It happened quietly, almost like a whisper behind closed doors—until it wasn’t quiet anymore. Parliament silenced. Debate strangled. And power? Well, it shifted hands like a loaded gun passed under the table.
Let’s rewind. When the walls started closing in on Justin Trudeau, when pressure mounted and his political house of cards began to wobble, he didn’t face the music. He didn’t step aside or answer to the people. No. Instead, he called on an unelected figurehead—the Governor General—to prorogue Parliament. Just like that, silence. No accountability. No questions.
And in the vacuum? In slipped Mark Carney.
No vote. No campaign. No public consent. Just a well-timed move wrapped in ceremonial legitimacy and coated in constitutional grey zones. Suddenly, Carney was the golden boy. An economic saviour, some said. But to others, it felt more like a palace appointment than a democratic decision.
This wasn’t leadership—it was survival. A backroom maneuver dressed in royal robes. And it worked. The crisis was dodged. The party stayed in power. The people, once again, were left out in the cold.
Which raises the question: why are we still bowing to a system that allows this?
In 2025, we’re still shackled to the monarchy, clinging to a colonial relic that lets unelected elites pull the strings when things get too messy for democracy. A prime minister can hit pause on Parliament with a single ask, and the Crown obliges. All legal. All “constitutional.” All terrifying.
This isn’t just a procedural loophole. It’s a warning.
Because next time, it might not stop at proroguing Parliament. Next time, it might go even deeper.
And we’ll still be asking ourselves—too late—why we let it happen again.
About the Author
______________________________________________
Help Keep Independent Journalism Alive & Support a Senior
Even a small contribution to my GoFundMe helps me continue this work and get a used car to stay mobile.
Because next time, it might not stop at proroguing Parliament. Next time, it might go even deeper.