It has now been five years since the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis. His death was a tragedy that occurred in a different country, under a different policing system, in a different legal and cultural context. And yet, its reverberations were felt deeply within police services across Canada. Some officers asked, ‘Why are we being blamed for something that happened there?’ Others felt unfairly scrutinized, with their work being questioned and their motives being doubted. Those reactions are understandable and important to acknowledge.

The scrutiny that followed was, for many, a painful experience. It challenged our sense of purpose and fairness. But for many in the public, particularly Black, Indigenous and racialized communities, the scrutiny felt long overdue. It gave voice to frustrations that had accumulated not just over years, but over generations. These are communities within our borders, within our jurisdictions and our responsibility.

Sociological research has long confirmed what these communities have expressed: legitimacy in policing is not merely about law enforcement—it is about public trust, built on perceptions of fairness, voice and respectful treatment (Tyler, 2006). When that trust is broken, compliance and cooperation decline. In Canada, studies by Owusu-Bempah and Wortley (2014) have shown persistent disparities in how Black Canadians experience police encounters, including disproportionate stops and higher levels of perceived mistreatment. These aren’t just American problems echoed on Canadian soil—they reflect real and measurable inequities within our own systems.

In the months that followed Floyd’s death, police services across Canada made commitments to equity, to reform and to rebuilding trust. Statements were made. Frameworks were developed. Listening sessions were held. Some real progress has been made, and that deserves recognition. But today, the energy has waned. The lights that were turned on in 2020 have begun to dim. The hard questions are no longer being asked with the same urgency. And there is a growing sense in some quarters that we’ve “moved on.”

We should not.

Not because we are responsible for what happened in Minneapolis, but because we are responsible for what happens here. Because trust in policing cannot be legislated, it must be earned and maintained. Because reconciliation is not a reaction to crisis, it is a commitment to justice. And because the pain that so many Canadians expressed in the aftermath of George Floyd’s death was not only about that one moment—it was about patterns they have seen and felt at home.

As Harvard sociologist Lawrence D. Bobo has argued, “We are not witnessing the end of a cycle. We are in the thick of it. Racial inequity and distrust are not just features of the past—they are part of our institutional present” (Bobo, 2020). The work of equity and inclusion in policing cannot be reactionary or cyclical; it must be proactive and ongoing. It must be sustained, embedded and accountable.

To continue the work that was begun is not to accept blame where it is not due. It is to accept leadership where it is required. It is to say: we are not perfect, but we are willing to listen, to learn and to do better. That is what builds credibility in the eyes of the communities police serve – not defensiveness, but integrity.

Policing in Canada differs significantly from policing in the United States. Our training, oversight systems and use-of-force models differ. But the people we serve watch the same videos. They feel the same fears. They carry the same histories of exclusion and harm. If our response to that reality is to distance ourselves entirely, we risk missing a profound opportunity for growth.

To continue the work that was begun is not to accept blame where it is not due. It is to accept leadership where it is required.

Some services have taken that opportunity seriously. They have embedded equity into strategic planning, expanded community engagement teams and begun rethinking how success is measured. These efforts must be celebrated, but more importantly, they must be continued and expanded. Not because a tragedy forced anyone’s hand, but because justice demands the effort.

The spotlight may have shifted. However, this is precisely when the most meaningful work occurs. Trust is built in the quiet moments, through policies, partnerships and persistent self-examination. The commitments that were made were not about the United States. They were about Canada. And they still matter.

Even when the cameras turn away, police are still called to be the light. In the darkest moments, when harm has been done, when safety feels out of reach, and when trust has been broken, it is officers who are often called to show up first, bringing clarity where there is confusion, calm where there is chaos and accountability where there is harm. This is the calling of policing. The work ahead is not just operational, it is moral. And although the spotlight may have moved on, the obligation remains. The light must stay on, because those who serve carry it.

References

• Owusu-Bempah, A., & Wortley, S. (2014). Race, crime, and criminal justice in Canada. In S. C. Bucerius & M. Tonry (Eds.), The Oxford handbook of ethnicity, crime, and immigration (pp. 281–320). Oxford University Press.
• Tyler, T. R. (2006). Why people obey the law (2nd ed.). Princeton University Press.

Dr. Vidal Chavannes, Ed.D., is the Director – Strategy, Research and Organizational Performance with Durham Regional Police Service (DRPS) and an adjunct professor at Ontario Tech University. Chavannes earned his doctorate in Education from the University of Calgary with a focus on leadership. At DRPS, Chavannes is responsible for data analytics, records and information management, strategy and research.