National
The elements of Marc Garneau – A special report from Paul Wells
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He was trained to admit every error. Then he went into politics. A feature interview with the retiring MP for Notre-Dame-de-Grâce—Westmount
Introduction
When you resign your seat in the House of Commons, you get to keep your phone for 90 days. The deadlines for cleaning out your offices on Parliament Hill and in your riding are tighter but still civilized. Soon Marc Garneau will leave his constituency office on the third floor of a nondescript office building in Westmount, the affluent anglophone enclave west of downtown Montreal, for the last time. But there’s no rush, so he met me there on Monday.
Trying to get politicians to speak frankly while they’re still in office is not always rewarding, It gets easier quickly once they leave. So I thought a visit with Garneau was worth the drive to Montreal, even though he’s been cagey in his remarks to journalists since he announced his retirement on March 8. I’ll cut to the chase: His interview with me wasn’t the work of a rebel either. Garneau remains a gentleman and a Liberal. He offered only praise for Justin Trudeau. But on several issues — communications philosophy; the handling of the Freedom Convoy occupation of Ottawa; and the proper attitude toward one’s own fallibility — he drew occasional sharp distinctions between his attitude and the Trudeau government’s.
I took the scenic route to get to that stuff. Garneau was the first Canadian to fly in space. He was a national celebrity before Trudeau finished high school. And while that’s a historic distinction, Garneau shares with many more parliamentarians a long career outside politics that preceded, and informed, his career in elected office. Not all of that is the stuff of every conversation, but this one was valedictory in tone. I thought it best to start at the beginning.
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1. Water
I began by asking him about the year and a half he spent as a combat systems engineer on the HMCS Algonquin. When he arrived on board, it was the newest destroyer in the Canadian Navy.
“It was what I had dreamt of from the beginning of my life,” he said. “My first love was the Navy.” His father’s family was francophone Quebecers, soldiers from way back. His father fought in the infantry in WWII and was posted in Germany for two years as the Cold War settled in. “I crossed the ocean with my parents in 1956 coming back from Germany,” he said. “We came back on a ship that was on its last voyage, the Samaria, and I just fell in love with the ocean. A few years later, we went back to England on the Empress of Britain. Those confirmed for me that I wanted to be in the Navy.”
The Algonquin, a big boat with 280 crew, spent three months doing exercises as part of STANAVFORLANT, NATO’s multinational Standing Naval Force Atlantic, which would pretend the Soviet Union was up to various kinds of risky business and figure out ways to respond. Off Puerto Rico he led tests of the new Sea Sparrow missile system. Around Newfoundland’s outports, the Algonquin took the province’s lieutenant governor on an annual tour.
Young Garneau wasn’t particularly interested in moving up the ranks. “I’m an engineer. I didn’t want to be the ship captain. I wanted to be the engineer that kept the equipment going. That may not sound very exciting. But for me that was exciting, because it’s quite a job to keep all that equipment operational in case you had to go into conflict.”
2. Air
Advancement for its own sake held no appeal. But when he saw a nondescript ad from the National Research Council calling for applicants for Canada’s first astronaut corps, that sounded better than a promotion. “Wow. The idea of possibly going into space just blew me away. At the same time, I thought my chances [of being chosen] were pretty close to zero.”
In May of 1983 there were 4,200 applicants. Six months later, six remained. It became clear pretty soon the program wasn’t just looking for technical expertise but for — well, for heroes. Or at least for people who wouldn’t screw up the illusion.
“They wanted us to write essays about why we thought that we were particularly well suited. Did we realize that we would become public figures? And were we ready for that? And did we think it was important for Canada? Medical [exams] like you’d never had before. Every single thing checked, because you had to be 100% fit. Then they brought us in for the last week and and they subjected us to a whole bunch of things.
“We had to give presentations in front of the selection board. Any attempted humour was met with a stone-cold face. I remember coming out of it thinking, ‘I’ve totally bombed this.’ But they’d all been trained not to react to anything.
“Do you remember somebody called Keith Morrison?” I sure do. TV reporter and anchor, CTV to the CBC to NBC. He actually interviewed me once, when that was an odd thing to do, and I remember he was good at it. “Well, Keith was hired for the week. And he put us through our paces, sort of doing the interview thing. So that was another thing they wanted to know, if you’d be able to do that. They had us in social settings, like a cocktail kind of thing. [They wanted to see] whether you were relatively comfortable in the company of total strangers, that kind of thing. So it’s a pretty thorough week. And by the end of that, they said, ‘Look, stand by your telephone between five and seven on the third of December and you’ll get a call.’ We’re 20 at that point. ‘It’ll either be to say, sorry you didn’t make it, or, you made it.’ And I was fortunate to be one of the six chosen. They called about six o’clock. They didn’t beat around the bush. ‘Look, you made it. Congratulations. Keep it private and we’ll trot you out on the following Monday.’ Which they did.”
When you know what happened next in Garneau’s career, all this prodding and profiling and media scrutiny takes on a different meaning. He started to meet prime ministers.
Pierre Trudeau: “Man of powerful intellect. Everyone knows that. There are warmer people than Pierre Trudeau. But very cordial.”
Brian Mulroney: “Mulroney had just been elected. He wanted to meet Ronald Reagan right away… I was summoned, along with two of my crew members, Bob Crippen and Kathryn Sullivan. Which, by the way, is a total no-no. You do not take the next crew that’s going to fly in three weeks out of their bubble of training and getting ready. Except if it’s POTUS. Reagan thought it was good idea, so we were summoned. I spent time in the Oval Office with with Reagan, whom I liked right away, and Mulroney, whom I also liked right away…. I was even at the Shamrock Summit a couple of months later in Quebec City. I wasn’t quite so happy with what PMO told me to do, which is to come up through the floor on a thing that was raising me up with smoke and lighting on me, dressed in my flight suit, and having to say, ‘Take me to your leader,’ which the crowd liked. And I thought, ‘I’m making a fool of myself here.’”
On the first trip, Garneau was a payload specialist, which meant he had responsibility for a suite of Canadian scientific experiments and little else. But he had two audiences he wanted to please. NASA was the first. “I had to make a good impression so that, based on a sample of one, they’d say, ‘Okay, he did pretty well. Let’s keep inviting Canadians to fly.’ And quite a few Canadians have flown.”
Canadians were the second audience. “I wanted Canadians to be proud of me.”
Both audiences gave him the thumbs up. Today there’s a high school in Toronto named after him. In 1992 Garneau and Chris Hadfield reported for training to become mission specialists, with much broader responsibility for mission success. It took another year of training before Garneau was eligible for his second flight, in 1996. His third and final mission was at the end of 2000. There were Russians waiting at the International Space Station when the shuttle Endeavour delivered Garneau and the others. Relations with Russia were as warm as they’ve ever been. “It was more than cordial. Frankly our lives depended on one another.”
It was a longer acquaintance with higher stakes than most of us ever experience. “One of the things I loved the most about NASA was that if you fuck up” — he paused before using the salty word — “you confess. That is the culture there.”
Probably this does not need to be spelled out, but here goes anyway. This culture of honesty was not a simple preference. Shuttle crews rode a lake of liquid fuel and twin towers of solid fuel at speeds their own ancestors could not have imagined. If a bug slipped into the system it could kill them and set spaceflight back decades, as indeed it did, twice. Owning up to error was the primary method of keeping colleagues, and the dream of spaceflight, alive.
“I did hundreds of simulations. I was the first non-American CAPCOM ever. CAPCOM’s the guy who talks to the crew in orbit for Mission Control. And we did hundreds of simulations. I covered 17 missions, just as CAPCOM. And after every simulation, where the crew, perhaps, had not picked up the problem and had not reacted properly to it, we’d do a post mortem.
“And that culture of honesty and openness, which you absolutely need in the space business — you can’t have people making excuses or trying to hide things — that’s what I love the most. And I wish it existed in all facets of life, including the one I ended up in.”
3. Earth
Garneau first ran for Parliament in 2006, just west of Montreal Island, and lost, in the first of three elections when losing was most of what Liberals did. He was interested in Outremont in a 2007 by-election. So was Justin Trudeau. Stéphane Dion was the leader, though, and he thought a political scientist was just the ticket. Dion’s designated nominee, Jocelyn Coulon, did not fare well.
In 2008 Garneau inherited the Liberal nomination, essentially a Wonka golden ticket, in Westmount, as solid a Liberal fortress as any in Canada. Only a catastrophe could lose Westmount for the Liberal. In 2011 it almost happened — Garneau beat the New Democrat by only 642 votes in the party’s worst national defeat in since Confederation. Soon Peter C. Newman had a book out proclaiming the Liberals were history.
“There’s something intimate about being only 33 [MPs in the Liberal caucus], Garneau recalled. “We got to know each other in a kind of a relationship that you don’t get when you’re 150 or 160. So I really enjoyed the collegiality of having that small, small group. Although of course I was hoping it wouldn’t last too long.”
In 2013, Garneau, who hadn’t been interested in commanding a ship, decided to try his chances with a political party. He ran for the Liberal leadership. He had competition.
“I personally believe that I had good policy that I put in the shop window. What I didn’t have — what I still don’t have — is charisma. I’m not interested in charisma, by the way. I’ve lived my life very well without charisma. And I’m not saying the electorate chooses on a superficial basis. But there was something about Justin Trudeau that was incredibly appealing to people.”
Garneau bowed to the inevitable and dropped out of the race. Eighteen months later he was co-chair of the Liberal Party’s “International Affairs Council of Advisors,” with a threefold mission: Figure out the party’s foreign policy; teach foreign policy to a leader with extremely limited experience in the field; and be seen showing interest in foreign policy. The group met regularly. “Trudeau only came occasionally to meet everybody and to sort of stir stir things up and have a really good discussion,” Garneau said.
4. Fire
As co-chair (with Andrew Leslie) of Trudeau’s Council of Advisors, Garneau figured he had a good chance to become foreign minister. He got Transport.
“You know, I’ve lived 17 years of my life abroad. And I love foreign policy. I wasn’t expecting Transport. And it turned out to be a job I loved. Although at first I thought, ‘Why’d he put me in transport?’
“When I got the call that, you know, ‘The Prime Minister wants to meet you,’ I thought — This is after the vetting process, ‘Are there any skeletons in your closet?’ — I thought, ‘What’s he going to put me in?’ I thought, Defence because of my background. I was in the regular forces. Or I thought, then, maybe Industry, because I was the president of the Canadian Space Agency and I worked for the Minister of Industry, Science and Technology at the time. And maybe even Foreign Affairs, because he’d had me in this job for the past two years. I wasn’t expecting Transport.” Garneau chuckled at the incongruity of it. “But now, after a little while, I saw the logic of it. I was in the Navy, ships, so I know the marine environment. I know the air environment. And so there is a certain logic to it. And it’s a job that I came to love.” He held the post for five and a half years. Only David Collenette and Lionel Chevrier lasted longer.
The new governing caucus had five times as many MPs as the Liberal caucus it replaced. “It was a heady experience,” Garneau said. “And there was a certain amount of chaos, which is understandable because it takes a couple of years to learn the basics of your job.”
It must have been a management challenge for the Prime Minister’s Office, I ventured. To have a finance minister, health minister, justice minister, defence minister who’d never been Members of Parliament before, let alone cabinet ministers. How did the PMO handle that? “It was a little bit like when you see kindergarten children all tied up with ropes, going down the street.”
Did the control ever chafe? “I had some times where I felt one way and and I felt that the centre did not necessarily agree with it. Yeah. That comes from the dynamic. If you’ve got your mandate letter, and you interpret that mandate letter the way you feel it must be implemented — you know, the vast majority of the time, no problem. But there was the odd occasion. You’ll forgive me if I don’t go into details on it. But I was very conscious of the fact [that] you have a chief of staff, your chief of staff is a key person for you. But that chief of staff reports to you, but also must report to the chief of staff of the Prime Minister. I made an indirect reference to it in my parting speech, that I sometimes made their life difficult because I might have wanted to go one way whilst the center didn’t necessarily want to go that way.”
We had been talking for more than an hour. I asked Garneau about the Freedom Convoy of January and February 2022, which has been on my mind. Specifically, I asked Garneau about his Liberal caucus colleague Joël Lightbound, who held an astonishing news conference in the second week of the Ottawa siege to say the Liberals’ COVID policy “stigmatizes and divides people.”
“I definitely took very much note of it,” he said of Lightbound’s surgical sortie. “Some of what he said is true. There were people on the Hill that were not extremists. They were just there because they felt that their rights were being not respected.” He faced his share of verbal abuse as he made his way to and from the Hill, but even still —
He paused. “I’ll be very candid. I don’t think we handled it as well as we could have.”
In what sense? “I think there was a sense that, ‘We’re not going to talk to you people. You’re just a bunch of troublemakers.’ I had always been brought up to not avoid dealing with difficult issues. This was an incredibly difficult issue.” Another pause. “So that’s just my personal comment.”
The other thing I wanted to ask him about was the tremendous controversy he and two other back-bench Liberals have stirred up over the interaction between Quebec’s newly beefed-up language law and Bill C-13, which proposes amendments to the federal Official Languages Act. This has put Garneau and his colleagues squarely on the side of Montreal’s anglophone population against a majority of Quebec’s elected politicians. And it’s brought Garneau in for some unaccustomed criticism. Barely two weeks before he resigned, he was complaining about the rough ride from Quebec commentators on Twitter.

12:40 PM ∙ Feb 18, 2023
Garneau’s comments on this were long, and would constitute inside baseball for most readers outside Quebec, but he didn’t like seeing Quebec’s language laws incorporated by reference into a federal bill. “I have very rarely disagreed with my party, but I disagreed with them on that.” It got worse for Garneau when he read 88 amendments introduced by the Bloc Québécois, five of which said that in case of a conflict between federal and provincial legislation, Quebec’s should predominate. Those amendments were eventually rejected, but by then Garneau was already on the record with his concerns. “I’m always ready to face criticism, but it got personal. And I think that’s sad.”
The controversy has been a much bigger deal inside Quebec than outside, but Garneau insisted it’s not why he’s leaving politics.
The reason I’m leaving is because I made that promise to my wife, and to my family. I actually told him after the 2019 election that that was my last election. I had been reappointed to Transport. And I thought, ‘Okay, this is a lovely way to finish.’
“Then in January of 2021, to my great surprise, the Prime Minister [shuffled Garneau.] I think it was motivated by the fact that Navdeep Bains pulled out. The Prime Minister, I personally think that he said, ‘Okay, I want François-Philippe to take over from that. And there’s a bit of musical chairs and I ended up in foreign affairs.
“But seven months later, an election was announced. And I felt, in all good conscience, that after seven months in that portfolio — to now say, ‘Sorry, I’m leaving,’ when I had been the fourth appointed in under six years, it just wouldn’t have been right.
“Now, if the prime minister had told me, ‘Mark, after this election, you won’t be in the cabinet,’ I wouldn’t have run. But he didn’t tell me that.
“I ran hoping to go back into that job. Because Lord knows there were things that I wanted to do. With respect to Afghanistan, China, the Indo-Pacific strategy, I’d been working all that stuff. But the bottom line was that he said, ‘You’re not in cabinet anymore.’
“And so, at this point, I felt it would be really not acceptable for me to say, ‘Okay, thank you for electing me three weeks ago, I’m leaving.’ So I felt I needed to put in some time. To my great personal satisfaction, I was given two things that I really enjoyed. One was to be chair of the Indigenous and Northern Affairs Committee, which I think has an important role with respect to reconciliation. And the other one was kind of unexpected… medical assistance in dying, where I was co-chair with a senator on this special mixed committee.”
That committee presented its final report in February. Garneau resigned three weeks later. He was already in the history books before he ever ran for office. Would he run now, in the atmosphere of today’s politics, if he were just starting out? Is there still room in politics for an engineer who just wants to make things work better? These are eternal questions, and I had already asked Garneau enough questions for one day.
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Energy
Canadians will soon be versed in massive West Coast LPG mega-project
Welcome to the world of REEF
Most Canadians, know who Connor McDavid is.
Most Canadians, know who Connor Bedard is.
And, well … most Canadians know who Howie Mandel is, right?
Household words.
But do any Canadians, know what REEF is? Probably not.
The Ridley Island Energy Export Facility project, a large-scale terminal near Prince Rupert, B.C., being built by AltaGas to export liquefied petroleum gas (LPG) and other bulk liquids to global markets.
Did you know it is providing valuable propane to Japan? No, not for barbecues, but for crucial energy demands in the Asian nation.
Japan uses propane (LP gas) for a wide range of purposes, including household use for cooking, water heating, and room heating, as well as for a majority of taxis, industrial applications, and as a raw material for town gas production.
Construction is progressing, with a target startup around the end of 2026. The project involves building significant infrastructure, including large storage tanks.
And it just so happens that Resource Works CEO Stewart Muir, paid a visit this past week to get a close-up look at a part of Canada’s export story that almost nobody talks about: a brand-new accumulator tank built to hold chilled propane and butane.
“It’s the largest of its kind anywhere. Two more are on the way, and together they’ll form a critical piece of the AltaGas Ltd. REEF project,” Muir said in a report.
”What stood out to me is the larger pattern: projects like this only happen because of the crown jewel of the B.C. economy — the Montney Formation.”
“It’s the triple-word-score of Canadian resource development: LNG, valuable natural gas liquids like propane, and the diluent streams that help unlock Canada’s single biggest export category, crude oil.”
Like the oilsands, the industry has long known about the Montney formation, which stretches 130,000 square kilometres in a football-shaped diagonal from northeast British Columbia into northwest Alberta.
According to CBC News, underneath this huge tract of land, the National Energy Board (NEB) estimates there’s 90 billion barrels of oil equivalent (boe), most of it natural gas. That’s more than half the size of the oilsands, yet the Montney has received only a fraction of the attention, at least from the public at large.
For oil and gas types, the gold rush is on.
Without question, and despite the ire of green groups who seem to be against any kind of resource development in Canada, the Montney is the quiet force multiplier behind local jobs, municipal tax bases, and the national balance of trade.
And it’s all being done at the highest environmental standard, with producers like Tourmaline Oil Corp already posting a 41% reduction in CO2 emission intensity and a target of 55% less methane emission intensity.
”Congrats to AltaGas for pushing this project forward, and a nod as well to other major employers on the North Coast — Trigon, CN and Pembina, writes Muir.
“Quietly and steadily, they’re building the future prosperity of Canadians. And thanks to Mayor Herb Pond, who took the time to walk us through the regional dynamics that make this corridor such a strategic asset.”
Muir was gobsmacked by the size of the project.
Sources say Alberta’s midstream bottleneck and rapid growth of Shale oil and gas exploration and production, has created an absolute glut in ethane, propane and butane. Ridley Island takes this glut and transports it to the Prince Rupert region by railcar and exports to Asian markets.
Ridley Island’s current export capacity of 92,000 bpd is undergoing aggressive expansion to growth by another 115,000 bpd over the next few years in two more phases of construction.
Recent images detail active construction efforts of the storage, jetty and rail infrastructure.
Alas, every issue that threatens to derail the ambitions of Canada’s oil and gas industry — access to market, First Nations land rights, public acceptance of infrastructure projects and, especially, the climate consequences of burning fossil fuels — is writ large in the Montney.
There are now seven separate lawsuits, and threats of further escalation, centred on claims by the Lax Kw’alaams and Metlakatla First Nations (collectively the Coast Tsimshian) that they were misled and lied to by the Crown when they agreed to developments on their traditional lands at Prince Rupert, John Ivison at the National Post reported.
The dispute over a future propane export facility at the port has spread to other resource projects, and the two First Nations have launched lawsuits against the Ksi Lisims LNG project that was one of the Liberal government’s major projects announced by the prime minister last week.
Further, the conflict threatens to negatively impact any plans Ottawa and the province of Alberta have to build an oil pipeline to the port.
Prime Minister Mark Carney’s recent announcements giving the green light to Alberta’s oil & gas industry has stirred the energy pot to new levels.
B.C. Premier David Eby — who prides himself on Indigenous virtue signalling — is pissed off. It appears he was largely left out of the loop and he is digging in.
Eby said the B.C. government needs to make sure this pipeline project doesn’t become an “energy vampire.”
“With all of the variables that have yet to be fulfilled — no proponent, no route, no money, no First Nations support — that it cannot draw limited federal resources, limited Indigenous governance resources, limited provincial resources away from the real projects that will employ people,” Eby added.
B.C.’s Coastal First Nations also say they will use “every tool in their toolbox” to keep oil tankers out of the northern coastal waters.
It is now apparent that all roads, or, shall we say, pipelines, lead to Prince Rupert.
The feds now face an imposing uphill battle, to leverage their standing as a regulator and resolve a dispute that threatens Canada’s crucial growth agenda.
— with files from CBC News, National Post
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Food
Canada Still Serves Up Food Dyes The FDA Has Banned
From the Frontier Centre for Public Policy
By Lee Harding
Canada is falling behind on food safety by continuing to allow seven synthetic food dyes that the United States and several other jurisdictions are banning due to clear health risks.
The United States is banning nine synthetic food dyes linked to health risks, but Canada is keeping them on store shelves. That’s a mistake.
On April 22, 2025, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services and the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) announced they would ban nine petroleum-based dyes, artificial colourings that give candies, soft drinks and snack foods their bright colours, from U.S. foods before 2028.
The agencies’ directors said the additives presented health risks and offered no nutritional value. In August, the FDA targeted Orange B and Citrus Red No. 2 for even quicker removal.
The good news for Canada is that Orange B was banned here long ago, in 1980, while Citrus Red No. 2 is barely used at all. It is allowed at two parts per million in orange skins. Also, Canada reduced the maximum permitted level for other synthetic dyes following a review in 2016.
The bad news for Canadians is that regulators will keep allowing seven dyes that the U.S. plans to ban, with one possible exception. Health Canada will review Erythrosine (called Red 3 in the U.S.) next year. The FDA banned the substance from cosmetics and drugs applied to the skin in 1990 but waited decades to do the same for food.
All nine dyes targeted by the FDA have shown evidence of tumours in animal studies, often at doses achievable through diet. Over 20 years of meta-analyses also show each dye increases the risk of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder in eight to 10 per cent of children, with a greater risk in mixtures.
At least seven dyes demonstrate broad-spectrum toxicity, especially affecting the liver and kidneys. Several have been found to show estrogenic endocrine effects, triggering female hormones and causing unwanted risks for both males and females. Six dyes have clinical proof of causing DNA damage, while five show microbiome disruption in the gut. One to two per cent of the population is allergic to them, some severely so.
The dyes also carry a risk of dose dependency, or addiction, especially when multiple dyes are combined, a common occurrence in processed foods.
U.S. research suggests the average child consumes 20 to 50 milligrams of synthetic dyes per day, translating to 7.3 to 18.25 kilograms (16.1 to 40.2 pounds) per year. It might be less for Canadian kids now, but eating even a “mere” 20 pounds of synthetic dyes per year doesn’t sound healthy.
It’s debatable how to properly regulate these dyes. Regulators don’t dispute that scientists have found tumours and other problems in rats given large amounts of the dyes. What’s less clear are the implications for humans with typical diets. With so much evidence piling up, some countries have already taken decisive action.
Allura Red (Red 40), slated for removal in the U.S., was previously banned in Denmark, Belgium, France, Switzerland, Sweden and Norway. However, these countries were forced to accept the dye in 2009 when the European Union harmonized its regulations across member countries.
Nevertheless, the E.U. has done what Canada has not and banned Citrus Red No. 2 and Fast Green FCF (Green 3), as have the U.K. and Australia. Unlike Canada, these countries have also restricted the use of Erythrosine (Red 3). And whereas product labels in the E.U. warn that the dyes risk triggering hyperactivity in children, Canadians receive no such warning.
Canadian regulators could defend the status quo, but there’s a strong case for emulating the E.U. in its labelling and bans. Health Canada should expand its review to include the dyes banned by the E.U. and those the U.S. is targeting. Alignment with peers would be good for health and trade, ensuring Canadian manufacturers don’t face export barriers or costly reformulations when selling abroad.
It’s true that natural alternatives present challenges. Dr. Sylvain Charlebois, a food policy expert and professor at Dalhousie University, wrote that while natural alternatives, such as curcumin, carotenes, paprika extract, anthocyanins and beet juice, can replace synthetic dyes, “they come with trade-offs: less vibrancy, greater sensitivity to heat and light, and higher costs.”
Regardless, that option may soon look better. The FDA is fast-tracking a review of calcium phosphate, galdieria blue extract, gardenia blue, butterfly pea flower extract and other natural alternatives to synthetic food dyes. Canada should consider doing the same, not only for safety reasons but to add value to its agri-food sector.
Ultimately, we don’t need colour additives in our food at all. They’re an unnecessary cosmetic that disguises what food really is.
Yes, it’s more fun to have a coloured candy or cupcake than not.What’s less fun is cancer, cognitive disorders, leaky gut and hormonal disruptions. Canada must choose.
Lee Harding is a research fellow for the Frontier Centre for Public Policy.
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