Category: Essays

Understanding Trump’s Appeal Through Fear, Identity, and the End of Globalization

When Donald Trump won the presidency in 2016, like many, I was stunned. When he lost in 2020, I believed the country had turned the page. His comeback in 2024 was unprecedented and baffling. To make sense of it, I turned to trusted sources: science, sociology, and history.

Fear and the Conservative Brain

Part of the answer lies in the way our brains are wired. Neuroscientists Daniel Z. Lieberman and Michael E. Long, in The Molecule of More, explain how dopamine, the brain’s chemical of desire and motivation, drives human behavior. It governs our engagement with the future, pushing us to seek, plan, and imagine.

Liberals, they argue, tend to be more dopamine-driven, drawn to change, exploration, and progress. Conservatives, by contrast, lean more on the “here-and-now” chemicals like serotonin and oxytocin that foster connection, stability, and contentment with what exists. Complementary findings show that conservatives have stronger activity in brain regions linked to threat detection, like the amygdala, explaining their heightened sensitivity to danger and preference for order.

Trump speaks directly to this psychology. He doesn’t offer a hopeful future, he offers protection from a fearful one. His message is not about building something new but defending what’s being lost. For brains wired toward security, this is a powerful appeal.

Alienation and the Deep Story

Sociologist Arlie Russell Hochschild offers another insight in Strangers in Their Own Land. She embedded herself in conservative communities in Louisiana, trying to understand what she called the “deep story” of the American right. It wasn’t just about policy; it was about identity.

Many of these communities suffer from pollution, poor infrastructure, and economic decline, yet they resist environmental regulation and progressive reforms. Why? Because they feel insulted, ignored, and stereotyped. Hochschild describes their worldview as one in which they’ve played by the rules, worked hard, and waited patiently, only to see others “cut in line.” The result is a potent mix of pride and resentment.

Add to this a fractured media environment. With traditional journalism in decline, many turn to partisan outlets like Fox News. Without broad exposure to differing viewpoints or tools for critical thinking, disinformation thrives. Trump’s messaging, rooted in grievance and emotional appeal, finds fertile ground.

The End of Globalization

Underlying it all is a deeper shift: the decline of the globalization era. From the 1990s to the 2010s, globalization promised prosperity through free trade, open borders, and technological exchange. But while it enriched some, it devastated others—offshoring jobs, hollowing out industries, and widening inequality. Entire regions were left behind.

By 2024, Americans knew exactly who Trump was, a vindictive, self-serving felon with a well-known policy playbook: mass deportations, trade wars, tax cuts, and environmental withdrawal. And yet, they voted him in again. Why? Because he spoke to the disillusionment globalization left in its wake. People feel angry about immigration, fearful for their jobs, distrustful of government, and helpless in the face of climate change. These raw emotions are not just political; they are personal, embodied, and deeply human.

A New Lens

Understanding Trump’s enduring appeal requires more than disbelief or outrage. It demands empathy, science, and attention to the long arc of history. Beneath the bluster lies something elemental: fear of loss, longing for order, and the ache of being left behind. It’s not just about Trump, it’s about the world that made him possible.

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This time, the storm wears red

When the U.S. crosses the forty-ninth parallel in a brash bid to claim water, energy, and land, Canadians don’t flinch — they quietly rally. “Maple Storm” follows a ragtag, deeply Canadian resistance: farmers, First Nations land defenders, francophone hackers, and immigrant nurses turned field medics. No capes, no glory-seekers — just good people standing their ground.

There’s Asha, a Toronto paramedic who grew up on Bollywood films but never imagined herself racing snowmobiles through fire zones. Jean-Claude, a gruff but brilliant Quebecois hydro engineer who re-routes an entire dam to flood an advancing tank battalion. Mary Cardinal, a Cree matriarch who leads her community’s strategic defense of northern pipelines, channeling centuries of Indigenous knowledge. Gary, a retired prairie farmer with a tractor, a radio, and an unshakable calm. And Liam, a Newfie fisherman-turned-hacker whose online misinformation campaign confuses U.S. forces so badly they bomb their own GPS markers.

Together, they use Canada’s best weapons: the harsh climate, deep forests, relentless politeness, and a mastery of logistics honed over years of surviving ice storms and health-care lineups.

When the final act erupts, our heroes ride snowplows and ski-doos down Pennsylvania Avenue, maple leaves flapping, to set the White House ablaze once again — not in hatred, but as a reminder: Canada may be quiet, but it is never weak.

“Maple Storm” is a bold, unexpected war epic — funny, moving, and defiantly Canadian. It’s not about domination. It’s about defending what matters — with grit, humility, and a toque pulled low.

Victory, the Canadian way.

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Political consciousness is essential to strength, solidarity and change

People respond to difficult political times in many ways, shaped by temperament, values, and circumstance. Few of us have a direct way to influence politics, so the news creates anxiety. We struggle to stay mentally healthy. Here are some different personal responses:

Withdrawal. Some don’t believe they can understand the complexity or make a difference. They limit exposure to news, avoid political conversations, and focus on personal well-being or family. It may not be apathy, but self-preservation.

Cynicism. A darker response. When overwhelmed, people may grow cynical or desensitized. It can be a defense, or the first stage before choosing a different path.

Social Media. Courageous, perhaps, but social media often spreads misinformation. These participants operate on the level of folk politics: emotional, localized, moral appeals that may feel right but miss the bigger picture. It can escalate into rage and lead to burnout.

Spiritual Practice. Faith, meditation, or ritual can help people hold despair and hope in tension. For some, politics becomes sacred; for others, it’s set aside to seek peace.

Study. Some turn to books, history, or philosophy. They look for patterns, deeper causes, and long-term perspectives. Wisdom becomes a way to steady the mind.

Bridging Divides. Some make it their mission to talk across lines, listen deeply, and build understanding. It’s slow and frustrating work, but necessary for healing.

Creativity. Artists and writers channel the chaos into stories, paintings, or poems. Expression becomes resistance, or at least a way to stay sane. Comedy disarms fear, helps us make sense of absurdity, and builds solidarity. Think late-night monologues or political memes.

Community. Rather than fight the whole system, some focus locally: mutual aid, neighbourhood projects, or care networks. Quiet politics, rooted in relationships.

Activism. Some people dive into action. They protest, organize, and write to their representatives.

While minding your boundaries, political consciousness is essential to strength, solidarity and change. Personally, I find myself studying and bridging divides, rising in mutual aid and intentions to mindful activism. What is your response?

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I count on Mark Carney to remain a climate leader

A Shot at Forming the Next Government

Mark Carney has long hovered at the edge of Liberal politics, ever since his high-profile return to Canada in 2020 with advisory roles on climate and economic recovery. His keynote speech at the 2021 Liberal convention, in which he praised Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and called for bold climate action, was widely seen as a political trial balloon. Earlier speculation about a 2019 run had already signalled his growing alignment with the party, positioning him as a credible future leadership contender.

More recently, rumours swirled that Carney was about to be appointed Minister of Finance, replacing Chrystia Freeland to handle the escalating U.S. tariff crisis. Freeland’s exit intensified pressure to replace Trudeau, ultimately opening the door for Carney to run for party leadership.

Now, Mark Carney has won the Liberal leadership and become the new Prime Minister of Canada. He has turned the Liberal Party’s fortunes around and now has a real shot at forming the next government. Much of this rebound is driven by new threats to Canadian sovereignty and the economy from Donald Trump. But it also reflects Carney’s appeal: a steady, globally respected economic leader who marries fiscal discipline with progressive values on climate and social issues.

In recent weeks, the Liberals have seen a notable rebound in the polls, reversing a long decline. Carney has injected credibility and gravitas into the party’s image. His reputation as a serious, pragmatic thinker with international experience is resonating with Liberals fatigued by Trudeau but also with fiscally cautious progressives and centrists across the political spectrum. Appointed by Stephen Harper as Governor of the Bank of Canada in 2008, Carney helped steer Canada through the global financial crisis. Even Harper’s Conservatives once held him up as a symbol of sound financial management. With an election call expected this weekend, the odds of a Carney victory are rising.

Carney is a Climate Leader

I’ve followed Carney closely since his departure from the Bank of England, particularly in his role as a global climate leader. As UN Special Envoy for Climate Action and Finance, he played a central role in mobilizing private capital to meet climate goals. He helped launch the Glasgow Financial Alliance for Net Zero which united major financial institutions around the goal of net-zero emissions. He consistently advocated for carbon pricing, clearer climate disclosures, and sustainable investment. His influence helped shift the global climate conversation from government policy to the role of financial markets in driving the transition to a low-carbon economy.

The carbon tax, though politically fraught, remains a sound policy. It penalizes large emitters, rewards green spending, and redistributes revenue to lower-income Canadians. Unfortunately, Pierre Poilievre successfully weaponized the carbon tax, turning it into the central ballot-box question. Though originally a conservative idea, the tax became a symbol of Liberal overreach. Poilievre branded it as a tax grab, despite its revenue-neutral design. The tax isn’t meant to fill government coffers—it’s meant to shift behaviour. Most of the revenue is returned to households through rebates, making it more of an economic signal than a tax.

For a time, Poilievre’s attacks worked. He soared in the polls, capitalizing on inflation and Trudeau fatigue. By early 2025, he was poised to crush the Liberals in the next election.

That changed when Mark Carney became Prime Minister. One of his first actions was to eliminate the consumer carbon tax. It was disappointing, but not surprising. The move immediately undercut Poilievre’s central message, sending him scrambling and plummeting in the polls. With Trump looming and economic tensions high, Carney prioritized political survival and economic stability.

What’s Next for Climate Policy?

I asked my prospective Conservative MP for Poilievre’s climate strategy. He replied that it involved innovation and, catch this, oil production. Nothing about reducing carbon emissions. I am no longer clear, however, on the Liberal climate strategy.

Scrapping the carbon tax may have been politically necessary. Still, I’m counting on Carney to remain the climate leader he’s shown himself to be. While he must focus for now on securing an election win and countering the Trump threat, climate remains the more important issue. I’m watching his messaging closely. He promises to fight U.S. tariffs, but I suggest that tariffs could become part of a short-term climate strategy, a chance to add remission reduction guarantees to outdated free trade agreements.

I’m also wary of his talk of megaprojects, which seem tied to resource extraction. That path leads to more emissions. I assume Carney will keep his climate policy close to the vest for now, avoiding distractions during the campaign. But I also expect him to return, after the election, to the climate leadership the world knows him for. In the long-term, climate remains the more important issue.

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Redefining productivity—not in terms of GDP growth but in terms of human and ecological well-being

A “slow economy” could be a good thing, one modeled after the slow food movement. Instead of relentless growth and efficiency, we’d prioritize sustainability, resilience, and well-being. A slow economy could mean local production, longer product life cycles, and a shift from consumption to repair, reuse, and quality craftsmanship.

Just like slow food emphasizes seasonal, local, and organic ingredients over mass-produced convenience, a slow economy might encourage local businesses, cooperative models, and a decoupling from the breakneck pace of global markets. It could also mean redefining productivity—not in terms of GDP growth but in terms of human and ecological well-being.

A slow economy could mean reduced carbon emissions and a healthier climate. Less emphasis on rapid production and global trade could lead to fewer fossil-fueled supply chains, less resource extraction, and a shift toward local, sustainable industries. If we moved away from disposable goods and embraced durability, repair, and sharing economies, we could significantly cut waste and energy consumption. A deliberate slowdown might even give ecosystems a chance to regenerate, aligning economic activity with planetary limits rather than pushing them beyond breaking points.

Of course, slowing down an economy isn’t without risks. Many systems—pensions, social services, and employment—depend on steady economic activity. But maybe the goal isn’t stopping growth entirely, just rethinking what kind of growth we actually need.

What do you think slowing the economy down would look like in practice?

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A Reflection on Geopolitics in 2025

Greenland’s True Size

When Donald Trump expressed unhealthy interest in buying Greenland, a friend suggested an alternative: Greenland could become Canada’s fourth territory. Unlike the U.S., Greenland is only a few kilometers from Canada and shares linguistic, cultural, and colonial histories with Canada’s Inuit. A land claim agreement like Nunavut’s could be arranged. He speculated that Russia, China, and the U.S. might support such a move since it would prevent any one of them from establishing a military base while ensuring passage rights for all.

I dismissed the idea. As far as I knew, Greenland had no interest in joining another country. The matter was not open for discussion unless Greenland itself initiated it. My friend agreed. His intention was simply to explore Greenland’s options in the face of external threats.

He then noted that Greenland is not as large as some believe. The Mercator projection on maps exaggerates landmasses near the poles, making Greenland appear immense, comparable in size to Africa when Africa is actually 14 times larger. Similar distortions occur making northern landmasses like the U.S., Canada, and Russia seem much larger than they are. On a globe, Greenland’s proportions are accurate—perhaps Trump would back off if he looked at one!

Finding a Globe

I hadn’t seen a globe in years—a spherical model of Earth, something I can hold in my hands. Unlike digital maps, globes depict landmasses and bodies of water without distortion. Some even feature raised relief for mountains and other landforms.

Globes have largely fallen out of use, replaced by digital maps, GPS, and interactive tools like Google Earth. Digital alternatives are accessible on smartphones, offering real-time updates, zoom functions, and satellite imagery. Paper maps and screens are also more practical for daily use, while globes are bulky, static, and quickly outdated as political boundaries shift.

I could have ordered a globe online, but Amazon represents everything wrong with globalization—cheap manufacturing, exploitative labor, retail collapse, dopamine-fueled shopping, warehouse abuses, gig economy logistics, and Jeff Bezos growing ever wealthier. Instead, I asked around. A friend directed me to Rupert Treasures, a local second-hand shop. The clerk said that they had a beautiful globe on a stand but it had just sold. He suggested a nearby antiques shop, and it had three, all labeled in French. I bought one for $20.

My callout for a globe inspired more offers. My sister-in-law offered to mail me a children’s globe with a digital pen. Another friend gifted me an old family globe still showing the USSR.

Russia and Ukraine

On the older globe, the Soviet Union appears as one massive yellow landmass. In 1991, its dissolution created fifteen independent countries, the largest being Russia. On my newer globe, Russia is in green and about three-quarters the size of the former USSR. Ukraine, much smaller—about 1/28 the size of Russia—is a purple landmass bordering the Black Sea and Europe.

There is no universal standard for globe colors, but I noted that Greenland is green on both globes.

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022 was framed as a strategic move to reclaim influence, prevent Ukraine from joining NATO, and secure economic and military interests. But I wonder if there is a simpler motive—an obsession with size. Putin may struggle to accept Russia as smaller than the USSR. This fixation on expansion has fueled colonialism throughout history.

Israel and Palestine

Locating Israel was a challenge—it is small on the globe. It borders Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and Egypt, with the Mediterranean to the west. Palestine was even harder to find. It exists within Israel’s borders, encompassing the West Bank and Gaza Strip, but looking at the globe, it’s as if Palestine doesn’t exist at all. Unlike digital maps, where one can zoom in, a globe presents only the dominant geopolitical reality.

The erasure of Palestine from maps mirrors its physical erasure. Under occupation, its land is continuously taken, its people struggling for survival. The world often looks away.

Gulf of Mexico or Gulf of America?

The Gulf of Mexico, a vast ocean basin, is bordered by the U.S., Mexico, and Cuba. It supports industries like oil, gas, fishing, and shipping, with major rivers, such as the Mississippi, feeding into it. Its warm waters also make it a breeding ground for hurricanes that shape North American weather patterns.

In January 2025, Donald Trump signed an executive order renaming the Gulf of Mexico as the “Gulf of America”—a symbolic assertion of U.S. dominance. Critics argued the move strained U.S.-Mexico relations and had little international legitimacy. Still, major U.S. tech companies, including Google and Apple, updated their maps for American users while keeping the original name for the rest of the world.

Canada’s Borders

Canada, my home, is the world’s second-largest country at 9.98 million square kilometers. On my globe, its ten provinces are clearly labeled, but only two of its three territories are shown. Nunavut became a territory in 1999, part of the largest Indigenous land claim settlement in Canadian history, granting Inuit greater self-governance. Modern globes now show Nunavut as separate, right next to Greenland.

Canada’s borders have been shaped by conflict and negotiation. The War of 1812 repelled a U.S. invasion. The Alaska Boundary Dispute tested sovereignty. Quebec’s separatist referendums in 1980 and 1995 nearly broke the country apart. While Canada’s borders are now settled, internal divisions over land, identity, and federalism persist.

Trump’s threats of tariffs and suggestions that Canada should become the 51st U.S. state have only strengthened Canadian nationalism. Even Indigenous leaders and Quebec separatists, often at odds with federal policies, have united in rejecting foreign interference. If anything, Trump’s bluster has reinforced Canada’s independence.

The Overview Effect

The globe felt good in my hands. My first moments holding it gave me a surreal sense of the Overview Effect, a cognitive shift astronauts experience when viewing Earth from space—awe, heightened awareness of the planet’s fragility, and a deepened connection to humanity. Frank White coined the term in 1987, though earlier accounts exist. Yuri Gagarin described a profound connection to Earth in 1961, and Edgar Mitchell reported an “explosion of awareness” during Apollo 14 in 1971.

Holding a globe in my hands, I also felt something unsettling. If the globe was Earth, who was I, a god in space? Did holding it mean control? Could I spin it like Superman, deciding fate? Some people crave this power. The Overview Effect is often celebrated as positive, but it reflects extreme privilege. Few can access space, making it an exclusive perspective that may create distance rather than connection. This perspective can be dangerous. Colonialists, imperialists, and globalists have often viewed the world as something to be possessed and reshaped.

Conclusion

A globe offers more than a visual aid; it provides perspective. It corrects distortions in our understanding of size and space. It reveals the geopolitical reality of nations at war. It reminds us of the fragility of borders and the forces that shape them. It prompts questions about power, nationalism, and colonialism.

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The Weaponization of Journalism and Social Media in Canadian Politics

Canada’s media landscape is embattled, with traditional journalism under attack and social media increasingly weaponized by political interests. As the Conservative Party, led by Pierre Poilievre, seeks to defund the CBC and eliminate funding for local journalism, the country faces critical questions about the future of news, democracy, and informed citizenship. At the same time, government attempts to regulate digital platforms, such as the Online News Act, have been met with resistance from tech giants like Meta. The battle over who controls information in Canada is not just about policy—it is about the fundamental nature of political discourse and democracy in an era of rapid technological change.

The Global Village and Frayed Nerves

Marshall McLuhan’s concept of the global village envisions a world interconnected by electronic media, where distance and time shrink, and people experience events simultaneously. He saw mass communication as an extension of human senses, dissolving national and cultural boundaries to create a shared consciousness. However, McLuhan warned that interconnectedness would not necessarily lead to harmony but could amplify tensions as diverse perspectives collide in real time.

McLuhan compared the global village to a nervous system—just as nerves transmit signals throughout the body, media technologies create an instantaneous network of communication, making events in one place immediately felt elsewhere. This heightened collective awareness increases sensitivity to shocks, conflicts, and disruptions, reinforcing McLuhan’s warning that hyper-connectivity does not guarantee unity; it can overstimulate and fray the nerves of entire societies.

The Fractured Media Landscape

In 2025, we are overwhelmed by a deluge of information on crises: rising costs of living, homelessness, humanitarian disasters in Gaza, Congo, Sudan, and Yemen, the resurgence of fascism, and an accelerating climate crisis. Our human nervous systems are frayed.

Reliable journalism could help manage the stress, but media itself is transforming. At each technological leap, political powers have undermined journalism, favoring neoliberalism and fascism. One wonders if our capacity for knowledge is causing as much trouble as it solves. Awareness prevents crimes in the dark, yet unfiltered and manipulated information inflames division. A mix is optimal—selectively reading good sources, taking breaks, and processing information before deciding on action.

The Erosion of Journalism

When social media first emerged in the early 2000s, it was heralded as a democratizing force. Platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube enabled global communication, empowering grassroots activism. The Arab Spring in 2011 was a key example of this potential, as social media helped protesters organize and bypass state-controlled narratives.

Yet Web 2.0 significantly undermined traditional journalism. Newspapers, television, and radio, once the primary sources of news, operated with editorial standards and business models based on subscriptions and advertising. The rise of free, fast, and engaging news on social media diverted advertising revenue away from traditional outlets, leading to layoffs, closures, and the decline of investigative reporting. Anyone could publish content, making misinformation rampant.

Canada’s Response: The Online News Act

In 2023, Canada passed the Online News Act (Bill C-18), requiring tech giants like Meta and Google to compensate publishers for using their content. Meta refused and blocked Canadian news on its platforms, but Google ultimately complied. This legislation was just the first step in Canada’s broader strategy to regulate online media.

Other initiatives followed, including the Online Streaming Act (Bill C-11), which updated broadcasting regulations for digital media, and the Online Harms Act (Bill C-63), which sought to address hate speech, extremism, and child exploitation. However, only Bill C-11 was enacted; others stalled or died with Parliament’s prorogation in 2025.

Poilievre’s Attack on Journalism

Pierre Poilievre opposes the Online News Act, calling it a government-mandated subsidy for failing mainstream media. He pledges to repeal the law and cut $1 billion in federal funding to the CBC, effectively defunding its English-language services. He also plans to eliminate funding for the Local Journalism Initiative, which supports reporting in underserved communities.

Attacking mainstream media is a standard right-wing tactic. By portraying the press as biased and corrupt, politicians erode trust in independent journalism, making space for right-wing media that amplifies their messaging unchallenged. This fosters an “us versus them” mentality, where negative coverage is dismissed as propaganda. It also pressures mainstream outlets to self-censor or give undue weight to conservative viewpoints, shifting public discourse in favor of the right.

The Weaponization of Social Media

Poilievre, like other populists, prefers social media over traditional journalism. He relies on YouTube, X (formerly Twitter), Facebook, and Instagram to bypass media scrutiny and communicate directly with supporters through highly produced videos and live streams. He engages with alternative and right-wing media, reinforcing narratives that align with his views.

Far-right movements have weaponized social media, exploiting algorithms that amplify outrage and misinformation. These platforms facilitate radicalization, conspiracy theories, and distrust in democratic institutions. The January 6th U.S. Capitol riot exemplifies how social media can mobilize violence.

Elon Musk’s takeover of X has bolstered Donald Trump. Musk reinstated Trump’s account, endorsed his campaign, and relaxed content moderation policies. Mark Zuckerberg’s Meta followed suit, eliminating third-party fact-checking and replacing it with a “Community Notes” system, mirroring Musk’s approach. These changes align with conservative interests, raising concerns about the spread of misinformation and the erosion of democratic discourse.

The Shift to Web 3.0

Web 2.0’s social media is fading as Web 3.0 transforms media consumption and production. Traditional platforms like Facebook and Twitter are losing influence to AI-driven content models, which automate news aggregation and content moderation. Media is shifting from mass broadcasting to AI-curated, user-controlled ecosystems. This decentralization may empower individuals, but it also risks amplifying misinformation and increasing the role of anonymous dark money in politics.

Canada had introduced several Web 3.0-related bills, including the Critical Cyber Systems Protection Act (Bill C-26) to strengthen cybersecurity, the Consumer Privacy Protection Act (Bill C-27) to regulate AI, and the Online Harms Act (Bill C-63) to address harmful content. However, with the prorogation of Parliament in January 2025, these bills were terminated. Future efforts will need to reintroduce legislation to address cybersecurity, digital privacy, and online safety.

Staying Politically Conscious

As we navigate an era of media upheaval and political uncertainty, it is more crucial than ever to remain engaged and discerning. The flood of information can be overwhelming, but disengagement is not an option. Instead, we must cultivate media literacy, seek out reliable sources, and critically evaluate the narratives shaping public discourse. Supporting independent journalism, advocating for transparent media regulations, and holding politicians accountable are tangible ways to counter misinformation and protect democratic values.

The challenges are significant, but history shows that societies adapt and innovate in response to media transformations. The tools of digital connectivity, when wielded responsibly, still offer opportunities for positive change—fostering global awareness, mobilizing grassroots action, and amplifying marginalized voices. The future of information is uncertain, but our collective vigilance and commitment to truth will determine whether the global village strengthens democracy or succumbs to division.

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Understanding the Evolution of Political Labels and Their Implications for Voting

The terms “Liberal” and “Conservative” have shifted so radically that they may no longer represent what you think they do. Over time, economic and social changes have altered the meaning of these political labels, leading to overlap and confusion. In this essay, I revisit these terms and argue that political parties, regardless of their labels, have shifted drastically to the right. Voting Liberal today is akin to voting Conservative, and voting Conservative increasingly aligns with far-right, even fascist, ideologies. While the United States may already be lost to this shift, Canada’s vote might still moderate the tide.

The term “liberal” encompasses a broad philosophy emphasizing individual freedoms, democracy, and equality. Classical liberalism focuses on free markets, while modern liberalism advocates for social justice and government intervention. “Liberal” (capitalized), however, refers to specific parties like Canada’s Liberal Party, which selectively apply these principles based on pragmatic goals.

Similarly, “conservative” describes a philosophy of tradition, stability, and cautious change. It values institutions, cultural heritage, and individual responsibility. “Conservative” (capitalized), as in the Conservative Party of Canada, represents an entity that shapes its policies through a mix of ideology and political strategy.

Both terms are fluid and context-dependent. In North America, liberalism is often conflated with left-wing politics, yet its classical roots emphasize free markets and limited government. Similarly, conservatism’s alignment with right-wing values overlooks its potential to support interventionist policies when they serve tradition and stability.

Over time, neoliberalism has heavily influenced political parties across the spectrum. Advocating free markets, deregulation, and privatization, neoliberalism prioritizes economic efficiency over social equity. Liberals and Conservatives alike have embraced these policies, blurring traditional divides. This shift has exacerbated inequality and weakened public institutions, as Liberal policies increasingly resemble conservative economic priorities.

Meanwhile, segments of Conservative and Republican parties have shifted toward far-right ideologies, embracing populism, nationalism, and authoritarianism. This includes “us vs. them” rhetoric targeting immigrants, and minorities, alongside a focus on centralized power, misinformation, and conspiracy theories. These trends echo historical patterns of fascism, raising serious concerns for democracy and pluralism.

In contrast, truly left-wing ideologies prioritize equality, collective welfare, and systemic change. They challenge entrenched hierarchies and capitalist structures through wealth redistribution, public ownership, and labor rights. In Canada, however, parties like the NDP and Greens fall short of these goals, working instead within capitalist frameworks with centrist strategies.

As political landscapes shift, I reflect deeply on my vote each election. Over the years, I’ve supported most political parties. By day, practicality inclines me toward Liberal, NDP, or Green policies. By night, I identify with far-left values, unaffiliated with any party. How do we reconcile these contradictions? One approach is voting locally, disregarding party ideologies and focusing on candidates’ direct impacts. If enough voters did this, it could shift the questions asked and influence federal politics.

The shift to the far right is disturbing. Change doesn’t require a majority, just a strong minority of voters to light the way. Think critically about your vote—it matters more than ever.

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Fostering solidarity builds empathy, shared responsibility, and lays the groundwork for lasting change

Voting is the least effective way to make real change. It’s passive, constrained, and often an excuse to avoid deeper engagement. True transformation requires action beyond the ballot box, climbing the hierarchy of political engagement to methods that disrupt, rebuild, and reimagine the systems we live in. Let’s explore five groups of actions, ranked from least to most effective.

Institutional Politics

This sits at the bottom of the hierarchy. While necessary to maintain democratic systems, voting is a limited tool. Casting a ballot every few years does little to address systemic issues or drive transformative change. Marginally more impactful is running for office or supporting alternative candidates, which allows individuals to influence policy agendas directly. Yet, even this is constrained by the slow-moving nature of institutional systems.

Awareness and Advocacy

This represents the next level. Change begins with educating and raising awareness. Sharing knowledge through writing, speaking, or social media can inspire others to act, creating the foundation for collective movements. Advocating for policy builds on this awareness, directly influencing decision-makers through lobbying, public hearings, or collaboration with organizations. These methods are crucial but rely on engaging an informed audience and willing policymakers.

Economic and Local Leverage

These methods target power structures more directly. Practicing economic activism—such as boycotting harmful industries, supporting ethical businesses, or pushing for systemic reforms—redirects resources to align with values. Meanwhile, influencing local decisions through community boards, city councils, or planning committees allows individuals to shape policies that directly affect their lives. These methods often yield tangible results with ripple effects beyond their immediate scope.

Direct Engagement

This moves beyond working within the system to disrupt and reimagine it. Protests, strikes, and civil disobedience draw attention to critical issues and force responses from those in power. Even more transformative is creating alternative institutions, such as cooperatives, mutual aid networks, or independent media. These efforts model new ways of living and working, providing practical alternatives to flawed systems.

Transformative Cultural Change

This operates at the deepest level. Fostering solidarity builds empathy and a sense of shared responsibility, laying the groundwork for unified action. Building coalitions amplifies this power, bringing together diverse groups to tackle systemic problems. These cultural shifts challenge the underlying assumptions of society and create the momentum needed for lasting change.

Real transformation happens when we climb the ladder of engagement, moving beyond the passive act of voting to take meaningful action. The most effective methods—solidarity, coalition-building, and direct engagement—redefine the systems we live in. The question isn’t just where to start but how far you’re willing to go to make a difference.

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