Therefore, be it resolved
A new year brings a newsletter. And a whole bunch of changes.
Therefore, be it resolved
So this is the new year. And I don't feel any different.
But the world sure does.
I’ve been thinking. Like…a lot. And it’s often the case that I work through my thoughts by writing them down. So, if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to explain where my brain has been at over the past while.
At the end, I’ll let you know about the future of this little newsletter project.
***
Whereas I once derived joy from politics, but now feel nothing but dread while interacting with it:
I’m not one for resolutions. The arbitrariness of setting a goal for the beginning of the Gregorian calendar year, in my mind, sets one up for failure. January is a bad time to initiate a substantial change to one’s lifestyle, what with the darkness and the cold and the general glumness of it all.
But it can be a good time to reflect on things. And reflect, I have.
It’s been a while since I’ve published a newsletter. The previous edition of The Sewer Socialists came out on Christmas Eve. And I felt like I wrote that one in a fog.
That feeling - of sinking into a deep, soul-eating mire - is one that has accompanied me for the past few months. Already weighed down by the pressures of life and with a list of unfinished projects growing day by day, it was hard enough to be productive before the tides turned.
And then the witch of November came stealing.
Now, let’s be clear: it wasn’t just the American election. That was just one more reminder that everything’s off kilter now.
Politics is a jumbled mess of nonsense that caters to the feelings of a permanently begrudged and ever-shrinking electorate through empty soundbites. All our political energy is dedicated now to feelings at the expense of meaningful, evidence-based policies.
It is those politicians who cynically promise a return to “common sense” that see incredible success. That ugly little phrase - “common sense” - is a hollow and useless platitude that is, at best, little more than the campaign equivalent of a Rorschach test and, at worst, a declaration of war on an imagined ivory tower elite. It’s a two-for-one special: get a little petty populism and a chance to scold those who are curious and ambitious and engaged for being themselves. The politics of “common sense” is, as Alex Himelfarb noted in The Walrus, a society-warping philosophy that “portrays the majority as taxpayers rather than, say, citizens or just people”.1 It’s making us meaner and smaller and stupider. It’s ripping us from our neighbours, it’s confining us in little boxes, it’s making us hate the system because it’s setting the system up to fail, and fail miserably.
In this new political arena where the rules are made up and facts don’t matter, voters revel in their ignorance, wearing it as a badge of honour. Politicians and the few journalists who bother to do real journalism anymore spend inordinate amounts of time educating the public on the basics of how government works, rather than teaching people anything new or doing the actual work of advancing policies that will make the lives of people better. Maddeningly, that work falls on proudly covered ears, the endless “lalala I can’t hear you’s” serving as an oath of allegiance to a gleefully stupid new world.
An example: a user in the r/Hamilton subreddit helpfully posted a link to an article on Matt Elliott’s City Hall Watcher, an excellent newsletter that goes into detail about Toronto’s civic politics. The article (which you can read here) is an updated version of an overview on property taxes originally published on the now-defunct Torontoist. This kind of article is incredibly important in a moment when everyone is screaming both for a 0% tax increase and a massive expansion of civic services. The municipality is expected to do everything, take responsibility for everything, and work endlessly, all in return for a song. No new employees, but round-the-clock trash pickup, street cleaning, and road maintenance. The highest-quality, always present, ceaselessly smiling council that will, at a moment’s notice, fall on its sword as an act of penance for every error, real or imagined, it has foolishly made. A government that is as small and expansive as possible. Everything for everyone on their schedule, for free.
The first comment under the post is from a user who, upon trying to read the article, stopped because “it was really boring.” Had anyone been around me when I read that, they undoubtedly would have heard, though my stunned silence, the sound of my heart breaking into even smaller pieces.
Yes, taxes are complicated. Yes, government can be confusing. Yes, not everyone learns the same way. But when someone genuinely tries to explain the basics of civics - the absolute minimum someone should know before casting an informed ballot - and they are met with bored yawns and empty glares, we have a serious problem with the health of our democracy.
***
Whereas the internet is a sad and scary place:
All of social media is borderline unusable at this point. Sites that once promised to connect and educate and entertain us have, instead, eviscerated our ability to act normally or think with any clarity about politics or society or, frankly, anything. These platforms promote anger-inducing content because it keeps you on them longer, every flick of the thumb driving you deeper and deeper into the pits of hopelessness. Ad revenue pours in, your personal data flows out, the algorithm churns away, monetizing and dehumanizing your emotional responses, all to enrich a small bunch of massive losers.
And in this meaningless space, the hyperonline right sets the agenda, drives the conversation, dictates the tone. Anyone to their left, in their desperation, scrambles to try and match the strength of their poison, no matter how ineffective it is.
I feel a pain, deep in my spirit, whenever I see posts that endlessly scream “Doug Ford is corrupt!” and “Poilievre is compromised!” Like the Democrats breathlessly pointing to “Project 2025” as though fear of it was a suitable substitute for real policies, such a strategy will inevitably result in failure. All the tired and broken people out there will not come flooding back to the other side when that side isn’t offering anything new. And, yet, the right has set the tone, so outrage is the weapon of choice employed by the social media warriors of the #Resistance. They stick to a script, written by someone else, and keep losing. And it hurts so much to watch because it is so obvious to those outside the silo that it isn’t working.
This is not to say there hasn’t ever been any value in online organizing. There are a great many who have done excellent work advancing new ideas or holding powerful people to account using social media. But that world is fast fading away. The tech companies are owned by cryptofascist weirdos who have taken the results of the US election to mean they’re free to finally let their freak flags fly.
The promise of social media was that it would deepen the connections we have with one another. But is has, instead, driven us apart, sequestering once-ambitious activists in their own homes, in front of their own screens, away from their real-world neighbours. Where once there was canvassing and debate and socialization, there is now reposting and doomscrolling and siloed interactions with fellow travellers, all of whom lament their waning fortunes to people who sound and think like they do. “How ever will we expand our base?” they say to each other and no one else.
The small few who continue to push back against the tide find themselves engaging with semi-anonymous accounts that litter the landscape with visions of a world that we know does not exist. All subtlety has been smothered and panicked hyperbole rules the day as we are told that what we see in front of us is an illusion.
Log in and see how the powerless and the marginalized and the vulnerable are presented as the reason for all your suffering. The left-wing minority somehow rule over us, holding all the power and supplanting the will of a beleaguered silent majority of upstanding conservative citizens who think and look and act exactly like the imaginary families in Canadian Tire commercials from the 1990’s. The renovicted seniors on disability support, camping in parks for lack of anywhere else to go, have you cowering in fear, occupying public space and taking resources away from real taxpayers as they march through our parks, a trail of used syringes following behind them. The bright-eyed international student lured here with the promise of a good education has bought every house in your neighbourhood, taken your job, and stolen your elections. In each case, the extreme outliers - the left-wing bully, the anti-social dealer, the wealthy foreign investor - become the model on which we base all our one-size-fits-all responses.
Logic is the enemy, reason is a myth, hate is the only way to love.
The longer we dwell on social media, the more our ideas and our politics and our lives will be defined by anonymous others, either in contrast to the reality of our convictions or as an extreme version of who or what we are in reality.
All of this was summarized by this meme that’s been making the rounds:
***
Whereas it is January 27 and I am only now putting out a new edition of the newsletter:
Since November, it has been hard to motivate myself to do much of anything. I find it consistently hard to get out of bed, put on a brave face, and confront the day with any level of enthusiasm. I’m not doing my best at work, in my interpersonal relationships, or with maintaining consistent communication with folks. That shouldn’t come as a surprise to the people who have taken the time to send me emails about my work that have gone unanswered. I’m working on it, but it’ll take time, and I’m sorry to have left you all hanging thus far.
But it isn’t just my personal and professional life that have been neglected. I’ve also been avoiding things I was once passionate about in an effort to protect myself. That, unfortunately, has meant this newsletter has taken a back seat.
Keen readers will note that I published 11 newsletters in September and October and only managed to get four editions out through all of November and December - rarely on schedule and often littered with spelling and formatting errors.
The whole production has become tedious. Much of my newsletter work relies on me being tapped into the news, but trying to engage with it is like rolling the anxiety dice; will I get a cheerful story about a Supercrawl installation that’s now being displayed in Boston, or will I get a story about how the far-right’s persistent anti-queer rhetoric is making the youth even more homophobic than ever before? What fresh hell am I in for today, oh vengeful gods of news?
The CBC sends me push notifications, encouraging me to tune in and watch as democracy is strangled where it stands.2 Reading the Spec’s Letters to the Editor makes me wish I still had health insurance that would cover a therapist. The televisions at the gym ceaselessly broadcast the carnival of horrors that is the all-blood, all-crime, all-Ford programming of CP24.
The media breathlessly reports on awful leaders spinning their awful talking points, playing their most unhinged clips on a loop while actively and intentionally ignoring anyone who isn’t on the fringe or endlessly banging the drum of “common sense”. It’s important to note that, in the past 12 months (pre-early election confirmation), Doug Ford has been mentioned in 1,186 pieces in the Toronto Star - the purported paper of record for progressives - while the NDP’s Marit Stiles has been mentioned in just 194. The Green Party’s Mike Schreiner has been referenced in a scant 105. Ford gets 6 times the coverage as the leader of the opposition and over 11 times the coverage of the Green Party leader. Democracy.
Needless to say, it has been a little hard to keep up with current affairs to the point where I’m able to publish a coherent and well-researched newsletter every week.
***
Whereas I once was an undergraduate blogger:
So that’s where my brain has been. I’ve clearly had…feelings, to say the least.
But, as the contemporary cliché goes: the horrors persist, but so do I.
For a while there, I genuinely thought I would give up on this newsletter. The Sewer Socialists would trudge off and join my other online experiments in the compost bin of my history.
And then, almost by accident, I found an archived link to one of those old experiments.
Back when I was working as a student journalist at McMaster’s Silhouette, I had a little blog called “Democratic Perspectives”. I would work my day job at the paper, writing stories of general interest to students, and then spend a little time on passion projects - usually things on local politics and elections - which I would publish on that blog.
That blog was an outlet and a way to practice my writing and research skills. In some of the posts, you can get little glimpses into the kind of writer I have become. This post on the Hamilton-Wentworth Family Action Council (HWFAC) from August of 2010 reads like a prototypical Sewer Socialists piece.
Sure, a lot of that blog was cringey and basic (bonus points if you can find the profile photo of 19-year-old me anywhere on the archived site), but it had an impact. The leader of the HWFAC took offence to the aforementioned article and angrily posted in the comments. While writing during the 2010 mayoral election, a fringe candidate called The Silhouette and demand I be fired for not talking about him enough on my blog (or in my Wikipedia edits). My writing started to connect me with people doing good work during the zenith of Hamilton’s hip days (roughly 2005/6 to 2017ish? - that timeline is up for debate).
Reading through that archive, I was reminded why I do this kind of work. I like research. I like civic affairs. I like using what skills I have to try and help shift the conversation or, at the very least, contribute in whichever way I can. I like sharing knowledge and, for lack of a better term, educating.
I’ve tried running for office. That didn’t work and Hamilton’s local politics are so messy now that I’m beginning to think I’ll never have a chance at that. Or, at least, not until the dust settles and we can clearly see the playing field again (and someone actually asks me because I’m not so cocky to think I could ever do anything like that alone).
I’ve tried being a real journalist. That was for a student paper and I ended up quitting because I got too political. I’ve already expressed my positions and taken enough shots that more people than not would automatically assume my journalism would be compromised.
I’ve tried being a focused academic. That hasn’t worked because of bad timing (thanks, Doug) and a propensity for this place (thanks, me). The academy is raising the draw bridge to the ivory tower and I’m on the other side of the moat.
This newsletter and the writing that I do has allowed me to participate in this fragile democracy of ours in my own way. It isn’t perfect and I’m not even sure it’s effective, but it’s a reflection of me and how I see the world. Seemingly disparate threads, linked by history and context and key players, all of whom have a story and all of whom play their part. The building blocks as to how we got to this point matter and, all-too-often, we don’t talk about them enough.
After I left my job at The Sil - and set Democratic Perspectives aside - to become a student politician, I found myself in circles where the term “institutional memory” was bandied about. Archivists define institutional memory as “an understanding of the history and culture of an organization, especially the stories that explain the reasons behind certain decisions or procedures.” We did a poor job of maintaining an institutional memory in the student union. And we do a poor job of maintaining an institutional memory here in Hamilton. Those decisions and ideas and plans and buildings and people shaped the place we live today, but they have been forgotten because we simply haven’t done the work to remember.
***
Whereas, even though it sometimes makes me sad, I like the work I do:
My goal with this newsletter is to highlight relevant and interesting parts of our local history, to provide deeper analyses of the issues we face, and keep a little progressive spark alive in the face of an overwhelming onslaught from conventional media sources, many of which are skewing further and further to the right.
But, if I am to continue with this newsletter, I’m going to make some changes. In part, these will be to address some of my self-critiques and, in part, to respond to comments from others.
First off, while I will try to keep publishing regularly, I may not be able to publish every week. There have been some weeks when I’ve rushed something out only to later find mistakes, inconsistencies, and sloppy errors that could have been managed had I given myself a little more time. Keeping that in mind, I will produce at least two editions per month. I will take my time and do all the research necessary to tell a compelling and factually-sound story. And I’ll work on editing more carefully.
Second, I’ll try and focus on one larger “topic” per newsletter. Some editions have been all over the place, jumping from history to school trustees to local affairs to national politics. I know these can be overwhelming. They reflect my desire to provide a “run down” of current affairs, but those editions are often the least well-received and are some of my least favourite to write. My favourite editions have been the ones I have dedicated to one large piece (“So long, Mrs. Anderson”, “The Assembly of ‘69”, and “All aboard the conspiracy bus” are a few of my absolute faves). I hope to highlight issues and history with an eye to quality, rather than quantity.
The third thing is a big one. If this newsletter is going to get a refresh, then it may as well be a substantial one. And that means doing something about the name.
***
Whereas how you present your message matters:
In January of 2023, I realized Twitter was quickly becoming an unsafe place. The changes made to the site amplified extremist rhetoric that was already difficult to avoid and the shift in tone was growing more and more noticeable every single day. I resolved to start a newsletter to carry on doing some of the work I had dabbled in during the 2022 municipal election here in Hamilton.
When I signed up on Substack, I realized I would have to select a name for my publication. I spent a lot of time thinking about what the newsletter’s focus would be, what issues I would address, and how I would present it to the world. Ultimately, I grew impatient with myself and dropped a placeholder name in the sign-up box, assuming I would change it eventually.
Then local journalist Joey Coleman got the scoop on me, posting that I was starting a newsletter that would be called The Sewer Socialists. Like Mark Carney’s campaign team launching his website the day before he officially announced his entry into the Liberal leadership race or the Ontario Greens announcing prominent Toronto lawyer Patrick Macklem would be their candidate in a riding TBD, I had been preempted by my own eagerness. So the name stuck.
In the time since I’ve launched this newsletter, the name has caused a fair amount of controversy. As I noted in November of 2023 during my reader survey, the first responses I got to this newsletter when Joey posted about it were from far-right trolls who clearly took umbrage with the name even before I had posted anything. There was nothing for them to be mad at but the name of the newsletter. Not the content, not the topics, just the name. But it extends beyond Twitter trolls; when people have mentioned the name of this newsletter to non-readers, more often than not, a look of mild concern washes over their faces. An otherwise enthused person suddenly becomes chilly and accusatory when they hear such a controversial name.
The word “socialist” has, like most things in this world, been redefined by its opponents. Like the meme I referenced earlier, sometimes we find our values labeled and defined by those who assume first and ask questions second.
In 1989, Carl Sagan was interviewed by CNN founder Ted Turner, who asked the astronomer point blank: “Are you a socialist?”
Sagan deftly responded “I’m not sure what a socialist is,” before calmly explaining his philosophy point-by-point, explaining that the state has a responsibility to give people a chance to make it by ensuring people have the basic necessities and an equality of opportunity. Had he said “I am a socialist,” then many would immediately write him off as another lefty academic or a utopian dreamer or a Soviet sympathizer. Turner could have boxed him in and controlled the narrative around what Sagan believed. Instead, Sagan avoided Turner’s rhetorical trap and explained himself without being unfairly and narrowly labelled.
When Sagan says ““I’m not sure what a socialist is,” he means “I’m not sure what you think of when you think of socialism”. Sagan is, in my assessment, thinking: you may have a conceptualization that is no where near my reality so, rather than quickly labelling me to fit into your preconceived worldview, let me explain myself so we can find common ground.
Sagan had the right idea. Don’t let your opponents label you. Take control of your own story.
I’m reassured by the responses I got to that survey in November of 2023. Of the people who responded, almost 50% said they didn’t care what the name of the newsletter was, they just enjoyed reading it. If you’ve read this far, you theoretically like my content, so I hope you won’t mind a rebrand. Just know my values haven’t changed, I just needed to throw a new coat of paint on this old newsletter.
***
Therefore, be it resolved:
This will be the last edition of The Sewer Socialists as it currently exists. The next edition coming at you will sound very similar, provide the same kind of analysis, and do the same deep dives into our local history. You won’t even have to update your subscription! But it’ll be the first of The Sewer Socialists V2.0.
I’m very excited to introduce the next phase of this newsletter. Say hello to The Incline.
The rebrand won’t change anything about the newsletter’s mechanics. All I’ll do is go in, add the new logo and change the newsletter’s URL to the theincline.email. You’ll still get emails from me when I publish a new article, but now they’ll be sent as “The Incline” instead of “The Sewer Socialists”.
So why The Incline?
Hamilton is a city with unique geography, from our deep freshwater bay to the remnants of Ice Age lakes cut through the landscape, from our deep creeks and valleys to the towering escarpment running through the middle of this incredible place. In the early days of Hamilton’s history, when this place was growing and evolving, ambitious Hamiltonians sought to tie the different parts of this landscape together. This was in the service of connecting people and giving regular folks access to the mountain and the far-flung places it would be otherwise challenging to explore.
One of the most iconic ways this was done was through incline railways - funiculars that pulled modified train cars up a track from the base of the Escarpment to the top. Fun fact: the city’s first funicular didn’t scale the side of the Escarpment at all. The first incline railway was a 100m track up the side of what is now Bayview Cemetery when it was an amusement park. That incline closed in 1900…but I’ll write more about that later.
Hamilton’s inclines represented progress and innovation. They were a nod to a future this city’s early inhabitants thought possible. Even the name itself - incline - implies upward momentum.
That’s always been my goal: to inform people, in my own unique way, so that we can move the conversation forward and to a better place. Onward and upward, always.
I hope you’ll stick with me as I start this new chapter. I love this city and I am so grateful to have readers like you who encourage me to keep doing the work I do. The more engaged we are as citizens, the better our politics and our city will be, and I’m so happy I get to play my own little part in that.
Here’s to new adventures.
So moved.
Alex Himelfarb. “The Politics of “Common Sense” Is Making Us Meaner” The Walrus, January 22, 2025 - Link
In an attempt at very meta humour, an article about “cozy fiction” includes the line: “It's cold and grey, the world is in turmoil, and slowly, the idea of floating out to sea on an ice floe becomes more and more appealing.” The hyperlink for “world is in turmoil”, if clicked, simply redirects readers to the CBC News homepage. Grim stuff.
I should never have gotten this 'Sewer Socialist' tattoo
I remain grateful for your writing and your research and will continue to read under whatever label you choose. And as a student of local history. I had no idea that we had a 3rd incline preceding James & Wentworth. Looking forward to that story.