Not Everything That Sounds Reasonable Is True

Posted: January 2, 2026 in Uncategorized
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I have been sitting with this for a few days because I caught myself almost slipping. I saw a video that was polished, emotionally satisfying, and perfectly aligned with what I already believe. And for a moment longer than I am comfortable admitting, I did not rush to check it, not because it felt wrong, but because it felt right. When I did stop and look more closely, it unraveled quickly. It was not factual nor real. It was AI-generated. What stayed with me was not that I was fooled, that happens to many, but that I almost did not want to check.

Around the same time, I was looking at a political meme. It did not scream fake and that was the problem. It was not exaggerated or over the top. It looked reasonable, measured and plausible. And when I slowed down and actually examined it, the pattern was familiar. Some parts were true, some were half true, some were misleading, and one piece was simply false. The conclusion itself was opinion, presented as fact. It was easy to believe precisely because it was not extreme.

I have been aware of this for a long time. Nearly fifty years ago, I read Subliminal Seduction, a book about advertising and influence, and it made clear how easily we can be guided without realizing it. What has changed since then is scale, speed, and reach. Modern misinformation works if it does not shout. It quietly borrows credibility from partial truths and waits for us to fill in the rest.

It also helps to name something that often gets blurred together. Misinformation is false or misleading information shared without intent to deceive. Someone passes it along because they believe it is true. Disinformation is different. It is false or manipulated information shared deliberately, to influence, provoke, or polarize. Most people are not acting in bad faith. But some systems and campaigns absolutely are. And social media does not care which is which. It rewards reach, speed, and reaction.

This matters even more right now because I know what is coming. Over the next few weeks, you are going to see me focus three ways. The Alberta Prosperity Party’s separatist petition launches on January 2. You will also see me to continue to focus on American politics, because what happens there does not stay there. Congress and the U.S. Senate return on January 5. Our House of Commons does not return until January 26 and I will be watching closely.

Just last night, I watched a conversation unfold about the Alberta referendum where people were confidently claiming that only those born in Alberta should be allowed to vote, often citing Quebec as precedent. That simply is not true. In Canada, provincial and federal voting eligibility is governed by election law. You must be a Canadian citizen, be 18 years of age or older, and be a resident of the jurisdiction where you are voting. Being born in a province has never been a requirement. Yet the claim spread easily because it sounded plausible and fit a narrative some people wanted to believe.

As I look toward 2026, one of the greatest challenges outside of the extremist people leading these dynamics is how social media will be the primary battleground. Not long policy documents or traditional advertising, but short, repeatable, emotionally charged content designed to move faster than facts can keep up. I know this has already happened. I know it is happening now. And I know it will accelerate.

This is part of why I am paying such close attention. There is documented American money and influence behind the Alberta Prosperity Party. And if you are somewhere else in Canada know that this is just the beginning. This is not just organic disagreement or neighbour to neighbour debate. It means tactics refined elsewhere are being imported here. These include emotional framing, repetition, aggressive meme culture and coordinated amplification, often referred to as bot farms. These are networks of automated or semi automated accounts designed to flood feeds until messages feel familiar, urgent, and inevitable.

Add to that the rapid improvement in AI generated images and video, which has accelerated noticeably even in the past year, and it becomes genuinely difficult to tell what is real unless you slow down and look closely. None of this means everything you will see is fake. But much of it will be designed to bypass critical thinking rather than engage it. One clarification matters here. Not everything misleading is AI generated, and not everything that involves AI is misleading. AI is now an integral part of legitimate, authentic businesses and daily work. What deserves scrutiny is how content is manipulated, amplified, and pushed at scale.

I write opinion pieces. But I try very hard to ground my opinions in verifiable facts. Not everyone does. Some people are careless, some are chasing attention and some are actively trying to provoke and polarize. But even the best content creators can be fooled.

The uncomfortable truth is that if something confirms what we already believe, we are less likely to question it, less likely to check the source, and far more likely to share it quickly. That is not a left problem or a right problem. It is a human one. I include myself in that deliberately, because credibility is not about never being wrong. It is about being willing to pause, check, and correct.

So here is the lens I want you to use, the same one I am forcing myself to use. If something feels too perfect, pause. If it aligns flawlessly with your worldview without friction, pause. If it is just a meme with no sourcing, pause. Ask who is saying it, what is missing, and whether you believe it because it is true or because it agrees with you.

This may not be the most emotional post I write, but it may be one of the most important. Democracy does not erode only when people lie. It erodes when truth becomes optional and close enough starts to feel good enough. The most effective misinformation does not ask you to believe something false. It asks you to stop asking questions.

The holidays are over. The volume is about to go up. I am not willing to outsource my thinking, not to algorithms, not to memes, and not to my own desire to be right.

Better Together

Posted: January 1, 2026 in Uncategorized
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Last night the phrase ‘better together’ kept circling in my head.  It isn’t a direct quote, but I think it’s the shorthand my mind keeps returning to after listening to Prime Minister Mark Carney’s New Year’s message; words that were simple, but anything but superficial. “We are strongest when we are united, when we look out for each other, and when we take care of each other. That is what makes Canada strong.”

He was speaking about our country. And he’s right. But better together, as I hear it, stretches beyond politics, and even beyond Canada itself. It speaks to something more fundamental. On how societies function when difference is not treated as a threat, and when disagreement does not automatically turn into hostility. Too often, better together gets misunderstood as better when we all think the same way, have the same politics, the same worldview and the same approved opinions. And that insulation has never helped a country navigate real strain.

If better together means anything at all, it means we do better when difference is allowed to exist without being weaponized. When debate doesn’t collapse into contempt. When conversation isn’t replaced by slogans, and disagreement is not mistaken for disloyalty.

That tension is everywhere right now, in Canada, in the United States, and very clearly in Alberta where polarization is no longer abstract but lived. Lines are drawn faster than questions are asked. Motives are assigned before words are heard.

We need to be honest. The divide we are struggling with did not simply appear on its own. It was widened, deliberately, by leaderships operating on the ideological fringes, particularly on the far right. Not by everyone who holds conservative values, because conservatism itself is not extremism, but by those who discovered that grievance, fear, and identity politics are powerful tools for mobilization. When a cut is shallow, it can heal on its own. When it is deep and wide, it requires careful stitching, and that work becomes harder when the blade is still in motion.

We see this in Alberta. We see it nationally. And we see it most starkly in the United States, where loyalty to personalities has replaced accountability to institutions. For many people caught in that orbit, walking away doesn’t feel like changing a political position, it feels like losing a community, a purpose, even an identity. Acknowledging this isn’t partisan. It’s honest. And honesty is the only place real unity can begin.

I’ve always tried to look at this country from a national perspective. That doesn’t mean ignoring regional realities; it means recognizing that Canada only works because it is built from differences. Geographic, cultural, economic, and political. Unity here has never meant sameness. It has meant commitment.

Something interesting many Canadians may not know is that the Northwest Territories and Nunavut operate under consensus government. There are no political parties in the legislature. Every decision requires discussion, compromise, and ultimately, consensus. That isn’t always easy.  Years ago, when speaking with an MLA from the Northwest Territories we discussed the bad and the good of that system. It can be slow and requires patience. It demands listening, especially when agreement isn’t immediate. But it also forces something we’ve quietly lost elsewhere; the understanding that governing is shared work, and that no one gets everything they want.

Historically, Canada understood this. We’ve long occupied a more centrist political space, not because we lacked conviction, but because we valued stability and cohesion. The same was once true in the United States, where major policies were passed through cooperation rather than total ideological victory. That muscle has badly atrophied.

What’s striking is that Canadians still know how to do this. In 2025, when economic pressure mounted and cross border tensions sharpened, Canadians responded instinctively. We supported Canadian businesses. We bought local. We chose domestic alternatives when we could. Not because one political party told us to, but because we understood something basic: we look after each other when it matters. It was collective. Canadians who support all political parties have stepped up because we know we are better together.

So why does that instinct disappear the moment politics enters the room? Why have we convinced ourselves that cooperation is weakness, that listening is surrender, that acknowledging complexity somehow erases principle? The truth, uncomfortable as it may be, is that we accomplish great things together, and we unravel when division becomes our default setting.

As we step into a new year, I don’t expect sudden harmony. Democracy requires disagreement. But it also requires restraint, curiosity, and a shared commitment to something larger than winning the argument of the day. Better together doesn’t mean agreeing. It means staying at the table when it would be easier to walk away. It means arguing without dehumanizing. It means refusing to pretend that damage hasn’t been done and while still believing repair is possible.

If 2025 reminded us of anything, it’s that Canada’s strength has never come from uniformity. It has come from our imperfect, ongoing willingness to keep choosing one another anyway. Repair takes time. Unity takes effort. And neither happens by accident. Better together isn’t about agreement, it’s about choosing to keep showing up, even when it’s hard. That is truly nation building.

And as a new year begins, it’s work worth carrying forward even if the bridge doesn’t inspire immediate confidence, the other side isn’t fully visible, and standing still clearly isn’t doing us any favours. For my part, I’ll walk down the centre of the bridge, as I always have, not because the edges don’t exist, but because there I have always found my best footing.

Time Is Already Moving

Posted: December 31, 2025 in Uncategorized
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The end of a year always invites reflection, but this one feels different. Many of us are closing the chapter on a year we did not expect to be closing this way.

One year ago when when I thought forward to 2025 I anticipated a year of changes but not to the degree that we are seeing. Some days I feel the Handmaids Tale was a mandatory read for the supporters of Project 2025. Of course there were personal joys this year. Moments of connection, love, laughter, pride. They do not disappear just because the world feels unsteady. But it can be hard to savour them fully when what is happening globally weighs so heavily. Holding onto joy right now can feel like work. Looking toward to the year ahead with uncomplicated anticipation is hard.

So instead of pretending otherwise, I want to be measured. To pause. To take stock of where we are, and what we can actually do from here.

Twelve years ago, as one year turned into the next, I wrote on my blog something that has stayed with me. “Life is short. The risk to remain perched in my nest is far more detrimental than the risk it takes to fly.”

At the time, that was personal. It was about growth, intuition, and the danger of hiding in places that feel safe but quietly diminish us. It was about learning to act with intention and trusting that forward motion mattered. What has changed is not the truth of that insight. What has changed is the moment we are in. Today, remaining perched is no longer just a personal choice. It is a civic one.

As we move into January, the stakes become clearer. In Alberta, a separatist signature campaign begins on January 2nd, and the familiar machinery of online amplification and disinformation surfaces. Much of that content and money is originating from outside Canada. At the same time, the United States Congress and Senate return on January 5th (I’m still hoping some spines grew over the break), while our own Members of Parliament do return on January 26th. These early weeks matter. They will shape the tone, the tactics, and the pressure points of what comes next, at a moment when Canada’s sovereignty is no longer theoretical, but actively being tested.

We need to be cautious with the information we will be inundated with. Not everything loud is true, and not everything repeated is real. Discernment is no longer optional. It is a responsibility.

I have learned over time that perspective matters, and it will matter even more in 2026. Sometimes we will be looking at events from far above, trying to understand patterns, systems, and history. Other times we will be standing right on the ground, dealing with the real consequences of decisions made far away. We need both views. Clarity comes from knowing when to zoom out, and when to pay close attention to what is happening right in front of us.

Last night, someone I respect deeply said something to me, quietly and without drama, about what they would be willing to do if things truly came to a point where Canada’s sovereignty was compromised. It surprised me, not because it was extreme, but because it was measured and thoughtful, rooted in a lifetime of understanding what responsibility actually means. That will stay with me as I enter the new year. It reminded me that seriousness and commitment still exist and so does the willingness to stand up when it matters.

I do not know how much time I have on this earth. None of us does. But I know this. I am not leaving it without knowing I did every damn thing I could to make a difference. In 2026, that means being a little bolder and a little more connected to my civic duty. I hope those who can will do the same. I am not asking anyone to abandon their life. I want you to care for your family. I want you to protect your livelihood. I want you to hold onto the personal joys that no amount of political chaos can take from you. I will not confuse gratitude with complacency. Individual effort only matters if it contributes to something larger.

So if you have never written a letter to an elected representative before, write one now. If you have never questioned a headline, start. If you have stayed silent because you thought your voice did not matter, let this be the year you test that belief.

Standing on the final day of the year, this feels less like an ending and more like a pause. The kind that comes just before something begins. It feels as though the entire orchestra is taking its seat. Some of the music may sound like joyful. Familiar and uplifting. Other moments may feel far heavier, closer to music played in times of mourning or reckoning. Most likely, it will be a mix of both. What is clear is that the music is building and the crescendo is growing. It will not simply fade out on its own.

I appeal to my readers. Please do not stay perched!

As the clock moves toward midnight and this year gives way to the next, time does not pause with us. Whatever comes will arrive whether we are ready or not. The year ahead will test us, not just individually but collectively. How we respond, how quickly we pay attention, and who chooses to step forward when it matters will shape what follows.

This is not a moment for spectatorship. Time is already moving. What we choose to notice and respond to still matters.

A Canadian Lens On A Dangerous Moment

Posted: December 30, 2025 in Uncategorized
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My writing almost always starts with something personal. It is how I make sense of history when it starts pressing in close. And I try to keep my ‘Canadian Lens’ front and centre.

In the span of forty-eight hours, President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s aircraft touched down twice in Canada. On the way to Mar-A-Lago, he met with Prime Minister Carney in Halifax. On the way back his plane stopped in Gander, Newfoundland for refueling.

Gander has my heart. My sister and her family have been their for over half a decade. Aviation runs deep in that place, in the people, in the airport, in the history. For decades, before long-haul aircraft made nonstop crossings routine, Gander was known as the crossroads of the world. It serves as a Canadian Armed Forces base and for many decades as an American Forces base. Planes from everywhere landed there. The world passed through. And then, on September 11, 2001, when the world broke open, Gander did what Canada did best. It welcomed strangers. Thousands of Americans who were scared, stranded, and exhausted. No politics and no ideology. Just people helping people because it was the right thing to do. This latest stop is not symbolic by design. It is a natural refuelling point. Aviation logistics are practical and structural. But it is also another reminder of Canada’s unique place in the world, shaped by geography, movement, and memory.

That matters now. Because once again, the world is at a crossroads. And this time the danger is not confusion or chaos. It is moral collapse at the very top.

Yesterday, Vladimir Putin claimed that Ukraine had launched drones at his summer residence. No evidence was provided. Absolutely none! Immediately, the President of the United States accepted the claim as fact and chastised Ukraine for “not negotiating properly.” And on the timing? While those words were being spoken, Russian missiles and drones were striking Ukrainian cities. People were being killed and homes were being destroyed. This is not a frozen conflict. This is an active war of aggression.President Zelenskyy responded plainly. He said he does not trust Putin. He said Putin does not want a successful Ukraine. He was calm, direct, and anchored in reality.

What should concern everyone, regardless of political stripe, is not simply that Donald Trump repeated a Kremlin accusation without proof. It is what that act represents. The moment a president accepts an unverified claim from an aggressor, he forfeits the authority to mediate peace. This is not about being philosophically liberal or philosophically conservative. That framing is irrelevant. This is about standards. About evidence. About whether truth still matters when the stakes are global.

Successful American foreign policy has always rested on bipartisan consensus. Northern Ireland. Taiwan. NATO. Ukraine. Congress is not decorative. It is a co-equal branch of government charged with oversight. There is bipartisan support in Congress for Ukraine on the fundamental truth that Ukraine is defending its sovereignty and Russia is the aggressor.

What we are watching instead is something far more dangerous. Hope being mistaken for strategy. Hope that Trump does not pull the plug entirely. Hope that it does not get worse. Hope that appeasement somehow produces peace. BUT hope is not policy. Ukraine can win this war. Victory is definable. A secure eastern border. Freedom of navigation in the Black Sea. Integration with Europe. What is missing is not capacity. It is will.

I do not want to be distracted by the wrong question. I do not need to know why Putin has leverage over Trump (well maybe I do) however it clearly exists. What matters is behavior, visible and consistent.

What stays with me is the image of a lone aircraft sitting on the tarmac late at night in the quiet and in the dark in a place that has seen history pass through before, often when things were breaking elsewhere. Gander remembers what solidarity looks like. Canada remembers what showing up means. That is my lens, and it is why this moment feels worth paying attention to.

Canadians should remember something else too. We are not observers. We sit between Europe and the United States and Russia. Geography alone makes this our problem. Those who grew up during the Cold War learned that early. Drills in schools. Maps on classroom walls. The understanding that authoritarian expansion was real, and it was close. If you cannot see this through anything sharper than ideology, then geography alone should wake you up.

Because if there was ever any doubt about the hold Vladimir Putin has over Donald Trump, yesterday should have eliminated it. When a president repeats an unproven claim from an aggressor while bombs are falling, that is definitively submission.And at this point, we should be honest with ourselves. Do we truly believe Donald Trump is going to do anything that saves anyone except himself.

Democracies do not collapse all at once. They erode when lies are treated as opinions and power is indulged instead of challenged. Peace cannot be negotiated by someone who no longer recognizes truth. History will NOT be confused about what this was. Or who chose to look away.

The Apple Of His Eye

Posted: December 28, 2025 in Uncategorized
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I spent most of today doing what many of you did. Watching, listening, reading, waiting. Hours of coverage. A long meeting between Donald Trump and Volodymyr Zelensky. Calls with European leaders. Percentages tossed around like breadcrumbs. 80 percent, 90 percent, 95 percent. And at the end of it all, I am left with the same question I started with. What actually changed? The short answer is not much.

Yes, the tone between the United States and Ukraine was better. That’s important. Yes, the conversations sounded serious and professional. That’s important too. And yes, Europe appears more firmly in the room than it has been before. All of that is positive.

But tone is not leverage and conversation is not consequence.
All the optimism in the world does not end wars. What stood out for me today is likely not what stood out for others. It was when Donald Trump drifted into reminiscing about how he once had been, in his own words, the apple of Vladimir Putin’s eye.

I actually laughed, and then immediately stopped. Because that phrase is not about diplomacy. It was rather about him being cherished, favoured and special. And in geopolitics, wanting to be someone’s prized apple can be dangerous, especially when the orchard is poisoned.

While Trump spoke nostalgically about lost status, Russia provided messaging that hasn’t changed throughout this war. Rejecting a ceasefire, rejecting meaningful security guarantees and continuing to bomb civilian and energy infrastructure. Kyiv left without heat in winter. That is not a negotiating partner signalling compromise. That is a regime signalling confidence.

Throughout the press conference, we heard a great deal about “progress,” but very little about pressure. Trump ultimately acknowledged that Vladimir Putin will not agree to a ceasefire, and then effectively accepted that reality. When asked what happens if talks fail, the answer was blunt. The fighting continues. People keep dying. What was missing was any indication that new consequences would follow. And that is the crux of the problem. Diplomacy without leverage is not diplomacy. It is just another working lunch followed by a press conference.

Ukraine has shown flexibility. President Zelensky has been clear and careful about what is possible and what is not. Land concessions cannot be made casually or unilaterally. Millions of Ukrainians are displaced across Europe. Any referendum requires time, infrastructure, and safety. That is not obstinacy. That is constitutional reality. Russia, meanwhile, has not moved. Not on Donbas, not on NATO, not on security guarantees and not on a ceasefire.

So when we hear “95 percent done,” we have to ask. Done with what, exactly? The hardest issues, the ones that actually determine whether peace holds, remain unresolved. And without consequences for continued aggression, there is no reason for Vladimir Putin to resolve them.

Donald Trump said something today that deserves more attention than it received. He said the war will either end soon, or it will last a long time. That was not a prediction. It was a warning. And it was also an admission that without pressure on Putin, the burden of “ending it” will inevitably be shifted onto Ukraine.

Putin rules an autocracy. Zelensky leads a democracy at war. One man can decide alone. The other cannot. That asymmetry explains exactly where blame will land if this stalls.

Canada is not the centre of this war, but Canada’s role alongside European allies does matter. Canada is a trusted partner within the broader coalition supporting Ukraine, aligned with European governments that understand deterrence, enforcement, and long-term security. That credibility counts, even if it is not always loudly acknowledged from Florida.

And for those already gearing up to rage about Canada’s latest support announcement, a reminder. A loan guarantee is not cash pulled from your pocket. It is a financial backstop, not a handout. If you are going to object, at least object to what is actually happening.

The image that stays with me from today is not the handshakes or the percentages. It is the rotten apple. Glossy on one side. Decaying on the other and sitting squarely atop Russia.

Pretty words on the surface and rot underneath. And no amount of nostalgia about being the apple of Putin’s eye is going to change that.

Calm Is Not Inaction

Posted: December 26, 2025 in Uncategorized
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For some people, it’s about shopping and deals and doing Christmas all over again at full speed. When I was growing up, it meant visiting people. We would see what gifts they’d received, sit on unfamiliar couches, and eat again. Today, in our house, it’s much simpler. Hot turkey sandwiches, as many desserts as you want because there are always more than we’ll ever finish, and absolutely no pressure to do anything at all.

And before anything else, I want to say this. Yesterday was a good day. In fact a really good day. Time with my core family. Laughter. Familiar rhythms. I felt gratitude in my whole being as much as in my head. I don’t take that for granted.

It’s from that quieter place that I finally listened to Prime Minister Mark Carney’s Christmas messages this morning. Both of them. One to Canadians and one to the women and men of the Canadian Armed Forces. What struck me wasn’t a soaring line or a sentimental turn of phrase. It was the tone. These were serious messages. Intentionally so. Not bleak nor alarmist. But grounded in the reality that we are living in a moment that does not reward denial or fluff. Historically, Christmas addresses tend to soften the edges, to reassure, to smooth, to wrap things gently. This one didn’t do that. There was a deep vein running through both messages, and it felt deliberate.

Carney spoke about hope and light, absolutely, but always in the context of darkness already acknowledged. He spoke of unity not as a slogan, but as a necessity. And when he addressed the Armed Forces, there was no romanticizing and no abstraction. He spoke about sovereignty and security as things that are not guaranteed but rather defended daily, by people spending this holiday far from home.

What’s been interesting to watch since is how some of the commentary has reacted to that seriousness. There’s been a lot of talk about tone, about how measured it was, how sober, how unadorned. Some have praised it and some seem unsettled by it. And that, too, tells us something.

We’ve become accustomed to leadership that either performs reassurance or manufactures outrage. Loudness is often mistaken for action. Constant visibility is confused with effectiveness. In that environment, calm can look like absence, and restraint can be misread as inertia.

I don’t think that could be further from the truth here. It’s not just that Mark Carney doesn’t suffer fools though I think that phrase fits more than people are comfortable admitting. It’s that he operates in a way many of us have forgotten how to read. We see composure and assume things must be calm. We see deliberation and assume nothing urgent is happening. We hear careful language and decide that nothing meaningful is underway.

None of that is true.

Quiet leadership is not passive leadership. Calm does not mean complacent. And seriousness delivered without theatrics does not mean inaction. In fact, it often signals the opposite. That work is being done methodically, deliberately, and without the need to narrate every step for public consumption.

Carney understands the seriousness of the global moment we’re in. He doesn’t need to name every actor or spell out every threat for that to be clear. Donald Trump’s shadow looms whether spoken or not. Vladimir Putin doesn’t require explanation. Alliances are shifting. Europe is repositioning. Power is being tested. History tells us that when predators circle one another, one eventually consumes the other.

But what I keep coming back to, especially on a day like today is that right now, I care most about us.

Canada has never been strongest when we’re loudest. We’ve been strongest when we’re steady. When we resist the urge to turn inward on one another. When we recognize that domestic turmoil is not a sign of independence or strength, but a vulnerability that others are always willing to exploit.

I staged the image I’m sharing here. My son’s very used military boots, an old Canadian flag, the Christmas tree above. What I didn’t notice until after I uploaded it was the flag outside, still flying on the pole in our front yard, visible through the window. The flag wasn’t staged and that part wasn’t a planned statement. There’s a light snow falling this morning, the kind that softens everything without erasing it. Standing there, looking out, it felt deeply emotional in a way that’s hard to explain, quiet, steady, unmistakably Canadian.

That’s why the tone of Prime Minister Carney’s messages matters so much. They weren’t designed to soothe us into complacency or to whip us into fear. They were designed to orient us, to remind us that seriousness is not something to be afraid of, but something to rise to.

And yes, Alberta more than anyone needs to hear this. Not as a rebuke, and not as a lecture, but as a reminder born of lived experience. We do not get through what lies ahead by fracturing. We get through it by recognizing seriousness when it’s offered honestly, even when it isn’t wrapped in comfort or spectacle.

This Christmas, the Prime Minister spoke to Canadians like adults. He didn’t promise ease. He didn’t perform reassurance. He acknowledged reality, and trusted us to sit with it.

On a Boxing Day that’s quiet, full of leftovers, and heavy with reflection, that feels exactly right.

A Christmas Eve Observation

Posted: December 24, 2025 in Uncategorized
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I won’t be writing on Christmas Day. And I suspect there are powers in this world, political, cultural, algorithmic, that are quietly relieved that those of us who blog, write, and try to tell the truth won’t be doing so for twenty four hours. I won’t let that deter me from taking the day as it’s meant to be taken. For myself, my family and maybe, for a moment, for everyone else too.

Yesterday afternoon, at about two o’clock, I found myself in Costco. Let’s not debate the wisdom of going to Costco the day before Christmas Eve. I needed one of their pumpkin pies, and in my world, that qualified as critically important. But this isn’t a post about Costco crowds or seasonal chaos. It’s about how it felt to be there.

I live just outside Calgary, but the Costco closest to me sits in one of the city’s most culturally diverse areas. Given the geography, the store yesterday was filled with people of many ethnicities but predominantly filled with people of South Asian descent. There families, couples, grandparents, children. I was very clearly a minority in that space.

And here’s the thing. Contrary to what JD Vance recently suggested at a Charlie Kirk event, I did not once feel like I needed to apologize for being white. No one seemed to care what colour I was at all.

What I saw were people shopping for Christmas. Food carts filled with items meant for family gatherings. Kids of many colours vibrating with excitement near the toy aisles. A South Asian woman holding up an ornament and asking for an opinion. Whether these families religiously celebrate Christmas in the Christian sense is beside the point. Most likely, many do not. But they were participating in something deeply familiar to anyone who has ever lived here. Family, food, festivity and fun. And yes, for many, faith.

This is where I struggle with the claim that newcomers “haven’t embraced our culture.” Culture isn’t a purity test. It’s lived. It’s practiced. It’s chosen, over and over again, in ordinary spaces like a Costco aisle two days before Christmas. One moment in particular stayed with me. A couple stood in the toy aisle, speaking their native language as they debated options. My cart couldn’t pass, so I waited. I wasn’t in a panic. When the woman noticed me, she turned and apologized in English with a strong accent. “We’re trying to get a Christmas present for our girl before we pick her up from school.”

I told her it was no problem at all. As they moved aside, the man looked at me, smiled, and said, “Merry Christmas.” He didn’t have to say that. He could have said Happy Holidays. Season’s Greetings. Nothing at all. It wouldn’t have mattered to me. But that small, human exchange, the instinctive shift to English, the apology, the warmth, said more about belonging than any political slogan ever could.

Christmas, at its core, is a Christian story, and for those who hold that faith, it is meant to be a reminder that Christ served the poor, the weak, the marginalized, and the stranger. Not the powerful, not the loud, nor the self-righteous. That message is worth revisiting.

And for those who experience Christmas primarily through family traditions, shared meals, laughter, and generosity, the measure still isn’t doctrine, it’s what lives in your heart and how you treat the people around you.

My own genealogy is, in many ways, unremarkable. Scottish and English. Like many Canadians, my family story is shaped by migration, but not by being the ones most visibly unwelcome. That distinction belongs historically, al least in Canada and the United States, to others. Irish, Italian, and Jewish families among them who were once told they didn’t quite belong here either.

It’s something we forget far too easily.

We also forget that humanity itself began in a cradle of civilization where people did not look like me. Over millennia, people moved, adapted, and changed with geography and climate. Migration is not an anomaly in human history, it is human history.

As I write this, I’m looking out my window at the prairie just beyond my home. Snow rests quietly on the ground. The sky is heavy with winter light. This image you see is what I see right now, in this moment, as Christmas Eve settles in. Tomorrow, my world will be smaller. It will be about my family, food on the table, familiar rituals, and deep gratitude for another year together. That’s as it should be.

I want to close with words from Arlene Dickinson, which feel especially right tonight: “… I hope that the book we are writing today, and that will be read thousands of years from now, is a story of acceptance, compassion, and love for one another.”

And I’ll add this. That is what we can all hope for. What we can wish for. What some of us will pray for. Not just at Christmas, but in the year ahead.

Greenland Is Not Some Distant Place

Posted: December 23, 2025 in Uncategorized
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There’s something I say a lot when I’m trying to get people to understand the North and particularly how vast this country actually is. I usually turn it into a question. “If you were to leave Toronto and travel in a straight line north to Alert, Nunavut, how far do you think you’d be going?” People will throw out numbers. They’ll guess. And then I ask the second part. “If you went that exact same distance south, where do you think you’d end up?”

Almost no one ever gets this right. Most people say somewhere in the United States. Maybe the middle of it. Sometimes Mexico.

The actual answer is Bogotá, Colombia. In fact, just a few kilometres south of Bogotá. Every single time I say that, people stop.

Because once you hold that in your head, you can’t pretend the North is abstract anymore. It is a massive part of our country. That distance tells you something about scale, and scale tells you something about vulnerability.

That’s why, when I hear people talk casually about Greenland, I pay attention. With the renewed conversation this week about the United States assigning a new envoy to Greenland, I once again felt very concerned. This isn’t a response to an invitation. It isn’t a request for partnership. It’s the familiar posture of I’m doing this because I want to.

Greenland is not an idea. It is not a strategic blank space. And it is not a prize waiting for a powerful country to notice it. Greenland is primarily Indigenous, specifically Inuit. It is already someone’s home. And for my fellow Canadians it is not very far away. At Canada’s northernmost point, the distance from our coast to Greenland is 26 kilometres, (16 miles) miles. That’s not an ocean separating us. That’s proximity you can almost see across.

Only about 2% of Canadians have ever been north of the 60th parallel, even though nearly half of our landmass lies above it. And even then, most trips north are to places like Whitehorse or Yellowknife, northern cities, yes, but still sub Arctic, still below the tree line.

The Arctic is different. Being above Hudson Bay, above the ice, above the assumptions we carry from the south, that changes how you understand distance, exposure, and survival. It also changes how seriously you take casual talk about “acquiring” places that are already inhabited, already governed, already culturally whole. Those of us who have spent time in the North understand this instinctively.

Remote Indigenous communities are not empty space. They are resilient, deeply rooted, and far too often spoken about as if they exist only in relation to what outsiders want from them. Greenland is no different.

Which brings me to Denmark. I have always had a particular affinity for Denmark, my sister married into a Danish family, and growing up, Denmark was simply part of our world. My brother in laws mother was our Nana Cail. Familiar. Human. Not abstract. So when people talk about Greenland as if it is a loose possession, barely tethered to anything meaningful, it tells me they do not understand the depth of relationships or the weight of history that comes with it. Greenland’s relationship with Denmark is complicated. All colonial histories are. But complexity does not equal vacancy. And it certainly does not create an invitation for others to test boundaries simply because they can. Especially when Denmark is a NATO ally.

At some point, this conversation cannot just come from Denmark or Greenland. It has to come from NATO itself, reminding the United States that when it talks about Greenland, it is talking about a NATO-affiliated territory. This is not a sandbox. These alliances exist precisely to prevent powerful countries from testing limits simply because they feel entitled to do so.

Every time I name Donald Trump in my writings I want to be precise. I am not talking about one man acting alone. I am talking about an administration, a set of enablers, billionaires and a political culture that rewards impulse, spectacle, and domination especially when geography looks exploitable.

As the ice melts and Arctic routes become viable, conversations that once sounded absurd suddenly become operational. The Northwest Passage is no longer something unknown and vague. The United States has never fully accepted Canadian sovereignty over it.

So this is where people misunderstand the danger. Greenland is not asking for partners nor protection. And it is certainly not asking to be spoken about as if it is available.

And Indigenous homelands do not become negotiable because someone powerful has grown bored. If we keep treating places like Greenland as ideas instead of homes, as strategy instead of community, we shouldn’t be surprised when others decide consent is optional.

And history is very clear about what happens when powerful countries confuse proximity with entitlement. If Greenland can be spoken about as available, Canadians would be foolish to think we’re too far away to be next.

Venezuela-The Real Story

Posted: December 22, 2025 in Uncategorized
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I’ve been wrestling for days with how to write about Venezuela.

I went down the research rabbit hole. Oil, sanctions, nationalization, corporations, authoritarianism, currency, and eventually hit an uncomfortable but honest wall: this is not a story that fits neatly into the 750–850 words I usually work within. This story can’t be flattened and things are escalating fast.

Then last night, I was given a gift. Another writer, Gordon F.D.Wilson, shared a piece that did what I was struggling to do. Through an aviation story (you know that got my attention), he captured the danger of what happens when the wrong people are in the cockpit and everyone else is strapped in as passengers. I’m not going to rewrite his work. I strongly encourage you to read it yourself. What is clear to me through my own research and his brilliant words, is that Venezuela matters far beyond Venezuela.

Let’s start with what is not up for debate. Venezuela is ruled by an autocrat. Nicolás Maduro is a corrupt, authoritarian leader who dismantled democratic institutions and presided over immense human suffering. But the story being told about Venezuela right now keeps shifting, and we need to pay attention. At first, we were told recent U.S. actions were about drugs. Fentanyl was even framed as a kind of weapon of mass destruction. Then the focus quietly moved from drug boats to oil tankers. By that point, fentanyl had vanished from the narrative altogether. We were no longer talking about drugs. We were talking about oil, shipping lanes, trade, currency, and power.

That’s the moment the explanation stopped making sense, and the behavior starts to matter more than the justification. The United States government did not lose Venezuelan oil. A U.S. corporation did. That is a distinct difference.

Venezuela’s oil sits on Venezuelan land. That doesn’t excuse corruption, mismanagement, or authoritarian rule, but it does implicate the claim that oil was “stolen” from the United States. Foreign investment does not equal permanent ownership of a country’s natural resources. If it did, sovereignty would be little more than a polite illusion.

This is where the history becomes too complex for slogans. Venezuela’s story involves decades of corporate dominance, oil nationalization, OPEC, sanctions, internal decay, and a slow, chilling slide from democracy into autocracy. If you want to see how an elected leader consolidates power over time, start with Hugo Chávez and work forward. But complexity is precisely what power prefers to erase.

Which brings us to the new U.S. National Security Strategy. This document quietly reframes America’s role in the world. Less global steward and more hemispheric enforcer. The Western Hemisphere is framed as America’s neighborhood its responsibility, its sphere.

That language should make every resource rich country in the Americas pause. The security doctrine shift, enforcement follows. And enforcement rarely arrives with clean explanations. One day it’s fentanyl. The next day it’s sanctions. Then it’s China. Then it’s oil. The story keeps changing. The actions do not.

And I can’t stop thinking about what this logic implies for Canada. I know what you’re saying “Canada is not Venezuela.” But Canada is resource rich. Our energy sector is deeply integrated with the United States. Our oil is traded in U.S. dollars. Our economy has been intertwined by design. If foreign investment quietly becomes conflated with ownership, if access starts to look like entitlement then sovereignty becomes thinner than we like to admit. The moment corporate loss is reframed as national injury, the line between partnership and pressure starts to blur. Let’s just say the phrase follow the money has never been more applicable. Your response President Trump?

This is where Wilson’s aviation metaphor lingers with me. We’re all passengers, distracted by turbulence in the cabin, while decisions are being made in the cockpit. The danger isn’t only the autocrat we can see. It’s the systems, incentives, and cronyism that decide who gets to fly the plane and whose laws apply when they become inconvenient.

I don’t have all the answers but I am seeking to understand. This situation is evolving, and the oil, currency, and enforcement implications are genuinely complex. But I do know this. Simple stories are being told about Venezuela right now, and simple stories are almost always dangerous. Especially as they relate to the United States right now. The Art of The Deal meets Follow The Money. So…if you want the deeper dive, the longer read that traces the full arc and asks the hardest questions, I strongly encourage you to read Gordon F.D. Wilson’s piece.

And this morning I need us to pay attention to what the U.S. leadership is counting on us not noticing, especially now, when people are tired, distracted, and trying to tune out the news over the holidays. But are we paying attention to who’s actually flying the plane, before the turbulence becomes something much worse.

Immigration and The Road Ahead

Posted: December 20, 2025 in Uncategorized
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A country this big doesn’t change direction suddenly. It travels there, one decision at a time.

I started my morning with population numbers for Canada in the New York Times. For the first time since 1946 our population is down. Changes that look small enough to dismiss. Is it just a fractional dip, or a a quarterly adjustment? It would be easy to scroll past. But these numbers are flagging something important.

I am fortunate to know many new Canadians. I personally know international students who came to Canada with a plan. It was not through a loophole, nor a fantasy, but with an actual plan. To study, to work and to stay and build their life here. I know people on work visas who did exactly what we told them to do, only to realize the door they were walking toward is now quietly narrowing. They come from all over the world. This isn’t about one country or one culture. It’s about what happens when policy pivots faster than lives can.

I’m not speculating here. Professionally, I know how much anxiety is sitting inside certain industries right now. Real anxiety. Not because executives are worried about optics, but because the labour math no longer works the way it used to. We can scoff at low wage jobs, but the truth is blunt. There are jobs in this country that are not being filled. Not because Canadians are lazy, but because those jobs may be unstable, seasonal, or incompatible with raising a family. Pretending otherwise doesn’t make us principled. It makes us unserious. Often those from other countries are willing to take these jobs with a goal to ultimately better theirs and their families lives.

At the same time, because reality refuses to behave, I also know domestic students who couldn’t find work. So yes, the system was strained. Yes, some promises were oversold. Two things can be true, even if our politics can’t handle that sentence.

What’s still barely being discussed is post-secondary education itself. Most Canadians don’t realize how much our colleges and universities have been financially buffered by international student tuition. Not necessarily out of greed but rather out of survival. Those large international student fees helped keep programs running, facilities open, and tuition for domestic students from climbing even faster. When that revenue drops, and it is dropping, something gives. Programs shrink, staff disappear and costs shift. That’s basic mathematics. And then there’s the demographic fantasy we seem keenly aware of. Canada is not repopulating itself through birthrates. Nothing more complicated than that. We are a vast country with an aging population, and no amount of lecturing about “family values” is going to change that. And let’s stop pretending otherwise. When some people say “we should just have more babies,” they’re usually picturing a very specific kind of Canadian family. I had two children. That replaces exactly two people. I do not expect my sons’ partners to reproduce on command to soothe someone else’s demographic anxiety.

Now I want to talk specifically about National defence. We have said, repeatedly, that Canada needs to grow its military. Global threats are increasing, not receding, and much of the current instability has been accelerated by the man south of the border. For the first time in generations, both our southern and northern borders are strategically fragile. You don’t protect a country with slogans. You protect it with skilled, trained people and in numbers that work.

As you know an industry important to me is aviation. We already face a pilot shortage both civil and military. Airlines are competing with the air force for talent, and the pipeline is thin. And aviation has always understood something politics and people sometimes forgets. An airplane has never cared about the colour or ethnicity of the pilot flying it. It only cares whether the person in the seat is trained, competent, and ready. Physics is brutally fair that way.

If we continue drawing potential military pilots into civil aviation or fail to build the pipeline at all, that’s not a cultural debate but rather a capability gap. And you don’t fill cockpits, secure borders, or respond to crises with wishful thinking.

This is why it’s so frustrating when immigration gets reduced to irritation. The Facebook drama when someone didn’t quite catch your order at a Tim Hortons drive-thru. Yes, communication matters. Yes, standards matter. But confusing momentary annoyance with national strategy is like judging an airline’s safety record based on whether you liked the coffee on your flight.

And this is where I suspect our Prime Minister’s thinking actually is. Not in slogans nor in extremes. But in the uncomfortable middle, where immigration, defence, education, labour, and global instability all collide. The real work isn’t choosing “more” or “less.” It’s designing a system that actually supplies the people we know we need, in the places we know we’re vulnerable.

This isn’t an argument for open borders. It’s an argument for adult policy.

Because Canada does need more people. But like any long journey, growth without direction is just motion. You need a route. You need capacity. And you need to know why you’re heading where you’re headed, before you find yourself miles down the road wondering how you got there.

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