Frontier Centre for Public Policy
The RCMP Used To Uphold The Law. Now It’s Enforcing An Ideology
From the Frontier Centre for Public Policy
Research VP Marco Navarro-Genie argues the RCMP isn’t neutral anymore—it’s treating dissent from gender orthodoxy as dangerous extremism.
The Mounties are no longer neutral enforcers of law. They’ve become defenders of state-approved ideology
Canada’s national police force is undergoing a dangerous transformation. It is shifting from an institution that upholds the law to one that enforces progressive ideology. That change was evident in a recent CBC interview with RCMP Staff Sergeant Camille Habel, a trained communications officer. Speaking in her official role, Habel warned that someone shifting from support for “equal gender rights” to “traditional values” may be showing signs of radicalization.
This wasn’t a casual remark or personal opinion. Communications officers don’t freelance. They speak for the institution. That makes her words more than commentary—they’re policy signals.
Habel didn’t define “gender rights” or “traditional values,” but the meaning was clear. She was signalling an adherence to a modern doctrine: that gender is fluid, entirely self-declared and must be affirmed through social or medical intervention, regardless of age or biology.
By adopting such a view, the RCMP has stepped beyond impartiality. It is no longer enforcing the law. It is defending a belief system. And dissent from that system is increasingly treated as deviance.
This logic mirrors the structure of religious apostasy. In radical belief systems, apostates—those who abandon the faith—are often considered more dangerous than outsiders. Non-believers might be persuaded, but a defector threatens internal cohesion and must be punished.
Canada’s institutional progressivism operates in much the same way. If you never accepted its dogma, you may be dismissed as uninformed. But if you once affirmed it and now question it, you are seen as unstable and potentially dangerous.
Progressive ideology insists that history moves only forward, toward greater inclusion, affirmation and fluidity. Any reversal is cast not as reconsideration but regression. That’s why the RCMP would never suggest that someone who once affirmed biological sex but now embraces the idea of 72 genders may be radicalizing. Even when such a shift contradicts biology and common sense, it is celebrated as progress.
What matters is not the reasoning behind the change, but the ideological direction. Public safety is no longer about upholding neutral laws. It’s about protecting an approved narrative.
In place of open debate, we get slogans. “Trans women are women.” “Children can consent to medical transition.” “Gender is a spectrum.” These are not policy proposals. They are mantras. To question them is to risk scrutiny.
And in Canada today, scrutiny can bring consequences. Parents who challenge their child’s transition may lose custody. Medical professionals who question puberty blockers or irreversible surgeries face disciplinary action. Journalists, academics and commentators who criticize gender orthodoxy are deplatformed, defunded or publicly discredited.
These are not isolated incidents. They reflect a growing institutional reflex to treat dissent not as disagreement but as danger.
After a backlash to Habel’s comments, the RCMP offered a clarification. She didn’t mean traditional values are illegal, they said, only that acting on extreme beliefs could be problematic. But that misses the point.
The concern isn’t what’s criminal. It’s what’s being reframed as suspicious. Once a belief is coded as “pre-radical,” it becomes easier to monitor, isolate and punish. That discretion now lies with institutions that have openly adopted ideological positions.
Meanwhile, radical actions carried out in the name of progressivism—placing children on puberty blockers, approving surgeries for minors, silencing dissenting professionals—are tolerated, subsidized and protected.
These interventions are invasive, irreversible and often life-altering, yet institutions like the RCMP do not label any of this dangerous. That label is reserved for those who step away from orthodoxy.
A citizen who quietly shifts from affirmation to doubt is flagged, not for what they’ve done but for what they’ve stopped believing.
That is the real offence: defection from the state’s sanctioned worldview.
This shift reveals something more troubling than a single interview. The RCMP, once expected to apply the law impartially, now behaves as an agent of ideological conformity. It is no longer neutral. It is no longer merely a law enforcement body. It is enforcing belief.
We must take Habel’s statement seriously—not because it was extreme, but because it was institutional. It shows how dissent is now handled, not through discussion but through suspicion. Where disagreement was once normal in a democratic society, it is now recast as instability.
Freedom of belief doesn’t vanish in a single moment. It is reframed as extremism, then gradually excluded from legitimacy.
We’ve seen this before—in theocratic regimes, authoritarian states and ideological cults.
Now we are watching it happen in Canada.
And the RCMP is enforcing it.
Marco Navarro-Genie is vice-president of research at the Frontier Centre for Public Policy and co-author, with Barry Cooper, of Canada’s COVID: The Story of a Pandemic Moral Panic (2023).
Agriculture
Farmers Take The Hit While Biofuel Companies Cash In
From the Frontier Centre for Public Policy
Canada’s emissions policy rewards biofuels but punishes the people who grow our food
In the global rush to decarbonize, agriculture faces a contradictory narrative: livestock emissions are condemned as climate threats, while the same crops turned into biofuels are praised as green solutions argues senior fellow Dr. Joseph Fournier. This double standard ignores the natural carbon cycle and the fossil-fuel foundations of modern farming, penalizing food producers while rewarding biofuel makers through skewed carbon accounting and misguided policy incentives.
In the rush to decarbonize our world, agriculture finds itself caught in a bizarre contradiction.
Policymakers and environmental advocates decry methane and carbon dioxide emissions from livestock digestion, respiration and manure decay, labelling them urgent climate threats. Yet they celebrate the same corn and canola crops when diverted to ethanol and biodiesel as heroic offsets against fossil fuels.
Biofuels are good, but food is bad.
This double standard isn’t just inconsistent—it backfires. It ignores the full life cycle of the agricultural sector’s methane and carbon dioxide emissions and the historical reality that modern farming’s productivity owes its existence to hydrocarbons. It’s time to confront these hypocrisies head-on, or we risk chasing illusory credits while penalizing the very system that feeds us.
Let’s take Canada as an example.
It’s estimated that our agriculture sector emits 69 megatonnes (Mt) of carbon dioxide equivalent (CO2e) annually, or 10 per cent of national totals. Around 35 Mt comes from livestock digestion and respiration, including methane produced during digestion and carbon dioxide released through breathing. Manure composting adds another 12 Mt through methane and nitrous oxide.
Even crop residue decomposition is counted in emissions estimates.
Animal digestion and respiration, including burping and flatulence, and the composting of their waste are treated as industrial-scale pollutants.
These aren’t fossil emissions—they’re part of the natural carbon cycle, where last year’s stover or straw returns to the atmosphere after feeding soil life. Yet under United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) guidelines adopted by Canada, they’re lumped into “agricultural sources,” making farmers look like climate offenders for doing their job.
Ironically, only 21 per cent—about 14 Mt—of the sector’s emissions come from actual fossil fuel use on the farm.
This inconsistency becomes even more apparent in the case of biofuels.
Feed the corn to cows, and its digestive gases count as a planetary liability. Turn it into ethanol, and suddenly it’s an offset.
Canada’s Clean Fuel Regulations (CFR) mandate a 15 per cent CO2e intensity drop by 2030 using biofuels. In this program, biofuel producers earn offset credits per litre, which become a major part of their revenue, alongside fuel sales.
Critics argue the CFR is essentially a second carbon tax, expected to add up to 17 cents per litre at the pump by 2030, with no consumer rebate this time.
But here’s the rub: crop residue emits carbon dioxide, methane and nitrous oxide whether the grain goes to fuel or food.
Diverting crops to biofuels doesn’t erase these emissions: it just shifts the accounting, rewarding biofuel producers with credits while farmers and ranchers take the emissions hit.
These aren’t theoretical concerns: they’re baked into policy.
If ethanol and biodiesel truly offset emissions, why penalize the same crops when used to feed livestock?
And why penalize farmers for crop residue decomposition while ignoring the emissions from rotting leaves, trees and grass in nature?
This contradiction stems from flawed assumptions and bad math.
Fossil fuels are often blamed, while the agricultural sector’s natural carbon loop is treated like a threat. Policy seems more interested in pinning blame than in understanding how food systems actually work.
This disconnect isn’t new—it’s embedded in the history of agriculture.
Since the Industrial Revolution, mechanization and hydrocarbons have driven abundance. The seed drill and reaper slashed labour needs. Tractors replaced horses, boosting output and reducing the workforce.
Yields exploded with synthetic fertilizers produced from methane and other hydrocarbons.
For every farm worker replaced, a barrel of oil stepped in.
A single modern tractor holds the energy equivalent of 50 to 100 barrels of oil, powering ploughing, planting and harvesting that once relied on sweat and oxen.
We’ve traded human labour for hydrocarbons, feeding billions in the process.
Biofuel offsets claim to reduce this dependence. But by subsidizing crop diversion, they deepen it; more corn for ethanol means more diesel for tractors.
It’s a policy trap: vilify farmers to fund green incentives, all while ignoring the fact that oil props up the table we eat from.
Policymakers must scrap the double standards, adopt full-cycle biogenic accounting, and invest in truly regenerative technologies or lift the emissions burden off farmers entirely.
Dr. Joseph Fournier is a senior fellow at the Frontier Centre for Public Policy. An accomplished scientist and former energy executive, he holds graduate training in chemical physics and has written more than 100 articles on energy, environment and climate science.
Frontier Centre for Public Policy
Notwithstanding Clause Is Democracy’s Last Line Of Defence
From the Frontier Centre for Public Policy
Amid radical rulings like Cowichan, Section 33 remains a vital tool for protecting property rights, social and economic stability, and legislative sovereignty in Canada.
The Notwithstanding Clause reminds Canadians that voters, not judges, make the final call
Alberta Premier Danielle Smith recently invoked Section 33 of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms to end a teachers’ strike and prevent endless litigation. The Alberta Teachers’ Association and the provincial NDP have called it tyranny. But a government using lawful authority is not tyranny.
Section 33, known as the “Notwithstanding Clause,” is a constitutional safeguard. It allows legislatures to pass laws that override certain Charter rights for up to five years. It was built into the Charter deliberately to ensure that elected representatives, not judges, remain supreme on fundamental issues.
The modern Left despises this clause because it breaks their playbook. When they cannot win in Parliament, they turn to the courts. For 50 years, judges have helped them shift policy by interpreting rights creatively. Section 33 blocks that route. That is why they hate it.
They smear it as a tool of the far right. The facts say otherwise. Allan Blakeney, the Saskatchewan NDP premier, helped enshrine it in 1982. The Parti Québécois, under René Lévesque, at the time the most leftist government in Canada, made heavy use of it. They understood something their successors pretend to forget: democracy rests with voters, not with the judiciary, with all due respect to the judiciary.
Blakeney and Alberta’s Peter Lougheed saw the danger. Federally appointed judges, immune from electoral consequence, could render decisions that uproot regional jurisdiction. Section 33 was the firewall. It recognized that while courts serve justice, legislatures serve people.
Two recent rulings show why that firewall matters. First, the Supreme Court struck down mandatory minimum sentences for child pornography in a 5-4 ruling.
Weeks earlier, in August 2025, Justice Barbara Young of the B.C. Supreme Court ruled that the Cowichan Tribes held unextinguished Aboriginal title to nearly 2,000 acres in Richmond, B.C. That land includes homes, businesses, public utilities and Crown land. The court declared Indigenous title overrides existing property rights, even without treaties or compensation.
The ruling makes every deed in that area, many of which were granted by the Crown over a century ago, subject to Justice Young’s retroactive reinterpretation. Your mortgage may rest on land you no longer legally own. Your lease may be invalid. Your development project unsellable. This is not a theory. It is a ruling.
No economy can function under such uncertainty. Property rights are foundational to free markets. If land ownership depends on a judge’s view of historical use, markets freeze. Banks will not lend. Builders will not build. The Cowichan decision casts a shadow over every titled parcel in British Columbia. Its precedent will not stay local.
B.C. Premier David Eby has chosen to appeal but that will take years. Meanwhile, risk deepens. Capital flees from uncertainty. No investor waits patiently while the Supreme Court ponders first principles.
This is the moment Section 33 was designed for. Its use would freeze the legal effect of Cowichan while legislatures restore order. If the prime minister will not act, others must. Premiers should signal now that property rights will be upheld. If not, the chaos of one courtroom may become a national affliction.
The Cowichan ruling, for all its disruption, may be a clarifying gift. It shows Canadians what radical judicial overreach looks like. Even those who trust the courts may now see why elected governments need the power to say: enough.
Blakeney put it plainly: “What matters is who makes the choices. I would be happy if legislatures gave courts all the deference, as long as legislatures were free to make the major governmental decisions.”
That freedom must now be used. Section 33 is not an act of aggression. It is the return of decision-making to where it belongs. In the aftermath of Cowichan, the country cannot wait years while property confidence erodes.
Section 33 is the remedy.
Marco Navarro-Genie is vice-president of research at the Frontier Centre for Public Policy and co-author, with Barry Cooper, of Canada’s COVID: The Story of a Pandemic Moral Panic (2023).
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