A NATION OF BUILDERS

David Parker

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Lately, there’s been a lot of talk about building. Joe Biden tried to rally Americans with “Build Back Better,” and Mark Carney, following in the same limp tradition, declared that “It’s Time to Build.” On both the left and the right, the political class has begun repeating this word like a chant, build, build, build, as if saying it enough times will stir something in the souls of ordinary people. But the problem is, most people don’t actually want to build. Most people want to be safe. They want to be comfortable. They want to be taken care of. And who can blame them? That isn’t just a psychological weakness, it’s biological. We are hardwired to seek comfort, to avoid risk, and to preserve what we have rather than create something new.

That’s why the old saying rings so true: “Strong men create good times. Good times create weak men. Weak men create bad times. Bad times create strong men.” It is in hardship, real hardship, that greatness is forged. Yet everything in our culture conditions people to avoid struggle. To escape discomfort. To seek shelter in systems and institutions built by stronger men than themselves. That’s why most people are employees, not entrepreneurs. It’s why they want government programs instead of personal risk. The entrepreneur takes the hit when it all goes sideways. He wakes up every day knowing it’s on him. That level of responsibility, the sheer weight of it, is too much for most to bear. So they retreat into comfort and call it safety.

But Alberta wasn’t built by those people. The spirit of the entrepreneur, the builder, the settler, that’s the spirit this province was founded on. People didn’t move to Alberta for security. They moved here for opportunity. They came because they were willing to risk everything to carve something out of the cold, hard north. And if you were willing to work, really work, or had even a bit of business sense, you could make a fortune. I remember guys graduating high school, heading straight to the rigs, and coming back a year later with a six-figure income, a new truck, a down payment on a house, and money to spare. They gave back too, building up their communities, spending in local stores, donating to churches and charities. That was the Alberta I grew up in. It wasn’t perfect, but it was alive. There was movement, ambition, pride. But that wealth didn’t just appear. It was built. Every penny of it. Built on the backs of those who laid the physical, legal, and regulatory foundations of Alberta’s oil and gas industry. Built in the frozen dark of the early morning shift. Built through risk, through sweat, through sacrifice.

And it wasn’t just oil. Alberta has always been the land of the builder. My friend Tim Hoven farms land that his grandfather settled over 120 years ago. His family didn’t inherit wealth. They claimed land, unbroken, unforgiving, frontier land, and made it into something. They cultivated it, year after year, storm after storm, until it became productive, profitable, permanent. That’s where Alberta’s $22.2 billion agricultural sector comes from. Not from Ottawa. Not from a plan. Not from a grant. It came from people who moved here with nothing and decided they were going to build a life.

Somewhere along the line, we started to lose it. Instead of dreaming big dreams and setting bold goals, we became obsessed with injustice. With what was owed to us. With how unfair it all is. And I’m not above it, far from it. I’ve felt the rage. The kind of rage that eats at your stomach when you see what Ottawa has done to Alberta. The lies. The theft. The disdain. But that rage can trap you if you’re not careful. It can turn into something toxic. Into victimhood. And victimhood is the opposite of building.

Yes, Alberta has been abused. That’s not a debate anymore. Even the people abusing us admit it. The debate now is whether we can make it on our own. Whether we could be sovereign. Whether we have what it takes. And let’s be clear: that debate is part of the abuse. It’s gaslighting. It’s the abuser saying, “You need me. You’re nothing without me.” But we are not victims. We have never been victims. We are a nation of builders.

But the world has forgotten what building means. It has forgotten that every great civilization began with someone saying, “I’m not waiting. I’m going to start.” It is a lie that we are living in the worst times in history. Every generation thinks that. In the dying days of the Roman Republic, Cicero wrote, “Times are bad. Children no longer obey their parents, and everyone is writing a book.” Some things never change. But Rome didn’t fall because the world changed. Rome fell because Romans changed. They stopped doing the things that made Rome strong. They forgot how to build. They forgot why it mattered.

Rome didn’t get conquered. It decayed. It coasted on the victories of greater men, then fell into civil war, corruption, and collapse. And from the ashes of the Republic rose the Empire, something stronger on the surface, but hollow inside. The soul was gone. If we do not recover our soul, that will be our fate, too.

But decline isn’t destiny. Some nations remember how to build. Singapore was a crowded, broke, forgotten speck of land when it was kicked out of Malaysia. No resources. No allies. No hope. But Lee Kuan Yew didn’t beg for help. He didn’t whine. He didn’t hold a referendum to see how people felt. He rolled up his sleeves and went to war with mediocrity. He crushed corruption. He invited capital. He demanded excellence. And within a single generation, Singapore became a global titan.

The same thing happened in El Salvador. Not long ago, it was one of the most dangerous countries on earth. Gangs ruled the streets. Fear ruled the people. Then Nayib Bukele took power, and he didn’t hold listening sessions or sensitivity workshops. He picked up his hammer and his sword. He locked up thousands of violent criminals. He restored law and order. And now? El Salvador is one of the safest countries in Latin America. Investment is pouring in. Tourism is booming. Families are coming home. Hope is back. Because one man refused to give up. He built.

So what about Alberta? We can sit here and complain. We can share memes about Ottawa. We can write blog posts and scream into microphones about how unfair it all is. Or we can remember who we are. We can remember what made this land great. We are not a people of policy papers and passive resignation. We are not a people of committees and consultants. We are a people of tractors and tool belts. Of drills and derricks. Of hammers and hard hats. We are the people who came here with nothing and built something.

To become builders again, we must lift our eyes beyond our bank accounts. Beyond our jobs. Beyond even prosperity. We must ask ourselves: what kind of nation do we want to leave behind? What kind of civilization do we want to inhabit? And once we have that vision, we must lay the foundation. Slowly. Relentlessly. Brick by boring brick.

Those who came before us handed us something precious. A foundation. A legacy. And the question now, the only question that matters, is what we will do with it. Will we let it crumble? Or will we build something so strong, so beautiful, so enduring, that our children’s children will thank God we lived?

Ottawa won’t save us.

Danielle Smith won’t save us.

The only way forward is an endless, sacrificial, stubborn work of love.

To build.

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David Parker is a political organizer, strategist, and entrepreneur dedicated to restoring power to the people.

A lifelong Albertan, Parker has been active in Canadian politics since his teens, working on leadership campaigns, referenda, and grassroots movements. In 2022, he founded Take Back Alberta, a citizens’ movement that mobilized tens of thousands to reclaim control of their communities and reshape the province’s political direction.

Known for his bold tactics and unapologetic convictions, Parker is now leading a new initiative focused on defending parental rights, confronting political censorship, and reigniting faith in God and country. He is also the founder of ANV Productions, a media company committed to free speech and independent journalism.

Parker lives outside Red Deer with his wife and children. He sees his life’s mission as bringing glory to God through fearless leadership, strategic action, and the building of a freer, stronger Alberta—one family, one community at a time.

You can follow him on X here.