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.