It has been an honour and a privilege to serve in the Senate of Canada

On October 29, 2024 Senator Omidvar reflected on her time as a senator upon her official retirement from the Senate. Watch now:

Honourable Ratna Omidvar:

Honourable senators, thank you so much for the kind words everyone has said to me. I’m feeling a slightly out-of-body experience right now because the faces in front of me and the seating plan have changed. I’m completely discombobulated. Your kind words and comments about my time in the Senate are very well received. I will not forget them.

I would like to briefly share my thoughts with you. It’s not going to be a long speech, but I want to share with you some of my thoughts about this place, this country and the Senate. I want to start with the conflicting emotions in my head and heart. I think you will all empathize with them. They are relief on the one hand and regret on the other.

However, there is absolutely no conflict about the sincerity of my gratitude and appreciation for all those who keep this place working. I want to start with the people who protect us, the Parliamentary Protective Service. I did not understand what their role was during the first week of my arrival, but then I began to appreciate that they keep us very safe.

I want to pay a special tribute to the people in the background in the Information Services Directorate, or ISD. It doesn’t stand for “intelligence services”; it refers to technical services. They have been such a support to a senator who has aged out of technological innovation. I’m a complete Luddite. I call them at 8 a.m. and they are there; I call them at 4:30 p.m. and they are there. I am not quite sure what I will do with them, but I do know I owe them a huge debt of gratitude.

Thank you to the bus drivers, who were especially welcome on cold and windy days in this very cold and windy city.

I have tried to imagine what and whom it must take to have the Senate Hansard ready the next day for reading, even after we sit beyond midnight. I’m not quite sure how it all comes together, but it does.

To the Clerk of the Senate, the Chamber Operations and Procedure Office, or COPO, table, the interpreters and the technicians — I see you all and thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you also to the Usher of the Black Rod for his service to us.

I have a special word for our wonderful young pages, who are seated at the edge of the room. They have looked out for me in a very special way because they realize that at the committee meetings I need to be kept supplied with endless cups of mint tea. They do that with such care, and I’m very grateful to them.

Of course, there is a small army — or a large army, I’m not quite sure — in Senate administration, that manage the communications, the finance and the HR. I’m not quite sure how it works; I chose not to get into the internal governance of the chamber, but I’m so grateful it is there and allows us to be the best we can be.

So many have remarked that it is a village here and that it takes a village to keep this place functioning. Upon departing, Senator Lankin made the same comment. I will add to this by remarking that all the villagers here have a huge commitment to this essential institution. Of course, to the chief of our village, the head of our village, Speaker Gagné, thank you so much for your service.

As some of you have heard me say, I am an accidental Canadian and an accidental senator. I did not aspire to be either, but a confluence of accidents — some good, some bad — led me here.

As people have remarked, and as you may well know, I was born in India. I met my partner in Germany at university. We went on a hike in the Bavarian mountains, not knowing each other very well. We came down from the mountains and said we would hike together for the rest of our lives.

Hon. Senators: Hear, hear.

Senator Omidvar: We have not quite been hiking, but we celebrated 50 years together, and that’s why this is additionally a very special year for us. We had no desire or need to come to Canada until my family needed sanctuary. I am eternally grateful to this country for taking a chance on us and providing us with safety, security and opportunity. I sometimes think about my life, and I ask my daughter Ramona to think about our lives — what it would have been like if we’d had to stay in Iran.

I must confess that, when I came in 1981, I was only very superficially aware of Canada. My perceptions of this country were coloured very much by a Grade 5 geography unit in school in India. It was all rather romantic: logging camps, lumberjacks, beavers, bears and the RCMP. Maybe that’s what I had in mind.

The reality when we hit the ground in Toronto was, of course, very different. I think Mehran and I experienced every hard knock in the school of hard knocks.

We learned early on that we had to be twice as good to be recognized as half as much, yet we survived. I made two decisions very early on which have been central to my journey and — I think — led me here. I was advised almost in the first week of my arrival that because I had no Canadian work experience and a difficult first and last name, I would never get a job — at least, not in the short term. I was told that I could ease my path by changing my name. To be honest, I threw a few names around in my head: Rosa, Runa and Rita. We practised them for two days, but in the end, I couldn’t do it; we couldn’t do it. I could no more change my name than I could change the colour of my skin, so I wear them both proudly.

However, there is something I did decide to change. I am a teacher like Senator Cordy and Senator Martin. Specifically, I am a teacher of German as a second language. I know that’s odd, and how I arrived at German is a story to be told over a drink in a bar. But I quickly realized that no one in Canada would want to learn German from an Indian who had just arrived as a refugee from Iran. I am a pragmatist, after all, and instead, I decided to grab Canadian life with two hands and proceeded to reinvent myself.

It is these two decisions — to remain authentic and to reinvent myself — that I believe led me to this place.

In my 40-plus years in this country, I have been both an insider and an outsider. I believe that the lens I use to look at our country offers up a useful and very positive comparison to the other two countries that I know best, India and Iran. Above everything else, I see that we are a country still in the process of building our nation, so we are a country of aspiration but also of reflection and correction.

We are not perfect and never will be, but we have the courage to look at ourselves in the mirror and be honest about the reflection that stares back at us. It is not a pretty picture. In fact, it can be rather ugly. Yet we have the fortitude to look back at it, warts and all.

Notwithstanding our best efforts, we are often unable to get things completely right, but here is the difference: We try. That is an admirable trait given the many wrongs in our past: the colonization of our Indigenous peoples, the legal discrimination against the Japanese and the Chinese and the institutionalized racism against the Black people of Canada. These are part of our history; I could go on and on. However, few other nations are as open to pathways of finding truth, justice and reconciliation as we are. For that reason, colleagues, I am most proud to be a Canadian.

Adding to this, I don’t believe we have a fixed sense of our identity. It is a constantly evolving one, and, given the nature of our demographics, it will continue to evolve and change. I admire that we are not rigid about these matters and are willing to allow this identity to be shaped by the people of this country, and as they shift and change, so do we, and so does our collective identity. We are — and, I believe, should always remain — a work in progress, not perfect but in search of perfection.

This combination of being self-reflective on the one hand and self-corrective on the other — combined with our ability to shift and change with the aspirations of Canada — sets Canada apart from so many other places, especially as polarization threatens many parts of the world and seeps into our narrative too.

I have learned a great deal about how this country works in this chamber and why it sometimes does not. We are always arguing amongst ourselves and all our constituent parts. That appears to be the nature of our federation. As the discourse globally and even nationally continues to disintegrate into incivility and outright coarseness, the Senate has an obligation to be the hallmark for democracy and demonstrate that we can disagree with each other, at times loudly and vociferously but always with civility.

This place too has evolved as Canada has. It is now more independent and less tied to the partisan politics of the House of Commons. It makes sense to me that we are better able to serve Canadians without being a mirror of the other place. But with greater independence, I think we also know, comes greater responsibility. In exercising this responsibility, Senator Shugart cautioned us to exercise restraint, stay in our lane as the house of sober second thought and not extend our independence by becoming free agents relying only on our personal opinions. He reminded us that we are, after all, the unelected people.

Yes, we must exercise restraint, but restraint does not equate with faint-heartedness or passivity. It is for those who have courage. It requires courage to stay within our boundaries, no matter how much we may believe otherwise.

But it also requires courage for another reason: We are the last legislative port of call for the protection of minority rights. This chamber is the voice for those who are voiceless. Courage will be called on to defend their rights regardless of who may come into power next year or this year. I am lost in all the rumours in this place.

My colleagues here have fought hard to protect those rights. Sometimes they have succeeded, and sometimes they have failed, but every time they have stood up to attempt to do so, they have demonstrated courage as individual senators. The time may come for us, for this place, to demonstrate collective courage. Senator Harder’s motion to reject the study of bills that invoke the notwithstanding clause may well be that moment for collective courage.

Civility, constraint, restraint and courage — I hope, colleagues, that you will continue to add to this lexicon of words.

I still remember my first impressions of this place in 2016 when I was inducted. This is a storied place steeped in history and tradition. It is also a place that reflects the colonial roots of our country and our ties to the Westminster model. While we have improved on that model a great deal to suit our Canadian reality, it is still grounded in the past. I, for one, wish for Canada to shake off its colonial roots at some point and stride with confidence into the future on its own terms. If that is to come, colleagues, you here in this chamber will play an essential role in this transformation.

In this chamber, I have met senators who come from very different lives, realities and political ideologies, but I know from experience that in all our diversity we find the way to commonalities. I believe that if we can walk together, talk together and drink together — some of you may remember the malt whisky nights we used to have — we are then better able to work together.

I thank everyone in this chamber who worked with me on issues related to Iran, Ukraine, the Rohingya people, Afghanistan and others. I give a special nod to my colleagues who have worked with me on human rights issues because the encroachment on human rights in other parts of the world, or even in our country, is a slippery slope. If we tolerate it elsewhere, then we run the risk of normalizing it everywhere.

I want to say a few words about my home team, the Independent Senators Group, or ISG. The ISG has been the keeper of the flame for an independent Senate. The independence of the Senate is more secure today because of your leadership.

It does a remarkable job. Look at the size of us; we are so big, and yet our leadership does a remarkable job of keeping us under one big tent, even though we may have very different views on different matters. Our leadership is strategic, persistent and inclusive. Most of all, these three wonderful women complete their work with great grace and elegance. I thank you for that very much.

As to my legacy, I don’t think it’s up to me to determine or tell you what it is. It is up to you. But the issues I have worked on — such as charities, Afghanistan, refugees, immigration and Ukraine — have all been the inspiration of leaders from civil society. Some of them are in the gallery. I cannot thank you all enough for enabling me to be your parliamentary and legislative voice. I have carried your ideas in this chamber, hopefully with some success. I thank you very much for allowing me to do so.

Of course, we have a fantastic and extremely capable clerk, Emily Barrette, who helps us, and, of course, our very gifted Library of Parliament analysts.

Finally, I want to get to the difficult part of my speech, about relief and regret. I’m sure you will empathize with why I feel relief. I will no longer need to schlep my very sorry bones from Toronto to Ottawa twice a week, depending on the vagaries of our weather, Air Canada and whatever may transpire in the House of Commons.

I will not miss the freezing temperatures in this chamber nor the absence of a healthy, nutritious meal at least once a day. But most of all, I will no longer leave a piece of my heart every week with my family in Toronto only to come back on Friday to them and run twice as hard to make it up to them again. We all know that even as we may earn some small measure of credit and even perhaps a bit of glory in our time, our families pay the greatest price. I am so looking forward to being a full-time partner, mother and grandmother to my family.

To Mehran, my golden partner — as we celebrated 50 years together — you have been the wind behind my sails. Everything I do here has only been possible because you have held the fort at home. To my daughters, Ramona and Yasmin, my six grandchildren, two of whom are here today, and my wonderful son-in-law Daniel Miller, they should all know their Nani is back.

As for regrets, there will be many. I regret that I will no longer be a member of this chamber, of this community of friends and colleagues. I will only be able to watch from afar as you study new laws. I will miss the opportunity of leaving my fingerprints on the legislative narrative of this country, which has been the greatest privilege of my life.

I believe I will miss the return to the old House of Commons Chamber and the old Senate block, but many of you may well miss that, too.

Most of all, I will miss the people and especially the two people who have been constantly by my side. We all know we’re only as good as our teams. I have benefited enormously from the expertise and commitment of my team. They have stood by me on discouraging days. On days when I was willing to give up, they have encouraged me, sometimes pushed me, to go the extra mile. Whatever success I have had in this place is due a great deal to Paul Faucette and Stephanie Saunders. I wish to say the following words to them directly.

Paul, you have been my Director of Parliamentary Affairs for roughly seven years. You shaped my political understanding and helped me understand political opportunity. You were my guide to the intricacies of legislation and legalisms. During all the chaos generated by an emotional and often chaotic senator, you were always the steady and sober hand. We have been well matched, I think. You are the ice to my fire, and together we have achieved outcomes that seemed unattainable at the start.

Finally, to the person I will miss the most — and we have promised each other today that we will not cry. Stephanie Saunders has worked with me for 25 years. Stephanie, you will remember that you came to work for me when you were fresh out of grad school 25 years ago. Your career has closely matched mine. You are my right hand and my left hand. You are trustworthy, loyal. You are not afraid to speak truth to power. I think of you as the little sister I never had. We will, of course, stay in touch, but I will miss your daily presence, even though sometimes it has been a nagging presence — yes, like the phone call I got today at seven o’clock.

Paul and Stephanie will transition to working as a team for Senator McBean. Senator McBean, you get the A-team. The wind is behind your sails.

As for me, I am 75. I believe it’s just another number. Whilst I retire from the Senate and return to life as a private citizen, I will always remain an engaged one. Our country will continue to hear from me one way or another.

So, thank you, colleagues for all your kind words, for the collegiality you have shown me. Let’s always remember that this place is an essential place and you do essential work. I wish you all the best for the future, and I hope every now and then you will remember me with the same degree of fondness with which I will remember you. Happy Diwali! Thank you.

Hon. Senators: Hear, Hear!