Capital Punishment

Capital city of Canada anyone? No? Yes? Well you should have got it – it’s Ottawa. Not the most difficult in the world, I admit, but I bet you had to think a little bit. This is where I find myself right now, and it’s a very interesting place I can tell you. I came here on a bit of a whim not knowing anything about the place and therefore having no expectations. As a result, I think I’ve found it more interesting than it actually is, but this is no bad thing.

The city itself is a peculiar place. It’s sort of like (sorry, bad English, I know) one of those purpose built capital cities, such as Canberra and Brasilia, but it’s a bit more ‘lived in’ – if you know what I mean. It was chosen to become Canada’s capital in 1857 and the story goes that Queen Victoria’s selection process was to stick a pin in a map about half-way between Toronto and Montreal. Ingenious. My lengthy wanders aboot the place (that’s a bit of Canadian for ya there – most of them seem to speak with a vaguely Scottish twang) have led me to believe that Ottawa is a curious mixture of York, Edinburgh, Whitehall, Brussels, with a twist of Bavaria and a hint of the Kremlin. Unusual I know, but that’s what it seems like. The architecture and the landscape are the main reasons for my verdict on the city’s influences – it’s a bit of a mish-mash, but a pleasant one. It’s also very orderly – a trait that owes everything to its status as a purpose-built capital city. The infrastructure seems to work, which is certainly a novelty in today’s world, and a good advert for municipal planning.

So what do you do when you find yourself in the seat of government of one of the world’s major political powers? Answer: you seek out a first-hand look at the effectiveness of the main power-holding establishments. After all, given that we technically still own this place, I felt I had a duty to run the rule over the people who are governing the territory on behalf of Her Majesty. I plan to file a full written report with my findings. First stop was the House of Parliament. In Canada, as in Britain, this is the lower house, where the elected representatives sit to debate and make law. Passing through numerous security checks, I was able to take a seat in the public gallery during a session of the chamber. I’d previously done this in London, and it was pretty entertaining watching John Major getting grilled by Tony B, with Lord Archer sat sneering a couple of rows in front of me. The Canadian version was not so entertaining. In fact it was downright pathetic. The chamber, which can seat over 300, was occupied by 5 representatives – they were easily outnumbered by the Police (10) the public (8) and the clerks (6). A pitiful attendance, I thought, lets hope they’re debating something of significance. The first speech was all about preserving indigenous culture in Canada. It is a worthy cause for attention, but the speech was a truly bizarre and confusing rant that seemed to focus on the bombing of a bridge in Mostar during the Yugoslav conflicts. On completion, it drew a rousing round of applause from one person. The second debate, which was led by the Minister for International Trade (you obviously don’t need to be that good to get a Ministry over here) was another blathering waste of oxygen, which dealt with international law surrounding the import of rough diamonds. Hardly inspirational stuff – I left mid-debate.

My next target was the upper chamber – the Senate, but these lazy gets don’t even bother turning up until 2pm, which gave me an hour to hang around, so I gave up. Luckily salvation was at hand in the form of the Canadian Supreme Court. Having never been inside a court of law, I was unsure as to whether I’d be allowed in. However, despite warnings from a burly doorman that “it’ll be a boring case”, I quickly found myself stepping through a mighty wooden door and straight into a session of the Supreme Court. I’d missed the opening sequences, so as I found a comfy chair at the rear of the courtroom I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Over the next hour, there followed an utterly absorbing cross-examination of an expert witness. I was able to surmise that the case centred on whether the continued incarceration of a Mr Harket (not sure on spelling) under threat of extradition to Algeria was adversely affecting his mental health. The expert witness in question was a leading authority on depression and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) amongst prisoners. His knowledge was fascinating and the probing undertaken by the Defence barrister was equally intriguing. There was even an ‘Objection’ by the other barrister, which made me very happy. After the hour spent, it was clear to me (so surely, therefore, to the judge) that the person in question was definitely not a psychopath and likely to improve in health if not incarcerated, but then I only heard one side of the case.

My report to Liz, will read along the following lines…
“Parliamentary system pretty poor – laziness and bumbling rife. I would send someone in to sort em out. Legal system appears to be solid, though you might want to tighten up on the random tourists that are let into the highest court in the land.”

Its off to Montreal tomorrow, so a good chance to practice my French. I’m told that most people there refuse to speak any English on principal. That doesn’t sound like the French to me.

Au revoir mes amis.