National
Crowning the Captain of a Sinking Ship: Who Will Be the Next Liberal Leader?

The Fight to Lead a Party on the Brink of Irrelevance
It’s December 31st, New Year’s Eve, and as we wrap up this catastrophic year, let’s take a moment to reflect on the political dumpster fire we find ourselves in. I hope you’ve got a stiff drink because the election year ahead is shaping up to be a circus. And at the center of the big top? Justin Trudeau, clinging to power like a toddler to his binky, while whispers of resignation swirl around him. But let’s be honest—do we actually think he has the guts to step down? Not a chance.
Let’s get this straight: if Trudeau does bail, he’s leaving a flaming wreckage for someone else to clean up. That’s his legacy—eight years of virtue-signaling, fiscal recklessness, and divisive identity politics, all culminating in a Liberal Party that’s circling the drain. And now, when the going gets tough, the golden boy might just pack it in? How noble. But really, would it surprise anyone? The man has all the grit of a soggy croissant.
So who’s going to take the reins of this sinking ship? Let’s take a look at the cast of characters who might have the stomach—or lack of self-awareness—to step up.
Mark Carney: The Globalist Banker
Alright, Canada, let’s get serious for a moment and talk about the Liberals’ latest pipe dream: Mark Carney as their next leader. Yes, Mark Carney—the globalist banker who’s spent more time cozying up to billionaires at Davos than he has walking the streets of Moose Jaw. If this is the Liberals’ idea of a “fresh start,” then we’re in for even more of the same elitist nonsense that’s driven this country into the ground.
Who is Mark Carney, really? He’s not a leader. He’s a technocrat, a former central banker whose claim to fame is lecturing the world on fiscal responsibility while ignoring the very real struggles of ordinary people. He’s the poster boy for the World Economic Forum’s brand of top-down control, someone who believes in “stakeholder capitalism”—which is just code for bureaucrats and corporations running your life. And yet, somehow, the Liberals think this guy is the one to rebuild their tarnished reputation? Give me a break.
Carney’s entire career has been about serving the global elite. He’s a Goldman Sachs alum, for crying out loud. Do you honestly believe someone with that pedigree is going to step into the ring and start fighting for the working class? Of course not. He’ll push the same disastrous policies that have gutted the middle class—more taxes, more spending, more “green” initiatives that make heating your home a luxury.
And let’s not forget the optics. This is a man who’s spent years flying around the globe, hobnobbing with world leaders and lecturing them on climate policy. Does he even know what Canadians are going through right now? Has he ever set foot in a grocery store and winced at the price of a loaf of bread? My guess is no. But sure, Liberals, tell us how this guy is going to connect with voters in rural Saskatchewan or Northern Ontario. The man probably thinks “double-double” is a stock market term.
Then there’s the political reality. If Carney goes head-to-head with Pierre Poilievre, it’s not going to be a contest—it’s going to be a massacre. Poilievre has spent years sharpening his message, hammering home the Liberals’ failures, and building a grassroots movement. Mark Carney? He’s the kind of guy who speaks in 15-minute monologues filled with jargon nobody understands. It’s not just that he’s out of touch—it’s that he doesn’t even know what being in touch looks like.
This isn’t leadership. It’s desperation. The Liberals are throwing Carney into the mix because they have no other options, no fresh ideas, and no connection to the struggles of everyday Canadians. He’s not the answer; he’s a symptom of the problem. The party that brought you eight years of Justin Trudeau now wants to hand the reins to a man who’s even more disconnected, more elitist, and more out of step with what this country actually needs.
Mark Carney as Liberal leader? Please. If this is their plan, then the Liberals have already lost, and Canada will be better off for it. Good riddance.
Dominic LeBlanc: Trudeau’s Loyal Lapdog and the Wrong Choice for Liberal Leadership
Dominic LeBlanc, the latest name being floated as a potential Liberal leader. If the Liberals think this guy is the answer to their problems, then they clearly haven’t been paying attention to what Canadians actually want. Let’s not sugarcoat this: Dominic LeBlanc is Trudeau’s loyal lapdog, and putting him at the helm of the Liberal Party would be the equivalent of putting fresh paint on a sinking ship.
LeBlanc’s biggest problem is that he’s not a leader—he’s a career politician who thrives on backroom deals and political patronage. He’s spent years in Trudeau’s inner circle, defending every mistake, every scandal, and every bad policy. Canadians are fed up with the cronyism that defines this government, and LeBlanc embodies it. The man’s entire career has been about staying in Trudeau’s shadow, not standing on his own.
Now, let’s talk about his record. What exactly has Dominic LeBlanc accomplished that qualifies him to lead a country? Sure, he’s held high-profile positions—Minister of Intergovernmental Affairs, Minister of Fisheries—but those are titles, not achievements. His time in government has been marked by mediocrity, not bold action. When Canadians are looking for real solutions to real problems, LeBlanc offers nothing but recycled talking points and stale ideas.
Then there’s the optics. LeBlanc has been so closely tied to Trudeau’s Liberal machine that he can’t credibly distance himself from the failures of this government. He’s part of the same crew that gave us the carbon tax, the skyrocketing cost of living, and endless virtue-signaling while ordinary Canadians struggle to make ends meet. Does anyone seriously believe Dominic LeBlanc is going to suddenly chart a new course? Of course not.
And let’s not forget his style—or lack thereof. LeBlanc might be affable, even charming, but Canadians don’t need a nice guy right now. They need someone who can go toe-to-toe with Pierre Poilievre, who can articulate a vision and fight for it. LeBlanc’s affability won’t cut it in the bare-knuckle world of federal politics. He’s a backroom operator, not a front-line fighter, and that’s exactly why he’ll fail.
The truth is, Dominic LeBlanc is just more of the same. He represents the same tired Liberal brand that Canadians are desperate to move on from. If the Liberals think he’s the man to save their party, they’re not just wrong—they’re delusional.
Mélanie Joly: The Walking Diplomatic Disaster
Let’s move on to Mélanie Joly, our current Foreign Affairs Minister. The idea of Joly leading the Liberal Party is about as absurd as her recent diplomatic escapades. Competence? Let’s just say her track record doesn’t inspire confidence.
Take her visit to China—a masterclass in accomplishing absolutely nothing. Instead of tackling real issues like strained relations or economic disputes, she delivered a lecture on global security, a topic where Canada’s influence is as impactful as a paper straw in a hurricane. Critics have called her approach “parochial arrogance,” and it’s hard to disagree.
Her stance on Israel is equally troubling. At a time when Canada’s allies need consistent support, Joly’s vacillating positions have left us looking like fair-weather friends. Leadership demands decisiveness, and Joly has shown none.
Perhaps most telling, though, was her behavior during a press conference about the killing of Ripudaman Singh Malik. Laughing during such a serious moment? That’s not just unprofessional—it’s downright embarrassing.
François-Philippe Champagne: The Opportunist Extraordinaire
Next up, François-Philippe Champagne, the Minister of Innovation. If you thought we couldn’t do worse, Champagne is here to prove you wrong.
Let’s start with his judgment—or lack thereof. Champagne defended the leadership of a federal green fund under his watch despite allegations of corruption, including a $217,000 subsidy granted to the chair’s own company. When pressed, he claimed there wasn’t enough “evidence” to take action, even as the Auditor General launched a review. That’s not oversight—it’s negligence.
Then there’s his economic vision—or lack thereof. Champagne is the face of the government’s $100 billion electric vehicle strategy, a plan that critics say is wildly ambitious and hopelessly vague. Champagne, of course, blamed critics for “lacking vision and ambition.” Classic deflection.
And let’s not forget his political opportunism. Speculation about his potential run for Quebec’s Liberal Party leadership showed exactly where his priorities lie: not with Canadians, but with his own career.
Champagne represents everything Canadians are fed up with—self-serving politicians who deflect criticism and prioritize optics over outcomes.
Chrystia Freeland: Trudeau’s Economic Doppelgänger
Finally, we come to Chrystia Freeland, the former Finance Minister and Trudeau’s right hand. If you thought the Liberals couldn’t dig deeper into their fiscal hole, Freeland is here to prove you wrong.
Freeland has been at the helm of Trudeau’s disastrous economic policies, including ballooning deficits and a national debt that now makes Greece look frugal. Her resignation letter criticized Trudeau’s strategies as “costly political gimmicks,” but let’s be real—she helped craft those gimmicks. Canadians want fiscal responsibility, not a continuation of Trudeau’s tax-and-spend circus.
On top of her economic failures, Freeland’s personality is a problem. Arrogant, unlikable, and out of touch, she’s more interested in impressing global elites than connecting with everyday Canadians. Her academic pedigree might dazzle the Davos crowd, but here at home, it reeks of elitism.
Freeland isn’t a solution to the Liberals’ problems—she’s the embodiment of them.
Christy Clark: meh…
Alright, let’s get into it, folks. Christy Clark as the potential savior of the Liberal Party—now there’s a plot twist that could almost be entertaining, if it weren’t so doomed from the start. On paper, she might seem like the only grown-up in the room, but let’s not kid ourselves: the Liberal Party is so far gone, even Houdini couldn’t rescue them, and Christy Clark is no Houdini.
First off, let’s be clear about why she’s the better option. Compared to the usual lineup of Trudeau loyalists and globalist placeholders, Clark actually knows how to run something. She was the Premier of British Columbia, and say what you will about her record—because trust me, we’ll get to that—she has actual executive experience. She’s been out of the federal Liberal swamp long enough that the Trudeau stink doesn’t cling to her quite as badly. That’s about the only thing she has going for her: she’s not Dominic LeBlanc or Mark Carney. High bar, I know.
But here’s the thing: being the best option in a lineup of disasters isn’t exactly a glowing endorsement. Sure, Christy Clark is seasoned, but let’s not forget her own record in British Columbia. Yes, she balanced budgets, but she did so by relying on one-time asset sales and riding the wave of a hot real estate market. That’s not fiscal wizardry—it’s just lucky timing. And let’s not gloss over the accusations of cronyism and catering to corporate interests that plagued her government. Sound familiar? It’s Trudeau-lite with a West Coast twist.
And here’s the real kicker: even if Clark were a political genius (spoiler: she’s not), the Liberal brand is so tainted that it wouldn’t matter. Eight years of Justin Trudeau have left Canadians disillusioned, angry, and desperate for change. The scandals, the carbon taxes, the virtue-signaling—it’s all become synonymous with the Liberal Party. Clark can try to distance herself all she wants, but at the end of the day, she’s still carrying the baggage of a party Canadians are ready to toss in the trash.
Let’s also not forget that Clark isn’t exactly the fresh face the Liberals need. She’s a seasoned politician, sure, but that’s part of the problem. After Trudeau’s reign of elitist arrogance, Canadians aren’t looking for another career politician who’s part of the same broken system. Clark might be different from Trudeau, but she’s not different enough.
And then there’s the elephant in the room: Pierre Poilievre. Poilievre has built his brand on taking down exactly the kind of big-government, tax-happy policies that Clark has championed in the past. She might be able to hold her own in debates, but against Poilievre’s laser-focused messaging and grassroots momentum, Clark would get steamrolled.
The bottom line? Christy Clark might be the least-worst option for the Liberals, but that’s not saying much. Her record is spotty, her appeal is limited, and she’s tied to a party that’s become a political punchline. The Liberals can try to rebrand all they want, but with Clark at the helm, they’re just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.
Final Thoughts
Alright, Canada, let’s wrap this up because, honestly, there’s only so much you can say about a sinking ship. The Liberal Party is done. Finished. Kaput. The Angus Reid poll has spoken—16% support. Sixteen percent! That’s not just a bad showing; that’s the kind of number you’d expect from a fringe party running on mandatory pineapple pizza. The Liberals aren’t just losing—they’re disintegrating in real-time, and frankly, it’s been a long time coming.
Justin Trudeau, the captain of this catastrophe, is standing on the deck of the SS Liberal, looking for a lifeboat as the iceberg rips through the hull. His approval rating is at a laughable 28%, his party is in open revolt, and his so-called successors are all lined up like passengers fighting over the last spot on the Titanic. Chrystia Freeland? Jumped ship. Mark Carney? A banker trying to steer a political dumpster fire. Dominic LeBlanc? Trudeau’s yes-man without an ounce of originality.
Let’s be clear—this isn’t a leadership race; it’s a race to see who gets to be the face of a historic collapse. The Liberal brand is so tainted, so toxic, that no amount of rebranding or fresh faces is going to fix it. Canadians are done. They’re fed up with the taxes, the spending, the hypocrisy, and the endless lecturing from a party that’s done nothing but drive this country into the ground.
And you know what? Thank God. Thank God we’re finally closing this ugly chapter of Canadian history. The SS Liberal Party is going down, and no amount of spin can save it. Here’s to 2025—a fresh start, a new chapter, and hopefully, the end of Trudeau and everything he stands for.
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Business
Ethics on Ice: See You Next Year

Democracy Watch reveals the Prime Minister’s ethics firewall is riddled with loopholes—while the Privy Council delays access to records that could expose just how deep the conflicts run
Ottawa’s most creative writers don’t work at the CBC. They work at the Privy Council Office, where “transparency” now means grabbing a lawful deadline by the collar and hurling it four months down the road. According to Democracy Watch’s October 16 press release, the PCO was legally required to respond by September 25 to an Access to Information request filed August 28. What did the request ask for? National secrets? State security files? No—it asked for basic stats and documentation about Prime Minister Mark Carney’s so-called ethics “screens.”
Read the full press release here
Specifically:
- The date his personal screens came into force
- The identities of those enforcing them
- The number of decisions flagged for review
- And how many times Carney recused himself from Cabinet discussions
You’d think if those screens were doing anything meaningful, the answers would be simple—ready to go. But instead of complying with the deadline, the PCO told Democracy Watch they now need until January 25, 2026 to respond. Why? They claim they need to conduct a “consultation.” Over what? No private info was requested, no corporate secrets, no personal data—just raw numbers and public official names the PCO has on hand every single day if the screens are actually being enforced.
Here’s the con: Mark Carney straps on an “ethics screen,” gives the cameras his best global finance smirk, and strolls right back into the room. Why can he do that? Because in Ottawa’s broken ethics law, there’s a magical phrase that turns a real, direct financial conflict into a non-issue with a single bureaucratic flourish. That phrase is: “general in application.”
As Democracy Watch lays out in their October 16 press release, this loophole isn’t just a flaw in the system—it is the system. The federal Conflict of Interest Act says that if a government decision affects a broad class of people or entities, then it doesn’t count as a “private interest,” even if it directly benefits a company the Prime Minister owns shares in. That’s right. If the impact is spread out enough—if the policy touches lots of players—Carney can stay at the table, vote, advise, shape, and spin, even if his own investments stand to gain.
Democracy Watch calls this out as part of what they’ve labeled the “dirty dozen” loopholes—12 major escape hatches in Canada’s ethics laws that allow top officials to profit while pretending to recuse themselves. And this one is the crown jewel. It essentially allows the Prime Minister to participate in nearly every federal decision—from regulatory changes to tax policies to infrastructure contracts—even if his private holdings are directly tied to the outcome.
And make no mistake: Carney’s holdings are not theoretical. According to Democracy Watch, he’s invested in over 550 companies, including a huge financial stake in Brookfield Corporation and Brookfield Asset Management, where he previously held senior roles. His so-called “blind trust”? Not blind at all. He picked the trustee. He knows what’s in it. He can give instructions like “don’t sell,” and he still holds stock options he can’t divest for years. So yes, he knows exactly what he stands to gain.
But thanks to the “general in application” clause, Carney can sit in on policies that steer money toward sectors he’s tied to, influence regulatory landscapes that shape Brookfield’s future, and greenlight decisions that send his portfolio climbing—all while claiming he’s acting ethically because it affects “everyone.”
It’s the most cynical kind of legal gymnastics. And as Democracy Watch rightly points out, it makes the ethics “screen” nothing more than a smokescreen—a PR tool to assure Canadians their Prime Minister is above reproach, while the mechanics of power still tilt in his financial favor.
This isn’t conflict of interest prevention—it’s institutionalized denial. It’s Ottawa’s version of “these aren’t the droids you’re looking for.” Wave the hand, invoke the clause, and suddenly there is no conflict, even when the money trail says otherwise.
You can smell the boardroom cologne from here. The man spent years in the C-suite orbit, and now we’re told that a couple of screens and a “blind trust” will purify the air. Blind? Don’t insult the country. He knows what he put in it, picked the trustee, can give instructions, and—minor detail—still sits on stock options he can’t sell for years. That’s not blind; that’s a portfolio with push notifications.
Meanwhile, the screens perform their real function: hiding recusals. The law says public declarations are required when you step aside. The workaround says, “Nah, just put up a screen and pretend it’s automatic.” It’s ethics by decorative throw pillow, looks tasteful, does nothing.
And when Democracy Watch asks for the most basic receipts—start date, who enforces, how many flags, how many recusals—the PCO collapses onto the nearest fainting couch like a silent-film star. “Oh dear, a request… for numbers?” Numbers! The scandal. Spare us. This isn’t decrypting alien radio; it’s checking a ledger. If the tally weren’t humiliating, they’d punch it into a calculator, hit “equals,” and email it before their Tim Horton’s muffins cool at the morning briefing.
Let’s be adults: if this “screen” actually had teeth, they’d mount the skulls on the wall. We’d get glossy dashboards, color-coded bar charts, triumphal pressers—“Look at all the times the PM bravely recused himself!” Instead, we get a bureaucratic calendar punt past Christmas. Why? So the Prime Minister can keep cosplaying as “arm’s length” while still grazing every file that moves a share price.
And the choreography is always the same: stall, euphemize, declare victory. First the delay, then the jargon—“consultations,” “processing,” “complexity”—all to avoid admitting the obvious: either the screen caught almost nothing, or what it caught is too awkward to show you. If this thing had bite marks, we’d see them. Instead, we’re told to admire the muzzle while the dog keeps chewing the furniture.
And that’s the point, isn’t it? The so-called “ethics screen” isn’t a safeguard—it’s set dressing. It’s the cardboard scenery they roll out behind the Prime Minister every time someone asks about his investments. The whole thing’s a pantomime of virtue. The script says “public service,” but the plot twist is always the same: self-service.
And look at how allergic this government is to sunlight. Democracy Watch’s request gets punted to January, and now our own request—for the same basic documents—gets quietly shoved down the road to June. June! Past the next controversy, past the next budget, probably past the next scandal. It’s the oldest Ottawa trick: when the fire’s burning, move the deadline to when everyone’s forgotten the smoke.
Here’s the ugly truth: every day this file sits buried in the government’s filing cabinet of shame, the Prime Minister keeps right on shaping policies that could pump up the value of the very companies he’s tied to. He’s not waiting for the ethics commissioner; he’s waiting for the news cycle to move on. And while the bureaucrats “consult,” he’s still in the room, still making calls that ripple through the markets.
And every delay, every “extension,” every smug little shrug from the Privy Council Office is another giant, flashing neon sign that says: “We think you’re stupid. We think you’ll forget.” They’re counting on it. They’re betting you’re too busy, too distracted, too demoralized to notice while they drag this thing past winter, past spring, right into a bureaucratic black hole where inconvenient truths go to die.
And the state broadcaster? The CBC won’t touch this with a ten-foot carbon-neutral pole. Not while it risks putting their favorite global finance guru in a bad light. You won’t see a Fifth Estate exposé, no stern voiceovers about conflicts of interest, no dramatic music. But guess what? I’m following it. I’m not letting it go. Because this isn’t a paperwork mix-up. This is a full-scale cover operation dressed up as “consultation.” And if they’re hiding the numbers, it’s because the numbers are bad.
Because here’s what’s really going on: the people writing the rules are also holding the shares. They’re voting in Cabinet while their investments sit in the exact sectors they’re regulating. They’re shaping fiscal policy while their portfolios quietly hum in the background. That’s not democracy. That’s not public service. That’s a rigged casino where the dealer already knows which cards are coming.
And the longer these records stay buried, the more obvious it gets. If this ethics screen was real, they’d have shown it to you already. If the Prime Minister was actually recusing himself, the list would be public. But it’s not. Instead, they’ve given themselves months—into NEXT YEAR—to keep this locked away, far past the next scandal, long after the press loses interest.
Let me be absolutely clear: the Prime Minister is could be profiting from the very policies he’s enacting, and no one in Ottawa wants to talk about it. That should enrage you. Because if the guy running the country is making money off your mortgage rates, your tax dollars, your energy bills—while hiding behind an ethics “screen” so flimsy it might as well be cling wrap—that’s not just unethical, it’s corrupt. And every Canadian deserves to know.
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Business
Canada has an energy edge, why won’t Ottawa use it?

Energy abundance, properly managed, isn’t just Canada’s strategic edge—it’s our ace in the hole while allies scramble to rearm their energy systems and competitors sprint ahead. We can keep sleepwalking through the annual ritual of self-imposed shackles, watching golden opportunities slip through our fingers, or we can finally show up as a serious player in the energy security game we’re already knee-deep in.
What the public doesn’t see behind all the climate summit fanfare is a carefully choreographed performance where capitals everywhere scramble to perfect their lines for the UN’s annual pageant. COP30 descends on Brazil in mid-November, and once again Ottawa looks primed to arrive clutching a stack of promises, desperately hoping that thunderous applause will somehow count as tangible progress in the real world.
Thanks to years of bureaucratic capture, our government keeps churning out the measures most fervently demanded by the climate lobby, and this ritual proceeds as if “net zero” were still a credible roadmap rather than a marketing slogan stretched so transparently thin it’s practically see-through. But out in the real world—away from the theatrical staging—the energy system keeps issuing updates of its own that no amount of wishful thinking can erase. The question this year cannot be what flashy new prohibition Ottawa can unveil on cue: are our leaders finally prepared to read the room? Away from the virtue-signalling theatre, countries are quietly adjusting to immovable realities: demand keeps climbing, reliability actually matters, and security trumps sermonizing—and we should be looking south to see what’s really working.
From 2005 to 2023, U.S. per-capita CO₂ emissions from energy plummeted by nearly a third. Not because of performative pledges or green grandstanding, but because coal quietly gave way to natural gas, with renewables filling in around the edges where they actually made sense. Pick almost any grid that made this pragmatic switch, and you’ll discover the same inconvenient pattern that climate absolutists prefer to ignore: fewer emissions and electricity you can actually count on when you flip the switch. Maryland serves as a clean example, where coal shrank from the backbone to a footnote as gas surged, helping keep the lights blazing when people needed them most.
Canada should pay very close attention to these uncomfortable truths. We benefit from hydro and nuclear in some regions, but what the green lobby doesn’t want to acknowledge is that our electricity demand is climbing relentlessly. Population growth alone would guarantee that outcome. Add the explosion in AI technology and it becomes utterly unavoidable, despite the silence from environmental groups. Even the cheerleaders of the new digital economy are brutally honest about this reality when pressed. The head of the world’s biggest AI chipmaker isn’t jesting when he bluntly tells the U.K. it will need gas turbines alongside nuclear and renewables to power its tech ambitions—inconvenient facts that shatter green fairy tales.
Another stubborn reality that doesn’t make it into climate summit speeches is that the International Energy Agency estimates oil and gas companies spend roughly half a trillion dollars every year just to keep output flat—a financial reality that exposes the “stranded assets” narrative as wishful thinking. Without this continual reinvestment, U.S. shale would crater within a single year. It’s rather difficult to describe that as a system drifting quietly into retirement, rather than an industrial backbone that still carries most of the load while activists pretend otherwise. If you’re Canada, that looks less like a looming problem than a golden opening that our competitors are already seizing.
Geopolitics is saying the same thing out loud, for those willing to listen beyond the climate activism echo chamber. J.P. Morgan bluntly calls this the “new energy security age,” and Europe is working frantically to end its dependence on Russian LNG—not for climate reasons, but for survival. Japan is expanding its LNG fleet, and Mexico is inking billion-dollar supply deals while climate campaigners aren’t looking. Strip away all the green branding and virtue-signalling, and you get a core calculation that energy security is nothing short of national security—and countries that get snookered by activist rhetoric into forgetting that harsh reality lose far more than bragging rights at international summits.

The Woodfibre LNG site is seen on Howe Sound in Squamish, B.C. THE CANADIAN PRESS/Darryl Dyck
Our allies have been leaning on us to quit sitting on the sidelines and deliver something concrete. And back home, even Ottawa’s mandarins are finally muttering what everyone else has known all along. For the next several years, at minimum, gas remains the most economical, rock-solid baseload option across vast stretches of the continent. Meeting that surging demand would deliver high-paying jobs, bulletproof alliances, and slash global emissions compared to the world burning more coal. Turning our backs on it means standing idle while rival producers rush to fill the void—all so we can pat ourselves on the back for warming the bench.
If this strikes you as abstract theorizing, cast your eyes toward California. A righteous crusade to shutter refineries didn’t magically eliminate the appetite for fuel—it simply exported the dirty work elsewhere, shipping out the jobs and the supply cushion that shields consumers from price shocks. The Golden State now scrambles like a panicked shopper whenever supply chains hiccup, because when push comes to shove, affordability draws the hard red line on what voters will tolerate. Meanwhile, the global landscape has shifted dramatically, with the United States now claiming the crown as top exporter of refined petroleum and LNG.
The lofty rhetoric of “climate solidarity” has quietly faded into something far more practical—nations ruthlessly pursuing their own interests. Even the most progressive speechwriters now pepper their drafts with buzzwords like ‘pragmatism’ and ‘realism.’ It represents nothing short of a grudging acknowledgment that wishful thinking won’t keep the lights on when the grid starts groaning.
British Columbia, meanwhile, sits perched atop the Montney—one of the continent’s most spectacular gas reservoirs—boasting the shortest shipping lanes to Asian markets. Indigenous nations are shrewdly securing equity stakes in LNG ventures while demanding genuine partnership—a blueprint that marries reconciliation with cold, hard prosperity. Those outbound cargoes are displacing coal-fired power overseas. If your genuine goal involves slashing real-world emissions, that achievement trumps a dozen flowery Ottawa press releases.
So no, the magic formula isn’t “all of the above,” but rather “the best of the above.” It demands deploying hydro, nuclear, and renewables where they deliver maximum punch, with natural gas serving as the indispensable bridge that keeps systems humming while breakthrough technologies mature. We must construct infrastructure that performs when sidewalks turn into skating rinks and when asphalt starts melting like butter.
We’ve also absorbed some hard-earned lessons about the political theatrics that spook serious capital. At COP28 in Dubai, then–environment minister Steven Guilbeault sported a baseball cap emblazoned with “emissions.” Emissions cap—catch the clever wordplay? The joke bombed spectacularly with investors. The policy proposal fared no better; its most vocal champion is reportedly eyeing the exit door, while nearly a hundred Canadian oil and gas CEOs have now fired off two blunt open letters to the new prime minister, spelling out precisely what the cap would accomplish: driving investors to pack their bags for friendlier jurisdictions. If your economic blueprint hinges on attracting capital, avoid crafting policies that essentially scream ‘beat it.’

World leaders at COP29 in Baku, Azerbaijan.
Energy abundance, properly managed, isn’t just Canada’s strategic edge—it’s our ace in the hole while allies scramble to rearm their energy systems and competitors sprint ahead. We can keep sleepwalking through the annual ritual of self-imposed shackles, watching golden opportunities slip through our fingers, or we can finally show up as a serious player in the energy security game we’re already knee-deep in.
What would that look like at COP30? It would sound nothing like the strangely self-defeating Canadian speeches of years past, which have been heavy on confessional hand-wringing, light on genuine intent, drowning in performative self-flagellation, and starved of actual competence. If Ottawa wants to prove it has finally woken up from its ideological slumber, it should ditch the tired theatre and roll out policies that actually unleash investment instead of strangling it: streamlined approvals with firm timelines that mean something; predictable fiscal treatment that doesn’t shift with every political breeze; a clear path for Indigenous equity in major projects; and an explicit commitment to “best of the above” power and fuels. Pair that with a forthright message to allies that cuts through the usual diplomatic fog: Canada intends to supply reliable, cleaner energy to the democracies that desperately need it.
It’s not capitulating to industry to stop pretending we can wish away reality. It’s the path that lets us grow the economy, slash global emissions faster than sanctimonious lectures ever will, and strengthen the alliances that keep free countries from getting steamrolled. If we want Canada to matter in this new energy security age instead of being relegated to the sidelines, we should start acting like we mean business. COP30 is the stage. Time to scrap the old script and write one that actually works.
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