When you think about it, it's really all about rodeo, ridin, ropin, hangin in there, and toughin it out. Few events better illustrate the challenges evolving for our sense of shared culture as we transition into urbanity and away from values based in our rural roots. Calgary contains 1.1 million people, close to twice as many as were living within its boundaries a generation ago. Its bold new Centre City plan calls for a complete overhaul of its planning ambitions and for the importation of between 40,000 and 50,000 people over the next 20 years into its downtown core. The aim is environmental, cultural and infrastructure sustainability. To put this in perspective, the plan intends to convert a sprawling, horizontal city into one that is more vertical and with downtown density levels that will rival those in Manhattan. Demographically, its need for talent and labour has traditionally drawn people from across the country. However, as the impact of the baby boom's low level of reproduction become more evident in society and as other venues such as Saskatchewan and British Columbia become more competitive in terms of the net income and lifestyle they can offer, this too is changing. Statistics Canada trends in the past year show that while Alberta's population growth continues to be robust, it is at the moment entirely dependent upon immigration for that growth and is beginning to experience something rarely seen in its past, negative interprovincial migration. In other words, more native-born Canadians are leaving Alberta than are coming to it. This will have an impact on the city. Its look and its feel will evolve in a new direction although provided the promise it offers to ambitious newcomers is fulfilled there's no reason to think that the essence of its entrepreneurial energy will change. Suffice to say that is not the case in small town and rural Alberta or, for instance, large parts of the Maritimes. There, society looks much as it did 25 years ago. Population levels are relatively stable, stagnant is another way of looking at it, and opportunities for young people locally are less robust. This means that every year a certain number of people are drawn away by the jobs and excitement of the big cities and also that, due to the relative lack of opportunity, immigrants and their cultural influences are going to be less evident in these communities. The end result is that while 25 years ago cities such as Calgary were typically informed by the same set of cultural influences as were found in the rural and small-town communities that surrounded it, the same is not the case today and based on current trends will continue to be more and more disparate in the years ahead. Similar trends can be found in Montreal, Toronto, Edmonton, Vancouver and other cities. This need not be a bad thing. But it is a thing. This brings us again to rodeo and its efforts to adapt its sport,“ professional and otherwise, to the emerging sensibilities of urban culture and how it views animals. Calf roping is now, for instance, termed tie-down roping and, even more significantly, it and steer wrestling was completely eliminated this past year from the events at the Cloverdale Rodeo in B.C. This followed an incident the previous year in which a calf was put down after its leg was broken. People who live in urban areas tend to view animals through the lens of their experience with them and that is primarily as pets. When one dies, it is a tragedy. People from rural cultures are also fond and sensitive to the humane treatment of animals but naturally view them through the lens of their experience, which is primarily as livestock and beasts of burden. In the rural experience, animals die all the time; the event is neither rare nor does it evoke the same sense of tragedy. Simply, it is nature. Maintaining a common language that can bridge the gap between urban and rural Canada will be a new and greater challenge than at any time in our past.

Daily Commercial News - the industry daily "must read" - covers Senior Fellow Ray Pennings' speech at the Economic Club. Read the coverage here, and contribute to the emerging conversation on provincial competitive labour pools.

Imagine it is 1978, the year Ontario's current construction labour framework was passed into law. You are an investor intending to build a major project such as a factory or power plant. No matter where you choose to invest in Canada, the only workforce that has the skills and capacity to complete your project is the one organized by the craft unions affiliated with the various provincial Building and Construction Trades Councils. You could receive competitive bids for your project, but all of those bids will be based on the same labour agreement, negotiated between employers as a group and their unions. It's a complicated and messy history but if we fast-forward 30 years, that situation has changed dramatically. In British Columbia and Alberta (and to some extent other provinces), major projects are receiving bids from open-shop non-union contractors, alternative unions and the traditional craft unions. There are no known studies that measure the correlation between these competitive labour pool environments and the comparative economic prosperity enjoyed by those provinces in recent years, but anecdotal evidence and logic both suggest a strong link between competitive bidding and broad economic success. Ironically, while all this was going on, Ontario was heading in the opposite direction. Working agreements among municipalities, school boards and many corporate investors prevented contractors without labour agreements with craft unions from even bidding on projects. Those provinces with competitive labour pools are thriving. Ontario, where competition is suppressed, is now a 'have-not' province almost completely out of step with the country's fastest-growing provinces when it comes to the organization of construction labour. This tale of two economic directions took place due to changes in labour law, at least in part. But a closer examination shows legislative change actually followed competitive innovation rather than led it. The non-union sector in the more advanced provinces organized itself aggressively to provide union-type services such as hiring hall banks, group benefits and portability of benefits between employers. Various unions, including the International Wood and Allied Workers of Canada (IWA), Communication Energy and Paperworkers Union of Canada (CEP) and even the Labourers and Carpenters Unions began using the industrial model (all crafts in a single union). The Christian Labour Association of Canada (CLAC) combined this industrial or 'wall-to-wall' model with a 'partnership philosophy' and has seen significant growth in the past decade, particularly in Alberta and B.C. The significance of these developments is that the entire context for organizing construction labour relations has changed in most provinces. Whereas adversarial labour tactics that leveraged short-term opportunities (even to the detriment of the long-term stability of the industry) were once the norm, most craft unions in competitive markets now tend to focus on longer-term strategies. Defenders of the closed model are quick to suggest that the shift to labour pool competition amounted to implementation of an ideological anti-union agenda that has put the burden on the backs of workers. While the motives of some has undoubtedly fit that characterization, the fact remains that in order to develop a labour pool with the skills and capacity to construct major projects (skills that are limited in supply and consequently attract a significant market price), construction workers need to be well-compensated or they will go to the competition. The reality today is that while each pool has a core of workers that are ideologically committed to the pro- or anti-union philosophies that characterize their organizations, many workers freely move among the craft union, industrial union and non-union models of organization and take the available jobs that best suit their circumstances. Ontario, by contrast, continues with a model that effectively guarantees that the only available work forces with the skills to complete major projects are those organized by the craft unions. Without the competitive pressures of the alternative models, there is very little if any of the inspiration required to spur innovation, without which economies sputter and fail. Ontario is now proceeding with significant infrastructure investments, particularly in power generation, and it is high time the province assessed its competitive position in the country. A 'competitive labour pool' model similar to those in effect in Alberta and British Columbia creates fewer jurisdictional disputes, promotes local efficiency and encourages innovation on a macro level. It's proven to be an environment in which unions not only survive but thrive while helping ensure the long-term health of the industries that keep their members employed. Understanding and building on the value added by everyone at the table is essential for Ontario's economic future. Discussion of this deserving topic is overdue, if anyone has sufficient courage to break the awkward and uneconomic silence. Financial Post    Ray Pennings, Director of Research for Cardus, a Hamilton-based think tank, will be addressing Ontario's constructions costs before the Economic Club of Toronto on Wednesday.

STAMPEDE! The Rise of the West and Canada's New Power Elite By Gordon Pitts Key Porter, 360 pages, $34.95 Calgary oilman Jim Gray remembers exactly when the nightmare of the National Energy Program began. "October 28, 1980, at 4 p.m.," he tells author and Globe and Mail business writer Gordon Pitts, is the moment that, for better or worse, still haunts the soul of Alberta. Combined with a bursting market bubble, the NEP destroyed the blue-eyed sheiks of the Peter Lougheed era and threw tens of thousands from their jobs and homes. The survivors were forced to watch as the state-owned Petro Canada buildings rose to be Calgary's tallest structures. The company has long since been privatized and its reputation rehabilitated, but most who were here in the 1980s still recall when its towers were known as the Kremlin, their base as Red Square. Gray's quote is appropriately placed near the heart of Stampede! because, as Pitts makes clear, the moment is central to modern Alberta's story of devastation, reconstruction and, perhaps, redemption. Refreshingly, Pitts doesn't dwell on past resentments and sets an optimistic tone about the future of the West, pleading responsibly for an end to regional squabbling. Better than anyone to date, he efficiently articulates the class struggle between Central Canada's historic derision of the vulgar world of resources (how smart do you have to be to dig things out of the ground?) and the West's equally rugged contempt for business cultures of inheritance and entitlement (how hard do you have to work to inherit daddy's money?). It is a balanced overview of the forces and people behind the steady shift west of Canada's power base and its inevitable acceptance of itself as a resource superpower. Pitts asks the reader to imagine a 2020 world in which the TD is now the Calgary-Dominion bank, the Calgary Flames have won four straight Stanley Cups, the Alberta Heritage Fund is worth $100-billion, Quebec is irrelevant, the University of Alberta has recruited a third Nobel Prize winner, the nation's last auto plant has closed and Newfoundland and Labrador is an independent nation. But it is all too much of a tease for what follows. Part I is a series of compelling vignettes that form the foundations of the argument that Pitts's Canada of 2020 is within the realm of possibility. The author's journalistic skills are effectively used to outline the brute force of the oil-sands megaproject, the demise of manufacturing, the slow but elegant decline of Montreal from business centre to cultural playhouse, Newfoundland's hardscrabble destiny and the memories and myths that inform the Great Canadian Whole. Part II introduces Canada to its new bosses and, again, the parts are fine, although this is where some of Pitts's points, like Canada's regions, begin to argue with one another. The reader, for instance, is never certain whether Pitts considers Alberta's entrepreneurial inclinations mythical, in the sense of overblown nonsense, or proved legend. Some will quibble with individual characterizations (Gwyn Morgan, for instance, as a social conservative?) and argue that Stampede! would have been enriched with a morsel more of the Doug Mitchell crowd and the Tom Flanagan-style public policy players, and a tad less of the Murray Edwards types, perilous as it can be to underestimate the latter's influence. Few will argue, though, with the rehabilitation of Fred Woods, the Midnight Oil executive who became a poster boy for the nouveau riche when the plans for his $10-million home became public. Nor will many object to the inclusion of the story of the Harvie family's sale/donation of 1,700 hectares of their ranchland in order to preserve it as a park standing permanently in the path of suburban development. Part III is where one expects Pitts to pull this book together and prove his vision of Canada in 2020. Inexplicably, Stampede! bucks the reader off with even more vignettes and what appears to be a late addendum on foreign investment. All of the foundation laid in the preceding 330 pages is ground into a mere 11 pages of summary, which allows the original thesis of an Ontario in decline, an irrelevant Quebec and an independent Newfoundland to vanish. Pitts tells us what might happen, and why it might happen, but we never find out how it might happen. There are some valuable yet truncated points, for instance, about high-speed rail linking "Edgary" and about an endowment fund for the arts. Pitts's desire for Albertans to "get over it" when it comes to the NEP is not unfamiliar. Certainly life is more fun when you don't constantly have to shoulder-check for the next sucker punch, but Pitts's forecast of the death of the Ontario auto industry in tandem with the rise of powerful commodity-based provinces seems to argue against the need for the West to drop its guard. Pitts needed to take us further down that dark alley in order to convince us we will all get through it without mugging each other. Stampede! fails to become the book it might have been, but it remains a compelling read for people serious about Canada and the welcome revelation that the West is not a threat - it is a promise. Peter Menzies is a senior fellow with Cardus and former editor-in-chief and publisher of the Calgary Herald.

Gilles Duceppe is a capable politician, but his reputation as a cagey campaigner is enormously exaggerated given that his is the easiest job of all the party leaders. While Stephen Harper, Stephan Dion, Jack Layton and Elizabeth May were all trying to support candidates and win votes across the country on Oct. 14, Duceppe only had a handful of candidates to worry about. The other parties were flying their exhausted leaders across the world's second largest nation. Duceppe could spend most nights in his own bed. The Liberals, NDP and Tories must deploy their efforts strategically in order to spend the most amount of time in areas of the greatest opportunities and threats. The Conservatives, for instance, need not spend as much time in Alberta and Saskatchewan where their seats are relatively safe, but must keep a high presence in Vancouver, southern Ontario, Quebec and the Maritimes where threats and opportunities abound. Layton also has seats in Atlantic Canada he has to defend and seek, as well as Montreal, Toronto, various areas of Ontario and all across the West. Ditto for the Liberals. In fact, the Conservatives have seats in nine of the 10 provinces and one territory, as do the Liberals while the NDP are close behind with MPs from 8 provinces and one territory. Duceppe's task, on the other hand, is a walk in the park. The enormous northern riding of Abitibi-Temiscamingue is a Bloc stronghold as is the case with Manicouagan, the second largest geographical riding. This means the Bloc can focus entirely along the St. Lawrence and Ottawa valleys. But wait, it gets easier. Other ridings in the eastern end of Quebec such as Gaspesie-Isles-de-la-Madeleine and Rimouski-Neigette--T'miscouata--Les Basques are also safe and require lip service only, allowing Duceppe to focus only on contentious ridings while writing off the anglophone west end of Montreal. When the risks and opportunities are broken down, Duceppe only needs to aim his energy and resources at about 24 ridings. It then gets even easier. Duceppe's constituency is almost entirely francophone, which means he can target advertising primarily through francophone television networks TVA, TQS and SRC where, because of the relatively small audiences advertising rates are less expensive. And, because he is able to spend all of his time in Quebec, the Bloc leader is also guaranteed prominent if not dominant play on the election coverage broadcasts and front pages of Quebec media. Not only will his image appear far more frequently, so will his message which means that no matter how thin the gruel served up by his opponents, he may constantly attack and diminish them without having to worry too much about effective and repetitive counterpoints. It is not difficult to imagine that if Harper had the luxury of spending five weeks campaigning exclusively in Quebec and Atlantic Canada he wouldn't have improved his party's standings there, but it would have come at the expense of seats in Ontario or British Columbia. Similarly, if Dion were to have spent the bulk of his campaign in Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba, the Liberals would have better representation in those regions but would have fared even worse overall. Duceppe may have a winning record as a coach, but he is behind the bench of a team that gets to play its entire schedule on home ice. Little wonder then that they win most of their games and ensure that there is little chance either the Conservatives or Liberals can win a majority. But in 2014 the world will begin to change. Due to population shifts, B.C. will get 7 more seats, Alberta 5 and Ontario 10. Were those in play in the election just past, that would roughly work out to 14 more seats for the Conservatives, 5 more for the Liberals and four more to the NDP. The Conservatives would still be shy of a majority with 157 of the 166 required in a 330-seat House of Commons. But for the first time in the history of Confederation a majority will be within reach with only a handful (12-15 seats) required from Quebec. British Columbia, with 43, and Alberta with 33 will have a combined total of 76 seats, one more than Quebec's 75. Then, no doubt, we will discover how good a team the Bloc Quebecois really is.

Elizabeth Shakman Hurd, The Politics of Secularism in International Relations (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008) 264 pp. $22.95. Religion is a problem, writes Elizabeth Shakman Hurd in her recent book, The Politics of Secularism in International Relations. She certainly isn't the first person to notice. Religion has been a thorn in the side of social scientists for decades and especially following the events of September 11. God is back on the international scene, and his inconvenient reappearance has vexed policy analysts, academics, and populists alike. According to Hurd, there are two reasons for this quandary. First, academics seem unable or unwilling to accommodate the "global resurgence of religion" in their international relations (IR) paradigms. The dominant theories of foreign policy and IR can't easily consider religion as more than a narrow veneer for more traditional materialist or Machiavellian explanations. Taking religion "on its own terms" is a prospect that is both confusing and borderline heresy in orthodox IR. The second reason religion poses an indelible problem is because foreign policy has proceeded from IR's religiously illiterate theories. Foreign policies are struggling to adapt to an international climate that now requires sophisticated, articulate, and shockingly rapid responses to God's perceived resurgence. Hurd deftly illustrates how religion's implications for global politics transcend armchair foreign policy analysis. Religious illiteracy is a root factor behind treaty failures, diplomatic posturing, and the application of international force. The politics of secularism may have helped forge a new global order, but such politics have their limits. According to Hurd, our secularist chickens are coming home to roost. Hurd's central question is, "How, why, and in what ways does secular political authority form part of the foundation of contemporary international relations theory and practice, and what are the political consequences of this authority in international relations?"(1). She provides a three-part answer. First, the secularist division between religion and politics is not fixed but rather socially and historically constructed. Second, the failure to recognize this explains why students of IR have been unable to properly recognize the power of religion in global politics. And third, overcoming this problem allows for a better understanding of crucial empirical puzzles in international relations, evidenced by contemporary case studies, including Iran and Turkey. Hurd's introductory chapters and her insightful deconstruction of the secularist narrative in IR theory are the most valuable portions of The Politics of Secularism. She writes that secularism "refers to a public settlement of the relationship between politics and religion" (12). This settlement, she argues convincingly, constitutes the political culture of international relations. Of course, even this settlement is too unstable to remain fixed. Referencing the work of William Connolly, Charles Taylor, Jose Casanova, and Talal Asad, she usefully differentiates between two basic trajectories of secularism. These are the laicist trajectory, in which "religion is seen as an adversary and an impediment to modern politics" (23); and the Judeo-Christian secularist trajectory, in which "religion is seen as a source of unity and identity that generates conflict in modern international politics" (23). This distinction carves out a careful history of secularism in IR, presenting us with a picture of religion as a privatized force separate from what is public and secular. It is Hurd's ambition to denaturalize this reification of sacred and secular and expose these distinctions as being socially and political constituted. The demarcation of the secular and the sacred is more than a movement of pragmatic politics; it is an intentional theological position. Secularism is not the opposite of theological discourse; it is itself "a particular kind of theological discourse in its own right" (35). Understanding secularism as a type of theological narrative is certainly one of Hurd's most powerful ideas. She insists that various metaphysical perspectives should inform international relations and foreign policy. Accordingly, she examines Islam and secularism in Turkey and Iran, flagging ill-fated policy orientations which ignore or contest the place of alternative political theologies. Conversations staking out the supremacy and inalienability of Enlightenment secularism stand little chance of success in a world surging with religion's devotees. Yet while Hurd creates a compelling argument for including alternative political theologies in international relations, it is difficult to determine how this inclusion could occur. If the traditions of secularism are socially constituted, then they are also subject to modification. But what kinds of modifications should or can be made to international relations theory to rectify this exclusion? In her conclusion, Hurd suggests briefly that one such option might be William Connolly's kind of agonistic democracy, perhaps mixed with her own approach based on Stephen K. White's weak ontology. Such an agonistic democracy could "elicit or seek out public expression of contending views of religion and its relationship to the political" (147). Quoting Connolly she writes, "a democracy infused with a spirit of agonism is one in which divergent orientations to the mysteries of existence find overt expression in public life" (147). Agonistic democracy would encourage contestation and interrupt any attempt to impose final or static solutions on the relationship between politics and religion. The need, she concludes, is to rewrite secularism to pursue an ethos of engagement among a plurality of controversial metaphysical perspectives. Though this is a promising idea, it falls short of an agenda for modifying traditional theories of international relations to better "explain and understand" global politics. Hurd argues convincingly that overcoming the "secularist problem" will make for better theory and practice, but exactly how or in what ways this transcendence might proceed is murky at best. The deconstruction of IR's secularist history is laudable, but the task of policy making abhors the academic luxury of stopping half-way. Elizabeth Shakman Hurd has made an exceptional contribution to the conversation, a critical initial step toward understanding religion in international relations. At the conclusion of her eighth chapter she hints that she believes as much herself. She writes, "How to think productively, on a case-by-case basis, about these contestants or resurgents in their own terms and outside the binaries produced and maintained by secularist rigid authority is the next challenge" (146). As such, this book is more accurately the introduction to a much larger project to be undertaken on a global and historical scale, the contestation and conversation over the secular and the sacred, between religion and politics, and ultimately the relationship between what we believe and how we live.

The Work Research Foundation has become Cardus: a new unique name for the same unique organization. Our wide-angle periodicals, policies and punditry come together for a renewed vision of public life, up and down the Cardus—the Main Street. Why Cardus? The Cardus was an ancient north-south road that connected the people of Roman cities to their major public spaces. On the Cardus Maximus governments, markets, temples and more lived and worked to build a common life for the good of the city. Today’s North American cities are connected by high speed highways, and asphalt roadways, bringing their occupants in encased metal bodies from point A to point B. Global culture generates a huge amount of data, but it is segmented, disconnected and isolated. Our think tanks have concentrated on politics, but forgotten the importance of culture. Professors and policy advocates are world leaders in minute areas—but who paints the bigger picture? Our institutions, like our people, function in a new kind of social and intellectual isolation. Policy is made without a place for religion, religion is practiced with little thought to the common good, and work is done without connecting the "why" to the "how". What is Cardus? Enter Cardus. We believe that economic, social and religious patterns have a deep influence on each other, and that we ignore these to the peril of each. These forces do not operate independent of each other, and neither do their institutions. Public life is sustained not just by social or political effort, but by a plurality of institutional cooperation. Thus—this is the moment for a think tank to bridge politics and culture, to rethink, research and rebuild an integrative vision of North American social architecture. And Cardus isn't merely rethinking and researching an alternative vision for public life—we're actively working to renew and rebuild. Cardus is a North American public policy think tank, equipping change agents with a strategic public theology to renew North American social architecture. Explore Cardus You have several ways to explore the new Cardus: Join Cardus for our Hamilton, Ontario relaunch event! Enjoy an evening lecture with our first Senior Fellow, and editor of worldview journal Comment, Dr. Gideon Strauss. For the first time, Cardus' new look will be unveiled in the city of our home office! Co-presented with Redeemer University College, Gideon's lecture will be part of the 2008 Bernard Zylstra Lecture Series, an annual presentation by Redeemer. Featuring a standing reception from 7:15 to 8:00 pm in the Redeemer art gallery, an intimate discussion in the auditorium, and plenty of social and networking opportunites, Cardus' Hamilton launch must not be missed. Location is 777 Garner Road East, Ancaster, Ontario L9K 1J4. Registration is complimentary. Register here. Browse our rich new website (www.cardus.ca), drawing together everything we do into a stylish, easily-navigated headquarters. Listen to our newest think audio lecture, #18: About Cardus. The architects of Cardus join forces to (re-)introduce our mission, our strategy and our dream. At the end of the day, the best way to get to know Cardus is to talk to us. Visit our team page, and get in touch with us—we want to hear from you!.

Cardus welcomes aboard a new Director of Operations in Milton Friesen, joining Hamilton head office from Calgary, Alberta. With his heart and family still back in Alberta we look forward to welcoming both Milton and his family into the Hamilton area in coming months. Have a look at Milton's gifts and experiences on his staff page .

There has been a great deal written and even more spoken over the past months about why we don't vote, yet the answers are less likely to be found in current behaviours than they are in the subtleties of post-modern thinking. We live in a consumer society; one in which the dominant although not exclusive trend is to assess the value of the products we purchase and the activities we engage in by the benefits they bring to us as individuals. This articulates itself in the reasons for low voter turnout that I hear in the course of my studies and travels across the country. The most frequent is that "I don't know if I'll vote because I don't agree with everything any of the candidates has to say" or, in other words, there is no single party or candidate that affirms us individually -- at least not at the level required to inspire us to return the favour by going to the polls and affirming the ambitions of one of the candidates. When we don't see ourselves fully represented in the choices placed before us as consumers, we therefore fail to see sufficient value in the exchange of goods or services and choose not to buy into or participate in the process. Further degrading the value of this exchange is that the nature of our parliamentary democracy dictates that most of us will be dissatisfied with the outcome of any given election. With four or more candidates in each of our ridings or wards, the majority of us will typically not vote for the person, or party, who wins. In fact, if current polls are any indication federally, at least six out of 10 Canadian voters will vote for a party or candidate other than the one that forms government on Oct. 14. The vast majority of us are therefore asked to participate in a process in which we will -- so long as we only value it in terms of the satisfaction we gain from it -- feel as if we have "lost." Hence, the popularity of reforms that would attribute seats in the House of Commons based on a percentage of popular vote -- a process that would allow more of us to see "ourselves" reflected in the parliamentary potpourris. To a great extent, there is nothing particularly new about this. Canadian society has, however, always defined itself in terms of the balance of the tension between collective and individual rights, i.e. the right of the majority to define the sort of community we will share versus the rights of each us individually to determine the course of our own lives. There is little doubt that the Baby Boom's powerful cultural influence and desire to lead lives of self-affirmation in contrast to their parents' embrace of duty and sacrifice has shifted the balance in favour of individualism. Rightly or wrongly, that was a driving force behind the installation and interpretation of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms that has made many changes in our society. All of this has consequently combined to reinforce or "affirm" the tendency to assess political and other behaviours in terms of the satisfaction it offers to us as individuals. In other words, not only do we have a right to vote, growing numbers of us are inclined to feel entitled to see our individualism affirmed by the process. This tendency to take a consumer approach to life is also reflected in other ways. The most common cause cited for irregular church attendance, for instance, is not lack of faith in God, it is the churches' inability to meet our individual needs. So, while we once went to church in order to serve and praise God, we are now more inclined to assess the value of church attendance based on the service it provides us. We shouldn't be surprised, therefore, that we would take the same approach to politics; it's not as if we don't believe in it anymore, it's just that we are more interested in what it can do for us than what we can do for it. Having established a reputation for excellence in promoting the not inconsiderable value of individual rights and freedoms, our leaders, media and educators may, if they value high levels of political engagement, consider also promoting the idea that with each right comes an obligation and with each freedom comes a responsibility. That won't solve the entire issue of low voter turnout, but it's as good a place as any to begin. Ray Pennings is vice-president of the Work Research Foundation.