The provincial government’s new legislation preventing school boards and city councils from dismissing a trustee is, in my view, misguided. While I don’t believe dismissal should be the first or only response, it is an important option—one of many—that boards and councils need to address situations where a member’s behavior is damaging the organization’s integrity and public trust.
That said, from my experience as a former Calgary Board of Education Trustee, I’ve also seen how often elected officials lean too heavily on policy and procedure when faced with conflict—especially when the conflict involves differing opinions, bullying, or harassment. It’s more comfortable to turn to what’s written down. Policies offer a sense of control in a situation that feels messy, emotional, or even harmful.
But too often, policies become crutches. They shield us from the harder work: the human conversations that ask us to sit in discomfort and unpack what’s really going on. They can be used to have power over others, especially by those who already hold it. Policies may stop the discomfort for the organization or those in charge—but they don’t resolve the conflict for those who are still feeling hurt, angry, or afraid.
So, how do we deal with that part of conflict? How do we acknowledge how conflict impacts us emotionally and relationally—and still maintain the policies and procedures that are essential for accountability?
We need something alongside policy. I’m not saying scrap codes of conduct or dismiss procedures—they are vital, especially in protecting institutions from individuals who act with malice or a desire to disrupt. But we also need tools that reflect how we want to be together.
That’s where things like charters of belonging or collective agreements come in. Unlike traditional codes of conduct—which are often punitive, framed in “thou shalt not” terms—these agreements are co-created documents. They name the values, behaviors, and commitments that council or board members agree to uphold in their relationships with one another. They build connection, respect, and shared accountability.
By strengthening how we relate to each other, we begin to know one another better. We start to notice when someone is acting out of character—maybe they’re quieter than usual in a meeting, or suddenly more reactive. These documents help create a culture where it's not only okay—but expected—to check in with each other: “Are you okay? I noticed you were a bit quiet today,” or “You seemed like you really needed to be seen—anything you want to share?”
Charters like this create spaces of belonging. They ask: What do I need to be in this space with others? and What can I offer others in return?
Maybe what I need in a meeting is the freedom to doodle—because it helps me stay grounded and listen. Or I need to get up and stretch occasionally to regulate myself during difficult conversations. What I can offer is a commitment to notice when I’m getting activated and take responsibility for my reactions. I can commit to assuming good intentions, even in tense moments.
A Charter of Belonging doesn’t replace policy—it complement it. They strengthen boards and councils by supporting institutional integrity and human connection. And when those two things are in alignment, we create public spaces where people can truly show up, be accountable, and do good work together.
"too often, policies become crutches."
"we need tools that reflect how we want to be together".
