Reshaping Watershed Governance: Evaluating Ontario’s Plan to Merge Conservation Authorities

Background updated to reflect the government announcement of October 31, 2025.

🔎 Background

On October 31, 2025 the Ministry of the Environment, Conservation and Parks announced its intention to introduce legislation to create a new Ontario Provincial Conservation Agency to provide province-wide leadership and oversight of conservation authorities. At the same time the government released a public consultation proposing to consolidate Ontario’s 36 conservation authorities into seven regional, watershed-based authorities.

The stated aims are reducing fragmentation, improving consistency in permitting and services, freeing up resources for front-line conservation work and aligning watershed management with provincial priorities in housing, infrastructure, economic growth and climate resilience.

Note — The proposal retains watershed-based boundaries and envisions seven regional conservation authorities aligned with major watershed systems. Implementation would follow further legislation, regulation and a formal transition period.

✅ Advantages (Pros)

⚖️Consistency and Standardization

  • The current 36-authority system shows significant variation in policies, fees, processes and technical capacity. Consolidation seeks to standardize permitting and reduce duplication.
  • A more consistent system may speed approvals, improve service delivery and align permitting with broader provincial housing and infrastructure goals.

🛠️Scale and Capacity Building

  • Larger regional authorities can pool technical specialists in hydrology, ecology, GIS, modelling and flood forecasting.
  • A single digital permitting platform, improved data management and updated floodplain mapping could strengthen operational efficiency.

🧭Watershed-Scale Management

  • Environmental issues such as flood risk and source protection cross municipal boundaries; watershed-level jurisdictions better reflect ecological realities.
  • Regional governance may improve coordination between upstream and downstream communities and enable restoration at appropriate scales.

📈Uplift in Minimum Service Standards

  • Province-wide minimum standards could reduce disparities between well-resourced and under-resourced conservation authorities.
  • Improved mapping, monitoring and data systems may enhance hazard warnings and risk reduction for communities.

⚠️ Disadvantages (Cons)

🌾Loss of Local Knowledge and Relationships

  • Local conservation authorities often maintain deep, place-based knowledge and long-standing relationships with municipalities, landowners, volunteers and Indigenous communities.
  • Centralization may weaken local responsiveness and reduce the fine-grained understanding needed for small watershed issues.

👥Governance and Accountability Dilution

  • Shifting authority to regional boards or a provincial agency risks reducing municipal voice and local accountability.
  • Changes to levy systems, board appointments or decision-making structures could alter how closely governance reflects community priorities.

🔄Transition Risk, Disruption and Cost

  • Merging organizations requires complicated alignment of IT systems, budgets, staffing, policies and permitting processes.
  • Short-term disruption, backlog growth or staff uncertainty may affect performance even if long-term efficiencies are possible.

🏞️Threat to Locally-Tailored Programs

  • Education programs, stewardship initiatives, volunteer groups and recreation programming may be deprioritized in a larger regional authority.
  • Locally raised funds may be redistributed toward broader regional priorities, limiting community-specific flexibility.

🪶Indigenous Consultation and Place-Based Considerations

  • The restructuring spans multiple Indigenous territories; a one-size-fits-all model risks overlooking local priorities and cultural site protection.
  • Strong Indigenous partnerships are increasingly recognized as essential to watershed management and must be protected during transition.

❓ Key Uncertainties and Implementation Risks

  • How governance structures will be designed, including board composition and municipal representation.
  • How locally-generated funding will be treated and whether it will remain local during and after transition.
  • How IT migration, mapping, staffing and permitting backlogs will be managed to maintain service continuity.
  • How performance standards will be enforced and how regional authorities will be monitored.
  • How Indigenous and local stakeholder engagement will be maintained throughout the transition process.

🛡️ Recommendations and Mitigation Measures

  • Maintain local field offices, technical staff and advisory committees to preserve place-specific knowledge.
  • Ensure meaningful municipal representation on regional boards, including mechanisms for smaller communities’ voices.
  • Protect locally-generated revenues for an initial transition period to safeguard community programs.
  • Publish a transition plan with clear timelines, role protections and service-level guarantees.
  • Establish Indigenous participation protocols and co-governance options where desired.
  • Create province-wide standards with room for regional adaptation based on watershed differences.

🧾 Conclusion

The proposed consolidation provides opportunities to modernize Ontario’s conservation authority system, build technical capacity, improve consistency and align watershed management with provincial priorities. At the same time, the risks are substantial: loss of local stewardship, weakened accountability, transitional disruption and potential erosion of long-standing municipal and Indigenous partnerships.

The outcome will depend on governance design, funding arrangements, transition planning and the strength of public and Indigenous engagement. With appropriate safeguards, the reforms could enhance watershed resilience and public service; without them, consolidation could undermine decades of community-led conservation work and trust.

References

  1. “Proposed boundaries for the regional consolidation of Ontario’s conservation authorities” (ERO 025-1257), Environmental Registry of Ontario.
  2. Ontario Government announcement on conservation authority restructuring, October 31, 2025.
  3. McMillan LLP analysis of proposed consolidation.
  4. Dentons LLP overview of amalgamation and the creation of the Ontario Provincial Conservation Agency.
  5. Reporting and analysis from conservation organizations and independent media regarding risks to local stewardship and watershed management.

North America’s Strategic Choice: Integration or Irrelevance in a Multipolar World

As the global trade landscape shifts, alliances such as BRICS and infrastructure developments like the International North-South Transport Corridor (INSTC) are redrawing the map of commerce. These projects are not just economic arrangements, they are strategic assertions of a multipolar world, where emerging economies are building financial systems and trade networks that bypass traditional Western-dominated institutions. In this changing environment, deeper integration across North America is no longer just desirable, it is essential. The United States, Canada, and Mexico share geography, economic interdependence, and complementary strengths. But instead of leaning into this partnership, the U.S. has at times acted in ways that undermine its closest allies, and in doing so, it is undercutting its own long-term strategic interests.

BRICS, now expanded to include nations like Egypt and the UAE, is working toward reducing reliance on the U.S. dollar and building alternative financial infrastructure. Simultaneously, the INSTC, a 7,200-kilometre multimodal corridor linking India, Iran, Russia, and Europe, offers a faster and cheaper trade route than the Suez Canal. These shifts are enabling new alignments between Asian, Eurasian, and Global South nations. In contrast, the U.S. risks being left behind unless it reinvests in its regional relationships. North America, bound by the Canada-United States-Mexico Agreement (CUSMA), already possesses a solid legal and regulatory foundation. What is missing is the political will to push that foundation into a fully integrated economic zone.

Closer North American integration could strengthen supply chains, enhance competitiveness, and boost regional innovation. Mexico’s manufacturing power, Canada’s resource wealth and technological expertise, and the U.S.’s financial and consumer might together could create a resilient and globally influential economic bloc. However, protectionist impulses from Washington, such as tariffs on Canadian aluminum, trade disputes over softwood lumber, and threats against Mexican imports, erode trust. These actions push Canada and Mexico to expand trade elsewhere, increasing their engagement with China, the EU, and the Asia-Pacific. While diversification is strategically wise, a fragmented North America plays directly into the hands of BRICS and INSTC-aligned actors.

Still, for Canada and Mexico, investing further in North American integration remains the most strategically sound choice. Despite political turbulence, the U.S. offers unmatched access to capital, consumer markets, and legal protections. CUSMA provides a rules-based framework that supports long-term stability more effectively than newer or looser trade deals. And while deeper trade ties with China or Europe may offer short-term gains, they cannot replicate the geographic, cultural, and logistical synergies of the North American relationship. Rather than turning outward in frustration, Canada and Mexico can use their economic leverage to influence U.S. trade policy from within, helping to shape a trilateral vision rooted in shared democratic values and mutual prosperity.

The U.S., for its part, must recognize that its global position depends not just on military strength or Silicon Valley innovation, but on the strength of its closest partnerships. The path forward lies not in undermining allies, but in building with them a regional powerhouse capable of competing with the rising multipolar world. Failing to do so means ceding both economic and geopolitical ground – to rivals who are already moving with speed and purpose.

Tewin and the Shape of Ottawa’s Future

At the moment, I don’t feel I know enough about this developing issue to take a position, so I plan on monitoring the situation and perhaps look at the bigger picture.  

Four years ago, Ottawa city council voted to expand the urban boundary into lands southeast of the city to create a massive new suburban community called Tewin. The project, a partnership between the Algonquins of Ontario (AOO) and Taggart Group, envisions housing for up to 45,000 people on 445 hectares of land. This expansion was one of the most controversial planning decisions of the last decade, both for its symbolic weight and its long-term implications. Today, councillor Theresa Kavanagh has re-opened the debate, proposing that Tewin be stripped from Ottawa’s Official Plan. Her efforts highlight the difficult choices cities face between growth, climate goals, and Indigenous reconciliation.

The Promise of Tewin
Supporters of Tewin present it as a once-in-a-generation opportunity. For the Algonquins of Ontario, the project represents an unprecedented role in shaping Ottawa’s future. After centuries of dispossession, Tewin offers not only revenue streams and jobs but also visibility in the city’s urban fabric. This symbolic dimension, land not merely ceded or lost, but built upon in partnership, is difficult to dismiss.

Developers and some councillors also argue that Ottawa must accommodate population growth. With Canada’s immigration targets rising, pressure on housing supply is intense. Tewin promises tens of thousands of new homes, potentially designed with modern sustainability standards. Proponents emphasize that large master-planned communities can integrate parks, schools, and infrastructure in ways that piecemeal infill cannot. In this vision, Tewin is not sprawl, but a carefully designed city-within-a-city.

The Cost of Sprawl
Yet the critiques are no less powerful. City staff initially ranked the Tewin lands poorly during their 2020 evaluations, citing soil unsuitability, distance from infrastructure, and limited transit access. Servicing the site: extending water, sewers, and roads will cost nearly $600 million, much of it beyond the city’s 2046 planning horizon. These are funds that could otherwise reinforce existing communities, transit networks, and climate-resilient infrastructure.

Urban sprawl carries environmental and social costs. Tewin sits far from rail lines and job centres, ensuring that most residents will be dependent on cars. This contradicts Ottawa’s stated climate action commitments, which emphasize compact growth and reduced vehicle emissions. Critics also note that adding a massive suburb undermines efforts to intensify existing neighbourhoods, where transit and services are already in place.

Indigenous Voices, Indigenous Divisions
The Indigenous dimension of Tewin complicates the debate. On the one hand, the Algonquins of Ontario have secured a rare position as development partners, advancing reconciliation through economic participation. On the other hand, not all Algonquin communities recognize AOO’s legitimacy, and some argue that consultation has been narrow and exclusionary. The project thus embodies both progress and tension in the city’s relationship with Indigenous peoples. To reject Tewin outright risks appearing to dismiss Indigenous economic aspirations; to proceed with it risks deepening divisions and ignoring long-standing calls for more inclusive engagement.

A City at the Crossroads
Councillor Kavanagh’s push to remove Tewin from the Official Plan is more than a single motion. It reopens a philosophical question: what kind of city does Ottawa wish to become? If it seeks to embody climate leadership, resilient infrastructure, and walkable communities, Tewin appears to be a step backward. If it seeks to honour Indigenous partnership and ensure abundant housing supply, the project has undeniable appeal.

Ultimately, Tewin forces Ottawa to confront a contradiction at the heart of Canadian urbanism. We are a country that has promised climate action, but remains tethered to car-dependent suburbs. We are a nation that aspires to reconciliation, but often struggles to reconcile competing Indigenous voices. To move forward, Ottawa must do more than weigh costs and benefits; it must articulate a vision of growth that is both just and sustainable.

In this sense, Tewin is not merely a development proposal. It is a mirror held up to the city itself, reflecting both its aspirations and its unfinished work.

Sources:
• CTV News Ottawa. “Tewin development project passes latest hurdle but some say it still doesn’t belong.” August 2024. Link
• Ontario Construction News. “Ottawa councillor sparks renewed debate over controversial Tewin development.” April 2025. Link
• CTV News Ottawa. “Councillor withdraws motion to remove 15,000-home development from Ottawa’s Official Plan until after byelection.” April 2025. Link
• Horizon Ottawa. “Stop the Tewin Development.” Accessed October 2025. Link

Food Security Requires a Canadian Grocery Fairness Act to Break the Supermarket Cartel

Food prices in Canada are now so high that a growing share of households are skipping meals or relying on food banks, yet the country’s dominant grocery chains continue to post record profits. It’s an economic contradiction that Canadians are no longer willing to ignore. After years of voluntary codes, polite meetings with industry leaders, and vague promises of self-regulation, the time has come for Parliament to act. Canada needs a Grocery Fairness and Anti-Cartel Act to restore competition, transparency, and trust in the food supply.

The data are damning. Between 2019 and 2024, grocery prices rose by more than 25 percent, outpacing both wages and overall inflation. Meanwhile, profit margins at the country’s three dominant players, Loblaw, Sobeys’ parent company Empire, and Metro, reached their highest levels in decades. These three corporations control nearly 60 percent of the national grocery market and, in some provinces, more than 75 percent. Despite the removal of gas taxes and a slowdown in supply chain costs, prices have not come down. The explanation is simple: the grocery sector operates as a de facto cartel.

Canadians have seen evidence of this before. In 2018, a major bread price-fixing scandal revealed collusion among suppliers and retailers that spanned more than a decade. The Competition Bureau’s investigation led to fines and admissions of wrongdoing, but no lasting structural change. The same corporate families and alliances continue to dominate shelf space, dictate supplier terms, and shape consumer prices. Voluntary codes have done little to curb their power. When a handful of companies can quietly move in lockstep on pricing, even without explicit collusion, the outcome is the same: higher costs for everyone else.

A Grocery Fairness Act would not be radical. It would simply align Canada with the kind of market safeguards that already exist in other developed economies. The United Kingdom established a Groceries Code Adjudicator in 2013 to oversee fair dealing between supermarkets and suppliers. The European Union enforces strict competition rules that prevent excessive market dominance and punish “tacit collusion.” Canada, by contrast, still relies on a Competition Act designed for a different era, one that assumes the threat to markets comes from explicit conspiracies rather than structural concentration.

The model law proposed by several economists and policy experts would impose a national market-share limit of 15 percent per grocery chain, and 25 percent in any province. Companies that exceed those thresholds would be required to divest stores or brands until the market is more balanced. It would also make the existing Grocery Code of Conduct legally binding rather than voluntary, ensuring that farmers and small suppliers are protected from arbitrary fees, delisting threats, and other coercive practices.

Most importantly, the law would require large grocers to publish detailed pricing and profit data by category, showing whether retail increases are justified by rising costs. If a chain’s margins expand while input costs stay flat, the public deserves to know. Transparency alone would discourage the kind of quiet, parallel pricing behaviour that has become the norm.

Critics will call this “interference in the market,” but the truth is that Canada no longer has a functioning grocery market in the classical sense. When three firms dominate distribution, logistics, and supply contracts, the market’s self-correcting mechanisms are broken. Economists call it “oligopolistic coordination”; ordinary Canadians call it being gouged at the checkout.

Breaking up concentration would also open the door to regional cooperatives, independent grocers, and Indigenous food enterprises that have been squeezed out of distribution networks. Local ownership builds resilience, especially in rural and northern communities where dependence on a single chain often leads to higher costs and poorer food access.

There is also a broader principle at stake: when corporations profit from a basic human necessity, government has a duty to ensure that profit is earned through efficiency, not exploitation. If the banking sector can be regulated for systemic risk and telecommunications companies for fair access, surely food, the most essential of goods, deserves the same scrutiny.

Canada’s political establishment has been slow to move. The federal government has encouraged the large chains to sign a voluntary code, but participation remains partial and unenforced. Provinces have little power to act independently. The result is a cycle of press releases, hearings, and photo opportunities, while the price of a loaf of bread continues to climb.

A Grocery Fairness and Anti-Cartel Act would mark a decisive shift. It would give the Competition Bureau real structural tools rather than case-by-case investigations. It would make transparency mandatory and collusion punishable by substantial fines or even criminal liability for executives. Most importantly, it would restore the principle that essential markets exist to serve citizens, not to enrich monopolies.

Canada prides itself on fairness. Yet fairness in the grocery aisle has become an illusion. If Parliament wants to restore public confidence and make life affordable again, it should begin not with subsidies or rebates, but with the courage to challenge the corporate concentration that underlies the problem. The country needs a real grocery market, competitive, transparent, and accountable. Anything less is a betrayal of every Canadian who still believes that food should be priced by cost, not by cartel.

Sources:
Statistics Canada, Consumer Price Index data 2019–2024;
Competition Bureau of Canada, Bread Price-Fixing Investigation Report (2018);
Office for National Statistics (UK), Groceries Code Adjudicator Review 2023;
European Commission, Competition Regulation 1/2003.

A Transatlantic Lens: Exploring the Biggest Differences Between Europe and North America

The feedback I have been getting is that readers have been enjoying my serialised essays exploring subject matter to greater depth. This series of posts is for my friends on both sides of the Atlantic who love to debate this topic, often over European old growth wine and Alberta beef steaks.

Living in North America since the early 1990s as a European, I’m constantly struck by the quirks, surprises, and sometimes baffling differences between the continents. Over the next few weeks, I’ll explore ten key contrasts: spanning work, cities, food, and politics, and share what these differences mean in everyday life.

The Ten Differences

1. Social Safety Nets

In Europe, healthcare, pensions, and social support are expected parts of life. In North America, it’s more “your responsibility,” with benefits often tied to your job. It’s a mindset shift—comfort versus risk, security versus self-reliance, and it shapes so much of daily life.

2. Urban Planning and Transport

European cities invite walking, biking, and public transit. North American life often demands a car for everything. That difference affects how people socialize, shop, and spend their days. Suddenly, running errands isn’t quick, it’s a logistical decision.

3. Work-Life Balance

Europeans enjoy generous vacations and shorter workweeks. North Americans often work longer hours with less guaranteed downtime. Life here can feel like a constant race, while in Europe, there’s a stronger sense of living, not just working.

4. Cultural Formality and Etiquette

Europeans prize subtlety, traditions, and social cues. North Americans are casual, direct, and friendly—but sometimes painfully blunt. Adjusting between the two takes awareness: what feels warm here might feel sloppy there, and what feels polite there can seem distant here.

5. Business Practices

European companies lean toward consensus, careful planning, and stability. North American firms move fast, take risks, and chase growth. The difference shows up in meetings, negotiations, and career paths; you quickly learn when to push and when to wait.

6. Education Systems

Europe often offers low-cost or free higher education and emphasizes broad learning. North America favors expensive, specialized programs. The gap affects opportunities, student debt, and the way people approach learning for life versus learning for a career.

7. Food Culture

In Europe, meals are rituals – slow, social, and seasonal. Here, convenience and speed often rule, and portions are huge. That doesn’t just shape diets; it changes how people connect over meals and how they experience daily life.

8. Political Culture

European politics embrace multiple parties, coalitions, and compromise. North America leans on two parties and polarized debates. This difference affects trust, civic engagement, and how people view the government’s role in society.

9. History and Architecture

Europeans live among centuries of history in their streets, buildings, and laws. North America feels newer, faster, and more forward-looking. The environment subtly teaches what matters: continuity versus reinvention, roots versus growth.

10. Attitudes Toward Environment

Europe integrates sustainability into daily life: cycling, recycling, and urban planning. North American approaches vary, often prioritizing convenience or growth over ecology. Cultural attitudes toward responsibility shape everything from transportation to policy priorities.

These ten contrasts are just a glimpse of life across the Atlantic. In the weeks ahead, I’ll dive deeper into each, sharing stories, observations, and reflections. The goal isn’t just comparison, it’s understanding how culture shapes choices, habits, and even identity. Stay tuned for the journey.

Canada and Mexico Forge Strategic Partnership: Implications for North America

On September 18, 2025, Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney and Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum signed a comprehensive strategic partnership in Mexico City. This agreement, covering 2025–2028, aims to deepen economic, security, and environmental collaboration between Canada and Mexico, explicitly anticipating the 2026 review of the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement (USMCA). While the immediate bilateral effects are evident, the agreement also carries broader implications for the three major North American economies: Canada, Mexico, and the United States.

Scope and Focus of the Agreement
At its core, the agreement establishes a four-year bilateral action plan encompassing four pillars: prosperity, mobility and social inclusion, security, and environmental sustainability. Economically, it focuses on expanding trade and investment in infrastructure, energy, agriculture, and health, while jointly developing critical infrastructure such as ports, rail links, and energy corridors. In security, it aims to strengthen border control and combat transnational crime. The environmental and sustainability component is particularly notable, signaling both countries’ intent to collaborate on climate mitigation and resource management.

Strategic Context
The timing of this agreement is significant. Earlier in 2025, both Canada and Mexico faced tariffs and trade frictions with the United States, creating a strategic impetus to solidify bilateral cooperation. This partnership may serve as a hedge against future unilateral U.S. trade measures and positions both nations more strongly for upcoming negotiations surrounding the USMCA review in 2026. By consolidating economic, security, and environmental frameworks bilaterally, Canada and Mexico signal that they can act decisively and collaboratively independent of U.S. alignment, while still committing to trilateral engagement.

Implications for Canada
For Canada, the agreement represents a proactive diversification of trade and investment partnerships within North America. Beyond the U.S., Mexico is an increasingly significant market for Canadian goods and services, particularly in energy and infrastructure. By reinforcing bilateral economic ties, Canada gains leverage in upcoming USMCA discussions and reduces its vulnerability to unilateral U.S. trade policy shifts. Moreover, collaboration on climate and sustainability initiatives positions Canada as a leader in cross-border environmental governance, complementing its domestic commitments.

Implications for Mexico
For Mexico, the agreement strengthens its economic and geopolitical options. Mexico has historically balanced trade and diplomatic relationships with the United States while seeking alternative partners. Formalizing a strategic partnership with Canada enhances Mexico’s negotiating position with the U.S., particularly as the USMCA review approaches. Joint infrastructure projects and investment commitments also promise to accelerate Mexico’s industrial and energy development, potentially boosting domestic employment and technology transfer.

Implications for the United States
For the United States, the Canada-Mexico agreement presents both opportunities and challenges. On one hand, stronger integration between Canada and Mexico may facilitate smoother trilateral cooperation, reducing friction in cross-border commerce and security. On the other hand, it could limit U.S. leverage in bilateral negotiations with either country if Canada and Mexico present unified positions during the USMCA review. The U.S. may need to consider the strategic consequences of any unilateral trade actions in light of this growing North American solidarity.

The Canada-Mexico strategic partnership represents a calculated, forward-looking approach to regional stability and prosperity. While the agreement strengthens bilateral ties, it also reshapes the dynamics of North American relations, providing both Canada and Mexico with enhanced economic and strategic agency. For the United States, it signals a more integrated northern and southern neighbor bloc, emphasizing the importance of collaborative rather than confrontational engagement. As the 2026 USMCA review approaches, all three nations will likely navigate a more complex and interdependent landscape, where trilateral cooperation becomes not only beneficial but essential.

Sources:
• Reuters. Canada and Mexico committed to shared partnership with US, Carney says. September 18, 2025. link
• Politico. Mexico and Canada make nice ahead of high-stakes trade talks. September 18, 2025. link
• Global News. Carney, Sheinbaum sign strategic partnership to boost trade, security, environment. September 18, 2025. link

Elbows Up: How Canada’s Cooling Ties With America Expose U.S. Insecurity

With Canadian travel, spending, and goodwill toward the United States in steep decline, Washington’s defensive tone reveals a superpower under pressure and struggling to cope.

In recent months, the cross-border relationship between Canada and the United States has come under an unusual strain. What was once seen as one of the closest, most dependable partnerships in the world is now marked by tensions over trade, culture, and public perception. Data shows Canadians are spending less on American goods, traveling less often to the U.S., and expressing rising skepticism about their southern neighbor. Against this backdrop, the American response has been marked not by calm confidence, but by a defensive edge: an insecurity that suggests Washington is feeling the pressure and coping badly.

The tone was set when U.S. Ambassador Pete Hoekstra accused Canadians of harboring an “elbows up” attitude toward his country. Speaking to reporters, Hoekstra complained that Canadian leaders and the media were fanning what he called “anti-American sentiment” and warned against framing ongoing trade disputes as a “war.” His words revealed just how sensitive U.S. officials have become about Canada’s growing assertiveness. Where past American diplomats might have dismissed Canadian criticism as the grumblings of a junior partner, Hoekstra’s defensive language betrayed a sense of vulnerability.

If the rhetoric sounded strained, the economic numbers were even more alarming for Washington. Canadian travel to the United States, long a reliable driver of border-state economies, has fallen sharply. According to industry data, cross-border car trips by Canadians dropped by more than a third year-over-year in August 2025, with similar declines in road travel overall. Air bookings are also down, as Canadians increasingly avoid American destinations. Analysts warn that even a 10 percent fall in Canadian travel represents a loss of over US$2 billion in U.S. tourism spending, affecting thousands of jobs in hotels, restaurants, and retail along the border.

Nor is the pullback limited to tourism. Surveys indicate Canadians are choosing to buy fewer American goods, opting instead for domestic or third-country alternatives whenever possible. Retailers and importers report declining sales of U.S. products in sectors ranging from consumer electronics to clothing. The “buy Canadian” mood, once a marginal theme, has gone mainstream. These choices, multiplied across millions of households, amount to a quiet but powerful act of economic resistance, one that chips away at America’s largest export market.

For the United States, the twin shocks of declining Canadian tourism and shrinking demand for U.S. goods are more than economic nuisances. They strike at the heart of America’s self-image as Canada’s indispensable partner. When Canadians spend less, travel less, and look elsewhere for their needs, it signals a cultural cooling that U.S. officials have little experience confronting. Historically, American policymakers could take for granted that Canadians would continue to flow across the border for shopping trips, vacations, or work, while Canadian governments would swallow irritants in the name of preserving harmony. That assumption no longer holds.

The American response, however, has been reactive rather than reflective. Instead of acknowledging Canadian frustrations, whether over tariffs, trade disputes, or political rhetoric, U.S. officials have scolded Ottawa for being too combative. By objecting to the term “trade war,” by lecturing Canadians about their “attitude,” Washington has reinforced the perception that it neither understands nor respects Canada’s grievances. The tone has become one of deflection: the problem, U.S. diplomats suggest, is not American policy, but Canadian sensitivity.

This defensiveness has left Washington exposed. It reveals that, beneath the rhetoric of confidence, U.S. officials recognize that Canada’s resistance carries real consequences. With fewer Canadians traveling south, U.S. border states lose billions in revenue. With Canadian households buying less from U.S. suppliers, American exporters face measurable losses. And with Canadian leaders willing to frame disputes in sharp terms, U.S. diplomats find themselves on the back foot, struggling to preserve an image of partnership.

For Canada, this shift represents a moment of self-assertion. By spending less in the U.S. and leaning into domestic pride, Canadians are signaling that friendship with America cannot be assumed, it must be earned and respected. For the United States, it represents an uncomfortable reality: even its closest ally is no longer willing to automatically defer.

In the end, the story is less about Canadian hostility than about American fragility. A confident superpower would shrug off criticism, listen carefully, and adjust course. What we see instead is irritation, defensiveness, and rhetorical overreach. By lashing out at Canada’s “elbows up” attitude, Washington has confirmed what the numbers already show: it is under pressure, it is losing ground, and it is coping badly.

When 10 Meters Isn’t Enough: Understanding AlphaEarth’s Limits in Operational Contexts

In the operational world, data is only as valuable as the decisions it enables, and as timely as the missions it supports. I’ve worked with geospatial intelligence in contexts where every meter mattered and every day lost could change the outcome. AlphaEarth Foundations is not the sensor that will tell you which vehicle just pulled into a compound or how a flood has shifted in the last 48 hours, but it may be the tool that tells you exactly where to point the sensors that can. That distinction is everything in operational geomatics.

With the public release of AlphaEarth Foundations, Google DeepMind has placed a new analytical tool into the hands of the global geospatial community. It is a compelling mid-tier dataset – broad in coverage, high in thematic accuracy, and computationally efficient. But in operational contexts, where missions hinge on timelines, revisit rates, and detail down to the meter, knowing exactly where AlphaEarth fits, and where it does not, is essential.

Operationally, AlphaEarth is best understood as a strategic reconnaissance layer. Its 10 m spatial resolution makes it ideal for detecting patterns and changes at the meso‑scale: agricultural zones, industrial developments, forest stands, large infrastructure footprints, and broad hydrological changes. It can rapidly scan an area of operations for emerging anomalies and guide where scarce high‑resolution collection assets should be deployed. In intelligence terms, it functions like a wide-area search radar, identifying sectors of interest, but not resolving the individual objects within them.

The strengths are clear. In broad-area environmental monitoring, AlphaEarth can reveal where deforestation is expanding most rapidly or where wetlands are shrinking. In agricultural intelligence, it can detect shifts in cultivation boundaries, large-scale irrigation projects, or conversion of rangeland to cropland. In infrastructure analysis, it can track new highway corridors, airport expansions, or urban sprawl. Because it operates from annual composites, these changes can be measured consistently year-over-year, providing reliable trend data for long-term planning and resource allocation.

In the humanitarian and disaster-response arena, AlphaEarth offers a quick way to establish pre‑event baselines. When a cyclone strikes, analysts can compare the latest annual composite to prior years to understand how the landscape has evolved, information that can guide relief planning and longer‑term resilience efforts. In climate-change adaptation, it can help identify landscapes under stress, informing where to target mitigation measures.

But operational users quickly run into resolution‑driven limitations. At 10 m GSD, AlphaEarth cannot identify individual vehicles, small boats, rooftop solar installations, or artisanal mining pits. Narrow features – rural roads, irrigation ditches, hedgerows – disappear into the generalised pixel. In urban ISR (urban Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance), this makes it impossible to monitor fine‑scale changes like new rooftop construction, encroachment on vacant lots, or the addition of temporary structures. For these tasks, commercial very high resolution (VHR) satellites, crewed aerial imagery, or drones are mandatory.

Another constraint is temporal granularity. The public AlphaEarth dataset is annual. This works well for detecting multi‑year shifts in land cover but is too coarse for short-lived events or rapidly evolving situations. A military deployment lasting two months, a flash‑flood event, or seasonal agricultural practices will not be visible. For operational missions requiring weekly or daily updates, sensors like PlanetScope’s daily 3–5 m imagery or commercial tasking from Maxar’s WorldView fleet are essential.

There is also the mixed‑pixel effect, particularly problematic in heterogeneous environments. Each embedding is a statistical blend of everything inside that 100 m² tile. In a peri‑urban setting, a pixel might include rooftops, vegetation, and bare soil. The dominant surface type will bias the model’s classification, potentially misrepresenting reality in high‑entropy zones. This limits AlphaEarth’s utility for precise land‑use delineation in complex landscapes.

In operational geospatial workflows, AlphaEarth is therefore most effective as a triage tool. Analysts can ingest AlphaEarth embeddings into their GIS or mission‑planning system to highlight AOIs where significant year‑on‑year change is likely. These areas can then be queued for tasking with higher‑resolution, higher‑frequency assets. In resource-constrained environments, this can dramatically reduce unnecessary collection, storage, and analysis – focusing effort where it matters most.

A second valuable operational role is in baseline mapping. AlphaEarth can provide the reference layer against which other sources are compared. For instance, a national agriculture ministry might use AlphaEarth to maintain a rolling national crop‑type map, then overlay drone or VHR imagery for detailed inspections in priority regions. Intelligence analysts might use it to maintain a macro‑level picture of land‑cover change across an entire theatre, ensuring no sector is overlooked.

It’s important to stress that AlphaEarth is not a targeting tool in the military sense. It does not replace synthetic aperture radar for all-weather monitoring, nor does it substitute for daily revisit constellations in time-sensitive missions. It cannot replace the interpretive clarity of high‑resolution optical imagery for damage assessment, facility monitoring, or urban mapping. Its strength lies in scope, consistency, and analytical efficiency – not in tactical precision.

The most successful operational use cases will integrate AlphaEarth into a tiered collection strategy. At the top tier, high‑resolution sensors deliver tactical detail. At the mid‑tier, AlphaEarth covers the wide‑area search and pattern detection mission. At the base, raw satellite archives remain available for custom analyses when needed. This layered approach ensures that each sensor type is used where it is strongest, and AlphaEarth becomes the connective tissue between broad‑area awareness and fine‑scale intelligence.

Ultimately, AlphaEarth’s operational value comes down to how it’s positioned in the workflow. Used to guide, prioritize, and contextualize other intelligence sources, it can save time, reduce costs, and expand analytical reach. Used as a standalone decision tool in missions that demand high spatial or temporal resolution, it will disappoint. But as a mid‑tier, strategic reconnaissance layer, it offers an elegant solution to a long-standing operational challenge: how to maintain global awareness without drowning in raw data.

For geomatics professionals, especially those in the intelligence and commercial mapping sectors, AlphaEarth is less a silver bullet than a force multiplier. It can’t tell you everything, but it can tell you where to look, and in operational contexts, knowing where to look is often the difference between success and failure.

Feeding Ourselves Together: Why Community Co‑op Food Stores Belong in a Barrier-Free Canada

I have written before about why we need to see cooperative food stores in communities across Canada. With the recent reduction or removal of trade barriers, now is the time to make this happen.  

Across Canada, there is a growing hunger – not only for better food, but for better ways of feeding our communities. The conventional supermarket model, dominated by multinational chains and long supply chains, has left many rural and urban neighbourhoods underserved, overpriced, or entirely cut off from fresh, affordable produce. In this landscape, community-based food cooperatives offer a compelling alternative. They prioritize local sourcing, democratic ownership, and keeping profits within the community. With momentum building to eliminate interprovincial trade barriers in Canada, the conditions are finally aligning to help co‑ops move from niche to necessary.

Historically, Canada’s internal trade system has been surprisingly fragmented. Despite a national economy and federal structure, provinces have operated with distinct sets of rules on everything from food labeling to trucking routes. These non-tariff barriers have acted like an invisible tax on internal trade – estimated by economists to be equivalent to a 21 percent tariff. The consequences have been far-reaching: regional producers face steep compliance costs just to sell across a provincial border; small grocers and co‑ops encounter shipping delays and complex regulations; and ultimately, consumers pay more at the till, with one estimate suggesting Canadians lose up to $200 to $250 per year on food costs due to internal barriers.

This disjointed regulatory landscape has been particularly tough on community co‑ops, which often rely on smaller suppliers who can’t afford to navigate provincial red tape. A co‑op in Saskatchewan wanting to feature artisanal Quebec cheese, or a Northern Ontario store hoping to offer Nova Scotia apples, may find themselves tangled in transportation rules, inspection standards, or product packaging requirements that vary from one province to the next. For organizations founded on values of local empowerment and food access, these barriers have long undermined their ability to operate efficiently and expand.

But change is in the air. A concerted effort, led by federal and provincial governments in response to longstanding calls from economists, producers, and consumers, is finally dismantling these internal walls. The Canadian Free Trade Agreement (CFTA), adopted in 2017, was a foundational shift. It moved from a restrictive “positive list” approach, where only specified goods could cross provincial lines freely, to a “negative list,” where everything is presumed tradeable unless specifically excluded. Further momentum arrived in 2025 with the introduction of the One Canadian Economy Act, which enshrined mutual recognition of many provincial regulations and expanded labour mobility agreements. Recent cooperation between provinces like Alberta, British Columbia, and Nova Scotia has also smoothed trade in alcohol and agri-food products, and Ontario is now joining these efforts.

For food co‑ops, these developments are transformative. Reduced regulatory duplication and harmonized standards mean a broader, more diverse pool of suppliers is accessible. A co‑op in Winnipeg can now stock free-range eggs from a Manitoba farm alongside preserves from Prince Edward Island without needing a legal team to ensure compliance. With fewer restrictions on trucking and packaging, costs are lowered and logistics are simplified. This makes it more feasible for new co‑ops to start up, for existing ones to expand, and for regional partnerships to flourish.

Communities stand to gain tremendously from this shift. Food cooperatives can now tap into a more diverse national supply while staying true to their commitment to local and sustainable sources. Access to different growing zones and seasonal products across the country helps stabilize supply, especially for regions prone to climate disruptions. In Indigenous and Northern communities, where reliable food access remains a challenge, co‑ops empowered by seamless interprovincial trade could offer life-changing improvements.

There is also a broader economic story here. With fewer trade restrictions, small- and medium-sized farms and food businesses gain new markets. Many of these enterprises are community-owned or family-run. Selling into co‑ops in other provinces can help them grow sustainably without abandoning their values. The revenue generated stays local, supporting jobs, infrastructure, and innovation. Over time, this creates a virtuous cycle of local food systems supporting each other across provincial lines – a true pan-Canadian cooperative economy.

The benefits are not only economic. Food co‑ops build social capital. They encourage civic participation, give members a voice in decision-making, and often support education, nutrition, and sustainability initiatives. By breaking down provincial barriers, Canada is not just enabling trade; it is strengthening the social fabric of its communities.

Still, vigilance is needed. Some of the most entrenched barriers, particularly in supply-managed sectors like dairy and poultry, remain in place. Continued advocacy will be necessary to ensure reforms are fully implemented and that smaller players, including co‑ops, are not overlooked in favour of large industrial producers. But the path forward is clearer than it has ever been.

The vision of a Canada where every town and neighbourhood can nourish itself through a thriving, cooperative food economy is no longer idealistic – it is within reach. The removal of internal trade barriers is more than just a policy win; it is a catalyst for community renewal. It allows cooperatives to be what they were always meant to be: rooted in the local, connected across regions, and working together to feed a stronger, fairer nation.

Sources:
Retail Insider (2025). “Interprovincial Trade Barriers Impact Canada’s Food and Beverage Sector.” https://retail-insider.com/retail-insider/2025/01/interprovincial-trade-barriers-impact-canadas-food-and-beverage-sector
Canada Regulatory Review (2025). “The Impact of Lower Interprovincial Trade Barriers on Canada’s Agriculture and Agri-Food Sector.” https://www.canadaregulatoryreview.com/the-impact-of-lower-interprovincial-trade-barriers-on-canadas-agriculture-and-agri-food-sector
Financial Times (2024). “Internal Canadian Trade Costs More Than You Think.” https://www.ft.com/content/90d68648-1905-48f9-906c-301ff047ca56
Canadian Grocer (2025). “Breaking Down Interprovincial Trade Barriers: What’s at Stake for the Food Sector?” https://canadiangrocer.com/breaking-down-interprovincial-trade-barriers-whats-it-food-sector
Reuters (2025). “Carney Says Canada Aims to Have Free Internal Trade by July 1.” https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/carney-says-canada-aims-have-free-internal-trade-by-july-1-amid-us-tariffs-2025-03-21/

AlphaEarth Foundations as a Strategic Asset in Global Geospatial Intelligence

Over the course of my career in geomatics, I’ve watched technology push our field forward in leaps – from hand‑drawn topographic overlays to satellite constellations capable of imaging every corner of the globe daily. Now we stand at the edge of another shift. Google DeepMind’s AlphaEarth Foundations promises a new way to handle the scale and complexity of Earth observation, not by giving us another stack of imagery, but by distilling it into something faster, leaner, and more accessible. For those of us who have spent decades wrangling raw pixels into usable insight, this is a development worth pausing to consider.

This year’s release of AlphaEarth Foundations marks a major milestone in global-scale geospatial analytics. Developed by Google DeepMind, the model combines multi-source Earth observation data into a 64‑dimensional embedding for every 10 m × 10 m square of the planet’s land surface. It integrates optical and radar imagery, digital elevation models, canopy height, climate reanalyses, gravity data, and even textual metadata into a single, analysis‑ready dataset covering 2017–2024. The result is a tool that allows researchers and decision‑makers to map, classify, and detect change at continental and global scales without building heavy, bespoke image‑processing pipelines.

The strategic value proposition of AlphaEarth rests on three pillars: speed, accuracy, and accessibility. Benchmarking against comparable embedding models shows about a 23–24% boost in classification accuracy. This comes alongside a claimed 16× improvement in processing efficiency – meaning tasks that once consumed days of compute can now be completed in hours. And because the dataset is hosted directly in Google Earth Engine, it inherits an established ecosystem of workflows, tutorials, and a user community that already spans NGOs, research institutions, and government agencies worldwide.

From a geomatics strategy perspective, this efficiency translates directly into reach. Environmental monitoring agencies can scan entire nations for deforestation or urban growth without spending weeks on cloud masking, seasonal compositing, and spectral index calculation. Humanitarian organizations can identify potential disaster‑impact areas without maintaining their own raw‑imagery archives. Climate researchers can explore multi‑year trends in vegetation cover, wetland extent, or snowpack with minimal setup time. It is a classic case of lowering the entry barrier for high‑quality spatial analysis.

But the real strategic leverage comes from integration into broader workflows. AlphaEarth is not a replacement for fine‑resolution imagery, nor is it meant to be. It is a mid‑tier, broad‑area situational awareness layer. At the bottom of the stack, Sentinel‑2, Landsat, and radar missions continue to provide open, raw data for those who need pixel‑level spectral control. At the top, commercial sub‑meter satellites and airborne surveys still dominate tactical decision‑making where object‑level identification matters. AlphaEarth occupies the middle: fast enough to be deployed often, accurate enough for policy‑relevant mapping, and broad enough to be applied globally.

This middle layer is critical in national‑scale and thematic mapping. It enables ministries to maintain current, consistent land‑cover datasets without the complexity of traditional workflows. For large conservation projects, it provides a harmonized baseline for ecosystem classification, habitat connectivity modelling, and impact assessment. In climate‑change adaptation planning, AlphaEarth offers the temporal depth to see where change is accelerating and where interventions are most urgent.

The public release is also a democratizing force. By making the embeddings openly available in Earth Engine, Google has effectively provided a shared global resource that is as accessible to a planner in Nairobi as to a GIS analyst in Ottawa. In principle, this levels the playing field between well‑funded national programs and under‑resourced local agencies. The caveat is that this accessibility depends entirely on Google’s continued support for the dataset. In mission‑critical domains, no analyst will rely solely on a corporate‑hosted service; independent capability remains essential.

Strategically, AlphaEarth’s strength is in guidance and prioritization. In intelligence contexts, it is the layer that tells you where to look harder — not the layer that gives you the final answer. In resource management, it tells you where land‑cover change is accelerating, not exactly what is happening on the ground. This distinction matters. For decision‑makers, AlphaEarth can dramatically shorten the cycle between question and insight. For field teams, it can focus scarce collection assets where they will have the greatest impact.

It also has an important capacity‑building role. By exposing more users to embedding‑based analysis in a familiar platform, it will accelerate the adoption of machine‑learning approaches in geospatial work. Analysts who start with AlphaEarth will be better prepared to work with other learned representations, multimodal fusion models, and even custom‑trained embeddings tailored to specific regions or domains.

The limitations – 10 m spatial resolution, annual temporal resolution, and opaque high‑dimensional features – are real, but they are also predictable. Any experienced geomatics professional will know where the model’s utility ends and when to switch to finer‑resolution or more temporally agile sources. In practice, the constraints make AlphaEarth a poor choice for parcel‑level cadastral mapping, tactical ISR targeting, or rapid disaster damage assessment. But they do not diminish its value in continental‑scale environmental intelligence, thematic mapping, or strategic planning.

In short, AlphaEarth Foundations fills a previously awkward space in the geospatial data hierarchy. It’s broad, fast, accurate, and globally consistent, but not fine enough for micro‑scale decisions. Its strategic role is as an accelerator: turning complex, multi‑source data into actionable regional or national insights with minimal effort. For national mapping agencies, conservation groups, humanitarian planners, and climate analysts, it represents a genuine step change in how quickly and broadly we can see the world.