What brings people together?

For the last two months, I've been an excuse to get people together in a room, watch a movie, and talk to their neighbours. I've hosted 18 screenings, with an average of 24 people at a time. The audiences tend to be casually familiar with each other, but I don't think I've met anything yet where the audience felt truly tight. In many cases, I think people were hearing from each other for the first time.

It's been gratifying to watch these connections get made, but a bit daunting to think about what happens after. The discussions I host are intended to identify one particular action that the group could take. I would like to think that the group would keep meeting and start to tackle some of the issues that they've discussed. I'm counting on the fact that this is possible.

But, out of the 18 screenings, I've only seen one where an action was identified. At Yeoford Hall, someone in the crowd stood up and suggested that, as local farmers, they should start a list where they could share what each farm had available. It was a simple way to remind themselves that they could buy food from their neighbours. I love that suggestion, and I hope they've been able to follow through.

If they have, that list will become the cement that binds together a new neighbourhood group. If they are regularly in contact to share what is available, that contact will lead to other ideas and suggestions; other reasons to get together, and a social network that can tackle bigger problems.

This is how I hope that my tour can rebuild our economy: I want to bring people together for an evening in hopes that those people will stay together and keep working on the issues in their local communities.

This is a contrast to the experience I had in Daysland. Daysland was an equally lively and interesting discussion, but I made a mistake: I invited a politician.

The politician was Bonnie Critchley, best known for running as an independent against Conservative Party leader Pierre Poilievre in by-election that helped him regain is seat in parliament. I invited her at the suggestion of Susan Manyluk (a farmer in my film), and, as a non-resident of Battle River—Crowfoot, I liked her because I respect anyone willing to run as an independent, and I want to see more viable choices on the ballot.

I had the idea that people might want to talk to her as someone, even unelected, who was close to the levers of power. I was taking for granted our cultural idea that, if we want change, politics and politicians are going to be involved. But, as soon as I introduced her, there was a noticeable chill in the room.

Asking around, I got a variety of explanations for why the room tensed up when she spoke. I don’t think any explanation really convinced me. My own take is that the room was terrified by bringing politics up because their experience of politics is so toxic. I don’t think anyone wanted even a hint of political discussion. It was the opposite of cement; politics is a sledgehammer that smashes the bonds between neighbours.

I don't want to exaggerate what took place in either Yeoford or Daysland. I will be impressed if the list in Yeoford successfully gets off the ground, and I don't think introducing Bonnie Critchley did any lasting damage in Daysland. There are limits to what I can accomplish by bringing a community together for one evening.

But it was apparent to me that some tools work better than others when it comes to building community.