Canada Deserves Better: A Bold Call to Action from Parliament Hill
It was a crisp winter morning in Ottawa, the kind where the air felt sharp against the skin and the snow crunched underfoot like broken glass. Pierre Poilievre sat at his desk in a modest but well-organized office overlooking Parliament Hill. His gaze was fixed on his phone, scrolling through the stream of comments on his most recent post on X: a rallying cry to “Bring the Government back to work!”
The halls of Parliament were silent, eerily so, following the announcement that Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s Liberal government had prorogued Parliament. It was a strategic pause, critics said, a stalling tactic to buy time as the struggling Liberals scrambled to regroup and likely choose a new leader amidst waning popularity. The country was in disarray—affordability was at an all-time low, housing prices were skyrocketing, and Canadians were struggling to make ends meet. Yet instead of solutions, the government had chosen to retreat into the shadows.
Pierre ran his hand through his dark hair, his expression one of determined resolve. His team had just left a strategy meeting, and the plan was bold: if the government wanted to hide, so be it. But he wasn’t about to let them shirk their duty without consequence. His post on X was already gaining traction. “If the government won’t come back to work, we will. And we’ll see who loves Canada enough to show up,” he had written.
The words had been carefully chosen, equal parts challenge and dare. Poilievre knew the stakes were high. The Liberal Party’s decision to prorogue had given the opposition a golden opportunity to prove one thing to Canadians: they were the ones fighting for the people. For months, he had been hammering home his vision for a freer, more affordable Canada. Now, it was time to take that message from rhetoric to reality.
The following Monday, Parliament Hill came alive in a way no one had expected. Trucks and cars filled the parking lots, snow boots left trails of slush in the corridors, and the opposition MPs—Conservative, NDP, and even a handful of independent members—filed into the empty chambers. The Liberal seats, however, remained vacant, their absence stark against the backdrop of activity.
Pierre Poilievre stood at the head of the room, surveying the scene. Behind him, a giant Canadian flag stretched across the wall. A podium had been hastily set up in front of the Speaker’s chair, and cameras from news outlets both domestic and international lined the back of the room. Reporters whispered among themselves, pointing to the empty seats as though they were the story.
Pierre cleared his throat, and the room fell silent.
“My friends,” he began, his voice steady but impassioned, “Canadians are tired of being abandoned. They’re tired of being told that their struggles don’t matter, that their voices don’t count. This government has chosen to prorogue Parliament during one of the most difficult times in our country’s history. They’ve walked away from their responsibilities when Canadians need them most. Well, we’re not walking away.”
Applause erupted across the room, echoing through the chamber. Poilievre allowed it to roll over him, his eyes scanning the crowd. Familiar faces nodded in agreement—Conservative stalwarts like Michelle Rempel and Michael Chong—but what truly struck him were the unfamiliar ones. Farmers, small business owners, young parents who had driven through the snow to stand in solidarity with the opposition. These were the people he was fighting for.
“We’re here today to send a message,” he continued. “Not just to the government, but to every Canadian. We love this country. And loving this country means showing up. It means putting in the work, even when it’s hard, even when it feels like no one is watching. So I say to you: if the government won’t govern, we will.”
Cheers erupted again, louder this time. In the gallery, a group of high school students waved miniature Canadian flags, their faces lit with excitement. It was a moment that felt electric, charged with the kind of energy that only comes when people truly believe in a cause.
As the days passed, the unofficial sessions became a media sensation. Conservative MPs led discussions on skyrocketing grocery prices and unaffordable housing, while NDP members pushed for action on healthcare funding. Even a few disillusioned Liberal MPs quietly slipped into the chambers, their presence causing a stir among the press.
The Liberal Party, meanwhile, remained silent. Rumors swirled about backroom meetings, leadership squabbles, and a desperate attempt to salvage what was left of their party’s credibility. The Prime Minister’s office issued a vague statement about “reassessing priorities,” but the words rang hollow. Public opinion polls began to shift, with the Conservatives surging ahead.
The turning point came when Pierre Poilievre posted a second message on X. This time, it was a video. Standing on the steps of Parliament Hill, flanked by MPs and everyday Canadians, he addressed the camera directly.
“To the government of Canada,” he said, his breath visible in the cold winter air, “the people of this country have a message for you. You can hide, you can stall, you can prorogue. But you can’t stop us from doing the work. We will be here every day, fighting for the people you’ve abandoned. And when the next election comes, the Canadians you’ve ignored will speak loud and clear. The question is: will you be able to face them?”
The video went viral within hours. Hashtags like #BackToWork and #WeLoveCanada began trending across social media. Editorials praised Poilievre’s leadership, even as detractors criticized him for what they called “political grandstanding.” But Pierre didn’t care about the criticism. All he cared about was the growing sense of momentum, the belief that Canadians were finally waking up to the idea that their government worked for them—not the other way around.
By the time Parliament officially resumed weeks later, the Liberals had no choice but to return to the chambers, their absence a glaring symbol of their retreat. The first session was marked by tension, with Trudeau dodging pointed questions and opposition members refusing to let up. In the public gallery, the seats were packed with Canadians who had come to watch democracy in action. They had seen what it looked like when their representatives showed up, and they weren’t about to let them forget it.
As Pierre Poilievre stood to address the chamber, he felt the weight of the moment. He wasn’t just speaking for his party or even the opposition. He was speaking for every Canadian who had felt left behind, ignored, or forgotten.
“Mr. Speaker,” he began, his voice calm but resolute, “it’s time to get back to work.”
And with those words, the chamber erupted into a cacophony of voices—some in support, others in protest. But one thing was clear: Canada was watching. And this time, they wouldn’t look away.