As part of our commitment to enriching the learning experience for our MPP students, we were privileged to host a diverse group of guest speakers this winter and spring. These experts brought their unique insights from across the public policy landscape, offering students valuable opportunities to engage with real-world issues during informal lunchtime sessions held between classes.Ěý
Marie-JoĂ«lle ZaharĚý
In January, we welcomed Marie-JoĂ«lle Zahar (MJ), an academic voice in the field of peace and conflict studies, a scholar-practitioner with deep roots in the University of Montreal and a lived connection to Lebanon’s civil war, Zahar’s career has been driven by an enduring question: “Why were we killing each other, and how could it be stopped?” Her answer is anything but conventional.Ěý
Growing up amidst Lebanon’s turbulent civil war, Zahar witnessed firsthand the chaos and devastation of entrenched conflict. Yet, rather than accept the narratives offered by politicians or media, she chose to look deeper. “War was treated like an inevitability,” she said, “but what fascinated me was how systems of violence became systems of governance.” This inquiry shaped her groundbreaking research on non-state armed actors—groups often dismissed as “proxies” or “lawless militias.” Zahar turned that narrative on its head, arguing that these groups were, in fact, engaged in what she calls “state mimicry,” creating complex organizations to establish legitimacy. Her dissertation explored how this institutionalization altered their willingness and ability to negotiate, challenging stereotypes and forcing policymakers to reconsider their approaches to conflict resolution.Ěý
She became deeply skeptical of power-sharing agreements, a cornerstone of many peace processes. While celebrated for promoting democracy and stability, Zahar argued these agreements often achieve the opposite. “Power-sharing doesn’t heal divisions; it cements them,” she asserted, pointing to Lebanon and Bosnia as examples of how these frameworks institutionalize sectarianism and create governance deadlocks. For Zahar, this critique is a call to reimagine peace processes that don’t simply manage conflict but seek to transform its root causes.Ěý
Conrad SauvĂ©Ěý
In February, Conrad SauvĂ©, President and CEO of the Canadian Red Cross, shared insights into the changing landscape of disaster response in Canada and the organization’s evolving role amid growing climate risks.Ěý
Reflecting on the Red Cross’s historic legacy—from providing food parcels during the World Wars to its status as a pan-Canadian nonprofit—SauvĂ© emphasized the organization’s unique position. “We don’t see ourselves as a typical NGO,” he explained. Rather, the Canadian Red Cross functions as an independent auxiliary to the state, with an annual budget ranging from $600 to $800 million. This relationship enables them to deploy expertise internationally while strengthening domestic disaster capacity.Ěý
During the COVID-19 pandemic, the Red Cross initially questioned its role but soon took on major responsibilities, including managing quarantine operations for those entering Canada. Over the past decade, domestic operations have dramatically increased, now comprising 89% of activities, with the rest focused internationally.ĚýĚý
Canada’s disaster response has proven strong in reaction, but SauvĂ© stressed the need for a proactive “culture of preparedness.” He noted that while the federal government lacked a comprehensive review during COVID-19, provinces are increasingly building their own emergency reserves—sometimes in siloed ways—highlighting a fragmented national approach.Ěý
Conrad SauvĂ© also emphasized the urgent need to address the disproportionate impact of disasters on Indigenous communities, whose vulnerability is deeply connected to colonial histories and geographic marginalization. He called for inclusive, equity-centered approaches to ensure that disaster response and preparedness efforts effectively reach those most at risk.Ěý
Paul WellsĚý
In April and leading up to Canada’s recent federal election, journalist Paul Wells discussed “the most interesting election” he’d covered in his long career. Having reported on ten federal elections, Wells noted that this one was different—not because of a singular dramatic event, but because of “deeper shifts reshaping Canadian politics and how the country fits into an unstable global landscape.”Ěý
At the center of Liberal hopes was Mark Carney, the former head of two central banks. Carney had the international stature and credentials, but, as Wells recounted, “He told a stranger he doesn’t want to campaign — he just wants to be prime minister.” That reluctance showed. He paused his campaign twice, citing events in the U.S. under Trump, a move that “raised eyebrows even within Liberal circles.” Carney’s reputation for running high-pressure offices where disagreement wasn’t welcome might have suited central banking, Wells argued, “but leading a political party... would demand more flexibility and openness than Carney had shown so far.”Ěý
In contrast, Conservative leader Pierre Poilievre had been positioning himself for years. “He’s a formidable debater and a skilled demagogue,” Wells said plainly. Raised in a working-class household and deeply committed to conservative politics since his youth, Poilievre’s popularity in Ontario and Quebec had been consistently underestimated. His rhetoric—like threatening to defund “woke” universities or aligning with Elon Musk—invited comparisons to Trump, but Wells emphasized that Poilievre had found a way to channel economic frustration into a message that resonated across broad swaths of the electorate.Ěý
What made this election truly distinct, Wells argued, was the context. “Canada needs to make large decisions and shifts on the order of what you need to do after a war,” he said. With the country emerging from the pandemic, grappling with geopolitical uncertainty, and navigating economic instability, there was a question of whether Canada would actively shape the international landscape or simply respond to it.Ěý
Sarah KapnickĚý
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In May, Dr. Sarah Kapnick offered a compelling account of her journey from pure mathematics to climate science and ultimately into the financial world as a climate strategist. Dr. Kapnick, who most recently served as a managing director and senior climate scientist at J.P. Morgan and was previously the Chief Scientist at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) , spoke candidly about how her early passion for game theory and research at Princeton shaped her trajectory.Ěý
“I couldn’t devote my life to something where no one understood what I was talking about,” she reflected, explaining her shift from theoretical math to the tangible, high-stakes world of climate finance. Encouraged by honest advice that transformative work often lies outside traditional spaces, Kapnick pursued a PhD and embraced interdisciplinary approaches to climate modeling and impact prediction.Ěý
Her career has since spanned NOAA’s Geophysical Fluid Dynamics Lab, where she focused on climate variability and water security, to advising investment strategy at J.P. Morgan. There, she helped clients prepare for a new climate reality, one in which relying on historical models leaves systems — and assets — dangerously exposed. “Planning based on the past will not protect you in the future,” she cautioned.Ěý
Kapnick also highlighted the importance of tailoring communication across sectors. Whether working with investors or food security experts, she emphasized the need to translate complex climate insights into actionable strategies. “Even if people have strong beliefs, you need to understand their market, their priorities,” she said. “The science of communication is as rigorous as the science itself.”Ěý
Peter MacLeodĚý
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In May, Peter MacLeod, founder and principal of MASS LBP and one of Canada’s leading voices on deliberative democracy, spoke about the evolving relationship between governments and the public. Since founding MASS in 2007, MacLeod has led more than 200 major policy projects across Canada, pioneering tools like Civic Lotteries and Citizen Reference Panels to reshape how ordinary people engage with complex policy issues.Ěý
Reflecting on two decades of experience and the participation of over 2,000 Canadians in deliberative processes, MacLeod emphasized that the typical town hall model often fails to create meaningful dialogue. He described how public meetings tend to heighten emotional volatility—voices tremble, nerves dominate, and constructive contributions get drowned out. The lesson for officials, he warned, is often misread; they see only anger and polarization. “We need better ways to work with the public,” he argued, “ways that invite calm, informed discussion rather than confrontation.”Ěý
MacLeod traced the roots of Canada’s modern deliberative experiments to British Columbia in 2004, where a broken electoral outcome led the provincial government to try something unprecedented. Rather than convening a traditional royal commission, BC launched the first modern Citizens’ Assembly in Canada. Ordinary people were asked to devote several weekends to explore electoral reform. The result? A recommendation for change that won 58% of the public vote—just shy of the 60% threshold needed for implementation. Still, the momentum sparked interest beyond the province, prompting Ontario to follow suit.Ěý
Throughout the discussion, MacLeod stressed the need for public imagination, for creating structures where citizens can engage meaningfully—not just shout from the sidelines. In an age of democratic fatigue, MacLeod’s vision offers a hopeful blueprint, not for abandoning institutions, but for deepening them with the voices of the people they serve.Ěý
Kai Koizumi
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In May, Kai Koizumi, who previously served as the Principal Deputy Director for Policy for the Office of Science and Technology Policy, emphasized that science policy should be guided by a clear vision—both personal and societal—and that this vision should shape how science and technology are used to tackle global challenges. He used the CHIPS and Science Act as an example of how policy can drive scientific progress, noting its goal to boost domestic semiconductor research and manufacturing in the U.S. He pointed out that policies need to align with both economic and non-economic goals, and that evaluating long-term impact—especially in areas like health and security—is just as important as measuring economic outcomes.Ěý
A key challenge, he noted, is reconciling the short-term priorities of politics with the long-term nature of scientific research. Sustaining long-term support for research often depends on convincing policymakers that the investment will pay off in the future. Koizumi also spoke about the importance of addressing social and economic inequality through science policy, arguing that recognizing inequality as a core value is the first step in designing effective and equitable policies.Ěý
Koizumi reflected on how policy visions often need to adapt over time due to political changes, economic shifts, or crises like pandemics. He argued that policy is less about fixed rules and more about continual negotiation and adjustment. To achieve meaningful impact, he said, institutions need to shift their culture to reward collaboration, long-term thinking, and outcomes that serve the public good—and policy can help drive that change.Ěý
This semester’s guest speakers offered a wealth of knowledge drawn from their diverse experiences across the public policy field. Their presentations and conversations gave MPP students a deeper understanding of how the concepts they learn in the classroom translate into practical, real-world impact.Ěý
