I started thinking about all of this while doing my Christmas cards. So I don’t send the same card to everyone. Some are funny and a little irreverent, because that’s who the recipient is. Some are quiet and beautiful, Thomas Kinkade like winter scenes, because they suit someone who loves stillness and tradition. And yes, some speak directly to faith, because the person I’m sending them to is deeply religious, and I want the message to meet them where they are. That’s never felt complicated to me. It’s felt respectful.
I say Merry Christmas. I always have. That’s the season I celebrate, and I mean it warmly. But I also know not everyone I’m speaking to celebrates Christmas at all. Some say Happy Hanukkah. Some prefer Season’s Greetings. Some don’t mark the season in any religious way. So I choose my words, and my cards, accordingly.
That has always felt very Canadian to me. It’s not about erasing faith. It’s about understanding that belief is personal, and that courtesy isn’t a threat.
Somewhere between addresses and stamps this year, that thought stuck with me. Because once belief starts shifting from something we honour in each other to something assumed, or enforced, by authority, the tone changes. That’s where this post began.
There’s a reason movements that want long-term power eventually turn their attention to young people. Adults are harder to move. They’ve lived a bit. They’ve made up their minds, or think they have. Young people are still figuring out who they are. They’re looking for belonging, certainty, direction. That’s not a criticism of youth, but rather the reality.
History shows this pattern again and again. Even before he fully consolidated power, Hitler understood that if you wanted to reshape a country, you didn’t start with adults. You reorganized youth life, school-adjacent clubs, uniforms, rituals, discipline, purpose. Not education but rather forced identity.
The following isn’t a one to one comparison. But patterns don’t have to repeat perfectly to be recognizable. And it would be irresponsible to pretend we don’t see familiar shapes forming today.
In the United States, Christian nationalism has moved out of the margins and into the mainstream. Not Christianity as faith, but Christianity as political structure, as a hierarchy, an identity, and ultimately as power. One of the clearest signs o f that shift in the US has been the focus on youth spaces including schools, universities, clubs, and mentorship networks and framed all framed as moral, values based, and patriotic. Organizations like Turning Point USA aren’t really about debate. They’re about direction. About telling young people who belongs, who leads, who should submit, and what a “real” citizen is supposed to look like. That should give anyone who cares about education pause.
Now bring this north. Canada isn’t immune to American political currents. We never have been. And if there’s a place where this kind of organizing has found fertile ground, it’s Alberta. I don’t say that casually. Alberta’s political ecosystem, particularly under the UCP, has become increasingly influenced by activist groups whose goals go well beyond taxes or pipelines. Groups like Take Back Alberta are open about what they want: reshape institutions, influence candidates, embed ideology, and redefine what it means to be Canadian and that’s often through a narrow religious lens.
This is not conspiratorial, it’s not abstract. It’s quite visible. When religious language starts showing up inside government messaging, not as personal belief but as shared moral authority, I pay attention. When education leaders speak as though faith is a given rather than a choice, I pay attention. When young people are talked about as something to be guided, corrected, or rescued, rather than taught how to think, I pay attention.
Because this is how movements grow, slowly and quietly with what looks like normalization.
Faith itself is not the issue. Some of the best people I know are deeply Christian. Their faith is generous, thoughtful, and lived, not imposed. That’s not what concerns me.
What concerns me is belief turned into obedience. Faith turned into hierarchy. Morality turned into political leverage. And when that mix starts organizing around young people, through schools, clubs, and identity-building, we are no longer talking about private religion. We’re talking about public power.
This is why it matters to me. I raised my kids here in Alberta and there were threads of this already growing 15 years ago. I’ve watched young people I love try to find their footing in a world that is louder, sharper, and far more manipulative than the one I grew up in. Because I know how comforting certainty can sound especially when it’s wrapped in the language of “values.”
I don’t come at this as an academic. I come at it as a parent, as a citizen, as someone who believes education should open doors, not close ranks. I say Merry Christmas. I always will. But I also want the kid who doesn’t celebrate Christmas to feel just as fully Canadian as my own children did. That matters to me. This isn’t fear mongering. It’s responsibility. Once you see how these things grow, it’s hard to unsee them.
So I’m paying attention. Not because I have special insight but because I care.
Nancy's Notes 