Slow Walking Bicycles - 10 things the bike tribe gets wrong about bike lanes in Halifax
Finding the front line in the bike lane war, and ten further flawed arguments made by our Council
There’s so much to talk about. There are so many different ways to look at the problems of the day. And I’m so enthusiastic about new progress and opportunity for Nova Scotia and Canada on so many fronts.
So why am I going back to Bike Lanes for the third time in three weeks?
Because it’s not about bike lanes. I’m for bikes. I love ‘em like Coco Love ‘em. And it is FOR SURE, that we have to rethink the way our communities work if we want to have the best in the world in history.
It’s about the way Halifax government thinks. Or more precisely, doesn’t.
And it’s about how (slaps hands together), ACTIVE TRANSPORTATION SYSTEMS! are the symptom-salve non-solution that’s distracting us from working together on the actual problem.
SIDEBAR: The Doom Loop of Bad Decisions
We got it good. Better than we imagine. The apocalyptic, countdown-to-end-times, placard-waving, “box of birds” line of talk is WAY off.
Our town and our province are AMAZING. If you live in Nova Scotia today, you are living in one of the top 5% most wonderful places in all of human history—by almost every metric: peace, freedom, health, safety, beauty, opportunity, and community.
But here’s the catch: when we forget that, when we lose perspective, we start making decisions from fear instead of facts. From panic instead of planning. From grievance instead of gratitude.
And decisions made from apocalyptic thinking are almost always bad decisions. They distort priorities. They justify extremes. They reward drama over diligence. They lead us to chop down the tree to get the apples.
Progress doesn’t come from shouting that the sky is falling. It comes from loving what we have enough to want to make it better. Long game.
Our town and our province are so well off that we can afford to get a lot wrong and still be a wonderful place.
How can I prove this?
Here’s what you do. Go to Google Maps. Type in any place in the world. Go to street view by pulling the little man from the lower right corner and dropping hin in any town or city on the planet. Take a tour by clicking forward arrows on the street you’d like to explore. See for yourself.
TL:DR
Tom Cochrane was right. He saw it firsthand and reported it back to us but we didn’t really listen. Life actually is a highway. It’s the main creation of modern human life. There’s more of it than it’s possible to imagine. And it’s mostly used to move concrete — the main product of humanity — to piles alongside these highways.
Government - Where it Happens
I’ve been following Council up close since the concert scandal, Canada Games scandal, and the convention centre debacle. About 20 years from chickens and cats to crosswalks, ferries, and “urban and up” developments—I’ve watched how ideas form, how language gets warped, and how decisions, once made, get slow walked forward, even when evidence piles up that they’re wrong.
The bike lane debate is just the latest example. Not a big or particularly egregious one in the scheme of things. We’re miraculously rich enough to make mistakes like this all day long.
It is a perfect case study—accessible, visible, expensive, and filled with good intentions gone sideways.
What makes it especially useful isn’t just the flawed execution or spiraling costs—it’s the moment you hear the line that always comes when power stops listening:
“We’ve talked about this too much.”
That phrase isn’t fatigue. It’s a tell. It’s the bureaucratic equivalent of slamming the book shut and saying, The matter is closed. It means the decision has pre-baked out of democratic reach and flash-frozen into the ice of internal consensus.
But governance isn't supposed to be comfortable.
And that’s why I’m still writing about this. Not because I don’t like bikes. I do. But because what’s happening in Halifax is bigger, older, and more entrenched than any one lane or painted line. It’s a pattern. And if we don’t learn to spot it, we’ll keep paying for it—in time, in money, and in trust.
Slow walking in Halifax isn’t just about delay. It’s about control.
It’s the space between performance and pretense—where the people in charge pretend to “discuss” an issue while quietly presupposing its outcome. It starts with a presentation, maybe a staff report, maybe a consultant’s slide deck, and ends with a group nodding solemnly at a decision that was effectively made long ago.
No real alternatives are ever entertained. The business case isn’t used to compare options—it’s used to sell a foregone conclusion.
And then, almost imperceptibly, the language shifts. What was “under review” becomes “already approved.” What was “an ongoing conversation” becomes “we’ve talked about this too much.” Suddenly, no one’s responsible. The timeline is fixed. The budget is baked in. And the project—whatever it is—is now immune to interruption, no matter how flawed or outdated the premise.
We saw it again this month. Councillors insisted that pausing to evaluate the traffic impact and rising costs of bike lane projects was somehow reckless—because the plan had already been approved. Never mind that conditions have changed. Never mind that costs have quadrupled. Never mind that the public is clearly asking for a second look. The response wasn’t, “Here’s why this still makes sense.” It was, “We’ve already decided.”
That’s the problem. Not bikes. Not cars. Not even the cost.
It’s that our city leaders increasingly treat public debate as a formality—something to get through, not something to learn from. And when that happens, democracy doesn’t slow down. It stalls out entirely.
Is this wrong? Do we live in a Democracy ‘er what?
Canada as a Representative Parliamentary Democracy
Parliamentary democracy: Citizens vote for Members of Parliament (MPs, and various regional governments empowered by governments above), not directly for the Prime Minister or policies.
Responsible government: The executive (Cabinet) must maintain the confidence of the elected House of Commons. If it loses that confidence, it must resign or call an election.
Where Democracy “Ends” After the Vote
Once elected, governments have a mandate—interpreted broadly by the ruling party to pursue their platform or adjust course as the facts change.
The party system, especially with majority governments, concentrates enormous power in the hands of the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO) and Cabinet, or provincial premier, or city council.
Backbench MPs, even from the governing party, rarely have much influence; whipped votes and party discipline limit their ability to act independently.
There’s little structural obligation for governments to consult, deliberate, or meaningfully engage citizens between elections. Consultation is largely performative or strategic, not binding.
Why Debate and Consensus Often Feel Hollow
Parliamentary debate is often theatrical. Real decisions are made in Cabinet or by the PMO, not on the floor.
Public consultations tend to be symbolic, designed to manage opposition or create the appearance of inclusion.
The bureaucracy plays a huge role in shaping policy behind the scenes, often insulated from direct democratic input. This is where the biggest change is happening as bureaucratic government grows in proportion to the population and in power.
Elections, though free and fair, function more like periodic shareholder meetings than participatory governance.
So, Is Canada a Democracy?
Yes—but with serious caveats:
It's a procedural democracy, not so much a participatory one, and certainly not a direct democracy.
It's a party-dominated oligarchy between elections, where public input is limited, and technocratic or ideological agendas dominate.
The average citizen has almost no continuous influence, and institutions for direct or deliberative democracy (referenda, citizens' assemblies, etc.) are rare.
UNLESS… they join at party and become actively involved in its goings and doings over a lifetime.
Bottom Line
Whether you’re wondering about national issues or how things get decided in your rural village of 1300 with no formal government, this should describe the feeling many engaged citizens have: that the real levers of power are hidden, insulated, and largely unaccountable outside of the election cycle. That they win some and they lose some and it all seems kind of random. That debate is a ritual, not a process. That consultation is a fig leaf (at best, at worst, a scam in our consultation nation), not a forum. And that consensus is manufactured, not reached.
That doesn’t make Canada a sham democracy—but it does mean we shouldn’t confuse electoral ritual with civic vitality. The democratic spirit is alive, but it’s not well-housed in our current institutions.
So What’s A Citizen To Do?
I was thinking about John Ralston Saul's quote, "A citizen-based democracy is built upon participation, which is the very expression of permanent discomfort."
It emphasizes the active and sometimes challenging nature of sustaining a participatory democracy. It highlights that a healthy democracy requires ongoing engagement from its citizens, which can often lead to uncomfortable situations and differing opinions. Saul’s point is sharp: real democracy isn’t cozy or convenient. It thrives on questioning, challenge, even friction—because only through continuous participation (and the discomfort it brings) can citizens keep power in check.
Saul reminds us, “The citizen’s job is to be rude – to pierce the comfort of professional intercourse by boorish expressions of doubt.”
What he meant is that democracy doesn’t function on politeness and rules. It functions when citizens raise their hands and say, “Wait—this doesn’t add up.” Especially when the people in charge are tired of talking, done explaining, or so sure of themselves that they stop listening altogether.
Your local councillor may be earnest, but their arguments against even pausing to ask questions about the cost and impact of our city’s bike lane build-out deserve more than polite nods. It requires permanent discomfort.
Permanent discomfort
This acknowledges that active participation in a democracy often involves navigating disagreements, challenging the status quo, and confronting uncomfortable truths. It's not a passive or comfortable process.
In essence, Saul suggests that a truly democratic society requires its citizens to be actively involved, even if it means facing discomfort and conflict.
The BIG Mistake
The big mistake citizens make is our misunderstanding of where the frontline of democracy is. For 50 years we’ve been told it’s on the nightly news, it’s at the ballot box, or it’s at the protest. None of those places are anywhere near the frontline of democracy.
The frontline of a procedural and even participatory democracy is not at the barricades of the protest line, it is not at the ballot box, it is not at the public consultation, and is not in the gallery of City Hall or the Legislature. The frontline of our democracy is at the policy meetings, lunch fundraisers, and electoral district association meetings of the parties in the oligarchy of government.
The city and town level is a special, even more difficult case. At the city, or even village level, without the organizational structure of parties, it happens in small informal groups. Cellular. Distributed. Social. Far more difficult to join or impact than the very public and open operations of a political party. Often hidden in plain sight. Disguised as dinner parties. Kids birthdays. Charity events (that you never hear about until afterward). And school PTA. It’s the ultimate reminder that humans are part of hives — minds that can communicate and connect at great distance with extremely high fidelity.
Democracy is the argument we have with ourselves about the shape of things to come.
Democracy is an argument that is never settled.
But we gotta talk about where that argument really happens and how it is conducted.
The Argument
Discomfort, then, is not dysfunction—it’s the operating system of democracy. And doubt, far from being rude, is a form of civic hygiene. So when confident-sounding claims are delivered without proof, or when process becomes a shield against questions, the citizen’s job is not to stay silent. It’s to test the arguments. Pull at any thread long enough, it unravels the whole blanket.
So, let’s do that.
What follows, separate from government but part of our real lived social experience, is a detailed breakdown of the fallacious arguments commonly used by bike lane absolutists, paired with clear, rational counters grounded in evidence, context, and logic. These rebuttals are designed to defuse the rhetoric, expose the ideology, and re-center the conversation around practical urban planning.
10 things the bike tribe gets wrong about bike lanes in Halifax - Your Logical Fallacy Is…
I’ve been studying formal logic since 1985. But there’s nothing I’ve learned that isn’t now easily available to everyone on tons of fun and informative websites such as:
If you prefer book reading, this is my favourite… but be warned, it is at least a year of tough going to get through.
1. “Bike lanes reduce congestion in other cities, so they must here too.”
Fallacy: False equivalence / Oversimplified comparison
Response:
Yes, cities like Paris, Copenhagen, and NYC have seen success with bike infrastructure—but context is everything. These are dense, pre-automobile cities with robust transit systems, warm climates, and very different population habits. Halifax is not Manhattan. You can't import the success without importing the whole system: density, transit, enforcement, and culture. We don’t get Paris results by painting lines on Chebucto Road.
2. “More bike lanes means more people will feel safe biking, and that increases usage.”
Fallacy: Post hoc ergo propter hoc (false cause)
Response:
While there’s a correlation between perceived safety and increased ridership, that doesn't mean every investment leads to meaningful mode shift. Halifax still lacks key preconditions: safe and dry storage, viable commuting distances, year-round maintenance, and a culture of compliance. Encouraging growth is great—but at what cost, and what tradeoffs?
3. “Bike lanes don’t really cause congestion—research shows it’s a perception.”
Fallacy: Appeal to authority (without local data)
Response:
Congestion is both perception and reality. If cars are moving slower, deliveries take longer, and emergency services struggle to maneuver, that’s real. And even if perception is part of it, governance requires respecting public perception. Dismissing it as ignorance is undemocratic and politically dangerous. Perception drives behavior—and votes.
4. “Other infrastructure projects cost more. So stop complaining about bike lane costs.”
Fallacy: Whataboutism
Response:
Yes, the Forum, bridges, and schools are expensive. But they serve critical, time-tested needs with broad public support. Comparing bike lanes to those projects sidesteps the real issue: escalating cost for a niche mode share, imposed without accountability, and failing to deliver broad utility. If the argument is cost-effectiveness, bike lanes must prove themselves on their own terms.
5. “Bike lanes are for everyone—even people who don’t ride benefit.”
Fallacy: Vague utilitarianism
Response:
This sounds nice, but it’s not measurable. Who exactly benefits? If only 2% of commuters bike in January, the claim that it helps everyone rings hollow. If you're blocking delivery zones, reducing emergency response times, or pushing parking onto side streets, everyone is not benefiting. That’s ideology talking, not evidence.
6. “Halifax needs to follow global best practices or get left behind.”
Fallacy: Bandwagon
Response:
Global best practices must be adapted not adopted. Cities fail when they copy policies without understanding their roots. Vancouver built a bike network in a mild climate with huge tourism. Amsterdam had the bones of a biking city for centuries. Halifax has hills, ice, slush, and a dispersed population. Be inspired, not hypnotized.
7. “If it saves even one life…”
Fallacy: Appeal to emotion / Moral absolutism
Response:
This is not policy—it’s religion. All infrastructure decisions involve tradeoffs. If we follow this logic, nothing would ever get built. The same money could save more lives elsewhere: EMS response, addiction services, crosswalk improvements, traffic enforcement. The goal is overall safety—not symbolic sanctimony.
8. “We’re building the city of the future, not for today.”
Fallacy: Utopianism / False dilemma
Response:
Cities must serve both the future and the present. Planning for tomorrow is noble—but not when today’s residents are punished for not fitting a theoretical model. If families, seniors, or workers are driven out now, who exactly is this future for?
9. “The price is the price. It'll just get worse if we delay.”
Fallacy: Slippery slope
Response:
This argument is used to shut down accountability. Not all projects are worth more money. A good project can stand a pause for review. And if the cost goes up, it may be because the scope was wrong to begin with. Inflation doesn’t justify ideological momentum. Sometimes stopping is the right move.
10. “You just don’t like bikes.”
Fallacy: Ad hominem
Response:
This isn’t about bikes. It’s about outcomes. Biking is great—when it works. But forcing a system onto a city it doesn’t fit, while ignoring its mounting costs, won’t make people bike. It will make them bitter. I love bikes. I just don’t believe in magical thinking.
The stakes are real when critiquing a local, possibly well-meaning figure who may be punching above her weight or swayed by ideology rather than malice.
Councillors must expect scrutiny. Public office isn't a safe space. If the stakes are millions of dollars and the shape of the city to come, scrutiny is part of a citizen’s duty.
10 Things Council Gets Wrong In The Bike Lane
Ten further flawed arguments made by your Councillor’s Bike Lane Defense
1. “It’s a bad motion because it bypassed process.”
Fallacy: Appeal to Procedure / Status Quo Bias
Response:
The motion didn’t skip process—it asked for process. Specifically, it requested a staff report evaluating traffic impact and cost-effectiveness before proceeding. Claiming that a motion asking for due diligence is itself a process violation is circular logic. The idea that council must never pivot mid-meeting to address public concern is not only false—it’s undemocratic. Councillors adjust to new motions all the time, particularly when urgency and public concern demand it.
2. “I object to the motion asking for collaboration because it didn’t include enough collaboration.”
Fallacy: Begging the Question / Circular Reasoning
Response:
By definition, a motion calling for further study and consultation is not anti-collaborative. It’s the opposite. To claim you’re against a request for more input because there wasn’t enough input in asking for it? That’s like saying you refuse to get a second opinion because no one asked your opinion on whether second opinions are valid.
3. “The motion was emotional and a waste of my time.”
Fallacy: Ad hominem (disguised as procedural complaint)
Response:
The job of a councillor is not to protect their schedule—it’s to respond to citizens. If 16 councillors had to wrestle with a controversial issue for a week, that’s called democracy. The idea that asking hard questions about expensive, city-altering infrastructure is an unjust burden is patronizing to voters and dismissive of the stakes.
4. “Bike lanes don’t cause congestion. Period.”
Fallacy: Dogmatism / Denial of Complexity
Response:
This kind of absolutism shuts down debate and ignores lived experience. Councillor White declares the issue settled—ignoring both residents stuck in traffic and studies that show context-specific outcomes. The real-world impacts of road narrowing, signal changes, and routing disruptions do affect congestion. The only people who claim it’s impossible are those who never ask the question.
5. “More bikes = fewer cars = less congestion.”
Fallacy: False causation / Overgeneralization
Response:
This assumes mode-shifting is automatic, instantaneous, and universal. It ignores seasonality, weather, topography, age, and distance—i.e., Halifax. It’s like saying every ice cream shop is recession-proof because people like dessert. Yes, in ideal conditions bike lanes can reduce car traffic. But that’s not a blanket guarantee. Infrastructure isn’t belief—it’s engineering.
6. “All infrastructure has gone up in cost—so this doesn’t matter.”
Fallacy: Whataboutism / Red Herring
Response:
Yes, costs have increased across the board. That’s precisely why projects should be paused and scrutinized. In a tight fiscal environment, each initiative must be reassessed for efficiency and urgency. Dismissing cost overruns as a universal truth is a way of avoiding responsibility. If we can’t question price tags now—when can we?
7. “These projects include safety upgrades, so we can’t say they’re just bike lanes.”
Fallacy: Equivocation
Response:
True, some bike lane projects include other public works—but that doesn’t make the entire project immune to scrutiny. Wrapping bike lanes in the warm blanket of "safety" is a clever rhetorical move, but conflating unrelated improvements muddies the waters. If we’re spending $30 million for a bike lane and a park bench, that doesn’t make it a good park bench.
8. “This conversation puts cyclists at risk.”
Fallacy: Appeal to Fear / Emotional Blackmail
Response:
There is no evidence that debating infrastructure in council chambers leads to increased physical risk for road users. To suggest otherwise is an attempt to silence legitimate concern through guilt and fear. It’s manipulative. And it’s deeply inappropriate in public discourse.
9. “This is divisive politics. I’m sad Halifax has gone this way.”
Fallacy: Tone Policing / Moral Grandstanding
Response:
No one is against civility. But disagreement is not division. Debate is not harm. If questioning urban planning orthodoxy makes you “sad,” perhaps you’re in the wrong line of work. The way to bridge divides is with facts, accountability, and mutual respect—not by calling your opponents retrograde or regressive from your podcast mic.
10. “I’m all talked out.”
Fallacy: Appeal to Closure / Anti-democratic Sentiment
Response:
You don’t get to tap out of a debate because you’ve decided it’s over. That’s not leadership—it’s fatigue posing as moral clarity. You may be tired of the conversation. But your constituents—especially the ones paying for this—are just getting started.