the early 1990s of sizable communities from Somalia, the former Yugoslavia, and the former Soviet Union. By the turn of the twenty-first century, newcomers in Ottawa were increasingly seeking to live in Ottawa of their own volition, no longer largely destined to Ottawa as government-assisted or privately sponsored refugees (Canada, Citizenship and Immigration Canada 2000, 2005). They are now faced with some of the same challenges as Ottawa’s early immigrant

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communities were, including the challenge of finding a place within Ottawa’s elected bodies. The Face of Ottawa The area represented by Ottawa’s 38 elected officials includes just over 772,000 residents.1 Of those, 22 percent were born outside of Canada, and more than 50 percent of Ottawa’s immigrant population has arrived since 1986 (Canada, Citizenship and Immigration Canada 2005, 2). Ottawa is increasingly a “preferred destination,” and recent immigrants are more likely than immigrants in the past to choose the city as their home (Canada, Citizenship and Immigration Canada 2005, 3). The bulk of Ottawa’s immigrant population (51 percent) arrives through the economic stream, which includes skilled workers and business immigrants, while 27 percent enter through the family reunification stream. Many of Ottawa’s new arrivals are refugees; between 1996 and 2000, 21 percent of immigrants in the city arrived in Canada as refugees. Although the proportion of refugees in Ottawa’s immigrant population has decreased since the preceding period (1991-95), when it stood at 26 percent, it remains much higher than that of a number of other Canadian cities, including Toronto (where 10 percent of newcomers who arrived between 1996 and 2000 were refugees), Edmonton (11 percent), Calgary (10 percent), and Vancouver (5 percent). Regina, Saskatoon, and Montreal are all home to higher proportions of refugees than Ottawa. Some posit that Ottawa’s refugee population includes a number of secondary migrants – refugees who “landed” elsewhere, but then moved to the city for any number of reasons, including job prospects, educational opportunities, or cultural considerations. The relative size of the refugee population can have important implications, as refugees often arrive with less education, less fluency in English or French, limited resources, and trauma as a result of the refugee experience; moreover, funding for these services is largely based on landings records, which do not account for an increase in the refugee population as a result of secondary migration. As Table 5.1 shows, recent arrivals have come from a wider range of source countries, including China (the birthplace of 20 percent of immigrants who arrived in Ottawa between 1996 and 2001), India (4 percent), Somalia (4 percent), and Iran (4 percent) (Canada, Citizenship and Immigration Canada 2005, 6). This is a dramatic shift from the pre-1986 period, when 21 percent of immigrants listed the United Kingdom as their birthplace, with Italy (8 percent), the United States (6 percent), Germany (5 percent), and Lebanon (4 percent) being the next most common countries of origin. Only 3 percent of immigrants who arrived prior to 1986 were born in China. This shift in source countries has resulted in an increasingly diverse population. Moreover, immigrants are contributing to Ottawa’s linguistic diversity, and the city has witnessed a rise in immigration from French-speaking countries.

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Table 5.1 Immigration to Ottawa, top source countries, 1996-2001 Source country

Total

% of all immigrants

China India Somalia Iran United States Russian Federation United Kingdom Yugoslavia, former Pakistan Bangladesh

6,750 1,540 1,260 1,210 1,060 1,000 970 880 870 830

20 4 4 4 3 3 3 3 3 2

16,370 18,030 34,400

48 52 100

Top ten source countries All other countries Total Source: Canada, Citizenship and Immigration (2005).

Indeed, 18 percent of Ottawa residents now identify as members of a visible minority group; this compares to about 6 percent in 1986. As shown in Table 5.2, the largest visible minority populations in Ottawa are now the Black (25 percent of all visible minorities), Chinese (20 percent), South Asian (16 percent), and Arab (15 percent) communities. According to projections, Ottawa’s visible minority community is likely to comprise at least 25 percent of the total population by 2017 (Canada, Statistics Canada 2005). Table 5.2 Visible minority groups, Ottawa (total responses), 2001 Ethnic origin Black Chinese South Asian Arab Southeast Asian Latin American West Asian Filipino Korean Japanese Other visible minority Multiple visible minority

Number

% of total population

% of visible minority population

34,045 27,555 21,545 20,145 8,760 6,395 5,035 4,800 1,395 1,545 2,450 2,490

5 4 3 3 1 1 1 1 0.2 0.2 0.3 0.3

25 20 16 15 6 5 4 4 1 1 2 2

Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

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Canada’s “traditional” ethnic origins remain dominant in Ottawa, with 24 percent reporting English origins, 21 percent French, 21 percent Irish, and 18 percent Scottish. Moreover, 35 percent claim Canadian origins, with 15 percent claiming Canadian as their only ethnic origin. Nonetheless, the city’s ethnic composition is far from homogeneous, with significant German (7 percent), Italian (4 percent), and Chinese (4 percent) populations. This is shown in Table 5.3. There is also significant cultural “blending,” with 46 percent of the population claiming multiple ethnic origins; this compares to 54 percent who list a single ethnic origin. Individuals may report multiple ethnic origins for a variety of reasons, including intermarriage that results in mixed ethnic origins, or an increasing propensity for respondents to list “Canadian” ethnic origins in tandem with one or more other origins. In Ottawa, a number of ethnic communities grew significantly between 1996 and 2001. The proportion claiming Chinese origins increased by 44 percent, Canadian by 37 percent, Filipino by 35 percent, Russian by 34 percent, and East Indian by 22 percent (Biles and Tolley 2004). This is, in part, a result of changes to the census questionnaire, which added “Canadian” as a sample response in 1996, as well as of immigration patterns and increases in immigration from particular countries. Similarly, immigration has affected the linguistic profile of Ottawa. Most residents (98 percent) reported a single mother tongue. Of these, the majority

Table 5.3 Selected ethnic origins, Ottawa (total responses), 2001 Ethnic origin

Number

Total ethnic origin populationb

759,475

Canadian English French Irish Scottish German Italian Chinese Polish Dutch Lebanese East Indian North American Indian Ukrainian

263,590 178,940 160,755 158,550 138,250 55,315 33,380 30,065 21,175 19,545 17,835 16,855 15,965 15,835

% of total responsesa

a Column does not add up to 100 because multiple responses are permitted. b Includes single and multiple responses. Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

35 24 21 21 18 7 4 4 3 3 2 2 2 2

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(65 percent) listed English, 20 percent listed a language other than English or French, and 15 percent reported French as their mother tongue. Two percent of the population reported multiple mother tongues, with most of these (48 percent) reporting both English and French, 38 percent reporting English and a non-official language, 9 percent reporting French and a nonofficial language, and the remainder reporting some other combination. Immigration patterns are introducing new linguistic pluralism, however, and there are now small proportions of the population who speak Arabic (3 percent), Chinese (2 percent), and Italian (1 percent) as their mother tongue. It is expected that by 2017, more than 25 percent of Ottawa’s population will have neither English nor French as their mother tongue. English-French linguistic duality nonetheless remains an important part of the city’s identity; this is doubtless related in part to the importance of bilingualism to employment in the federal government and, in part, to Ottawa’s geographic proximity to Quebec. However, while Carolle Simard (in Chapter 3) characterizes English-French relations in Montreal in terms of “two solitudes,” such a division is less evident in Ottawa, perhaps because even among those who report French as a mother tongue, fluency or functionality in English is common. This is not to say that there have not been politically charged linguistic battles. Recently, these have included a campaign to prevent the closure of the city’s French-language Montfort Hospital, as well as a movement by some of the city’s francophone elite to reaffirm the bilingual character of the University of Ottawa. In spite of this, language is not presently a source of significant cleavage, although it was certainly an important issue as recently as the early 1970s (Taylor 1986, 181). When we look at religion, we also see evidence of the city’s increasing diversity. Although nearly 75 percent of Ottawa’s population reports a Christian religious affiliation and 15 percent reports no religious affiliation, a significant number report non-Christian affiliations, such as Muslim (5 percent), Jewish (1 percent), Buddhist (1 percent), and Hindu (1 percent). In addition, the median age of the Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, and Sikh populations relative to the median age of the Protestant and Catholic populations suggest that the former will grow significantly in the coming years. Indeed, between 1991 and 2001, the Muslim population grew by more than 100 percent in the Ottawa-Hull census metropolitan area, while the Hindu community grew by more than 60 percent, and the Sikh and Buddhist communities grew by more than 50 percent. Statistics Canada projects that these growth rates will continue, and that the Muslim, Sikh, and Hindu populations will more than double by 2017, with the Buddhist community growing by more than 50 percent over the same period (Canada, Statistics Canada 2005). Although Ottawa is an increasingly diverse city, settlement patterns are not uniform, and diversity is not necessarily apparent in all areas of the city. As is the case in many Canadian cities, immigrants and minorities are

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Map 5.1 Distribution of recent immigrants, Ottawa, 2001 Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001a; 2001b).

migrating from Ottawa’s centre – where we find the city’s “Chinatown” and “Little Italy” – to adjacent communities, including the neighbourhoods of Hunt Club, Bayshore, and Alta Vista, where we now find much of the city’s diversity. These are suburban communities situated between the urban core and the city’s outlying rural areas. They are also adjacent to the city’s hightech firms, which have employed many of Ottawa’s recent immigrants. As Map 5.1 shows, Ottawa’s recent immigrants have settled in the urban core as well as in the suburban areas in the city’s west and south ends. As a result, more than 25 percent of the population in these communities is of a visible minority, compared to less than 3 percent in the city’s rural areas, and 20 percent in the inner urban core (City of Ottawa 2001). This has necessitated changes in the way that Ottawa conceives of its diversity and responds to

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the needs of its citizens. Indeed, shifts in the makeup of a city’s neighbourhoods can dramatically affect the demand for services and service-delivery itself, a reality to which officials must respond (Wang and Truelove 2003). When we look at the diversity of Ottawa’s elected officials – or rather lack thereof – it is, in many ways, not surprising that there have been some growing pains. The Face of Ottawa’s Elected Officials Although critics may suggest that analyses of numerical representation ignore other parts of the representational picture, the extent to which elected officials reflect the attributes of their constituents is an important starting point. This reflection is an important component of representational democracy, and through an analysis of that reflection we may document change – and hopefully progress – over time. We base our analysis on a survey, which was distributed to all federal, provincial, and municipal representatives in Ottawa in three waves: 1998, 2003, and 2004.2 The geographic area includes all representatives who hold seats at these three levels of government within the boundaries of the City of Ottawa. This pool of representatives was elected in 2003 at the municipal and provincial levels and in 2004 at the federal level.

Map 5.2 Federal electoral map of Ottawa, 2001 Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001a).

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The sample includes 8 Members of Parliament (MPs), 8 Members of Provincial Parliament (MPPs), 21 municipal councillors, and 1 mayor, for a total of 38 representatives. Surveys were delivered first by email, with several follow-ups by email, telephone, or through staff members in the officials’ offices to augment the response rate. In the end, 30 surveys were returned, for a response rate of 79 percent. We received 2 refusals and 6 non-responses. We employed secondary research to compile data on those who refused or did not respond and, using these sources, managed to compile data on virtually all of the variables included in the survey, with ethnicity and religion being the two most difficult to ascertain in the absence of a completed survey.3 In general, the characteristics of Ottawa’s elected officials do not reflect the characteristics of the city’s residents, a finding that parallels that of other studies in this volume. We know the place of birth for 36 of Ottawa’s elected officials: only 4 (11 percent) – all at the municipal level – were born outside of Canada, which compares to 22 percent of the electorate. Despite comprising 18 percent of the electorate, only 1 visible minority (3 percent) sits in office – a city councillor of Lebanese origin who has suggested that he did not run to represent the Lebanese community (Tam 2003). Sizable Chinese, South Asian, and Black visible minority populations are completely absent from elected office. There are only 8 women (22 percent) among Ottawa’s elected officials, despite women comprising the majority (51 percent) of the electorate. Six of the women are city councillors, 1 is an MPP, and 1 is an MP. Women thus comprise 27 percent of municipal representatives, but just 13 percent at the federal and provincial levels. This confirms earlier research that suggests that the municipal level is more open to women than other levels of government (e.g., Maillé 1994, 163), but is in contrast to findings in other cities (see Chapters 6 and 9 in this volume). A proportionality index can be used to illustrate the extent to which particular groups are under- or over-represented. To calculate the index for women, for example, we would take the percentage of women who make up the general population and divide this by the percentage of women among elected officials. An index of 1.00 indicates perfect proportionality, or “mirror representation,” an index under 1.00 indicates under-representation, and anything over 1.00 indicates over-representation. Table 5.4 provides the proportionality indices for a number of the key variables examined in this chapter. These have been calculated using data from our survey of elected officials, as well as the 2001 census (Canada, Statistics Canada 2001a). For women, we see a proportionality index of 0.43, indicating that women have not yet been elected in numbers that are even halfway proportionate to their presence in the general population. Turning to ethnicity, of the 29 officials whose ethnic origins are known, 23 (79 percent) report having only French, Canadian, Acadian, or British

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Table 5.4 Proportionality indices for key variables, Ottawa % among % among elected officials population Gender

Male Female Visible minority Immigrant/foreign-born Christian religious affiliation No religious affiliation Bachelor’s degree or higher

78 22 3 11 93 7 97

Proportionality index

49 51 18 22 75 15 32

1.59 0.43 0.17 0.50 1.24 0.47 3.03

Source: Authors’ calculations based on survey of elected officials for 1998, 2003, and 2004 and on Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

roots (note that “British” includes English, Irish, and Scottish). Of these, 9 report these origins in combination with each other (in one case, the official reported Canadian, English, Irish, Scottish, and French origins, although most reported a combination of two, such as French Canadian or Irish and French). Perhaps in contrast to Ottawa’s early Irish settlers, who struggled to assert themselves on the political scene, 8 officials (28 percent) today report some Irish origins; this compares to 21 percent in the population. Only 3 (10 percent) – all at the municipal level – report origins other than British, French, Canadian, or Acadian roots, such as German or Italian, while 3 (10 percent) report British, French, or Canadian origins in combination with some other ethnic origin (Irish and Dutch, for example). There are no Aboriginal officials, although Aboriginals comprise 2 percent of the population. The strong representation of British, French, and Canadian origins among elected officials, as well as the presence of Italian, German, and Lebanese officials, is perhaps not surprising given the size of these communities in Ottawa and their roots in the city. Many ethnic groups are, of course, completely absent, including those of Polish, Ukrainian, Russian, East Indian, Jewish, and Arab origins. One of the more notable absences is perhaps that of the Chinese community, given that 4 percent of the population reports Chinese origins; this is on par with the Italian community, and yet there are no elected officials with Chinese origins. The absence of the Chinese community from elected bodies is not unique to Ottawa, and some have suggested that this is a matter of choice. In her analysis of the Chinese, Freedman (2000) notes that there appears to be a strong preference for “influence” rather than participation. Among the 29 elected officials for whom we have data on religion, we see largely Christian religious affiliations. All save 2 (1 atheist and 1 with no religion) identify as Christian: 13 are Catholic, 5 are undefined Protestant,

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4 are Anglicans, 3 are United Church of Canada, 1 is a Quaker, and 1 is a Lutheran. Thus, 93 percent of elected officials identify as Christian compared to 75 percent in the general population. While Christians are over-represented among elected officials, atheists and those claiming no religion are underrepresented. While 15 percent of the general population has no religious affiliation, this compares to 7 percent of elected officials. None of the respondents report that they identify with Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Sikhism, or Judaism, despite nearly 8 percent of the general population belonging to one of these faith communities. These communities are growing, however, and, in the case of the Jewish and Muslim populations, there are high levels of social activism, so we may see increasing representation in the coming years. Ottawa’s population is, relatively speaking, quite well educated, and its elected officials are even more so. Of the 36 elected officials for whom we could ascertain educational background, all but 1 (97 percent) have at least a bachelor’s degree, compared to 32 percent in the population aged 20 years and over. Those who hold elected office are most likely to be drawn from professional fields, with 38 percent listing their previous occupation as public service or political work (e.g., as an assistant to an MP), which is not surprising given the government presence in Ottawa. A majority of Ottawa’s elected officials (58 percent) list some prior electoral experience, although this figure is somewhat inflated by city councillors who previously served as municipal or regional councillors prior to Ottawa’s amalgamation. Indeed, 15 of the 22 officials in Ottawa’s municipal government previously served as regional councillors, mayor, or city councillors of one of the pre-amalgamation municipalities. Of these, 1 reports having also served as an MPP, another as a school board trustee, and another as an MPP and school board trustee. Among municipal officials, 7 report no prior electoral experience. Of the 8 MPPs who hold office in Ottawa, 4 report no prior electoral experience, while 4 report having served at the municipal or regional level. Federally, 5 MPs report no prior electoral experience, 1 had served at the municipal level, another had formerly served at the federal level, and a third reported serving at the municipal and provincial levels prior to entering federal politics. Interestingly, only this latter official provides evidence for the “stepping stone” thesis, which posits that officials will move gradually from what are perceived to be the least senior levels of government to the more senior levels; in other words, from the municipal to provincial to federal levels. Provincially, there is some evidence of a stepping stone from the municipal levels, but among municipal officials, there is also evidence of a “downward” step from the provincial level. This suggests that there is no clear electoral career path among Ottawa’s elected officials. It is, evident, however, that age and longevity may be factors. The median age of officials is 51 years; the youngest is 25 years old, while the oldest is

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68 years old. Most of the officials have lived in Ottawa for at least 15 years. Interestingly, officials who were born outside of Canada tend to have lived in the community for longer than those who were born in Canada – on average about 30 years – suggesting that immigrants who hold elected office tend to have deeper roots in the community; these roots are a political resource that may “compensate” for their immigrant status. The archetypal elected official in Ottawa is thus a well-educated, middleaged, Christian, White male with British, French, or Canadian ethnic origins who has resided in the city for upwards of 15 years and likely worked in politics or the public service prior to running for elected office. Can We Explain the Lack of Diversity among Elected Officials? Aside from some ethnic heterogeneity among Ottawa’s elected officials, there is not a great deal of racial, religious, or other diversity, and that diversity does not necessarily reflect the diversity of the electorate. There are, of course, some exceptions, including the election of three female mayors in the past 50 years, a Jewish mayor in the 1970s, and Alex Munter, an openly gay councillor of German ethnicity who served until 2004. However, these are exceptions, and thus we ask: Why do we see less diversity in our elected bodies than in the general population? The literature suggests several explanations, which tend to fall under one of three categories: those related to capital; those related to numbers, time, and space; and those related to processes and systems. We will discuss each of these briefly. Social, Economic, and Human Capital Explanations related to capital suggest the diversity of the electorate may not be reflected in elected bodies because diverse candidates may lack the resources required to run for office and win, or those resources may be distributed unevenly among diverse communities. Examples of these types of explanations include research that suggests that lack of money – economic capital – is an obstacle to minorities who wish to run for public office, a thesis supported by the literature on minorities in the United Kingdom (Geddes 1998, 153) and on women in politics in Canada (Megyery 1991). It also includes research, such as that by Van Heelsum (2002) in the Netherlands, which found that minority candidates who tended to be elected to municipal office were those with strong networks. Capital-based explanations also include research that suggests female office-seekers and, in particular, female minority office-seekers, tend to be more highly educated than male or majority office-seekers (Black 2000; Black and Erickson 2000). In other words, in order to win, minorities simply require a more significant injection of resources than their opponents; they will need to “compensate” for their minority status with additional economic, human, or social capital (Black 2002). Siemiatycki and Saloojee (2002, 260) reach this conclusion in

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their study of immigrants and minorities in politics, noting “it is not accidental that the communities that have had electoral success in Toronto are generally its more affluent, well-networked, highly-educated groups.” In the Ottawa context, some of these explanations may be borne out. With respect to economic capital, much of the research on access to electoral politics suggests that acquiring sufficient funds to support a campaign is a key obstacle that candidates must overcome to be successful. Immigrants wishing to enter the electoral arena would likely face a similar barrier, and it is one that may affect them disproportionately given their economic situation. Research suggests that the percentage of newcomers living below the low-income cut-off – effectively the “poverty line” – is increasing (Hou and Picot 2003), and in Ottawa, 19 percent of recent immigrant families now live in poverty, compared to 12 percent in the non-immigrant population (Social Planning Council 2004a, 42). What is less clear, however, is how human capital, such as education and language, might affect the ability of newcomers and minorities to enter electoral politics. Certainly, a high percentage of newcomers arrive without strong facility in English or French, but most would develop this capacity over time. Moreover, Ottawa’s immigrant population is actually better educated than its Canadian-born population, with 35 percent of immigrants having a university degree, compared to 26 percent in the Canadian-born population. Among very recent immigrants – those who immigrated between 1996 and 2001 – 50 percent have completed a university degree (Canada, Citizenship and Immigration Canada 2005, 16). Given this, limited education may be less of a barrier for Ottawa’s immigrant communities – many of whom identify as visible minorities – although education may continue to be an obstacle for those who entered as refugees. Moreover, research in Ottawa suggests that while immigrant and minority communities possess significant levels of “bonding” social capital (in other words, links within one’s own community), they lack “bridging” social capital, or links outside their own community (Ottawa Mosaic 2004; Social Planning Council 2004b). One study by Luther and Prempeh (2003) concludes that a greater emphasis on social capital is needed to ensure that Ottawa’s diverse communities are represented in its elected bodies. That emphasis should perhaps focus on building partnerships and connections across ethnic, racial, religious, and linguistic lines. Indeed, even non-minority communities need to consider this, as they may also lack connections with their neighbours with different backgrounds. Numbers, Time, and Space There are also explanations that suggest numbers, time, and space will determine the diversity of elected bodies relative to the diversity of the population. This includes factors such as critical mass, residential concentration,

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or the length of time that immigrants or minorities have resided in a particular community. Van Heelsum (2002), for example, argues that “the size of a community may influence the strength of the civic community,” and the concept of critical mass is also common in the literature on women in politics (Trimble and Arscott 2003). The utility of this concept is unclear, however, and it has been used differently in various contexts (see the introduction of this volume for some discussion of this issue). In the literature on women in politics, “critical mass” typically refers to the proportion of women that must be present in elected bodies in order to affect discussions and decisions. In the literature on immigrants and minorities in politics, critical mass more commonly refers to the proportion of diverse groups who must be present in an electoral district in order to elect “one of their own.” For example, in Le Lohe’s work in the United Kingdom (1998), “critical mass” is used to describe the numbers of a given minority community needed to offset the White voter prejudice against a minority candidate. This muddling diminishes the explanatory value of the idea that numbers matter, which nonetheless persists in the literature. This sense that numbers are important has recently begun to include a spatial dimension, typically referred to as “residential concentration.” Siemiatycki and Saloojee’s research in Toronto has found that “the high degree of residential concentration among ethnic Italians ... has proven a distinct electoral advantage to identity representation” (2002). Similarly, in their research on South Asians elected to suburban Toronto ridings, Siemiatycki and Matheson noted that “there is a spatial residential concentration among members of the same community in the suburbs ... [thereby creating] a greater critical mass able to support a community candidate” (2005, 71). This, of course, assumes that immigrant and minority communities will favour candidates from their own communities and will vote in a bloc to elect them. However, as Saggar (1998), Mensah (2002), and Van Heelsum (2002) all point out, most immigrant and minority communities are, in fact, internally heterogeneous and do not necessarily vote as a bloc for the same candidate. Interestingly, however, Saggar (1998) hypothesizes that it is the perception, rather than the reality, that matters; he argues that political parties tend to assume that minority voting blocs exist, and thus they will seek minority candidates and ensure that “minority concerns” are included in their electoral platforms. During the 2004 federal election, commentators suggested that Muslims had the potential to dramatically affect electoral outcomes in several constituencies because of their residential concentration in those ridings, including several in Ottawa (Canadian Islamic Congress 2004). Although there is some evidence that the Muslim community in Ottawa is close-knit, the community is also internally heterogeneous with little more than their religion in common (Janhevich and Ibrahim 2004). Given this, it is perhaps

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not surprising that while Muslims are fairly concentrated in the riding of Ottawa South and comprise 10 percent of the population, they did not elect Monia Mazigh, a Muslim candidate running for the New Democratic Party. However, a number of factors may have come into play, including the fact that Mazigh was running in a riding in which she did not reside – one traditionally considered a Liberal stronghold – and in a race in which her opponent was David McGuinty, brother of the province’s premier. It is possible that Mazigh may have been an important symbolic candidate for the NDP, rather than necessarily a candidate who was likely to win the seat. Moreover, even if a minority community is residentially concentrated, its members will not necessarily vote for the same candidate, particularly if the community is internally heterogeneous. They do not necessarily practise “strategic essentialism,” a term coined by literary theorist Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak. Strategic essentialism exists when members of diverse or distinct minority groups consciously overlook or set aside their differences to present a unified identity, typically to accomplish a specific objective. In the United Kingdom in the 1980s, for example, minorities replaced various ethnoracial identities with a macro “Black” category in an effort to achieve recognition (Modood 1997). The length of time that an immigrant or minority community has lived in an area may be another factor that influences the likelihood that they will be elected. Research suggests that the longer immigrants have been in Canada, the greater the likelihood of electoral success (Siemiatycki and Saloojee 2002, 258; Derouin 2004, 60). In Ottawa, immigrant and minority candidates who have been elected have come from older immigrant groups, including the Italian, Lebanese, and German communities. Indeed, the length of time that a community – and, indeed, a candidate – has had to establish roots in a city will affect community members’ familiarity with the issues and political norms (Mesch 2002), their willingness and ability to concentrate on political pursuits (Chui, Curtis, and Lambert 1991), and the size of their network and ties to electors and their community (Biles 1998). Moreover, recently arrived immigrant and minority communities may simply be unable to vote for “one of their own” because they have not yet qualified for citizenship or because their populations are disproportionately young. This may place some of Ottawa’s more recent minority communities at a disadvantage. The city’s Muslim population is one example, in that it is relatively new to the city, is perhaps less well established, and is relatively young. At the same time, immigrant and minority groups may choose to run for reasons other than established community roots, and we have seen this in Ottawa with the Somali community (Biles 1998). Somalis are relatively recent arrivals in Ottawa and, in spite of their limited roots in the community, they have opted to run as candidates in recent school board elections, in part because they have viewed existing programs and services – particularly those .

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related to health and education – to be inadequate and unresponsive to their needs. Thus far, Ottawa has yet to elect a Somali representative, perhaps because of the Somali community’s relative lack of roots in the city, in addition perhaps to limited human or economic capital and internal heterogeneity, which may mitigate against collective action (Berns McGown 1999). Processes and Systems Finally, processes and systems may affect the extent to which elected bodies will mirror the characteristics of the population (see Geddes 1998, for example). These explanations are at the heart of the analysis on representation, and they concentrate on the institutional features that may limit the amount of diversity in elected offices. Too few minority candidates, low voter turnout among minorities, gate-keeping by political parties and/or community elites, and discrimination are – among others – included in this cluster of explanations. There are, of course, other processes and systems that may work against immigrant and minority candidates, but we have focused on those explanations through which it appears that the Ottawa experience can shed new or different light. Among some, it is believed that there is relatively little diversity among elected officials simply because women, immigrants, and minorities do not run. In Ottawa, evidence to the contrary casts some doubt on this explanation. In the 2003 municipal election, for example, there were 6 visible minority candidates, including 1 for mayor, as well as Somali candidates running in half of the races to elect trustees for the French Public School Board (Tam 2003, D1). Similarly, Muslims in Ottawa have begun to organize and plan to run candidates at every level of government in upcoming elections (Tencer and Staples 2004, A1). So far, these efforts have not translated into greater diversity in our elected bodies. Their efforts, however, may have been hampered by other factors, including a high rate of incumbency, which research suggests is a powerful advantage in politics (Kushner, Siegel, and Stanwick 1998; and Chapter 10 in this volume). Not only do many incumbents run for re-election, but even nonincumbents in Ottawa tend to have some previous political experience. More than half of Ottawa’s elected officials have some previous experience in elected office, and several have worked as political staffers or public servants, giving them some level of familiarity with government and the political system. This may be as much of a factor as incumbency and, together, these are formidable hurdles for first-time candidates to overcome. As a result, a more diverse slate of candidates will not necessarily lead to more diversity in elected bodies. The literature also suggests that voter turnout may be a factor, implying that diverse communities are less politically attuned than others and are therefore less likely to vote. The suggestion is that immigrants and minorities

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are more likely than others to vote for diverse candidates, so if they do not vote, those candidates are less likely to win. Research suggests that although voting rates vary among immigrant and minority communities, there are still fairly high levels of voter participation and, in general, immigrants and minorities are no more or less likely to vote than others (Derouin 2004). Research also suggests that immigrants are more likely than non-immigrants to be politically informed (Henderson 2005). A variety of factors may influence voter turnout, including home ownership, average levels of education, and the involvement of community elites. These factors may help explain variations in voter participation among immigrant and minority groups. We will discuss home ownership here, which Siemiatycki and Saloojee (2002) suggest “is the single most important predictor of voter turnout, especially at the municipal level where voting among tenants is historically poor.” In other words, it is suggested that homeowners are more likely to vote than renters. Given that levels of home ownership are not consistent across various communities, this could dramatically affect voter turnout. Home ownership is ascertained in the census by determining whether the “primary household maintainer” or head of household owns a home. In Ottawa, 61 percent of the city’s heads of households are homeowners; this drops to 33 percent among Muslim heads of households, and 42 percent among visible minority heads of households (Canada, Statistics Canada 2001c). Voter turnout may thus be lower among these communities, hampering their ability to elect “one of their own.” A final process that might affect the diversity of elected bodies is the existence of discrimination or voter bias. Evidence from the United Kingdom suggests that systemic voter bias against minority candidates exists (Le Lohe 1998). Intriguingly, in Canada, work by Black and Erickson (2006) suggests that there is little evidence that minority candidates face voter bias. Nonetheless, evidence from public-opinion polling suggests that Canadians would be less comfortable voting for a political party led by a Muslim than for one led by a Jewish person, an Aboriginal, a Black, a woman, a gay or lesbian, a Quebecer, or someone from Western Canada; almost one-third said they would be less likely to vote for a party led by a Muslim (CRIC 2004). Monia Mazigh’s experience as a Muslim candidate in the 2004 federal election provides some support for this. Her deputy campaign manager notes that Mazigh faced comments about her headscarf and allegations that her husband, Maher Arar, a Canadian citizen who was deported and detained in Syria for more than a year, had links to terrorist organizations (Gordon 2004). All of these explanations – whether they are related to social, economic, and human capital; numbers, time, and space; or processes and systems – suggest that diversity in elected bodies cannot be determined by a simple formula based on the diversity of the population. There are a number of factors that

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may influence the diversity of elected bodies, some related to the diversity of the population, but many unrelated. There is also some evidence that responsiveness to diverse perspectives and the needs of immigrant and minority communities cannot necessarily be determined by a simple formula based on the diversity of decision makers in elected bodies. We will now turn to this. Other Means of Representation Despite the minimal representation of immigrants and minorities in Ottawa’s elected bodies, there is evidence that Ottawa’s diverse communities are participating through non-electoral avenues, and there have been attempts to ensure that diverse points of view are heard and given credence. In this section, we will explore representation of Ottawa’s diverse communities in the broader governance of their city. This broader governance includes not only the elected bodies themselves, but also the range of interactions that guide the decisions of elected representatives. Some of these interactions are community-driven, bottom-up exercises, while others are examples of governments recognizing the need to include representation of diverse points of view in the decision-making processes. Beginning in the 1990s, governments began to retreat from the provision of social services, and the result has been a significant decrease in the number of government resources available to communities to ensure their voices are heard by decision makers. The days of secure government funding for ethnocultural and women’s organizations have come to an end (see Pal 1993) and, as a result, organizations must devote significant attention simply to financial survival. Nevertheless, non-governmental organizations and communities in Ottawa have been adept at getting diversity on the governments’ agendas, thus ensuring representation in decision-making processes, if not among decision makers themselves. Often, this success is the result of effective advocacy and politicking by community organizations, which have forced governments to pay attention. Although all three levels of government have taken some steps toward ensuring that the needs of diverse communities are represented when decisions are made, the municipal government appears to be looked to more often for solutions. This may be because of downloading, which has made municipalities more visible in the provision of public services (Siemiatycki and Saloojee 2002, 246), or simply because the municipal level is more immediate to citizens and thus is looked to more often for support. It is also possible that communities have been more effective in insisting that the municipal government address their needs and create space for the representation of their points of view. Whatever the case, when we examine those measures that have been adopted to ensure that diversity is included and

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the needs of diverse communities are addressed, it seems that local initiatives are most apparent. We thus focus here on municipal government initiatives and activities undertaken by local non-governmental organizations. The creation of the Equity and Diversity Advisory Committee (EDAC) during the negotiations that led to Ottawa’s amalgamation in 2000 is one such example. EDAC is a citizens’ advisory group that is mandated to work toward the elimination of discrimination in Ottawa by conducting advocacy work, acting as a forum to raise key issues, and co-operating with local bodies and other organizations on issues related to discrimination. Initially, there was no mention of such an advisory committee in the plans for amalgamation, but, at the behest of a few individuals, a number of meetings were convened, and the result was the creation of EDAC. EDAC is an example of a formal advisory committee, but there are also less formally constituted groups, such as Interfaith Ottawa, an organization launched in the wake of the events of September 11 2001, which promotes co-operation among religious groups and is co-chaired by the mayor. Sometimes the involvement of diverse communities in the public arena is spurred by a galvanizing incident that encourages communities to push for action or change. For example, the Community-Police Action Committee (COMPAC) was established in 2000 after the shooting of several young Black men in Ottawa, which contributed to a perception that relationships between the police and communities needed to change. COMPAC brings together members of the public with the police to improve relations and build partnerships, as well as to work together to develop response protocols to critical incidents involving minorities and the police. Of course, there are still a number of challenges. Indeed, in 2004, Ottawa police responded to a disturbance at a local restaurant; all Black staff and patrons were handcuffed, while a White carpenter was not, which raised questions about potential bias (Johnston 2004). Outcry from the community helped raise awareness about the need for the community to work with police. These types of committees also provide a venue for networking and partnership building, which helps create the bridging social capital that can move individuals into elected office. Diverse communities may have their voices heard through such formal committees or, alternatively, through broader public consultations. Consultations on the Human Services Plan, which were conducted as part of the City of Ottawa’s long-term planning exercise, are one such example. The idea was to develop a framework with specific and detailed plans in four key areas. The Human Services Plan was seen as one of the areas most critical to newcomer and minority communities, and the city partnered with the Metropolis Project to develop a consultation process that would include these communities. A report on the consultation concluded that “the [Human

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Services Plan] can only be successful when all people in Ottawa are part of this building and growing process” (Kwan 2002, 24). However, as in Halifax, where the rhetoric of inclusive planning is used but not necessarily implemented (see Chapter 8 in this volume), it remains to be seen whether these consultations have resulted in changes to city plans. Even in just these three examples, it is evident that Ottawa’s diverse communities have sought to find a place for themselves at decision-making tables, despite their relative absence from elected bodies. At the same time, governments themselves have, albeit unevenly and slowly, sought to encourage representation in their decision-making processes. But despite these successes, there is reason for concern. Ottawa’s elected bodies simply do not reflect the characteristics of its citizens, which is a fundamental challenge to the principles of equity, inclusion, and democracy. Moreover, although there are a variety of means of including diverse voices in policy decisions, there is some question about the efficiency of these non-electoral forms of representation. Are these ways simply changing the process through which policy discussion happens, or can they actually lead to changes in policy and outcomes? If projections are accurate and Ottawa’s diversity continues to grow, a continued absence of immigrant and minority communities may well challenge the very integrity of our political and democratic system. Looking Forward Demographic change seems destined to continue and, as a result, diversity will become more important, but also more complex. Given this, what can be done? Determining patterns of under-representation and over-representation is, we would argue, the first step. We have found that immigrants, women, visible minorities, and non-Christians are all under-represented among Ottawa’s elected officials, and we have probed some of the factors that may be contributing to this under-representation, with some explanations standing out as more persuasive than others. For example, given that a significant proportion of newcomers and minorities live below the “poverty line,” a lack of financial capital may affect their ability to contest public office. Further, there is evidence that more bridging social capital is needed, which would create stronger links across Ottawa’s various communities. Immigrant and minority communities that have resided in Ottawa for some time, including the Germans, Italians, and Lebanese, are beginning to find their way into elected office, and some would suggest that time may, in fact, bring some remedy to under-representation (Jerome Black, in Chapter 10, provides an alternative view with evidence suggesting that a positive upward trajectory is anything but inevitable). Systemic features, such as political parties, incumbency, or discrimination may prevent the nomination of minority candidates in some cases, but, at

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the same time, it is clear that parties are often motivated to encourage representation in both their candidates and their caucus. Indeed, there are minority candidates, and this pool appears to be growing, thus putting the lie to the “you can’t win because you don’t run” thesis. As these unsuccessful candidates gain experience in the process, they may be successful in the future. The danger is that they may turn away from the process before they are able to win a seat. Some strategy for keeping these individuals engaged should perhaps be considered; appointing active citizens to boards and committees may keep them engaged. Moreover, we do see diverse groups – particularly those from the Horn of Africa and the Muslim community – engaged in political activities, even if that action has not yet translated into electoral success. Our chapter finds that women, immigrants, and minorities are largely under-represented among Ottawa’s elected officials, a finding that is relatively unsurprising. What is perhaps more surprising, however, is that little is known about why such patterns may exist. Where explanations are provided in the literature, some appear to rest merely on “conventional wisdom,” while others may be outdated, incomplete, or in need of further examination. There has been little in the way of longitudinal analysis, or tracking of trends over time, with our findings standing out as an important baseline for future analysis. Finally, the interplay between formal electoral representation and other forms of representation is not yet well understood, and the practical impact of electoral under-representation is not known. Change appears to be occurring, and we are optimistic that Ottawa’s elected officials will become more diverse over time. In the interim, the alternative strategies deployed by both communities themselves and governments do appear to be ensuring at least some representation in decision-making processes. Notes 1 Unless otherwise noted, demographic data are based on results from the 2001 census for the City of Ottawa (Canada, Statistics Canada 2001a), as well as Statistics Canada’s federal electoral district profiles for the eight ridings that fall within the boundaries of the City of Ottawa (Canada, Statistics Canada 2001b). These ridings are Carleton-Lanark, NepeanCarleton, Ottawa West-Nepean, Ottawa Centre, Ottawa-Vanier, Ottawa South, OttawaOrléans, and Glengarry-Prescott-Russell. Note that the riding of Carleton-Lanark has, since 1 September 2004, been known as Carleton-Mississippi Mills, but we use the riding names that were current at the time of our survey. It should also be noted that the demographic data set includes some residents who reside outside the boundaries of the City of Ottawa, but the numbers are small enough to not significantly affect the results. 2 We thank Sandra Lopes for assistance in compiling some of the data in this section. 3 In addition to not having data for refusals and non-respondents, some respondents left particular questions blank. Secondary sources were used to fill in these responses where possible, but in some cases we were unable to do so. For these reasons, when discussing the profile of the elected officials, the sample size (n) will sometimes vary depending on the topic at hand.

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Henderson, Ailsa. 2005. Ideal citizens? Immigrant voting patterns in Canadian elections. Canadian Issues/Thèmes canadiens (Summer): 57-60. Hou, Feng, and Garnet Picot. 2003. The rise in low-income rates among immigrants in Canada. Analytical Studies Branch research paper, no. 198. Ottawa: Statistics Canada. Janhevich, Derek, and Humera Ibrahim. 2004. Muslims in Canada: An illustrative and demographic profile. Our Diverse Cities 1: 49-57. http://canada.metropolis.net/ publications/index_e.htm. Johnston, Chris. 2004. Somalis vow to stay united. Ottawa Citizen, 14 February. Keshen, Jeff, and Nicole St-Onge. 2001. Ottawa: Construire une capitale/Making a capital. Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press. Kushner, Joseph, David Siegel, and Hannah Stanwick. 1998. Municipal elections in Ontario: Voting trends and determinants of electoral success. Canadian Journal of Political Science 30 (3): 539-53. Kwan, Elizabeth. 2002. Diversity and the human services plan for the City of Ottawa. Unpublished paper prepared for the City of Ottawa. Le Lohe, Michel. 1998. Ethnic minority participation and representation in the British electoral system. In Race and British electoral politics, ed. Shamit Saggar, 73-95. London: UCL Press. Luther, Rashmi, and Edward Osei-Kwadwo Prempeh. 2003. Advocacy matters: Reviving and sustaining networks to support multiculturalism and anti-racism in the Ottawa region. Unpublished paper prepared for the Community Advocacy Action Committee on Access and Equity. Maillé, Chantal. 1994. Women and political representation. In Canadian Politics, 2nd ed., ed. James P. Bickerton and Alain-G. Gagnon, 156-74. Peterborough, ON: Broadview. Megyery, Kathy, ed. 1991. Ethnocultural groups and visible minorities in Canadian politics: The question of access. Vol. 7 of the research studies of the Royal Commission on Electoral Reform and Party Financing. Toronto: Dundurn Press. Mensah, Joseph. 2002. Black Canadians: History, experiences, social conditions. Halifax: Fernwood Publishing. Mesch, Gustavo S. 2002. Residential concentration and participation in local politics: The case of immigrants of the FSU in Israel. Journal of International Migration and Integration 3 (2): 157-78. Modood, Tariq. 1997. ‘Difference’, cultural racism and anti-racism. In Debating cultural hybridity: Multi-cultural identities and the politics of racism, ed. Pnina Werbner and Tariq Modood, 154-72. London and New Jersey: Zed Books. Mullington, Dave. 2005. Chain of office: Biographical sketches of the early mayors of Ottawa: 1847-1948. Renfrew, ON: General Store Publishing House. Ottawa Mosaic. 2004. An exploratory overview of the assets of immigrant and visible minority communities in Ottawa. http://www.ottawa.ca/calendar/ottawa/citycouncil/ a-edac/2005/04-18/Item%209%20-%20Ottawa_Mosaic_Introduction.htm. Pal, Leslie. 1993. Interests of the state: The politics of language, multiculturalism and feminism in Canada. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s Press. Saggar, Shamit, ed. 1998. Race and British electoral politics. London: UCL Press. Siemiatycki, Myer, and Ian Andrew Matheson. 2005. Suburban success: Immigrant and minority electoral gains in suburban Toronto. Canadian Issues/Thèmes canadiens (Summer): 69-72. Siemiatycki, Myer, and Anver Saloojee. 2002. Ethnoracial political representation in Toronto: Patterns and problems. Journal of International Migration and Integration 3 (2): 241-74. Social Planning Council of Ottawa. 2004a. Immigrants in Ottawa: Socio-cultural composition and socio-economic conditions. http://www.spcottawa.on.ca/PDFs/Publications/Mosaic_Report.pdf. –. 2004b. The francophones of Ottawa: Statistical profile of the francophone community based on the 2001 census of Statistics Canada, and the catalogue of community assets. http://www.spcottawa.on.ca/Publications_NewPublications.htm. Tam, Pauline. 2003. Municipal election races boast record number of minorities: Yet concerns of new immigrants seem absent from public debate. Ottawa Citizen. 1 November.

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Taylor, John. 1986. Ottawa: An illustrated history. Toronto: James Lorimer and Company. Tencer, Daniel, and Sarah Staples. 2004. Politicians chase Ottawa’s Muslim vote. Ottawa Citizen. 21 February. Trimble, Linda, and Jane Arscott. 2003. Still counting: Women in politics across Canada. Peterborough, ON: Broadview Press. Van Heelsum, Anja. 2002. The relationship between political participation and civic community of migrants in the Netherlands. Journal of International Migration and Integration 3 (2): 179-200. Vietnamese Canadian Federation. 2004. Vietnamese Bulletin vietnamien 20 (4). Wang, Shuguang, and Marie Truelove. 2003. Evaluation of settlement service programs for newcomers in Ontario: A geographic perspective. Journal of International Migration and Integration 4 (4): 577-607.

6 Many Faces, Few Places: The Political Under-Representation of Ethnic Minorities and Women in the City of Hamilton Karen Bird

Hamilton is a diverse city in many ways. It is ethnically diverse; located on the industrial shores of Lake Ontario, and just sixty-five kilometres southwest of Toronto, Hamilton has always been a significant city for immigration and an especially important destination for immigrant workers. Roughly onequarter of the population today are immigrants, the majority of whom arrived more than twenty years ago. Immigrant intake has declined since the city’s industrial boom of the 1950s and early ’60s, though today the number of refugees is growing. The city is also economically diverse; Hamilton’s central urban riding, located in the gritty northeast end, on the edge of the massive steel mills, ranks as Ontario’s lowest for average household income. Yet Hamilton also claims some of Canada’s wealthiest individuals, who have made their homes in mansions along the rise of the Niagara escarpment, or on country estates an hour’s drive from the Toronto financial district. Finally, Hamilton is geographically diverse; in 2001, the towns of Ancaster, Dundas, and Flamborough, the township of Glanbrook, and the cities of Hamilton and Stoney Creek were amalgamated to form the “new” City of Hamilton. The new city is comprised of several unique communities, encompassing farmland, rural hamlets, quaint historic towns, growing suburban developments, as well as a densely populated and somewhat decaying urban centre. As this chapter will show, the wide diversity of the population of Hamilton is not reflected by the politicians elected from across the city. Old-stock Canadians of Anglo-British ancestry continue to dominate Hamilton politics, while non-Anglo Europeans (most notably Italian-Canadians) have made notable advances. Visible minorities, in contrast, remain persistently absent from all levels of political office. Women have experienced modest gains in Hamilton politics, but, as is true throughout Canada, they still lag well behind men. Other categories – youth, blue-collar workers – have also been notably absent from elected office. This chapter describes the representative gap at all three levels of politics and explores its apparent causes.

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Breaking the Ground for Women and Minorities Setting aside this bleak picture for a moment, there have been some high notes for the representation of Hamilton’s diversity. Ellen Fairclough, Lincoln Alexander, and Sheila Copps helped to blaze a trail for women and visible minorities in politics, both in Hamilton and on the national stage. Their achievements were remarkable in their day, and remain so today. In 1957, Ellen Fairclough became Canada’s first female federal cabinet minister. She came to Ottawa after winning a by-election in Hamilton West in 1950. She was the sixth woman ever to sit in the House of Commons, and the first to represent a Hamilton constituency. She sat as the only woman in the House until three others were elected in the 1953 general election. Fairclough’s political career began – as it does for many women – within the party trenches and at the municipal level. In her twenties, she had served in the Conservative youth wing, eventually becoming president of the local organization and vice-president of the Young Conservatives of Ontario. In 1945, she was invited by a local party leader to run for Hamilton City Council. She lost the election, but was awarded a seat in June 1946 after an alderman’s resignation. Fairclough was elected city comptroller and deputy mayor in 1949, before moving to federal politics. She won five federal elections, holding Hamilton West until 1963, when she was defeated and retired from politics. An accountant before entering politics, Fairclough was accustomed to working in a traditionally male field and was not uncomfortable in the male-dominated arena of politics. She was nonetheless aware of the obstacles facing political women and of the heightened scrutiny that greeted their performance. She once complained, “If a male member of Parliament says anything foolish it is forgotten the next day, but if a woman does it, it is repeated endlessly, right across the country” (Conrad 1996). Just five years later, another trailblazer would emerge from Fairclough’s old riding. Lincoln Alexander, elected to Hamilton West in 1968, would become the first Black Member of Parliament (MP). Alexander was born in Toronto to West Indian immigrants. His parents laboured within the few job categories open to Blacks in the early part of the twentieth century: his mother was a maid, his father a railway porter. He moved to Hamilton to attend university, before returning to Toronto to study law. He held Hamilton West for the Conservative Party from 1968 to 1980 and served as Minister of Labour under Joe Clark’s brief government. Later, he became chair of the Workers’ Compensation Board of Ontario. He was appointed Lieutenant Governor of Ontario in 1985, making him the first member of a visible minority group to serve in a viceregal position in Canada. Sheila Copps was the second woman in Hamilton to hold a federal cabinet post. Copps is part of Hamilton’s pre-eminent political family. Her father, Victor K. Copps, was the longest-serving mayor of Hamilton, holding office from 1962 to 1976. Her mother, Geraldine Copps, was a city councillor.

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Sheila was just twenty-five in 1977, when she first ran for the provincial riding of Hamilton Centre. She lost by fourteen votes, but was successful on her second try, and entered provincial Parliament in 1981. A year later, she sought the leadership of the Ontario Liberal Party, coming second to future premier David Peterson. She switched to federal politics and represented the riding of Hamilton East from 1984 to 2004. She served as deputy prime minister under Jean Chrétien and also held cabinet posts as Minister of the Environment and of Canadian Heritage. Once touted as likely to become Canada’s first female prime minister, Copps twice lost leadership races within the federal Liberal party. After the reconfiguration of her riding prior to the 2004 election, Copps lost a bitter nomination battle and subsequently retired from politics. A History of Immigration and Diversity Hamilton has always been a significant city for immigration, linked vitally by its geographic position at the head of Lake Ontario to the country’s changing inflow of new settlers. From the early 1800s until today, the settlement patterns and opportunity structures for immigrants and their descendants have been closely connected to the economic and industrial development of the city. Beginning as a fledgling frontier settlement in the early 1800s, Hamilton became a key transshipment point between Atlantic ports and the western agricultural frontier. By the 1830s, the city had developed into a thriving commercial lake port as well as an important immigrant distribution centre. Hamilton was also characterized by significant land speculation and settlement, and there was sustained urban development through the middle of the nineteenth century. The city’s land-owning and mercantile elite and its earliest political leaders – often one and the same – were steadfastly British. Among the most noteworthy was Sir Allan Napier MacNab, a businessman and land speculator who represented Wentworth County in the Upper Canadian Assembly and went on to become prime minister of the united Canadas (1854-56). His family estate, Dundurn Castle, is now a historical museum on the western edge of the Hamilton Harbour, skirting the Royal Botanical Gardens. As historians Michael Doucet and John Weaver have shown, industry, occupation, and ethnicity shaped the settlement patterns of Hamilton residents from the very beginning. The city’s mercantile and political leaders built their mansions on the high ground near the Niagara escarpment, and on a ridge that meandered from the escarpment toward the Desjardins Canal on the west end of the harbour. The town centre, with its administrative buildings and merchant houses, would develop nearby. Hamilton’s working classes, on the other hand, settled on the low, flat, and poorly drained lands

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east of the ridge (Corktown), or in the north and northeast, close to the industrial ports. By mid-century, these neighbourhoods had become home to concentrations of Irish Catholic labourers fleeing the potato famine (Doucet and Weaver 1991; Weaver 1982). Industrial development around the harbour, the establishment in the 1850s of a significant railway complex near the ports, and the lack of environmental protection all served to reinforce existing residential inequalities. At the turn of the century, Hamilton had established itself as an important industrial city; by 1911, nearly half of the city’s labour force was employed in manufacturing industries (Weaver 1982, 197). The steel industry, in particular, which was growing in scale, increased the demand for men willing to endure difficult and dangerous work conditions. Emigration from the United Kingdom continued to be the largest source, providing about two-thirds of the newcomers, but after 1900 the presence of so-called “foreigners” from continental and Eastern Europe was noted. These were predominantly single male labourers, principally from Italy, but they were soon followed by family. For minority communities in Hamilton and the rest of Canada, the first half of the twentieth century was marked by struggle. The second-class status of these citizens was reinforced in a myriad of ways (Avery 1995). As Weaver documents, neither Hamilton city directories nor employers typically recorded names or addresses of foreign labourers, referring to them simply as “Joe” or “an Italian.” In a blatant sign of contempt, streetcar passengers made a sport of spitting at Italian labourers on road and rail crews (Weaver 1982, 93). Along some streets, homeowners devised restrictive covenants agreeing not to sell their homes or rent rooms to Blacks, Asians, or foreignborn Italians, Greeks, or Jews. In Westdale, one of the earliest suburban neighbourhoods in Hamilton, openly racist covenants were incorporated into residential planning and real estate development (Weaver 1989). These restrictive covenants remained in place as late as 1944, the year Ontario passed its Racial Discrimination Act. By force of blatant discrimination and economic necessity, ethnic communities became concentrated in the north and northeast ends of the city. These areas were heavily industrialized and by the early 1900s had suffered significant environmental damage (Cruikshank and Bouchier 2004). But in spite of fairly dismal living conditions, immigrant families soon developed strong attachments to these neighbourhoods. Irish, Italian, Polish, and Hungarian Roman Catholic churches were erected throughout the late 1800s and early 1900s, and these, along with vibrant community organizations and social clubs, would become the stable base of growing ethnic communities for much of the century (Weaver 1982, 96, 172). By 1961, the high point in postwar migration, the number of foreign-born in the city of Hamilton reached almost one-third of the total population.

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This was roughly double the proportion of immigrants in Canada as a whole, an indicator of the importance of foreign labour to the industrial city. Newcomers in the postwar period included growing numbers of Greeks and Portuguese, as well as refugees from countries within the Soviet sphere. The 1961 census counted the number of European-born at 17 percent of Hamilton’s population, compared to 13 percent born in the United Kingdom (Weaver 1982, 198). For the first time, immigrants from continental Europe outnumbered residents born in the United Kingdom, and Roman Catholics surpassed Anglicans to become the largest religious denomination in the city. Gradually, the postwar period also brought an end to discrimination in housing and employment, and improvements in the living conditions of many immigrant families. The rapid expansion of the steel industry through the 1960s and ’70s ensured high wages for its workers, and many firstgeneration immigrants were soon able to purchase new homes on sizable lots in the developing suburbs of Hamilton Mountain and Stoney Creek. Acceptance of ethnic minorities has certainly improved since the midtwentieth century. The last vestiges of racial discrimination in Canadian immigration regulations were gone by the late 1960s. In 1971, for the first time in Canadian history, the majority of those immigrating into Canada were of non-European ancestry. The entrenchment of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, official multicultural policy, and employment equity policy have all contributed to de jure racial equality and greater acceptance of ethnic and racial minorities. Still, despite these changes, public opinion surveys across thirty years show that Canadians continue to harbour more negative views toward non-Whites compared to those of European ancestry (Pineo 1977; Angus Reid Group 1991; Berry and Kalin 1995; Ekos Research Associates 2000). So while the gap between postwar migrants and Canadianborn citizens was closing, the turn of the twenty-first century would see new inequalities related to increasing racial diversity and declining economic opportunities for migrants. As we shall see in the following sections, the most recent immigrants to Hamilton have fared more poorly in terms of socio-economic integration and political inclusion than those who arrived a generation before. Diversity in the Twenty-First Century Today, Hamilton boasts a population of just under half a million people, making it the ninth largest Canadian city and the fourth largest in Ontario (preceded by Toronto, Ottawa, and Mississauga). The industrial sector remains key to Hamilton’s economy and is still the leading employer, engaging about 26 percent of the active workforce. Yet, this is barely better than half of the proportion it employed at the height of the industrial boom. The steel industry has reduced its workforce drastically over the last two decades.

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During the early 1980s, the two major steel companies, Stelco and Dofasco, combined to employ over 36,000 workers. Today, the number has declined to about 12,000, and ancillary steel-related factories have contracted as well. Other sectors have developed over the same period: over 18 percent of today’s workforce is employed in health and education. The unemployment rate for Hamilton remains lower than the national average, but, as discussed below, the loss of jobs in the manufacturing and industrial sector appears to have hit recent immigrant communities particularly hard. Hamilton’s immigration profile has changed in a number of respects since the mid-1960s. First, as is the case across Canada, the origin of newcomers has shifted away from Europe toward China and the regions of southern and western Asia. In 1961, census figures indicated that 98 percent of all immigrants living in Hamilton were born in the United Kingdom, Europe, or the United States. By 2001, this group had declined sharply to about 48 percent of the city’s total immigrant population. Looking at just recent immigrants, who immigrated between 1996 and 2001, only 30 percent were born in the UK, Europe, or the United States. Immigrants to Hamilton after 1996 were most likely to originate from the war-torn Balkans.1 After Yugoslavia (10 percent), the top places of birth are China (8 percent), Iraq (7 percent), Bosnia and Herzegovina (7 percent), Pakistan (7 percent), India (6 percent), and Croatia (4 percent). Despite the newest wave of immigration from beyond Western Europe, the cultures and languages of that region remain predominant. The Italian presence in Hamilton remains very strong. More than 35,000 people claim uniquely Italian origin, making this the second-largest ethnic group (almost 12 percent of the city’s population) in Hamilton after “Canadian.”2 Following Italians, the next largest ethnic groups are English, Scottish, Polish, Dutch, and Irish. Almost 5 percent of Hamilton residents list Italian as the language they first learned and still understand, while 7 percent report speaking Italian in the home (usually along with English). Italian is the second most common mother tongue after English, coming well ahead of Polish, Portuguese, French, Chinese, German, and Croatian. This strong Italian culture is reflected in a large and highly active network of Italian social clubs and associations, many Italian restaurants and grocery stores, as well as a popular annual Italian cultural festival. There is also an Italian consular office located in Hamilton. Across the city, just 11 percent report being visible minorities. This is considerably lower than the provincial visible minority population of 19 percent. The largest visible minority group in Hamilton is South Asian, followed by Blacks and Chinese, but none of these groups comprises more than 2 percent of the population. Another 2 percent is of Aboriginal origin. In terms of religious diversity, only 5 percent of the population is non-Christian,

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compared to 77 percent Christian, while 18 percent make no faith proclamation. Roman Catholics slightly outnumber Protestants, but together these “mainstream” Christian denominations comprise over 71 percent of the population. As for non-Christians, the largest group is Muslims, at just 3 percent. Other minority religions (including Buddhist, Greek Orthodox, Jewish, Hindu, Serbian Orthodox, and Sikh) comprise less than 1 percent each. In summary, while Hamilton has clearly become more culturally diverse over the past forty years, the city remains predominantly European in outlook, White in complexion, and Christian in faith. This is especially true when compared to the City of Toronto, where visible minorities comprise 43 percent of the population (see Chapter 1). A second notable characteristic is the relatively slow growth rate of Hamilton’s foreign-born population. Hamilton remains one of the top cities for immigrant settlement, surpassed only by Toronto, Montreal, and Vancouver. However, in contrast to these cities, and to Canada as a whole, the growth rate in Hamilton’s foreign-born population has been outpaced by the growth rate in the Canadian-born population. Over the period from 1986 to 2001, the number of immigrants living in Hamilton increased by 20,200 or 15 percent. In comparison, Hamilton’s Canadian-born population increased by 77,700 or 19 percent. The foreign-born share of Hamilton’s population has remained stable since 1986 at about 24 percent, while the proportion in Ontario and Canada has increased over the same period. Over the longer term, the foreign-born share of the city’s population has actually declined, from a high of 31 percent in 1961, to 24 percent in 2001. Undoubtedly, there are multiple causes for the slowing rate of immigrant growth in Hamilton. A principal cause is the contraction of Hamilton’s previously booming industrial sector. Fewer immigrants today choose Hamilton as their point of entry than was the case during the industrial heyday of the 1950s and ’60s. Those who do arrive in Hamilton are often secondary migrants, particularly from Toronto. They are drawn to Hamilton by educational opportunities and lower rents, and while some do settle permanently, others eventually leave the city for jobs elsewhere. This relative decline in immigration, along with Hamilton’s aging demographics and a growing skills shortage, could produce an economic crisis in the coming decade. Business and labour leaders, government officials, and those in the immigrant service sector all agree that it is crucial that Hamilton proactively recruit immigrants and expedite the integration of foreign-trained skilled workers and professionals (Canadian Labour and Business Centre 2005). A third change is in the social and economic well-being of today’s immigrants. Immigrants during the postwar period faced racism and discrimination certainly, but economic conditions were such that most found well-paying jobs and attained income levels at or near the Canadian average

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within a decade of their arrival. Today, there is fairly clear evidence nationwide that labour market and social outcomes for recently arrived immigrants are deteriorating (Thompson 2002; Metropolis 2005). Especially over the last ten years, new immigrants have been experiencing higher rates of unemployment, lower initial earnings, and a higher incidence of poverty; they are also taking longer to catch up to the benchmarks for each of these indicators set by the Canadian-born population. Hamilton’s share of recent immigrants is characterized by extreme economic and social vulnerability. According to a recent study by the Canadian Labour and Business Centre (Lamontagne 2005), 20 percent of immigrants to Hamilton between 2000 and 2003 were classed as refugees, a figure almost double that for the country as a whole (11 percent). Newcomers to Hamilton during that period also included a higher proportion of family class immigrants (34 percent compared to 29 percent nationally) and a lower proportion of skilled workers and business stream immigrants (43 percent compared to 57 percent for Canada as a whole). Recent immigrants to Hamilton have higher levels of education than the Canadian-born population. However, they tend to experience very difficult economic conditions. They face a 15 percent unemployment rate, compared to 6 percent for Hamilton as a whole, and compared to 14 percent among recent immigrants throughout the country (Lamontagne 2005). More than half (53 percent) of Hamilton’s recent immigrants and 45 percent of visible minorities are living below the poverty level, compared to 28 percent of city residents overall (Lee 2000). Recent immigrants and visible minorities tend to be concentrated within the original city of Hamilton, especially in the inner-city core. Approximately 21 percent of people living in the inner-city core are visible minorities, compared to less than 2 percent in the rural areas that were previously Flamborough and Glanbrook. The inner-city core also has a high prevalence of new immigrants, low-income earners, and persons with less than grade 9 education, as well as many single-parent families, many people receiving government transfer income, and a high unemployment rate. The average dwelling value in this core ($89,174) is about half of the average dwelling value across the city ($166,783).3 Compounding their social and economic disadvantage, this neighbourhood is also politically disadvantaged. In the “new” City of Hamilton, this inner-city core – consisting roughly of municipal wards 2 and 3 – represents just 2 of 15 seats on city council, while in the former pre-amalgamation city it comprised 2 of 8 seats. The riding of Hamilton Centre is also subject to some degree of urban vote dilution, which results when urban ridings contain a larger population of voters than rural ridings. To the extent that urban ridings also contain large visible minority populations, this translates into visible minority vote dilution (Thomas 2006; Pal and Choudhry 2007). The population of Hamilton Centre riding is 12,000

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greater than the population of the Ancaster-Dundas-Flamborough-Westdale riding, and the former also contains the largest visible minority population in the city (over 15 percent). Consequently, the votes of visible-minority city dwellers count for substantially less than those of rural Hamiltonians. While the ensuing discussion will look at political representation across the whole city of Hamilton, these patterns of economic and political marginalization of visible minorities within the most disadvantaged neighbourhoods should be kept in mind. The Political Face of Hamilton Having looked at the population of Hamilton, we turn now to the political face of Hamilton. As in other cities, the political class until very recently remained exclusively male and Anglo-Saxon. With a few exceptions, women were virtually excluded from city politics until 1978.4 Hamilton has never yet had a female mayor. Women also faced a long period of exclusion from federal politics. When she was elected in 1984, Sheila Copps was just the second woman (after Fairclough) to represent Hamilton in Ottawa. Hamilton also elected few ethnic minorities prior to the mid-1960s. It was still possible in 1941 for a municipal candidate to run on a platform of disenfranchising Italian-born citizens (Weaver 1982). Yet, by the end of the war, enterprising politicians had come to see in ethnic communities an opportunity for mobilizing support. In 1950, the new mayor, Lloyd D. Jackson, invited representatives from the city’s ethnic groups to participate in the inaugural meeting of the city council. Mayor Vic Copps was of Irish ancestry, but he made a point of learning to speak Italian. Copps even made an official visit to Gagliano Aterno, Italy, a town that had been a major source of Hamilton’s immigrants. As politicians began to seek voter support in the ethnic communities, enterprising ethnic leaders came to seek status and patronage rewards for mobilizing the votes of family, friends, and employees within their ethnic communities. Hamilton’s large Italian community was especially suitable for such mobilization (Jacek and Cunningham 1975). Many working-class Italian immigrants developed strong loyalties to the politicians who made a point of personally delivering jobs, visas, and a host of other government services. John Munro, a Liberal cabinet minister and MP for the ethnic and working-class riding of Hamilton East from 1962 to 1984, was among those best known for cultivating this machine style of politics (Jacek 1979). Gradually, those looking for more meaningful ways of participating in the political process would begin to seek office themselves. The first non-Anglo-Saxon to rise to political prominence within the city of Hamilton was Quinto Martini, a Progressive Conservative MP who held the riding of Hamilton East from 1957 to 1962. The Italian community found another representative in Joe Macaluso, a Liberal who defeated Ellen Fairclough in 1962.

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Macaluso enjoyed solid support from Italians who were angry about new restrictions on the number of family members that could be sponsored for permanent residency. Macaluso’s campaign manager, Charlie Agro, also had strong ties to the Italian community and would become a key organizer for Hamilton area Liberals. His brother, Vince Agro, sat as city councillor from 1964 to 1997. Other prominent politicians of Italian origin included Aldo Poloniato, Pat Valeriano, and Domenic Agostino.5 All held school board and/or city council seats in the 1970s and ’80s, and all were Liberals. School board and municipal elections have been an important point of entry for Italians in Hamilton. For example, Italians have won 7 of 9 seats on the Hamilton-Wentworth Catholic School Board in each of the last two elections. This may be due to several factors. First, notoriously low voter turnout at these levels makes it easier for groups with strong social networks to elect representatives. Second, in the absence of party cues for these elections, voters may be more likely to choose candidates on the basis of compatible ethnic affiliations (Kamin 1961). In Hamilton, changes in electoral rules also proved opportune for the Italian community. In 1960, municipal ward boundaries were redrawn into large regular strips, without regard for historic or neighbourhood communities. While the changes were intended to reduce the influence of parochial interests, they proved advantageous for the large and broadly distributed Italian community. Another advantage existed in Catholic School Board elections where, from 1973 until 1988, a portion of trustees was elected at large from across the city. Italian-origin candidates running at large could rely upon a network of ethnic support across the city. Those trustees elected at large could later parlay their citywide name recognition into a run for higher office. For a variety of reasons related to its demographic size, its length of settlement, its social resources, its incorporation within political and party machinery, and the electoral rules, the Italian community has achieved a record of success in Hamilton politics that no other ethnic group has ever emulated. Political Representation in 2005 What are the socio-economic characteristics of political leaders in Hamilton today? To address this question, a survey of Hamilton’s elected representatives was undertaken in 2005. The survey was administered by post and email to all 25 individuals representing Hamilton at the municipal, provincial, and federal levels of government. This number comprises 16 city councillors (including the mayor), 5 provincial MPPs, and 4 federal MPs. Completed questionnaires were received from all but 1 representative, for a response rate of 96 percent. A word first about the political boundaries of Hamilton in 2005. Municipally, the city is divided into 15 wards, each of which elects a single councillor, and the mayor is elected at large. In 2005, this municipality contained

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5 provincial and 4 federal ridings. A small portion of a fifth federal riding (Niagara West-Glanbrook) also lies within the municipal boundaries. Because fewer than one-third of the people in that riding reside within the municipality, it has been excluded from the analysis. These municipal wards, as well as the provincial and federal ridings, vary dramatically in geographic size and in socio-demographic characteristics. The federal riding of AncasterDundas-Flamborough-Westdale, comprising municipal wards 14 and 15, is a rural and suburban area of relative affluence, with an average family income of almost $90,000. Hamilton Centre, comprising roughly wards 2, 3, and 4, spans the inner core of the city. The average family income here is the lowest of any provincial riding in the province, at less than $53,000, and renters in this riding outnumber homeowners by 56 to 44 percent (Canada, Statistics Canada 2001). What was the political face of Hamilton in 2005? First, only 7 of its 25 elected representatives were women (28 percent), yet the number of women at each level of government varied widely. Women were best represented at the provincial level, holding 4 of Hamilton’s 5 legislative seats (80 percent).

Map 6.1 Federal electoral map of Hamilton, 2004 Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001).

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However, they held only 1 of 4 federal seats (25 percent), and a meagre 2 of 16 positions on city council (13 percent). While gender imbalance has been a constant feature in municipal politics, women appear to have suffered disproportionately since amalgamation. The consolidation of local wards and the reduction of council seats – from 59 across the former municipalities to the current 16 – has led to a substantial drop in women’s representation.6 In contrast to the municipal record, 2003 was a breakthrough year for Hamilton women in provincial politics. Three women were elected to represent Hamilton at Queen’s Park that year, joined by a fourth following a 2004 by-election. Over 44 percent of the candidates for those Hamilton seats were women. Women’s success in these provincial ridings may be related to the relatively high party turnover in Hamilton seats in recent years. In three elections over the decade from 1995 to 2005, these 5 seats have changed parties eleven times, with 3 seats rotating regularly among the Liberals, Conservatives, and New Democratic Party. This high degree of political turnover tends to erode any incumbency advantage, and it has turned a number of first-time candidates (many of them women) into surprise winners.7 With regard to ethnic diversity, the survey shows that the trend of AngloBritish and Italian dominance in Hamilton politics has not abated. Over 66 percent of all elected office holders reported either British or Canadian origins. Five (21 percent) claimed unhyphenated Italian background, making this the second-largest group among office holders. Other origins included French (13 percent), German (8 percent), Greek (4 percent), Dutch (4 percent), Croatian/Serbian (4 percent), and Armenian (4 percent). None of our representatives was of a non-Christian faith background, despite nonChristians comprising approximately 5 percent of the general population. Roman Catholics in elected office (42 percent) slightly outnumbered Protestants (38 percent), though both surpassed their numbers in the population (37 and 35 percent respectively). Three office holders claimed no religious denomination (13 percent), while 2 (8 percent) were Orthodox Christians. Only 1 of our 25 representatives (4 percent) was a visible minority. Tom Jackson, who is of Armenian origin, is the only visible minority who has been elected at any level in Hamilton since Lincoln Alexander gave up his Hamilton West seat in 1980. Yet, Jackson, who long ago Anglicized his name, is not widely recognized by voters as being of minority background, nor has he acted as a substantive representative for minority or immigrant interests.8 While immigrants comprise almost a quarter of the city’s population, only 2 of Hamilton’s political elite were born outside of Canada (8 percent). This includes then-mayor Larry Di Ianni, who was born in Italy. Most Hamilton politicians (63 percent) were born in Hamilton. Six of 21 (29 percent) have foreign-born spouses whose native countries include Italy, Greece, England, France, and Poland.

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In addition to ethnic background, political representatives were also asked for personal, education, and occupation information. Hamilton’s political leaders ranged in age from 34 to 67. The vast majority (73 percent) fell between 45 and 59 years old; this compares to just 19 percent of the general population in that age bracket. Women were slightly younger than men (averaging 49.8 compared to 52.1 years). Provincial representatives were the youngest of the group, with an average age of 48.8, while federal MPs, at 55.5, were the oldest on average. This age difference appears to be related to the lower rate of incumbency and relative accessibility of Hamilton’s provincial seats compared to other offices.9 Just 3 of Hamilton’s representatives were single or divorced, while the rest were married or living in common-law relationships. Women were slightly more likely than men to be single (14 percent compared to 11 percent) and had fewer children (averaging 1 child among women, compared to 2.3 among men). The children of female representatives were younger and more likely to be still living in the family home. Studies of gender and politics have suggested that women may find it necessary to forsake marriage and large families in order to pursue a political career, while men with political aspirations more often find a wife and children to be an important resource (Trimble and Tremblay 2003). The findings in Hamilton are consistent with this claim. Indeed, 3 of Hamilton’s 4 female MPPs did not seek re-election in the 2007 provincial election. Two of them – Marie Bountrogianni and Jennifer Mossop – have young children and have cited the difficulties of combining legislative responsibilities and family commitments as a reason for bowing out.10 Educationally as well as occupationally, Hamilton’s representatives are an elite lot. Among the 24 for whom we have full information, 4 percent completed elementary school, 13 percent terminated their education after high school, 29 percent have a college or professional degree, 29 percent have a bachelor’s degree, and 25 percent have earned a postgraduate degree (master’s or doctorate). Their educational attainment is significantly higher than that of the Hamilton population, among whom 20 percent have attended university and just 14 percent have attained a bachelor’s degree or higher. Their occupations cover a wide range of professions, including health, education, media, business and finance, management, and various kinds of sales and service. However, all but 1 (96 percent) could be classified as having held white-collar clerical or professional jobs immediately prior to assuming elected office. One was a dairy farmer. Not a single representative was employed as a tradesman or industrial worker, despite this being the largest occupational group (27 percent) in the city. Table 6.1 summarizes the findings described above and compares the characteristics of elected officials to those of the general population of the city.11 The proportionality index listed in the table is an indication of the statistical representation of a demographic group. A figure of 1.00 indicates

Political Under-Representation in the City of Hamilton 149

Table 6.1 Descriptive representation, Hamilton % among elected officials

% among population (n = 490,135)

Proportionality index

Gender Male Female

(n = 25) 72.0 28.0

48.8 51.2

1.48 0.55

Ethnicity Canadian British French Italian Polish Dutch German Greek Serbian/Croatian Chinese East Indian

(n = 24) 20.8 45.8 12.5 20.8 0 4.2 8.3 4.2 4.2 0 0

28.7 60.8 7.8 11.6 5.2 4.6 8.2 0.8 unknown 1.8 1.7

0.72 0.75 1.60 1.79 0 0.91 1.01 5.25 – 0 0

Visible minority

(n = 25) 4.0

10.9

0.37

Religion Roman Catholic Protestant No religious denomination Orthodox Christian Muslim Hindu Sikh

(n = 24) 41.7 37.5 12.5 8.3 0 0 0

36.6 34.7 17.8 2.8 3.3 0.6 0.5

1.14 1.08 0.70 2.96 0 0 0

Age 0-19 20-44 45-59 60 and over

(n = 22) 0 13.6 72.7 13.6

26.1 36.4 19.0 18.5

0 0.37 3.83 0.74

Place of birth In Canada Outside Canada

(n = 24) 91.7 8.3

75.2 24.8

1.22 0.33

Education Less than grade 9 High school College or professional University

(n = 24) 4.2 12.5 29.2 54.2

10.3 34.1 35.3 20.2

0.41 0.37 0.83 2.68 0

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1

Table 6.1 % among elected officials

Occupation (n = 23) Management 8.7 Business and finance 8.7 Health and science 17.4 Education, government, arts 43.5 Sales and service 17.4 Trades, industry, manufacturing 0 Agriculture 4.3

% among population (n = 490,135)

Proportionality index

9.2 16.1 11.8 10.0 23.8 27.0 2.1

0.95 0.54 1.47 4.35 0.73 0 2.05

Source: Author’s calculations based on survey of elected officials and Canada, Statistics Canada (2001).

that a group is perfectly represented in relation to its proportion in the population, while a figure lower than 1.00 indicates that the group is underrepresented, and a number higher than 1.00 indicates that it is over-represented.12 For example, in 2005, women were just over halfway to being proportionately represented across all three levels of government within the city of Hamilton. Summary and Discussion The political elite of Hamilton is predominantly White, male, and middle class. Women have done well at the provincial level, but are persistently under-represented at the federal and local levels. Visible minorities are very poorly represented: at almost 11 percent of the population, they can claim just a single visible minority politician across all three levels of government. Other under-represented groups include younger adults, foreign-born Canadians, blue-collar workers, and those with less than a university education. One of the most interesting features of Hamilton politics concerns the historically strong presence of Italian Canadians. Beginning in the mid-1960s, Italians emerged as important local actors, eventually coming to assume key leadership positions. This record of political success is due to a configuration of factors. The Italian population in Hamilton is large and well settled and enjoys the informal networks and social resources that are thought to facilitate political mobilization and inclusion (Fennema and Tillie 1999). In addition, specific features of Hamilton politics – the existence of an elected Catholic School Board, low voter turnout and the absence of party cues for school board and municipal elections, a history of machine politics especially within the federal Liberal organization in the city – have produced a unique political opportunity structure for the Italian community. Newer minority groups share few of the conditions that promoted the political mobilization and inclusion of Italians in Hamilton politics. Recent

Political Under-Representation in the City of Hamilton 151

immigrants and visible minorities living in Hamilton are in a uniquely precarious position. While they do not face the de jure discrimination experienced by earlier migrants and ethnic communities, they do endure rates of joblessness, poverty, and living conditions that fall far below Canadian standards. A large number are refugees from war and political persecution. The inner-city concentration of relatively disadvantaged recent immigrants has led some to comment that Hamilton may share more in common with the failed European model of immigration than with the Canadian ideal of multicultural integration.13 Given these circumstances, political participation within the minority population is expected to be low, and very few will have the economic or personal resources to run for election. While social and human capital characteristics may partly explain the lack of diversity among Hamilton’s elected officials, there are features of the political system that aggravate the problem. The recent amalgamation of the City of Hamilton has been especially disadvantageous for minorities and for women. Municipal politics is traditionally considered the most accessible level of Canadian politics and the logical place to begin for those who want to contribute to building more liveable neighbourhoods. Yet, in Hamilton, a dramatic reduction in municipal seats has left the demographically diverse inner core of the city politically weakened. There are few council seats to run for in the city. Given the absence of parties, and the importance of name recognition among municipal candidates, the incumbent advantage in those seats is formidable.14 Features of the electoral system can also have disadvantageous consequences for the representation of women and ethnic minorities (Norris 2004). Consider the use of the single member plurality (SMP) system in elections at all levels in Hamilton. As parties select their candidates to run in individual ridings, they tend to reproduce the status quo by picking incumbents or new candidates who reflect the typical social background and experience displayed by most MPs. In some ridings in the Toronto and Vancouver areas, visible minorities may comprise a critical mass capable of swaying party selectorates and electing minority representatives (Siemiatycki and Matheson 2005). But minority communities in Hamilton and other second-tier immigration cities are much smaller and are relatively disadvantaged under SMP rules. The representation of ethnic minorities and women would arguably be better served by a mixed member proportional (MMP) system, such as that presented to Ontario voters in the 2007 referendum. Elections under MMP tend to produce a more diverse and gender-balanced slate of candidates. Once elected, the MPs chosen to reflect societal diversity may also be more likely to act in ways that serve the needs and interests of diverse communities. Indeed, the potential for electoral reform in Ontario and other provinces has been one of the most promising developments for improving the political representation of marginalized groups (Milner 2004).

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There are other areas of promise as well. Despite the minimal representation of immigrants and minorities in Hamilton’s elected bodies, there is evidence that Hamilton’s diverse communities are participating through non-electoral avenues, and there have been attempts to include a diversity of backgrounds and perspectives in broader governance initiatives. The cornerstone of these activities has been Hamilton’s Settlement and Integration Services Organization (SISO), a community-based organization founded in 1993 to serve immigrant and refugee communities in Hamilton. While SISO offers a broad range of settlement programs and services, it has also played a key role in promoting empowerment and participation of newcomers in civic, social, economic, and cultural arenas. One of the most significant initiatives to grow out of SISO is the Hamilton Centre for Civic Inclusion (HCCI).15 This centre was established in 2006 to pursue a pair of mandates: first, to assist the city, local businesses, service providers, and other institutions in promoting inclusive environments; second, to foster civic leadership within diverse communities and facilitate the participation of Hamilton’s racial, cultural, and religious minorities in local decision-making processes. The mayor and another city councillor sit on the HCCI governing council, along with other leaders in community, business, and service organizations. The HCCI leads training workshops to develop leadership and political capacity within minority communities. The city has drawn on HCCI resources to promote inclusiveness and provide anti-racism training to city staff and to managers and tenants of CityHousing Hamilton, the city’s non-profit housing corporation. HCCI and SISO are also key partners in the city’s Task Force for Immigration, which is developing a proactive strategy to make Hamilton a more attractive city to immigrants. Beyond SISO and HCCI, other organizations promoting capacity-building and inclusiveness of diverse communities are the St. Joseph’s Immigrant Women’s Centre, Alliance de Femmes Immigrantes, Circle of Friends for Newcomers, and the Immigrant Culture and Art Association. The promise of these local organizations is that they will facilitate the emergence of a cohort of leaders with a strong community base, and that they will ensure that the needs and interests of minority communities are addressed within governance, business, labour, education, health, housing, police, cultural, and other services in the City of Hamilton. Whether such leaders will be able to break through the barriers to electoral politics depends crucially on these community strategies, and on the openness and responsiveness of the political system to its citizens. Strategies for Change The goal of this chapter has been to describe the representational deficit in Hamilton politics, and to explore its causes. What emerges most clearly is that the representational deficit is complex: it varies across groups; its causes

Political Under-Representation in the City of Hamilton 153

are multifaceted and highly contingent; and it changes, sometimes quite serendipitously, as new candidates emerge and as local ridings change party colours. As the case of the Italian community shows, it is not impossible for a minority ethnic group to attain strong electoral representation. But the particular social, economic, and political conditions that produced such outcomes may be quite unattainable for other groups. The representational challenge for recent immigrants and visible minorities in Hamilton is especially complex. This is an internally diverse group, with different backgrounds, languages, and social networks, and different levels of experience with democracy, making the group as a whole less available for political mobilization than the earlier Italian community. The poverty and social exclusion experienced by this group is a compounding factor. For women, it appears that electoral rules and the absence of a family-friendly environment in elected legislatures are the key obstacles. While there is no single formula that will raise the profile of all politically marginalized groups, there are at least three important strategies that bear promise. The first involves improving the economic and living conditions of marginalized groups, especially of recent immigrants and visible minorities. The second focuses on developing a strong community and fostering civic leadership through non-electoral avenues. The third involves reform of the electoral system and political culture. The pursuit of all three strategies would produce a more representative political class, a revitalized democracy, and a fairer society. Notes 1 As part of its role in the United Nations’ Humanitarian Evacuation Program, Canada received approximately 7,300 refugees from Kosovo in the spring of 1999. About 750 of these arrived in Hamilton. The majority who came to the city arrived directly into community “settlement” houses set up in two local hotels. Unlike usual refugees to Canada, this group received social supports, and sponsor groups were assigned to each family. Since 2003, Hamilton has also received approximately 300 Somali refugees under a similar federal resettlement program. 2 While most people of European ancestry trace their origins to multiple ethnic groups, Italians and Greeks are the only European groups who are more likely to claim a single ethnic origin than to claim multiple origins. The high level of single-origin responses suggests that the ethnicity of these groups remains relatively undiluted. The same is true for many of the newer immigrant groups, including those who cite Chinese, East Indian, and Filipino origins. 3 The geographic boundaries of the “inner-city core” and the socio-economic data describing this neighbourhood are drawn from Odoi et al. (2005). 4 Exceptionally, three women sat on city council in 1946. These pioneers were Nora Henderson, Helen Anderson, and Ellen Fairclough. 5 Domenic Agostino (Liberal) went on to hold the provincial riding of Hamilton East from 1995 until his death in 2004. 6 Prior to the 2003 municipal elections, women held 15 of 59 seats across the original municipalities now comprising the new City of Hamilton. Most of these seats were in the smaller towns of Dundas and Ancaster.

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7 Of the 4 female MPPs seated in 2005, 3 were elected in their first run at provincial politics, and 2 of those had never run for any prior political office. 8 See “Would you vote for Toros Toumajian?” Hamilton Spectator, 17 April 1997. 9 Only 1 of Hamilton’s 5 MPPs was elected before 2003. Of the 4 sitting MPs for Hamilton, 2 were newly elected in 2004, while the others have held their seats through four consecutive terms. The level of incumbency in Hamilton city politics is also very high. More than half of those elected to the “new” city council since 2003 had sat as town councillors within the previous municipalities. 10 On these resignations, and on the need for a more family-friendly provincial legislature, see Noiles (2007) and Ecker, Caplan, and Churley (2007). 11 Statistics for elected representatives are based on the survey, completed in 2005. Population statistics are based on census data from 2001. 12 The proportionality index is calculated as the proportion of group members within an elected body, divided by the proportion of group members within the general population. 13 Personal communication with Aurelia Tokaci, Settlement and Integration Services Organization (SISO), 12 June 2007. 14 One of the few candidates to defeat an incumbent in the 2003 municipal elections was Bob Brattina, the councillor representing the inner-city Ward 2. Brattina enjoyed wide name recognition as host of a popular morning radio show on Hamilton’s AM 900/CHML. 15 The HCCI resulted from a merger of two earlier initiatives. The Strengthening Hamilton’s Community Initiative (SHCI) was developed by the city in response to a spate of racist incidents following the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001. The Civic and Resource Center (C&RC) was developed by SISO to foster a civic culture of inclusion that would recognize and meet the needs of recent immigrants and refugees. References Angus Reid Group. 1991. Multiculturalism and Canadians: Attitude study, 1991 national survey report. Multiculturalism and Citizenship Canada. Avery, Donald. 1995. Reluctant host: Canada’s response to immigrant workers, 1896-1994. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart. Berry, J.W., and Rudolf Kalin. 1995. Multicultural and ethnic attitudes in Canada: An overview of the 1991 national survey. Canadian Journal of Behavioural Science 27 (3): 301-20. Canada. Statistics Canada. 2001. 2001 Federal electoral district (FED) profiles (1996 Representation Order), 2001 census. http://www12statcan.ca/english/census01/products/ standard/fedprofile/index.cfm. Canadian Labour and Business Centre. 2005. Engagement with regional stakeholders on integrating internationally trained workers into the workforce: Report on five Canadian roundtables – Fredericton, Hamilton, Victoria, Saskatoon, Windsor. http://www.clbc.ca/Research_and_ Reports/Archive/report10120501.asp (accessed 25 July 2007). Conrad, Margaret. 1996. ‘Not a feminist, but ...’: The political career of Ellen Louks Fairclough, Canada’s first feminine cabinet minister. Journal of Canadian Studies 31 (2): 5-28. Cruikshank, Ken, and Nancy B. Bouchier. 2004. Blighted areas and obnoxious industries: Constructing environmental inequality on an industrial waterfront, Hamilton, Ontario, 1890-1960. Environmental History 9 (3): 464-96. Doucet, Michael, and John Weaver. 1991. Housing the North American city. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press. Ecker, Janet, Elinor Caplan, and Marilyn Churley. 2007. Women in politics. Globe and Mail, 26 July. Ekos Research Associates. 2000. National immigration survey. Presentation to the Hon. Elinor Caplan, PC MP, Minister of Citizenship and Immigration. Fennema, Meindert, and Jean Tillie. 1999. Political participation and political trust in Amsterdam: Civic communities and ethnic networks. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 25 (4): 703-26. Jacek, Henry. 1979. John Munro and the Hamilton East Liberals: Anatomy of a modern political machine. In Their town: The Mafia, the media and the party machine, ed. Bill Freeman and Marsh Hewitt, 62-73. Toronto: James Lorimer and Company.

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Jacek, Henry, and Robert Cunningham. 1975. Ethnic conflict and political action: Political parties and voters in urban Canada. International Review of Modern Sociology 5 (2): 143-55. Kamin, L.J. 1958. Ethnic and party affiliations of candidates as determinants of voting. Canadian Journal of Psychology 12: 205-13. Lamontagne, François. 2005. National, provincial, and local trends and issues on immigration: Hamilton, Ontario and Canada. Presented at the Canadian Labour and Business Centre Roundtable, Hamilton, 9 February. http://www.clbc.ca/files/Presentations/Trends_ and_Issues_on_Immigration_-_Hamilton.pdf (accessed 19 May 2005). Lee, Kevin K. 2000. Urban poverty in Canada: A statistical profile. Ottawa: Canadian Council on Social Development. http://www.ccsd.ca/pubs/2000/up/ (accessed 6 May 2005). Metropolis. 2005. Economic and social performance outcomes of recent immigrants: How can we improve them? Metropolis Conversation Series, Report on conversation five (January). http://Canada.metropolis.net/events/conversation/conversation_5.html (accessed 25 January 2005). Milner, Henry. 2004. Making every vote count: Reassessing Canada’s electoral system. Peterborough: Broadview Press. Noiles, Willy. 2007. Family ties: Making the legislature kid friendly key to attracting parents to politics. View Magazine, 19-25 July. Norris, Pippa. 2004. Electoral engineering: Voting rules and political behavior. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Odoi, Agricola, Ron Wray, Marion Emo, Stephen Birch, Brian Hutchison, John Eyles, and Tom Abernathy. 2005. Inequalities in neighbourhood socioeconomic characteristics: Potential evidence-base for neighbourhood health planning. International Journal of Health Geography, 4: 20. http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?artid=1201163. Pal, Michael, and Sujit Choudhry. 2007. Is every ballot equal? Visible-minority vote dilution in Canada. IRPP Choices 13 (1): 3-27. Pineo, Peter. 1977. The social standings of racial and ethnic groupings. Canadian Review of Sociology and Anthropology 14 (2): 147-57. Siemiatycki, Myer, and Ian Andrew Matheson. 2005. Suburban success: Immigrant and minority electoral gains in suburban Toronto. Canadian Issues/Thèmes canadiens (summer): 69-72. Thomas, Brooke. 2006. Unequal votes: The malapportionment of Canadian minorities. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Canadian Political Science Association, Toronto, 1-3 June. Thompson, Eden. 2002. Immigrants and the Canadian labour market: An overview. Presentation for the Looking Ahead Initiative’s Roundtable Discussion on Research Related to Labour Market Trends of Immigrants, Vancouver, BC, 15 February. Trimble, Linda, and Manon Tremblay. 2003. Women politicians in Canada’s Parliament and legislatures, 1917-2000: A socio-demographic profile. In Women and electoral politics in Canada, ed. Manon Tremblay and Linda Trimble, 37-58. Don Mills: Oxford University Press. Weaver, John C. 1982. Hamilton: An illustrated history. Toronto: Lorimer. –. 1989. From land assembly to social mobility: The suburban life of Westdale (Hamilton) Ontario, 1911-1951. In A history of Ontario: Selected readings, ed. Michael J. Piva, 214-41. Toronto: Copp Clark Pitman.

7 Representation Deficits in Regina and Saskatoon Joseph Garcea

Residents of Regina and Saskatoon, like their counterparts in many other cities in Canada, celebrate what they perceive as diversity and various types of social equity in their communities (City of Saskatoon 1999). Unfortunately, very few of them know the precise nature and scope of this diversity and equity, which exists either in their communities or in their governmental and non-governmental institutions. This chapter attempts to shed some light on such diversity and equity in the major elected political institutions in these two cities. More specifically, it provides an overview and analysis of the nature and determinants of the electoral representation deficits following the municipal and provincial elections in 2003 and the federal election in 2004, as well as some prognostications regarding what is likely to happen to those deficits in the future. This chapter reveals that Regina and Saskatoon have very similar and notable representation deficits related to gender, race, ethnicity, and religion. It concludes that the elimination of those deficits is contingent on several factors, not the least of which are concerted efforts on the part of many influential actors within the political systems, including those from within the under-represented groups. The Demographic Profiles of Regina and Saskatoon The demographic profiles of Regina and Saskatoon have been shaped by migration and settlement patterns during three relatively distinct but overlapping eras in the past three centuries (Pohorecky 1975). The first is what might be termed the First Nations’ settlement era prior to European contact. During that era, the First Nations communities used the lands that would become the cities of Regina and Saskatoon. Following European contact, most of the First Nations communities were gradually displaced from those geographic areas. The most significant displacement occurred when members of First Nations’ communities were forced to live on reserves some distance away from the steadily growing urban centres of Regina and Saskatoon. The reserve system kept most First Nations people out of these urban centres

Representation Deficits in Regina and Saskatoon 157

until they started to migrate back there in increasingly large numbers during the latter part of the twentieth century. The result has been an increase in the Aboriginal population in both cities. The second era that has had an important effect on the demographic profiles of the populations of Regina and Saskatoon is the fur trade era, which brought the First Nations people in close contact with the Europeans involved in that trade. The offspring of couples consisting of a First Nations person and a European comprised the basis for the Métis Nation. Members of the Métis Nation, like their First Nations counterparts, initially constituted a significant proportion of the small population in the areas on which those two cities were established. However, a combination of migration to smaller communities away from those centres and the influx of thousands of nonMétis settlers during the third era of settlement diminished their proportion of the total population (De Brou 1999; Anderson 1999). In recent decades, however, they too have been migrating to Regina and Saskatoon and other urban centres as part of the general urban migration trend. The third era that had an important effect on the demographic profiles of Regina and Saskatoon is the era of agricultural settlement. The development of the agricultural economy in Saskatchewan from 1880 to 1920 had a profound effect on the socio-demographic profiles of those two cities. During those decades, waves of thousands of immigrants from abroad and migrants from other parts of Canada moved to Saskatchewan. The bulk of those flows consisted of persons of European descent who were coming either directly through primary migration from Europe or through secondary migration from the United States and other parts of Canada. Although the majority of them were of British ancestry, a substantial proportion of the rest were of European ancestry, and particularly from countries in northern and eastern Europe (Pohorecky 1975; Archer 1980; Kerr and Hanson 1982; Quiring 2004). Although there was a heterogeneous mix of ethnicities, almost all were Caucasians and Christians. The non-Caucasians were generally the relatively small clusters of Asians who worked on the building of the railway and in the service industries during that era. Although the number of Asians was very small compared to the number of newcomers from Europe, their presence was noticed because they were highly visible minorities. However, their settlement in Regina and Saskatoon did not produce a significant or sustained chain of immigration from their respective countries. The major reasons for this were the discriminatory federal and provincial immigration policies that existed at that time (Waiser 2005, 195). At the beginning of the twenty-first century, Saskatoon and Regina are Saskatchewan’s largest cities and seem destined to remain so in the future. Currently, they constitute approximately 40 percent of the province’s population, and, if the recent growth trends persist, they are likely to constitute more than 50 percent of the provincial population within a decade. Their

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growth is largely a result of intra- and inter-provincial migration. Such migration is making them not only larger but also somewhat more diverse racially, ethnoculturally, and religiously than they have been in recent decades. The increasing diversity is a result of these cities being preferred destinations both for Aboriginals within the province who are moving to large urban centres, and for immigrants and refugees from source countries other than those from which the bulk of immigrants and refugees came during the latter part of the nineteenth century and early part of the twentieth century. A striking feature of the population of Regina and Saskatoon, within the context of the cities examined in this volume, is that only 8 percent were born outside Canada. The remaining 92 percent were born either in Saskatchewan or other parts of Canada and, of those, 78 percent were born in Saskatchewan (Canada, Statistics Canada 2001). This contrasts with cities that have high numbers of immigrants and refugees, such as Toronto, where approximately half of the population was born outside Canada (see Chapter 1 in this volume). Given that current low levels of migration both to Regina and Saskatoon from Europe or any of the other continents is still relatively small (Mulder and Korenic 2005; Canada, Statistics Canada 2005), it is likely that the descendants of those early Caucasian settlers will continue to constitute the majority of the populations of both cities. At this time, there is little reason to think that the total number of immigrants from various source countries will change dramatically. The recent efforts by the federal and provincial governments to promote immigration to medium- and small-sized cities such as Regina and Saskatoon is likely to have a minor, rather than a radical transformative effect on the ethnocultural profile of these two Saskatchewan cities. The 2001 census reveals that Saskatoon and Regina census metropolitan areas (CMAs) are essentially duplicates of each other in their racial, ethnocultural, and religious diversity (see Tables 7.1 and 7.2). There are five notable features of the populations’ racial, ethnocultural, and religious profiles and migration patterns that are significant for the representation deficits that are the focus of this chapter. First, approximately 95 percent of the cities’ residents are White and only 5 percent are visible minority. The visible minority population is distributed unevenly throughout the municipal electoral districts, but non-Aboriginal visible minorities are not as heavily concentrated in the inner-core neighbourhoods as the Aboriginal population. Second, approximately 90 percent of the combined population of Regina and Saskatoon is of non-Aboriginal origin and approximately 10 percent is of Aboriginal origin. The percentage of Aboriginals in Saskatoon (10 percent) is slightly higher than in Regina (9 percent). These two cities have a higher proportion of Aboriginals than any other cities in Canada with populations

Representation Deficits in Regina and Saskatoon 159

Table 7.1 Socio-demographic profile of population, Saskatoon and Regina, 2001 Saskatoon (n = 222,635)

% of Population Regina (n = 190,020)

Saskatoon and Regina (n = 412,655)

Gender Male Female

49 52

49 52

49 52

Place of birth Born in Saskatchewan Born elsewhere in Canada Born outside Canada

77 15 8

79 13 8

78 14 8

Race White Non-White (visible minority)

94 6

95 5

95 5

Aboriginal by ethnic origin (North American Indian, Métis, and Inuit) Aboriginal 11 9 Non-Aboriginal 89 91

10 90

Religion Christian None Other

78 19 4

77 19 4

79 19 3

Note: For gender and religion total percentages are more than 100% due to rounding of numbers. Source: Canada, Statistics Canada (2001b).

over 50,000 (Canada, Statistics Canada 2001). Indeed, only Prince Albert, which is the third-largest city in Saskatchewan, with a population of approximately 41,000 within the CMA, has a substantially higher proportion of Aboriginals (29 percent) than Regina and Saskatoon. At least three factors contribute to the large Aboriginal populations in Regina and Saskatoon. These include the increased in-migration of Aboriginals to those cities, the higher birth rates among Aboriginals than nonAboriginals in recent decades, and the relatively low level of in-migration of non-Aboriginals both from inside and outside Canada (Canada, Citizenship and Immigration Canada 2005a, 2005b; Mulder and Korenic 2005). A substantial proportion of Aboriginals is concentrated in a few electoral districts in the so-called inner-core neighbourhoods (see Maps 7.1 and 7.2). Third, most of those who are neither Aboriginal nor Canadian are of European ancestry either in whole or in part. Indeed, apart from Aboriginals and Canadians, the other eight of the top ten ethnic groups are European. The ethnic makeup of both cities is quite similar, with German, English Canadian, Scottish, Irish, Ukrainian, French, North American Indian, and Polish ranking as the top nine most common ethnic origins. The tenth most common ethnicity is Dutch in Saskatoon and Norwegian in Regina (see Table 7.2).

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Table 7.2 Top twenty-five ethnic origins, Saskatoon and Regina CMAs, 2001 City of Saskatoon

City of Regina

Single and multiple % of total responses population

Single and multiple % of total responses population

Total population German English Canadian Scottish Irish Ukrainian French North American Indian Norwegian Polish Dutch Russian Métis Swedish Chinese Welsh American Danish Italian Filipino East Indian British Greek Lebanese Inuit

222,630

100

65,090 56,015 53,960 42,735 34,750 34,385 27,025

29 25 24 19 16 15 12

14,970 14,185 12,580 10,175 8,390 7,875 6,485 4,465 3,945 2,675 2,085 2,035 1,525 1,520 1,125 470 375 190

7 6 6 5 4 4 3 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 1