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Netflix in Canada—All in the name of ‘modernizing’ broadcasting: Peter Menzies

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From the MacDonald Laurier Institute

By Peter Menzies

Canada’s content czars are stuck in the past and trying to drag everyone back with them

Next week, the Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission (CRTC) will go live with its efforts to wrestle the internet and those who stream upon it into submission. Whether it fully understands the risks remains unclear.

There are 127 parties scheduled to appear before a panel of commissioners at a public hearing in Gatineau starting November 20. The tone-setting opening act will be Pierre-Karl Peladeau’s always-scrappy Quebecor while the UFC will throw the final punches before the curtain drops three weeks later.

The list of presenters consists mostly of what those of us who have experienced these mind-numbing hearings refer to as “the usual suspects”—interests whose business plans are built around the Broadcasting Act and the requirements of related funding agencies.

The largest Canadian companies will ask the CRTC to reduce its demands upon them when it comes to feeding and watering Big Cancon: the producers, directors, actors, writers, and other tradespeople who make certified Canadian content.

Quebecor, for instance, will be arguing for its contribution to be reduced from 30 percent of its revenue to 20 percent—a draw it proposes be applied to designated streamers. More money from foreign companies and less from licensed domestic broadcasters will be a recurring theme.

But there will also be a new slate of actors—those with business models designed to entertain and attract consumers in a free market—who will be staring down the barrel of CRTC Chair Vicky Eatrides’ stifling regulatory gun for the first time.

Disney+ is set to take the stage on November 29. Meta, the Big Tech bete noire that refused to play along with the Online News Act, is up on December 5.

But the big day will almost certainly be November 30 when Netflix locks horns with the Commission and what appear to be its dangerously naive assumptions.

More than half the streamer’s 30-page submission is dedicated to detailing what it is already contributing to Canada.

Some examples:

  • $3.5 billion in investment;
  • Thousands of jobs created;
  • Consumers are 1.8 times more likely to watch a Canadian production on Netflix than they are on a licensed TV network;
  • Le Guide de la Famille Parfaite—one of many Quebec productions it funded—was in Netflix’s global top 10 for non-English productions for two weeks.

Netflix is insisting on credit for what it already contributes. It has no interest in writing a cheque to the Canada Media Fund and takes serious umbrage with the CRTC’s assumption it will.

“The (hearing) notice could be understood to suggest that the Commission has made a preliminary determination to establish an ‘initial base contribution’ requirement for online undertakings,” Netflix states in its submission. “The only question for consideration would appear not to be whether, but rather what funds would be the possible recipients of contributions.

“Netflix submits that this is not an appropriate starting point.”

It gets worse. The CRTC is considering applying some of the non-financial obligations it imposes on licensed broadcasters such as CTV and Global to the streaming world.

Executive Director of Broadcasting Scott Shortliffe told the National Post recently that “Netflix is clearly producing programming that is analogous…to traditional broadcasters” and that it could be expected to “contribute” in terms of the shape of its content as well as how it spends its money.

In other words, the CRTC’s idea of “modernizing” broadcasting appears heavily weighted in favour of applying its 1990s way of doing things to the online world of 2023.

If that’s the case, the Commission is entirely unprepared to deal with the harsh truth that offshore companies don’t have to play by its rules. For decades, primary CRTC hearing participants have been dependent on the regulator. In the case of broadcasters like CTV and cable companies such as Rogers, their existence is at stake. Without a license, they are done. Which means they have to do what the Commission wants. But if the regulatory burden the CRTC places upon the offshore streamers doesn’t make business sense to them, they are free to say, “Sorry Canada, the juice just isn’t worth the squeeze. We’re outta here.”

This is most likely to occur among the smaller, niche services at the lower end of the subscription scale. The CRTC has to date exempted only companies with Canadian revenues of less than $10 million. Any company just over that line would almost certainly not bother to do business in Canada —a relatively small and increasingly confusing market—if the regulatory ask is anything close to the 20 percent commitment being suggested.

Ditto if the CRTC goes down the road Shortliffe pointed to. It would be absurd to impose expectations on unlicensed streamers that are similar to those applied to licensed broadcasters. For the latter, the burden is balanced by benefits such as market protection granted by the CRTC.

For streamers, no such regulatory “bargain” exists. Too much burden without benefits would make it far cheaper for many to leave and sell their most popular shows to a domestic streamer or television network.

The Online Streaming Act (Bill C-11), which led to this tussle, was originally pitched as making sure web giants “contraibute” their “fair share.”

So, as it turns out, was the Online News Act (Bill C-18).

That legislation resulted in Meta/Facebook getting out of the news business and Google may yet do the same. As a consequence, news organizations will lose hundreds of millions of dollars. Many won’t survive.

Eatrides and her colleagues, if they overplay their hand, are perfectly capable of achieving a similarly catastrophic outcome for the film and television industry.

Peter Menzies is a Senior Fellow with the Macdonald-Laurier Institute, a former newspaper executive, and past vice chair of the CRTC.

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Losses Could Reach Nearly One Billion: When Genius Failed…..Again

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Illustration by Daniel Medina

By Eric Salzman

The smartest guys in the room fall for the same scam twice in less than 5 years

THE SCHEME: Fraud and Money Laundering

THE COMPANY: Stenn Technologies

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THE NEWS: For the second time in five years, a scam involving sexing up a boring, centuries old financing business blew up in the faces of some of the world’s largest banks

You know the old saying. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

In December, “fintech” supply chain financier Stenn Technologies and its subsidiaries Stenn Assets UK Ltd and Stenn International Ltd, collapsed, spanking investors and lenders such as Citigroup, Nexis, BNP Paribas, HSBC and private equity firm Centerbridge. Just a month prior to the blow-up, Stenn was viewed as a fintech unicorn with a robust $1 billion book of business, poised for strong growth.

As we’ve seen time and again, a unicorn can quickly die when a company’s business model screams fraud to anyone bothering to look.

Stenn Technologies claimed to use artificial intelligence and state of the art technology to analyze credit and money laundering risk in order to turn a low margin, supply chain financing business into an awesome, high return, low risk securitized product.

Here’s a quick explanation of supply chain financing:

1. A company delivers its product to a buyer and the buyer promises to pay in a few months’ time, creating an accounts receivable.

2. The company that has the accounts receivable sends it to the supply chain financier (Greensill Capital or Stenn Technologies).

3. The supply chain financier pays the company cash for the receivable minus a discount which is another business practice called factoring.

4. The buyer pays the financier the full amount of the receivable on the due date.

Supply chain financing is nothing new. It was probably around when Marco Polo set out for the Orient.

If it sounds boring, that’s because it is, or at least is supposed to be. Lex Greensill’s Greensill Capital changed that a decade ago.

Through fancy structuring, as well as four private jets, Greensill created a byzantine circular loop where money flowed around the world, much of it to Greensill favorites like steel maker Sanjeev Gupta and then back again. The operation was continuously funded by either GAM, Credit Suisse, SoftBank as well as Greensill’s own German bank, Greensill Bank AG. After a while, as more money poured into Greensill from eager investors, the company began to essentially just lend money out, mostly to Gupta while calling the transactions “future receivables.”

Greensill Capital collapsed under the weight of fraud in 2021, costing its big investors mentioned above billions. Matt reported on the story here in 2021.

Greensill’s receivable notes (the fancy structuring) were insured by a number of insurers, the biggest being Japanese insurer Tokio Marine. The insurance made investors comfortable because, if Tokio Marine insured it, the notes have to be money good, right?

Wrong.

At one point, Tokio had nearly $8 billion of exposure to Greensill deals. How insurers got comfortable with insuring receivables to a blizzard of shell companies that all seemed to point back to Gupta and Lex’s pockets is anyone’s guess, but when Tokio finally did a good look under the hood, they cried insurance fraud and Greensill came crashing down. Credit Suisse investors alone lost $10 billion.

At this point, we need to hear from Lt. Commander Montgomery Scott, better known as Scotty.

So now, we’re at the shame on you portion of the story.

Astoundingly, Stenn Technologies was able to pull off a similar scam just a couple of years later, posing as a fintech company, supposedly using the latest in technology to do global supply chain financing faster and better than everyone else in the business.

The victims are new, but given the high publicity of Greensill’s failure, you’d figure they would catch on.

According to Bloomberg News, “Stenn’s main backers were Citigroup Inc., BNP Paribas SA, Natixis and HSBC Holdings Plc while Barclays Plc, M&G Plc and Goldman Sachs Group also backed the transaction.”

Private equity firm Centerbridge invested $50 million in capital and valued the company at $900 million in 2022.

In 2022, TechCrunch described the secret sauce that Stenn was supposedly using to bring a 13th century business into the modern age.

Stenn — which applies big data analytics, taking a few datapoints about a business (the main two being what money it has coming in and going out based on invoices) and matching them up against an algorithm that takes some 1,000 other factors into account to determine its eligibility for a loan of up to $10 million; and on the other side taps a network of institutions and other big lenders to provide the capital for that financing.

Perhaps this multi-factor algorithm was super cool when they showed it to investors and lending partners. The only problem was Stenn, in the words of a business crime attorney who spoke to Bloomberg, “has all the hallmarks of both fraud and money laundering.”

Greensill might have been a bit hard to figure out with large, respected insurance companies insuring their notes.

But anyone who took the time to investigate Stenn Technologies by simply looking at the data they pumped out to investors weekly would have seen the scheme for what it was.

While it appears the previously mentioned institutional investors didn’t bother to investigate, Bloomberg did and the results were darkly hilarious.

Some of Stenn’s biggest suppliers were tiny companies in Thailand and Hong Kong with little in common yet corporate filings for all of them list the same Russian name as a backer. One in Singapore was accused by the U.S. of enabling payments to Russian naval intelligence and sanctioned in August. Tracing a group owned by another Russian investor that was supposedly shipping millions of dollars of goods to corporations in Switzerland and Canada led to a derelict Prague building with boarded-up windows.

Bloomberg contacted the largest 50 firms that were supposedly the buyers for what Stenn’s suppliers produced, and the bulk had no idea who Stenn Technologies or these suppliers were! A spokesman for Edion Corp., one of the biggest electronics retailers in Japan, told Bloomberg, “we have absolutely no knowledge of this matter. We really have no idea what it’s about.”

Essentially, the data produced by Stenn highlighted thousands of bogus transactions on a weekly basis to investors, lying about who was paying and who was receiving billions of dollars of funds. According to Bloomberg, investors received these details with the name of the suppliers and buyers included. Therefore, at any time, investors could have done a sanity check on these obscure suppliers to see who they were, or in this case, weren’t.

HSBC finally caught up to what Stenn was doing. Again from the Bloomberg report:

HSBC triggered Stenn’s downfall when it lodged an application to the UK courts, alleging that its officials had uncovered ‘deeply troubling issues on a large scale.’ The
invoices at the heart of the deal weren’t ‘genuine debts’ and payments to suppliers weren’t coming from ‘blue-chip companies’ but from bogus firms with similar names, according to the complaint filed by the London-based bank.

Investors are facing a potential loss of $200 million, although it could be a lot more as $978 million in invoiced-financed notes are outstanding, Bloomberg reports.

There is a bright side to Stenn’s collapse though. A senior trade finance official told The Sunday Times:

“The saving grace here is at least it’s smaller than Greensill.”

Well played.

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TD Bank Account Closures Expose Chinese Hybrid Warfare Threat

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From the Frontier Centre for Public Policy

By Scott McGregor

Scott McGregor warns that Chinese hybrid warfare is no longer hypothetical—it’s unfolding in Canada now. TD Bank’s closure of CCP-linked accounts highlights the rising infiltration of financial interests. From cyberattacks to guanxi-driven influence, Canada’s institutions face a systemic threat. As banks sound the alarm, Ottawa dithers. McGregor calls for urgent, whole-of-society action before foreign interference further erodes our sovereignty.

Chinese hybrid warfare isn’t coming. It’s here. And Canada’s response has been dangerously complacent

The recent revelation by The Globe and Mail that TD Bank has closed accounts linked to pro-China groups—including those associated with former Liberal MP Han Dong—should not be dismissed as routine risk management. Rather, it is a visible sign of a much deeper and more insidious campaign: a hybrid war being waged by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) across Canada’s political, economic and digital spheres.

TD Bank’s move—reportedly driven by “reputational risk” and concerns over foreign interference—marks a rare, public signal from the private sector. Politically exposed persons (PEPs), a term used in banking and intelligence circles to denote individuals vulnerable to corruption or manipulation, were reportedly among those flagged. When a leading Canadian bank takes action while the government remains hesitant, it suggests the threat is no longer theoretical. It is here.

Hybrid warfare refers to the use of non-military tools—such as cyberattacks, financial manipulation, political influence and disinformation—to erode a nation’s sovereignty and resilience from within. In The Mosaic Effect: How the Chinese Communist Party Started a Hybrid War in America’s Backyard, co-authored with Ina Mitchell, we detailed how the CCP has developed a complex and opaque architecture of influence within Canadian institutions. What we’re seeing now is the slow unravelling of that system, one bank record at a time.

Financial manipulation is a key component of this strategy. CCP-linked actors often use opaque payment systems—such as WeChat Pay, UnionPay or cryptocurrency—to move money outside traditional compliance structures. These platforms facilitate the unchecked flow of funds into Canadian sectors like real estate, academia and infrastructure, many of which are tied to national security and economic competitiveness.

Layered into this is China’s corporate-social credit system. While framed as a financial scoring tool, it also functions as a mechanism of political control, compelling Chinese firms and individuals—even abroad—to align with party objectives. In this context, there is no such thing as a genuinely independent Chinese company.

Complementing these structural tools is guanxi—a Chinese system of interpersonal networks and mutual obligations. Though rooted in trust, guanxi can be repurposed to quietly influence decision-makers, bypass oversight and secure insider deals. In the wrong hands, it becomes an informal channel of foreign control.

Meanwhile, Canada continues to face escalating cyberattacks linked to the Chinese state. These operations have targeted government agencies and private firms, stealing sensitive data, compromising infrastructure and undermining public confidence. These are not isolated intrusions—they are part of a broader effort to weaken Canada’s digital, economic and democratic institutions.

The TD Bank decision should be seen as a bellwether. Financial institutions are increasingly on the front lines of this undeclared conflict. Their actions raise an urgent question: if private-sector actors recognize the risk, why hasn’t the federal government acted more decisively?

The issue of Chinese interference has made headlines in recent years, from allegations of election meddling to intimidation of diaspora communities. TD’s decision adds a new financial layer to this growing concern.

Canada cannot afford to respond with fragmented, reactive policies. What’s needed is a whole-of-society response: new legislation to address foreign interference, strengthened compliance frameworks in finance and technology, and a clear-eyed recognition that hybrid warfare is already being waged on Canadian soil.

The CCP’s strategy is long-term, multidimensional and calculated. It blends political leverage, economic subversion, transnational organized crime and cyber operations. Canada must respond with equal sophistication, coordination and resolve.

The mosaic of influence isn’t forming. It’s already here. Recognizing the full picture is no longer optional. Canadians must demand transparency, accountability and action before more of our institutions fall under foreign control.

Scott McGregor is a defence and intelligence veteran, co-author of The Mosaic Effect: How the Chinese Communist Party Started a Hybrid War in America’s Backyard, and the managing partner of Close Hold Intelligence Consulting Ltd. He is a senior security adviser to the Council on Countering Hybrid Warfare and a former intelligence adviser to the RCMP and the B.C. Attorney General. He writes for the Frontier Centre for Public Policy.

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