Posts Tagged ‘faith’

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.

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.