If you have been silent about the thousands of deaths in Gaza, Venezuela, Somalia, and Yemen, but suddenly feel compelled to speak out against violence now because a white man got shot, sit down.

Violence may offend your sensibilities, but your silence in the face of systemic killing is not neutrality. It is complicity. It is permission. And it is reprehensible.

I'm not done.

Maybe you do feel just as strongly about every instance of violence. And maybe there is more, much more, discomfort that makes it harder to speak about some deaths than others.

I urge you, do not miss this chance to reflect on that.

TLDR:

The EV mandate pause was dumped on a Friday to dodge debate, classic political tactic.

This benefits automakers and corporations, not consumers or the working class.

Canada is one of the best places in the world to own an EV: cheap, clean electricity makes driving 100 km cost $2–$4 vs. $10–$15 for gas.

EV sales aren’t collapsing, they’re at record highs; the “crisis” is manufactured.

Claiming U.S. tariffs justify this rollback is backwards: more EVs = less dependence on U.S. imports and oil.

Bottom line: Mark Carney puts corporate comfort ahead of Canadian households’ savings and independence. Is that what you were promised?

___

When a government makes a decision that will affect ordinary people and they choose to announce it late on a Friday afternoon, you know they are hoping you won’t notice. That’s exactly what happened here. The pause on Canada’s electric vehicle mandate was slipped out the back door at week’s end, like a thief in the night.

Now, who benefits from this pause? Not the consumer. Not the family struggling to make ends meet. The beneficiaries are the automobile corporations, companies already earning record profits. The Prime Minister tells us these manufacturers have “enough on their plate.” Well, I’ll tell you who has too much on their plate: the working man and woman trying to feed a family while paying fifteen dollars in gas just to drive to work.

Canada has cheap electricity and we have one of the cleanest grids in the world. Driving a hundred kilometers in an electric vehicle in this country costs two to four dollars. Two to four dollars! For the working class, that is independence from imported oil and from the fluctuations of global markets. It is money kept in Canadian pockets, instead of sent south to refineries in the United States.

But by pausing this mandate, the government has chosen to slow adoption, to stall the building of charging stations, and to tell the working class that their savings and their independence will have to wait. They dress it up with talk of U.S. tariffs, as though bowing to Washington is a sound economic strategy. Yet the truth is plain: more EVs mean less reliance on U.S. imports. This policy shift makes us weaker, not stronger.

And then they tell us sales down, so this is a good time to act. But look at the facts: EV sales in Canada are at record highs. IT'S THE GROWTH that has slowed, but it has not gone backwards. This is no crisis. This is a convenient excuse, a story crafted to justify a retreat from a commitment they never truly wanted to keep.

So, let us be clear. Mark Carney has once again taken the side of the corporations and the wealthy, while the working class, the people who stand to benefit the most from affordable electric driving, are left behind. Canada could be leading the world in electric adoption. Instead, our electeds have mischaracterized a plateau as a collapse, and handed victory to industry lobbyists.

Don't let them convince you this is a win for Canada or that we have a government who is taking care you you and me.

We cannot let them write this off as pragmatism. It is not pragmatism; it is capitulation. It is a choice to protect profits over people. And the losers are not just EV buyers. The losers are Canadian families, Canadian workers, and the future of our environment.

It is often said that democracy demands eternal vigilance. Less often admitted is the fact that democracy, left untended, may begin to resemble the very systems it was meant to oppose. In the case of the New Democratic Party, a party long celebrated as the institutional voice of labour and social justice in Canada, we are witnessing such a shift take place before our very eyes. And most troubling of all is that it appears to be happening without protest.

The announcement of the party’s leadership race, requiring prospective candidates to submit a fee of one hundred thousand dollars and secure five hundred member signatures, is not merely a procedural detail. It is a political act. It signals, quite clearly, who is welcome to aspire to lead and who is not. And it should concern anyone who believes that the democratic process ought to reward conviction, not capital.

Most of the public discourse surrounding this leadership race is focused on a clause requiring that at least fifty percent of supporting signatures must come from individuals who do not identify as cisgender men. This clause, intended to promote gender equity and inclusiveness, has provoked some debate. And yet, it has also served to draw attention away from the more profound and troubling barrier: the price of admission.

One may reasonably ask why there is no comparable outrage directed at the financial threshold imposed. Why, in a party that claims to represent working people, is it acceptable to require a sum that would be out of reach for most of its membership?

This is not a minor contradiction. It is a distortion of purpose. A party which speaks of equality but enshrines economic privilege in its own leadership process is no longer acting in service of its foundational values. It is merely echoing the logic of the established order.

The problem here is not a clerical oversight. It is not simply that the entry fee is too high. It is that the party has internalized the very logic it was meant to challenge.

Instead of opening space for those with strong ideas, tested in community and sharpened through struggle, the party has created a filter based on financial means. In so doing, it has adopted the premise that those most fit to lead are those who can marshal large sums of money. That premise belongs not to democratic socialism, but to the market-driven politics of our adversaries.

It reflects a quiet but significant surrender. A willingness to accept that in order to compete, one must mimic the methods of those in power, rather than disrupt them.

What are the consequences of such a choice? First, the field of candidates is narrowed to those who possess either personal wealth or institutional connections. That excludes the vast majority of people who have lived the struggles the party claims to address. Second, it ensures that the policies, tone, and strategy of the winning campaign will be shaped by donors, strategists, and consultants rather than by ordinary members.

The result is predictable. The leader who emerges will likely speak in the language of the working class but act within the boundaries that capital and bureaucracy permit. They will make progressive promises in the abstract, but govern with an eye to stability, market confidence, and electoral calculus.

This is not a defect of character. It is the logical outcome of a system designed to reward moderation, not transformation.

There is, of course, an alternative.

If the goal is to identify and empower a leader who speaks with moral authority and organizational skill, the process ought to reflect that intention.

The party could abolish the entry fee entirely. In its place, it might require a broader base of member support. For instance, a candidate could be asked to obtain five thousand verified signatures from at least five provinces, with demonstrable diversity in age, background, and region. This would reward grassroots organizing and reflect the national character of the party.

Campaign spending should be capped at a modest level, with full public disclosure of all donations and expenditures. Town halls and community forums, rather than donor events, should become the arena for debate. Candidates should publish detailed platforms and respond to policy challenges submitted by the membership. In short, the process should reflect the democratic values the party claims to champion.

But to say that an alternative exists is not to suggest it will be taken.

The likely outcome is as uninspiring as it is familiar. The next leader of the NDP will, I suspect, be someone who meets the financial requirement with relative ease. They will speak of fairness and inclusion. They will decry inequality and climate change. But when the moment comes to confront corporate power, they will hesitate. When asked to support disruptive action by workers or tenants or land defenders, they will issue carefully worded statements. And when the opportunity arises to transform the structure of the party or the country, they will demur in favour of caution.

In this way, the race will conclude as it began, with a ritual affirmation of values, but no meaningful risk to those who benefit most from the status quo.

Democracy cannot be reduced to ballots and slogans. It lives or dies in the rules we set for participation. And if the New Democratic Party continues to ask working people to support it while denying them the opportunity to lead it, it will soon find that its moral authority has evaporated.

The question is not whether the party can still be saved. It is whether it wishes to be.

Bigotry does real harm. It destroys lives. And silence does not heal that harm, silence multiplies it. What is hidden will eventually be brought to light. If racism is allowed to pass unchallenged, it does not fade, it takes root, it grows stronger.

So when people are shamed, asked to delete their words, or to soften their truth in the name of “respect,” that is not respect. That is silencing. Honest critique often lives alongside acknowledgment of someone’s contributions, and both can be true.

These are not cheap shots. They are the same conversations many of us have tried to have in good faith while people were alive. Naming racism directly is not hypocrisy. It is integrity.

And so I ask: is the outrage some feel at uncomfortable truths really as deep as the disgust and sorrow we feel when we witness bigotry, or when we see people profit from oppression? One is about protecting reputation. The other is about protecting real people.

Respect for the living, for those harmed by racism, will always matter more than protecting the reputation of the dead. And to those who try to shame others into silence, the answer is simple: we don’t do that here.

Jon Gindick has died. I found out from Winslow Yerxa.

To many, he was a harmonica teacher, a blues camp leader, and a promoter of music born from Black suffering and survival. He truly experienced joy when making music, and he shared that joy with thousands of people. That is a good thing, and many will remember him for that. But he was also unabashed about his toxic views while he was alive, so we are going to talk about them now that he is dead.

On July 1, the very day US Congress passed Trump’s “One Big Beautiful Bill,” unleashing billions for ICE, mass deportations, detention centers, and profit-driven cruelty, Jon posted that we are living in “one of the most humane times in the history of the world,” dismissing slavery, torture, genocide, and tyranny as things “writ large on the wall of history.”

His privilege spoke louder than his harmonica. To him, slavery was history, not prison labor and migrant exploitation. Torture was an ancient crime, not ICE cages, CIA black sites, and the slow violence of keeping entire nations poor for American profit. Genocide was a thing of the past, not the bombs falling on Palestine with U.S. weapons and U.S. approval. Tyranny was an abstraction, not the reality of Donald Trump, the patent tyrant he cheered on.

Jon could play the blues, but he never listened to them. He could teach others to reproduce the sound of Black pain, but he refused to recognize that pain in the present tense. His privilege blocked the critical thinking needed to connect the dots. In his world, America was humane, because America was humane to him. And when pressed, he defended himself by showcasing how generous he was to Black people.

Tell me you are racist without saying you are racist.

So let us be clear. Jon Gindick will be remembered for teaching music. But he will also be remembered for excusing cruelty, erasing history, and denying reality. His harmonica bent notes, but his worldview bent truth.

May his students remember the music. May history remember the cowardice. And may Jon Gindick rest not in peace, but in the discomfort of the truths he refused to face.

Karen Pryor, this animal trainer lady, in 1984 she writes a book called Don’t Shoot the Dog! Sounds nice, right? Cute title, makes you think of puppies.

But what she actually says is there are “eight, only eight” ways to stop some behavior. And number eight is, no joke, shoot the dog. Boom. Always works. Dog stops barking, dog stops chewing the couch, dog stops living. Problem solved.

She says it is a bad idea of course. That is why she wrote the book. She is trying to convince us there are better ways. Now here is the thing.

Skinner, you know, the rat-maze guy, he proved that conditioning works best when the subject does not even know it is happening. You do not tell the rat, “Hey buddy, I am training you.” You just do it.

Same with dogs. If you asked a dog if it was trained, the dog would tell you, “No way man, I am making my own decisions. I sit because I want to sit. I heel because I like it.”

Bullshit. That dog has been conned. And here is the kicker. People walk around thinking they are making rational, everyday choices. “I chose this job. I bought this crap at Walmart. I voted for this smiling meat puppet.”

Rational decisions, right? But the consequences of all those choices, always, always, benefit the rich. Not you. Not me. Them. Always.

And here is how it works. In our world, we do not live on primary rewards anymore. Nobody is handing out sandwiches and shelter. We run on secondary reinforcers like money, status, reputation. And if you are lucky enough to get higher up, you get the tertiary stuff, power, control, influence.

And guess what? Those rewards are doled out for being a complete asshole.

Hoard resources, crush wages, buy off politicians, dump your garbage on poor people and the planet. Congratulations, you are a genius, a role model, a “captain of industry.” They write glowing profiles about you in business magazines. You are not a parasite, you are “competitive, efficient, admirable, sexy.”

Those tertiary rewards cater to the people who do not only seek more money but who also seek more prestige, privilege, a sense of worth. So behaviour shaping methods (remember Skinner and Karen Pryor) such as "extinction", "train an incompatible behavior", and "change the motivation" work very well to isolate and pressure those susceptible people into a common set of antisocial behaviors.

There's no cabal. It is not an overt plan or a conspiracy, it is another invisible leash.

Meanwhile, if one of us gets in the way, or whole communities, or whole countries,or whole groups of people, there is always option eight. Shoot the dog.

In this system, “bad” does not mean wrong. It does not mean immoral. It means you are in the way. Workers laid off, neighborhoods bulldozed for pipelines, entire populations erased through exploitation, war, genocide. Does not matter.

Shooting the dog always works. And unlike Karen Pryor, this setup is not trying to set you up with a warm and fuzzy pet.

This machine needs growth. Unlimited growth, baby! You do not get more than one or two percent return on an investment unless somebody is getting fucked.

Capitalism creates the most poverty and kills the most people than any other system. That is how the game is built. And we think it is winning because we only get shown the side that gets to brag about it.

And here is the parallel. Training is invisible to the dog. The leash just feels like life. The way the rich get shaped is the same. They do not even know they are being trained, they just think they are shrewd, smart, strong.

But the reinforcements are always there, making what is destructive to the many feel rational, inevitable, even good, to the few. The leash is always in hand.

If I were to write a book, I would call it Don’t Shoot the Trainer!

Get it?

Good boy.

Prime Minister Mark Carney stood in Latvia today, pledging yet another extension of Operation Reassurance, Canada’s largest overseas deployment. He spoke of “deterring and fortifying,” of securing “lasting peace” in Ukraine.

Fine phrases. But let’s pull back the curtain.

This is not about peace. This is about spending. And empire.

The Machinery of Empire

What does the extension mean in practice? Tanks, missiles, and helicopters shipped across the Atlantic. Multibillion-dollar procurement contracts for defence firms. Endless press releases invoking “deterrence” while ignoring the basic truth: NATO’s buildup escalates tensions, it does not defuse them.

Carney tells us this is about security. But for whom?

For Canadian taxpayers, it is a drain: billions funneled into deployments and logistics, money not spent on housing, healthcare, or education.

For Canada’s defence contractors, it is a jackpot: guaranteed markets, steady profits, and state-funded risk-free expansion.

For the United States, it is a bargain: another ally footing the bill, providing legitimacy to U.S. foreign policy, while American arms giants quietly collect subcontracting revenues.

For Latvia’s ruling elite, it is foreign investment disguised as security, enriching landlords and contractors while ordinary Latvians live under the shadow of great-power rivalry.

This is redistribution from the bottom up. Canadian workers pay, elites profit.

The Spending Is the Point

Let us not fool ourselves: it hardly matters whether the money is spent in Latvia, Afghanistan, Libya, or any other corner of the globe. The point is that it is spent. Same shit, different day.

The military-industrial machine requires a permanent outlet for public money to flow into private hands. Wars, interventions, “operations” - these are not just geopolitical choices, they are funding pipelines.

The genius of empire is that it dresses this transfer in noble language. Each new deployment is sold as a defense of democracy, a shield for the vulnerable, a path to “lasting peace.” The substance is always the same: billions redirected upward, while taxpayers are lulled by a feel-good story. The battlefield changes; the grift remains constant.

The Rhetoric of “Peace”

When leaders invoke “lasting peace,” they rarely mean disarmament, diplomacy, or justice. They mean military dominance. They mean peace under NATO’s terms, enforced at gunpoint if necessary.

Canada’s mission in Latvia is marketed as solidarity with Ukraine, but it is also a message to Russia: the West controls Europe’s borders and will not hesitate to expand its reach.

If peace were truly the goal, diplomacy would be the focus. Instead, militarism marches on, contracts are signed, profits soar, and the language of peace becomes the language of war.

Whose Security?

Every dollar shipped abroad is a dollar not spent on the crises Canadians face daily: unaffordable housing, crumbling infrastructure, underfunded healthcare. The ruling class calls this “security,” but whose security is really at stake?

Not the security of workers, tenants, or Indigenous communities. Their needs are sidelined so that Canadian elites can parade on the world stage as reliable managers of empire.

Conclusion

Can you smell the bullshit? Canada’s presence in Latvia is not a humanitarian gesture, nor is it about fortifying peace. It is about maintaining the machinery of spending, ensuring that the flow of public money into private hands never runs dry.

Carney’s extension of Operation Reassurance is not a commitment to peace. It is a commitment to empire. Their empire, not yours, not mine.

Empires ironically cloak themselves in the language of pax (peace). Call today's Pax Pecuniae, the peace of money.

And empire, let us remember, has never been the path to peace.

These things are everywhere and they really piss me off.

Cognitive Stops are phrases that function like a mental stop sign. Instead of addressing an argument on its merits, they bypass the point, cut off inquiry, and discourage the search for nuance or exceptions.

Cognitive stops are not always malicious. Many are spoken casually, even with good intentions: “Don’t overthink it,” “That’s just the policy,” or “That’s a red flag.” Yet what they have in common is that they bring a conversation to a halt without engaging substance. They end dialogue not through reasoning, but through authority, stigma, conformity, or emotion.

This makes cognitive stops powerful tools. They simplify complex issues, ease discomfort, and protect social norms. But they also carry a hidden cost: they reduce our ability to think critically, weigh evidence, and hold space for disagreement.

They are often tied to logical fallacies. The fallacy creates the discomfort and the cognitive stop is the action to relieve that discomfort.

Here are some examples:

“Let’s not dwell on that.” → Suppresses reflection.

“That’s a red flag.” → Brands behavior/idea as dangerous.

“Don’t overthink it.” → Complexity = weakness.

“That’s above your pay grade.” → Hierarchy as a wall.

“That’s offensive.” → Morality trumps substance.

“If you’re not with us, you’re against us.” → Forces false binaries.

Bonus content: When you see two or more different cognitive stops pop up in the comment section of one social media post, that's often associated with an organized hatchet job rather than natural, organic disagreement. It's a dead giveaway that other interests are at play.

Recognizing cognitive stops is the first step in disarming them. By noticing when a phrase feels like a conversation closer rather than a genuine answer, we give ourselves a chance to pause, ask questions, and restore critical thinking to the discussion.

Ohhh! I have something in my eye! This and a sob story that a 14 year old *might* become *stranded* in Europe. But not a word about the terrible working conditions Air Canada flight attendants have.

They only get paid when the plane is in the air - that's absurd! So when the plane can't take off or after it lands and there is a three hour delay before the passengers can disembark - you are unpaid. You also have to live within 30 minutes of the airport because you will be called to fill in and you cannot refuse more than once or twice.

Air Canada flight attendants get paid less than minimum wage.

The Air Canada CEO gets over 12 million per year. I want to throw up.

And who is the expert lawyer? He has represented some individuals in a David and Goliath fight over the years. High profile David and Goliath fights, mind you. Profitable ones.

These days, the guy CTV news chooses to be a labour expert owns the firm who's clients include the Business Development Bank of Canada, Corus Entertainment, CPA Canada, Rogers Communications, Shaw Communications, and The Co-operators.

Oh! Also, Levitt has represented Jordan Peterson in his appeal appeal against the College of Psychologists of Ontario. Noble cause.

Mark Carney talks about recognizing Palestine, but that recognition is so hedged with constraints that it risks stripping Palestinians of genuine agency.

Carney has the what seems to be the highest popular support of any G8 leader. His support is strong and broad-based by historical standards. That stands out. He has the opportunity to do the right thing - something different than just catering to the economy (i.e., the wishes of the wealthy)

If he would just use his juice, I reckon he'd deliver a speech like this. (He never will)

“A New Measure of Courage”

My fellow Canadians,

There comes a time in the life of a nation when we are called upon to match our principles with our actions. Not just to say what we believe, but to stand by it firmly, clearly, with no double talk and no hesitation.

For generations, Canada has told the world that we believe in dignity, fairness, and peace. That is who we are. From our peacekeepers who once wore the blue helmets of the United Nations, to our parents and grandparents who opened their doors to refugees from every corner of the earth, our story has always been one of people who try to do the right thing, even when it is hard.

Now let us be honest. For too long, we have looked at the conflict in the Middle East and hoped it might sort itself out, that peace might come with time, that maybe it was not our fight. But while we looked away, while the world hesitated, too many families have been torn apart. Too many children, Palestinian and Israeli alike, have known war before they have known peace.

And let me tell you something plain: the numbers do not lie. The scales of suffering have not been balanced. The Palestinian people, generation after generation, have borne the weight of displacement, destruction, and despair. Their voices have been muffled beneath the noise of war and the indifference of diplomacy.

Now some will tell us: “Recognize Palestine, yes, but only if they agree to this condition, and only if they surrender that right.” My friends, that is not recognition. That is control dressed up in the costume of compassion. Sovereignty means dignity. It means agency. And if we Canadians, with all our talk of freedom and fairness, cannot recognize a people on their own terms, then we have lost sight of what those words mean.

Let me be clear: Canada’s friendship with Israel remains. We will always support her right to exist in peace and security. But friendship is not flattery. A true friend does not stay silent when you wander from the path of justice. A true friend calls you back to it.

And so I say: to recognize Palestine fully, unconditionally, as the equal of any nation is not to betray our principles. It is to live up to them.

Now I know some are afraid. They say it will cost us influence, or friends, or dollars. But let me tell you, Canada has always been at its best when we chose principle over convenience. From standing against apartheid in South Africa, to welcoming the Vietnamese boat people, to fighting side by side against fascism in the last great war, we have never been diminished by choosing justice. We have been strengthened by it.

And what about us, here at home? What can we do, ordinary folks in small towns and big cities? We can raise our voices. We can remind our leaders that a policy without compassion is no policy at all. We can show, by the way we live, by the way we spend, by the way we talk to our neighbours, that peace is not a dream. It is the daily work of decent people.

My friends, history does not wait politely for us to be ready. It moves on, with or without us. The question before us is simple: will Canada be remembered as a country that whispered its principles in private, or one that proclaimed them boldly in public?

I believe we are still the Canada of Lester Pearson’s Nobel Peace Prize, the Canada that stood with Mandela, the Canada that ordinary people around the world still look to for fairness.

And I believe that if we act now, clear-eyed, compassionate, and courageous, we can help light the way to a future where two nations live side by side, equal in dignity, equal in sovereignty, equal in hope.

That future is not someone else’s responsibility. It is ours. It is Canada’s. And it is time we claimed it."