Madam Speaker, I rise today with deep honour and profound sadness to pay tribute to the life of our former colleague, Dr. Kirsty Duncan.
Kirsty should be remembered as a true polymath, a remarkable Canadian scientist, advocate and dedicated public servant whose career blended groundbreaking research, passionate advocacy and impactful political leadership. She was also an accomplished athlete, dancer and writer. Therefore, in remembering Kirsty, we must begin by paying tribute to her many personal and career accomplishments.
After she earned her Ph.D. from the University of Edinburgh, Kirsty built an international reputation for academic excellence through her pioneering work on environmental health and pandemics. In 1998, she famously led an expedition to Norway to investigate the 1918 Spanish flu virus, earning international acclaim as an expert in pandemic influenza and the effects of climate change on human health. Her book, “Hunting the 1918 Flu: One Scientist's Search for a Killer Virus”, chronicled this journey, while her earlier contributions to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the IPCC, which shared the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize, underscored her commitment to global environmental stewardship.
She authored many additional works, including “Environment and Health: Protecting our Common Future”, and later “The Exclusion Effect”, which addressed the barriers facing women and girls in STEM.
Kirsty entered politics in 2008 and was elected as the Liberal member for Etobicoke North, a riding she proudly represented through five consecutive terms until retiring in 2025.
She first served as the vice-chair of the Standing Committee on Environment and Sustainable Development. After 2015, Kirsty went on to become Canada's first minister of science, where she championed the integration of scientific evidence into decision-making. She later held the portfolio of minister of sport and persons with disabilities, where she advocated fiercely for safe sport, accessibility and inclusion. She then served as deputy leader of the government in the House of Commons.
Beyond cabinet roles, Kirsty was known for her consistent political advocacy for public health initiatives, cancer prevention, Alzheimer's strategies, sickle cell disease and expanding school food programs to support young people. She also worked tirelessly to advance women in STEM, drawing from her own experiences as a scientist turned politician. She championed a motion that resulted in the Standing Committee on Science and Technology, something that I know the member for Sarnia—Lambton—Bkejwanong, a fellow woman in STEM who went on to serve in politics, is also deeply grateful for.
Most importantly, throughout, Kirsty remained deeply connected to her constituents in Etobicoke North.
Kirsty Duncan's career legacy is one of intellectual courage, compassionate leadership and dedication to using knowledge for the public good. I have no doubt that her contributions will continue to inspire future generations of researchers, advocates and leaders. However, I also believe Kirsty's true legacy lies in how she lived her life, becoming known for so much more than her very impressive résumé.
I first met Kirsty shortly after my election in 2011. As a freshly minted MP and parliamentary secretary, I walked into my first meeting of the Standing Committee on Environment and Sustainable Development only to face two of the most formidable women in Parliament at the time: Megan Leslie and, of course, Kirsty Duncan.
To this day, I remember Kirsty effortlessly gliding into that room, tall, proud and carrying every ounce of the grace and purpose that belied her skill and lifelong passion for Scottish Highland dance. At that moment, I knew I was in trouble. Kirsty always meant business, and the fact that I was a political neophyte at the time did not change that fact one bit.
Back then, Kirsty was the only Liberal on the committee, but her personal tenaciousness made up for any diminishment in numbers that might have affected the advancement of her positions. I quickly learned that Kirsty's relentlessness was not a symptom of partisanship, but rather a pursuit of what she personally viewed to be justice and action for her community. For me, this meant Kirsty would aggressively oppose government positions when she felt it necessary, but she would remain open to or even propose policies that Megan and I put forward or could agree upon.
Wherever possible, Kirsty sought to build consensus without sacrificing her principles. Our working relationship was such that, even in a majority Parliament, we managed to produce a committee report that miraculously had no dissenting reports attached to it.
In other words, while I never saw Kirsty back down on tough issues, quite the opposite in fact, trust me, her overriding commitment was always to achieving results, and she would work collaboratively with anyone to make that happen. This included doing one of the hardest things any of us can do in this place, offering principled, public, constructive advice to our own team when it is needed. For example, in the wake of the Hockey Canada sexual assault scandal, I believe it was Kirsty's principled and public call to action, urging her own government to move faster in preventing harassment, abuse and discrimination against women in sport, that helped break the logjam that existed and began to drive meaningful change.
Kirsty really was a true champion for women. It has only been in recent years that I realized how fortunate I was during my early years in Parliament to serve on the environment committee alongside Kirsty. As a relatively young woman in politics at the time, I had the rare and invaluable experience of working respectfully across the aisle from two extraordinarily talented female lawmakers from different political parties. Kirsty did not merely advocate for greater equality of opportunity for women; she lived it by example every day.
After my party lost government in 2015, Kirsty never once lorded her new-found status over me. Instead, she reached out with her characteristic quiet kindness through texts, emails or simply stopping by to say hello. She was always checking in to ensure I was coping with the loss and transition to opposition in a healthy way. She even went as far as to share meaningful tips with me on how to be a more effective opposition member. When I asked why she was investing time in helping me learn the ropes of opposition, she answered without hesitation that our country is stronger when more women understand how to both govern and hold the government to account. In turn, she always paid heed whenever I felt the need to give her similar reflections from my time in cabinet. I have no doubt that she would rejoice in other women in this place sharing that type of experience.
These are but a few stories that illustrate some of the best parts of Kirsty's legacy, her profound courage, resolute determination and remarkable grace. There are literally thousands of similar stories that have poured out across the country that provide testimony to the same.
Perhaps the greatest testament to these qualities in Kirsty's legacy came in the final years of her life. Kirsty faced her profound medical challenges with the same unyielding determination that always defined her. She chose to live life fully, to keep driving change, to cherish her friends and family, and to embrace moments with the boundless joy and compassion that always were her hallmarks.
When Kirsty reached out to tell me that she had been diagnosed with cancer, she also made a point of saying that she would continue serving as a member of Parliament. I remember being quietly taken aback that she felt the need to emphasize that part to me. Of course she would stay on and finish her work; Kirsty was never one for quitting.
Kirsty also chose to share her cancer journey publicly, which was a gift to us. If one looks through her posts about it, one theme shines through consistently: Kirsty beaming with joy and gratitude for another day granted, another small victory won or another moment of love she shared with another person. For me, what is most difficult in grappling with the loss of Kirsty is that someone with her capacity for abundant love, gratitude and kindness has been taken from us far too soon.
Throughout my time in office, in spite being from a different political party, Kirsty was always among the first to reach out with genuine congratulations on my successes and quiet comfort during the difficult, lonely moments of personal political loss. She intimately understood that politics, as it is with life, comes with both highs and lows, and through her example, she helped me understand something profound: No matter which seat we hold in this place, our power comes not from the centre of our parties, but rather from our constituents, and it is up to each of us to wield it to its fullest on their behalf. Kirsty lived this principle with absolute abundance. All of us who serve in this place would be well served to honour her legacy by striving to do the same.
Kirsty loved so many people so fiercely, but her love for her husband Sven shone so brightly that it was the loudest type of quiet love I have ever seen. Looking back through the messages, the many messages she sent me over the years, I always found her sly, joyful references to him were the things that brought me the most delight.
Kirsty poured out love so generously to her family, her friends, her work and to her country. To see that love returned so steadfastly by Sven, through the isolation of political life and the trials of illness, stands as a profound example to us all. What truly matters is the love we give and receive: for one another, for our families and for the nation we serve. We are so grateful to Sven for loving Kirsty. He should know that we are here for him, both in his grief and in the remembrance of his beautiful, remarkable wife.
When I learned of Kirsty's passing, it hit me that amidst the rush of year-end business, I had let one of her last messages to me go unanswered: a beautiful, so characteristic of Kirsty, thoughtful holiday greeting. What I would not give to press “send” one more time to tell her how much her friendship meant to me.
This will have to do instead: “Kirsty, thank you for being our friend. Thank you for so passionately loving our country. Thank you for showing all of us that there is value, hope and dignity in the act of living, no matter the circumstance.
“May our conduct in this place honour you, and may the years that cancer robbed from you serve to remind us of the fact that while the days in this place are long, the years are very short.
“Kirsty, we are so grateful to you. Your country is so grateful to you. May your memory continue to be a blessing.”
