Reacting

The absurdity is in the title. Tourism Management Plan. Why not the Cat Herding Plan? Or the Let’s-Bring-Peace-to-Middle- East Plan? Does anyone actually believe that issuing identity cards to sort the locals from the rest of humanity on Wellington Beach will make life better? For whom? Will taking a net loss of $20,000 this year to enforce new rules on this beach make locals happy? Will it lessen the seasonal irritation with thousands of visitors who will make their way to Prince Edward County for the next 12 weeks or so? Will it discourage any of the undesirables from coming? Will anyone’s lives be made better?

Or will the Plan do its own sorting—will those sympathetic with the messaging of Prince Edward County go elsewhere while legions of ignorant louts replace them? Managing humans is fraught with unintended consequences.

At best, the Tourism Management Plan will make improvements on the margins. Too small to satisfy those who would prefer to blow the bridges. Too flimsy to change patterns of behaviour. Merely annoying and divisive enough to ignite wrath among a cohort of folks who never really engaged with Shire Hall before. Highlighting the fact that Shire Hall has contracted with mall cops to enforce the new order on Wellington Beach feels like piling on. (That said, I have more hope for the Destination Development Strategy—a more contemplative, less reactionary approach to the challenges that popularity has brought to this place. It is expected later this year.)

I won’t belabour this point here. I expect the Plan to fall under its own overly ambitious weight. I expect it to cause more complaints rather than fewer. Much of it will be undone upon sober second thought.

So instead, I will direct my gaze this week to the urges that make neighbour turn on neighbour.

Barry Norton graces my inbox each morning with images of natural beauty—beautiful photos of sunsets, fog over the lake, daffodils, irises, birds of all types, including a recent focus on one great blue heron. Mostly in Wellington, sometimes from the Rideau Lakes. Sometimes from Florida, though not for the past couple of winters. Images that portend a season. An end and a beginning.

But there is one migratory species Barry has not yet trained his lens on—the bachelorette. The bipedal homo sapien species is a mostly solitary creature, residing much of its life in concrete urban canyons. But prior to mating, the female of the species assembles five or six others and flock to Prince Edward County. There they consume local wine, eat well, be merry, before staggering home. Never again will they gather as a group.

Easily spotted, bachelorettes tend to travel as a unit. Often with self-proclaiming adornments such as Don’t do it, Mandy T-shirts or frilly dollar store fascinators.

Bachelorettes emerged in full regalia this past weekend. Prowling the Main Street in search of a dreamy machiatto (insert your own euphemism) or seeking to soak up the rustic charm of the village.

Meanwhile, a local, highly esteemed restaurant owner had set up a barbecue in front of her darkened restaurant. Burgers and club sandwiches for takeaway. It was market day in the village—the first of the season. It was like old home week—neighbours seeing neighbours without the mediation of Zoom. But barely had her grill warmed to temperature before by-law officials descended, forcing her to shut down.

Now, to be clear, this is not the fault of the by-law folks. They have been assigned an impossible task. They have been burdened with a new list of rules and regulations, many of which are untested, some are contradictory, and a great many of which will likely prove to be counter-productive. But by-law enforcement folks don’t get to choose which ones to enforce and which ones they don’t.

Instead, they respond when the phone rings. And by all reports, they are responding well enough—politely, sympathetically and with compassion. They are not the villains in this story.

In truth, there aren’t really any villains in this story. We are all reacting. It is a fearful time. We react to risks to our health. To our livelihoods. We also react to unfairness and inequity. We encourage neighbours to snitch on neighbours. We seek equity by cutting others down.

Bachelorettes are nesting somewhere tonight they probably shouldn’t, but a struggling resto can’t sell burgers outdoors on market day? Parking is prohibited for 200 metres to the end of Huyck’s Point? We’ll show those pesky dog-walkers who’s in charge.

We must be extra cautious when we make new laws—especially by-laws—based on fear and loathing. We must strive to be humble and prudent when our choices and inclinations are propelled by reactionary flinches.

Shire Hall and Ontario Parks know that a newly adopted ban on parking along both sides of the road at Lake on the Mountain won’t work. Or it will and they will earn many thousands of dollars from unsuspecting visitors, $400 at a time. They know, at least, that it isn’t reasonable.

But council reacted. Too quickly. Too thoughtlessly. It has created another headache for itself and some unlucky business owners. And it won’t satisfy a single person. Some will simply yell for more of a crackdown. Others will complain it is brutal and unwarranted overreach.

For what? To teach them a lesson? Who are we trying to protect? The old man yelling in his driveway? When does municipal policy become a tool of envy? Of petty grievance? Of pitting neighbour against neighbour?

Broader society, in the era of pandemic, has become frightfully reactionary. And more dangerous. We justify state limitations on liberty as the necessary trade-off to save lives in the short term. But once imposed, governments tend to find new utility in such powers. Our relative comfort makes us slow to insist that they be undone. Frogs in a boiling pot.

So, we must be diligent in applying sunset clauses and establishing clear benchmarks for relief from such incursion. This is hard.

The easiest way to be rid of liberty-sucking laws, however, is to avoid enacting the useless ones in the first place.

rick@wellingtontimes.ca