On June 15, 2000, the Ontario Coalition Against Poverty brought about 1,500 people to Queen’s Park to push back against then-premier Mike Harris’ devastating policies. Harris had cut social assistance by 21.5 per cent and introduced the ironically named Tenant Protection Act, which removed rent control on vacant units, driving a 20 per cent increase in average Toronto rents and a 51 per cent jump in eviction applications within two years. Many in the crowd were homeless. They had formally requested to address the legislature to demand that welfare be restored, social housing be built, and the Safe Streets Act — which made panhandling illegal — be repealed. They were turned away.
Without warning, mounted police charged the crowd with batons. Some protesters grabbed interlocking bricks and garden stones and hurled them back. Cops haphazardly arrested people, throwing others to the ground in the process. That was the scene city councilor and Toronto Police Service Board member Olivia Chow rode into on her flower-adorned bicycle. She was caught live on CityTV denouncing the police’s actions: “I’m ashamed. I mean, this is no longer a defence thing. I understand why police need to defend public safety. They’re aggressively charging at people.” She approached senior officers and asked if she could help mediate. They declined.
Less than a day later, Chow walked it back, endorsing a police board statement that concluded: ”In the face of needless aggression, the Board commends the police officers who performed their duties with professionalism.” But Toronto Police Association (TPA) president Craig Bromell still called for Chow’s resignation, claiming she had violated the Police Services Act by interfering with police operations. Board chair Norm Gardner said she had lost the confidence of rank-and-file officers. Chief Julian Fantino, who called the riot “out-and-out terrorism,” confidentially forwarded an internal report on her conduct to some board members before she had seen it. Hours before a meeting convened to discuss it, Chow resigned. Asked if she had been bullied, she replied: “I’ll let you decide.”
Nothing to see here
This isn’t really about Olivia Chow. It’s about a mechanism she understands better than most, because she was one of its earliest public casualties. The Toronto Police Services Board has existed in some form since 1858 and took its current shape after amalgamation in 1998. There are seven members, including the mayor or a designate, two councillors, one city-appointed civilian, and three provincial appointees. For a body whose mandate is “Civilian Oversight with Integrity,” it doesn’t really have the range. The board sets policy, hires the chief and approves budgets, but since almost any specific policing decision can be categorized as “operational,” much lies outside the board’s reach. That includes independently investigating complaints or disciplining officers below the chief. The line between policy and operations isn’t always clear, and for years, board members have been finding out what happens when they cross it.
In June 2003, board chair Norm Gardner — a close police ally — stepped down over revelations that a firearms manufacturer he’d “helped out” had gifted him a gun, and that the cops had pitched in 5,700 rounds of ammunition. He was replaced by veteran lawyer Alan Heisey, who announced his intention to review the complaints process and address racial profiling on the day he was confirmed as chair.
In her award-winning documentary, Hogtown: The Politics of Policing, Min Sook Lee pulls back the curtain on what followed, revealing the gap between the public performance of accountability and the private choreography behind it. During deputations on Chief Fantino’s request for a $48 million budget increase, TPA president Rick McIntosh invokes a hypothetical terrorist attack on Toronto to justify the ask. When Heisey and councillors Pam McConnell and John Filion attempt to scrutinize the budget, officers lodge a formal complaint against McConnell and private details of Filion’s divorce proceedings end up in the Toronto Sun. An 18-month-old memo portraying Heisey as sympathetic to pedophilia is leaked to the press. A retired judge finds the leak was “manifestly calculated to damage Mr. Heisey’s reputation and undermine, if not destroy, his ability to continue as chair.” Heisey didn’t stand for reappointment.
The Cost of Remaining Silent
About two weeks after Chow was sworn in as mayor in July 2023, the TPA issued a public statement asking why she hadn’t said anything about an officer who was injured while recovering a stolen vehicle and the death of their police dog, Bingo. She sent condolences within hours, assuring them that her support would be more public going forward. She gave a speech at Bingo’s funeral. Since then, she’s stood by the service through the Zameer collusion allegations, Project South and a record $93.8 million budget increase.
On March 30, 2024, over a thousand people gathered downtown to march for Land Day to commemorate the Palestinians’ collective, non-violent resistance to Israel’s deadly 1976 seizure of territory in the Galilee. Blind to irony, the police stopped the lead truck citing a traffic violation, and began roughing people up so indiscriminately that a local bystander was pinned to the ground by four officers. Mounted police charged the crowd, which included wheelchair users, elderly people and children.
After fielding hundreds of complaints, six councillors released a letter raising concerns about the police response, including police board members Amber Morley and Lily Cheng. The TPA called for Cheng and Morley to be removed from the board and demanded Chow denounce the letter. Three formal complaints were filed against the two councilors with the Inspector General. Days later, Cheng retracted her endorsement, saying she was in recovery from surgery and had not seen the final version. Morley posted on a Sunday night that the matter would not be going to the board.
Both were cleared by the Deputy Inspector General, whose decision highlighted “the recurring ‘two hats’ challenge faced by municipal councillors who also serve as police board members.” It recommended that board members ‘verify wording in future releases’ to avoid undermining public trust in policing.
But what about the cost of remaining silent? It’s worth asking: Is the Toronto Police Services Board actually meant to oversee the police, or is it just making us feel like someone is?
On Sunday, May 31, Aliya Pabani will be moderating a discussion about police accountability with Min Sook Lee and Alok Mukherjee following a screening of Lee’s film Hogtown: The Politics of Policing. Hot Docs Cinema, 6:30 pm, $15.
This article appeared in the 2026 Jun/Jul issue.