At the World Travel & Tourism Council (WTTC) Global Summit in Malta, former Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau told WTTC President and CEO Gloria Guevara that tourism builds human connections, a country’s welcome influences travel decisions, and leading a nation can be lonely. Their conversation explored strained Canada–U.S. relations, the importance of personal trust, and his reflections on political popularity and pandemic-era divisions.
For me, eTurboNews publisher Juergen Steinmetz, the interview felt like a refreshing return to reason in a political world increasingly defined by hostility. Here was a leader associated with walking in Pride parades, who attended ( Juste pour rire ), the largest international comedy festival in the world , who could acknowledge vulnerability and reflect on his mistakes. His affection for Montreal also struck a personal chord: I first discovered North America there during the 1976 Olympics, and I spent some of the best weeks of my life there.
I arrived at this conversation as a tourism publisher. I listened as someone who has spent much of his life moving between countries, cultures, and political realities.
And I left feeling unexpectedly encouraged.
A former world leader stood on stage and could discuss power without pretending it made him invulnerable. He could defend his decisions while acknowledging regret. He could explain why tourism matters without reducing the people who travel to numbers on an arrivals chart.
In today’s political climate, that felt like a refreshing excursion into a world of reasoning we seem dangerously close to losing.
Montreal Was Where My World Became Bigger
My affection for Montreal began long before Justin Trudeau became prime minister.
In 1976, I traveled there during the Olympic Games. It was my first discovery of America—in the continental sense—and it opened a door that would shape the rest of my life.
Looking back, those were among the best weeks I have ever experienced.
When Trudeau spoke about Montreal’s restaurants, art, and summer festivals, I immediately understood the affection behind his words. This was someone speaking about a city he loves, rather than reciting a destination campaign.
To me, Montreal has always represented the pleasure of being somewhere different: good food, celebration, and people who seem to make room for enjoying life.
That is what a destination can become in a traveler’s memory. Decades later, the feeling survives.
We spend considerable time in tourism debating how to attract visitors. We should spend at least as much time asking what they will carry home.
For me, Montreal delivered something far more lasting than a holiday. It gave me the excitement of discovering a larger world.
A Leader Who Walked With Pride
Trudeau is also the prime minister who walked in Pride parades, becoming the first sitting Canadian prime minister to participate in Toronto’s parade in 2016. His public embrace of LGBTQ inclusion remains part of how many people remember him.
For some, that was a symbolic gesture. I believe symbols matter when they tell people whether they belong.
A leader standing among people who have historically faced exclusion sends a message beyond the parade route. Travelers notice such messages. So do their families, friends, and colleagues.
For tourism, inclusion has a practical meaning. Can I visit with my partner comfortably? Can I be myself? Will the welcome advertised by a destination extend to me?
These questions shape travel decisions.
A country’s hospitality begins well before hotel check-in. It begins with the way its leaders speak about people.
Tourism Deserves More Than a Polite Mention
Guevara brought the discussion back to a frustration familiar to anyone working in travel: governments celebrate tourism’s contribution while frequently giving the sector insufficient attention.
The scale warrants serious consideration. WTTC reported at the summit that Travel & Tourism contributed US$11.6 trillion to the global economy in 2025 and supported 366 million jobs, nearly one in nine worldwide. Trudeau’s response went beyond the economic argument.
In the interview, he recalled working as a camp counselor, whitewater guide, restaurant employee, and nightclub bouncer. His point was that jobs involving people teach skills that stay with you: resolving conflict, reading situations, communicating, and dealing with difference.
Anyone who has worked at a hotel reception desk or helped passengers through a disrupted journey will recognize that education. Tourism employs people. It also develops them.
A young person learning how to welcome an unfamiliar guest is acquiring experience that can serve a community, a business, and perhaps eventually a country. Governments should understand that value when they discuss workforce development.
A Welcome Cannot Be Repaired With a Discount
The conversation became particularly relevant when Guevara raised relations between Canada and the United States.
Trudeau described Canadians’ anxiety about crossing the U.S. border and how political disrespect affects their willingness to visit. He argued that travelers choose destinations based on how they feel, as well as on scenery and prices. That observation deserves every tourism minister’s attention.
A hotel can reduce its rate. An airline can offer a promotion. A destination can purchase another advertising campaign. But those efforts struggle when travelers feel unwanted.
As someone who lived in the United States for more than four decades, I know how much warmth, generosity, and hospitality Americans offer. I also understand how political rhetoric can overshadow those qualities in the eyes of people abroad.
The consequences fall on people who may have had no role in creating the hostility: hotel workers, restaurant owners, guides, airline employees, and small businesses.
Governments need to recognize that their words travel. So does the damage.
The Courage to Say Leadership Is Lonely
The moment that stayed with me most was Trudeau’s reflection on the isolation of leading a country. “Being a world leader is a very specific and sometimes lonely job,” he said in the supplied interview transcript. It was a striking admission.
He explained that family members, staff, and ministers may surround a leader without fully understanding the responsibility that rests with that person. Other national leaders, despite their differences, can sometimes understand that burden in a way nobody else can.
There was something deeply human about hearing him say it.
We have grown accustomed to politicians presenting certainty as proof of strength. Trudeau made room for a more credible picture: leadership involves responsibility, uncertainty, personal strain, and the need to speak with someone who understands.
To me, acknowledging that requires confidence.
It also helps explain why relationships between leaders matter. Behind the official statements and negotiated agreements are people who must find enough trust to work together.
What Happens Between the Sessions
Trudeau’s emphasis on personal relationships should resonate throughout our industry.
He spoke about the connections formed over breakfast, during an evening drink, or while waiting in line at a conference. Those ordinary encounters can create the trust that makes later cooperation possible. After decades in travel and tourism, I agree.
Some of the most useful conversations never make it onto a summit agenda. They begin with an introduction, a shared meal, or a few minutes when someone puts down a phone and pays attention.
Technology helps us maintain contact. Meeting in person gives that contact depth.
Tourism creates the circumstances in which strangers can become colleagues, partners, and friends. That is a substantial contribution to a world where suspicion too often arrives before conversation.
Regret Made the Conversation Stronger
Trudeau also reflected on his pandemic leadership.
He defended his government’s efforts to support people and businesses and its reliance on scientific advice. But he acknowledged regret about the anger he had expressed toward people opposing vaccination, recognizing that his response had contributed to divisions.
For me, that was among the most meaningful parts of the interview.
A former leader willing to examine his own conduct gives an audience something useful to consider. Good intentions do not guarantee that every response helps. A leader’s tone can deepen a conflict even when the underlying concern is sincerely held.
Acknowledging that does not settle every disagreement about his pandemic policies. It does demonstrate a willingness to reflect. I would like to hear more of that from people who have held power.
Popularity Should Serve a Purpose
Another thought worth carrying home was Trudeau’s argument that political popularity should be used to accomplish difficult things.
His reasoning was that leaders inherit important problems precisely because the easy decisions have already been made. Public support gives them an opportunity to act, even when doing so carries a political cost.
That principle needs scrutiny, of course. Losing popularity does not automatically prove that a policy was wise.
But the question he raised is a good one: what is the purpose of holding office if protecting approval becomes the overriding goal?
In tourism, we face our own versions of that question. Infrastructure, workforce conditions, sustainability, and the interests of residents require decisions that may take years to deliver results. Leadership has to look beyond the next favorable headline.
Why I Felt Encouraged
My admiration for this conversation does not require agreement with every decision Justin Trudeau made in government. What moved me was his way of discussing responsibility: with an understanding that people need dignity, relationships need care, and leaders need the capacity to reconsider themselves.
Guevara gave those ideas room while keeping the discussion connected to the businesses and workers who depend on travel. I heard a former prime minister explain why welcoming people matters. I heard him acknowledge loneliness. I heard affection for Montreal, and I remembered the city that opened my world in 1976.
Perhaps that is why I was so excited. For a little while in Malta, political leadership sounded thoughtful, human, and capable of reasoning again. Tourism needs that kind of leadership. And so does the world.
What stayed with me was the ease of the conversation: two down-to-earth, reasonable people speaking with each other on stage, as if they’d forgotten the stage was there. Justin Trudeau and Gloria Guevara were talking about people, responsibility, and the things that bring us together. In today’s political world, that felt refreshing—and gave me hope.
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