The time for hesitation is over.
Ottawa needs a full-time return to office if we are to thrive. What we’re facing is not just an economic reckoning — it’s a cultural one. We have become a city half-filled, half-hearted, and far behind. Activity levels downtown are hovering around 50 per cent of pre-pandemic levels, more than 20 per cent behind Washington, D.C., according to a recent U of T School of Cities data. Ottawa’s downtown saw a 10 per cent decline in visits from May 2023 to May 2024, placing it among the cities with the worst recovery rates in North America. This is not just a statistic; it’s a sign of our national psyche.
When the pandemic began, we were rightly cautious. We masked up, we isolated, and we did what was needed. But the emergency is over. And yet, here we are, hiding from our cities and each other, convinced that calculating the transactional cost of heading downtown is the same thing as valuing our time. We need to let go of fear and embrace life. Step out of the mantra of “isolate, distance, and mask” and embrace “dance, gather, and connect.”
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There was never an official ending to the pandemic, which makes sense. But we’ve never thought to do the opposite of the emergency messaging either. No campaigns urging us to come together again, no ads reminding us of the value of a spontaneous dinner, a surprise party, a chance encounter. That silence has cost us dearly.
Well, then let it start with us.
The banality of a kitchen table, a life of reclusive convenience, is not what makes humans great — it’s not what makes Canada great. The extraordinary lies in the mundane: holding the door for someone, grabbing a pack of gum at a local shop, helping someone off the bus, and even enduring the rush-hour slog just to get to work. These small acts are the threads that stitch us into a shared tapestry.
The myth that working from home is a human right is harming our collective growth. The myopic focus on transactional costs — parking fees, commute time, tired evenings — misses the bigger picture. It’s no different from questioning the value of taking our kids to extracurriculars. We never complain about the “transaction costs” of their swimming lessons or school plays because we understand their deeper value: socializing, learning, and growing.
The same principle applies to adults. Our cities, our infrastructure — transit systems, commerce, even our sewage — are built on an assumption that society gathers to work, in person, in downtown cores. OC Transpo, for instance, is currently facing a $120-million deficit and ridership remains at 78 per cent of pre-pandemic levels. The absence of a full return to office means fewer commuters, which directly impacts the viability of our public transit system. Shopkeepers, nurses, firefighters, teachers, baristas — they never stopped going in. They can’t Zoom in a latte or remote into a burning building. Why should the white-collar sector think differently?
Even for those workers who are thriving at home — often comfortably, in spacious home offices — consider the juniors on your teams. They’re in tiny apartments, hunched over a laptop on a kitchen table, missing out on mentorship, team collaboration, and all the vital, career-forming experiences that occur between the margins of actual “work.” As an instructor at Carleton University, I witnessed the outcome firsthand: entire cohorts lacking the experience, confidence, and connections of those before them. This generation is being held back by work-from-home, or WFH.
We’ve become a city of half measures — half-in and half-out of offices, cafes, and communities. And it’s leading to social atrophy. Studies suggesting productivity gains from WFH often rely on workers self-reporting — there’s no quantitative measure of whether output has genuinely increased. In fact, an op-ed by University of Waterloo professor Colin Ellard discussed research that showed how productivity per hour worked has dropped, and so has focus time. Simply put, WFH means less collaboration, more superficial meetings, fewer meaningful human connections.
If we want a vibrant downtown — a green, lively, art-filled city — then we need people back in it. Not for one day, not two days. Full time. Only then can we remove the ambiguity and get back to the simple business of living. Small businesses are suffering because foot traffic — the lifeblood of urban commerce — has dried up. Sparks Street, for instance, has seen foot traffic rise 12 per cent since the federal public servants returned to the office three days a week in September, but it’s still down 32 per cent from pre-pandemic levels. We can’t afford to let this stagnation continue.
It’s time to take action, not because we have to, but because we want to. Let’s reignite the spirit of Ottawa. Let’s stop asking what’s easy and start asking what’s worthwhile. Let’s stop calculating and start connecting.
It’s on us to bring this city back to life. To fill our offices, our cafes, our streets — and in doing so, fill our hearts. The emergency is over; let’s act like it.
Liam Mooney is the CEO and founder of Jackpine, a strategic design consultancy, and an occasional instructor in the School of Journalism and Communication at Carleton University.
