America’s Orbital Firewall: Starlink, Starshield, and the Quiet Struggle for Internet Control

This is the fourth in a series of posts discussing U.S. military strategic overreach. 

In recent years, the United States has been quietly consolidating a new form of power, not through bases or bullets, but through satellites and bandwidth. The global promotion of Starlink, Elon Musk’s satellite internet system, by US embassies, and the parallel development of Starshield, a defense-focused communications platform, signals a strategic shift; the internet’s future may be American, orbital, and increasingly militarized. Far from a neutral technology, this network could serve as a vehicle for U.S. influence over not just internet access, but the very flow of global information.

Starlink’s stated goal is noble: provide high-speed internet to remote and underserved regions. In practice, however, the system is becoming a critical instrument of U.S. foreign policy. From Ukraine, where it has kept communications running amidst Russian attacks, to developing nations offered discounted or subsidized service via embassy connections, Starlink has been embraced not simply as an infrastructure solution, but as a tool of soft, and sometimes hard, power. This adoption often comes with implicit, if not explicit, alignment with U.S. strategic interests.

At the same time, Starshield, SpaceX’s parallel venture focused on secure, military-grade communications for the Pentagon, offers a glimpse into the future of digitally enabled warfare. With encrypted satellite communications, surveillance integration, and potential cyber-capabilities, Starshield will do for the battlefield what Starlink is doing for the civilian world; create reliance on U.S.-controlled infrastructure. And that reliance translates into leverage.

The implications are profound. As more countries become dependent on American-owned satellite internet systems, the U.S. gains not only the ability to monitor traffic but, more subtly, to control access and shape narratives. The technical architecture of these satellite constellations gives the provider, and by extension, the U.S. government, potential visibility into vast amounts of global data traffic. While public assurances are given about user privacy and neutrality, there are few binding international legal frameworks governing satellite data sovereignty or traffic prioritization.

Moreover, the capacity to shut down, throttle, or privilege certain kinds of data flows could offer new tools of coercion. Imagine a regional conflict where a state dependent on Starlink finds its communications subtly slowed or interrupted unless it aligns with U.S. policy. Or a regime facing domestic protest suddenly discovers that encrypted messaging apps are unusable while government-friendly media loads perfectly. These aren’t science fiction scenarios, they are plausible in a world where one nation owns the sky’s infrastructure.

To be clear, other countries are attempting to catch up. China’s satellite internet megaconstellation, Europe’s IRIS² project, and various regional efforts reflect a growing recognition that information access is the new frontier of sovereignty; but the U.S. currently leads, and its fusion of commercial innovation with military application through companies like SpaceX blurs the line between public and private power in ways few international institutions are prepared to regulate.

The result is a form of orbital hegemony, an American-controlled internet superstructure with global reach and few checks. The world must now grapple with a fundamental question: in surrendering communications infrastructure to the stars, have we handed the keys to global discourse to a single country?

Sources
• U.S. Department of Defense (2023). “DOD and SpaceX Collaborate on Starshield.”
• U.S. State Department (2024). Embassy outreach documents promoting Starlink in developing nations.
• Reuters (2023). “SpaceX’s Starlink critical to Ukraine war effort.”
• European Commission (2023). “Secure Connectivity Initiative: IRIS² Explained.”

Public Consultation or Box-Ticking Exercise? A Critical Look at a Local Battery Storage Project

Last week, I attended a public consultation in my township concerning the proposed development and operation of a battery storage facility. While I support the idea of more distributed energy systems; including local generation, storage, and distribution, I left the session with more concerns than confidence.

The generational divide in the room was striking. The corporate representatives were mostly in their late 20s or early 30s, while the attending community members were primarily in their 50s and 60s. That’s not a critique of age, but it did highlight a gap in understanding and communication. One representative I spoke with didn’t even know the name of our village or the township they were in, and confused our location with the nearest city. That lack of local awareness is troubling.

When it came to questions about employment, the answers were just as vague. There are no local jobs being created by this facility. Pressed on this point, the company conceded that construction would likely be contracted out to a large regional firm. So much for community economic development.

Technically, this consultation was part of the process required to secure project approval. But calling it a “consultation” is generous. In practice, it was an information session for a project that already has funding and, by all appearances, a green light, once the required Environmental Assessment has been completed and approved. Input from residents was neither requested nor meaningfully incorporated. That’s not consultation—that’s optics.

There was discussion of the township gaining a $300,000 gift from the business, yet when this was explored further, it turns out that the gift is over the 20 year projected life of the facility; so by my calculations that’s $15,000/year for a township with an annual budget of around $4.5 million. 

I also learned that the company developing this project, which is ultimately owned by a private corporation through a series of businesses, partnered with a local First Nation to qualify for the contract. On paper, this is a positive step. I strongly support Indigenous involvement in provincial development, but I couldn’t help but ask: beyond a share of the profits, what is the First Nation partner actually gaining from this deal? Meaningful involvement? Job creation? Capacity building? Those questions went largely unanswered.

Many of the company reps struggled to answer even basic questions. When challenged, they became defensive, admitting they were not properly briefed or that statements about local benefits were merely “possibilities.” That kind of unpreparedness doesn’t inspire public trust.

Let me be clear: I’m not opposed to the project itself. I believe in the need for renewable energy infrastructure, and support the transition to a more decentralized grid. I have no “Not In My Backyard” objections here. My issue is with the process, and with the privatization of what should be a public utility. This kind of infrastructure should be owned and operated by the province for the benefit of its citizens, not by private firms whose primary accountability is to shareholders.

If this is the future of our energy system, we need a better framework, one rooted in public ownership, transparent processes, and genuine community engagement.

Starline Rising: Europe’s Bold Bid for a Unified Rail Future

The proposed European Starline network is one of the most ambitious public transit visions in recent memory, something akin to a “metro for Europe.” Spearheaded by the Copenhagen-based think tank 21st Europe, Starline aims to stitch together the continent with a seamless, high-speed rail system connecting 39 major cities from Lisbon to Kyiv and from Naples to Helsinki. This isn’t just about faster travel; it’s about redefining the European journey altogether, and it’s rooted in a bold reimagining of what pan-European mobility can look like by 2040.

At the heart of the proposal is a network spanning some 22,000 kilometers, linking major hubs across western, central, eastern, and southeastern Europe. It would include lines reaching into the UK, Turkey, and Ukraine, signaling an inclusive and forward-looking approach that consciously resists narrow political borders. The idea is to create a truly integrated space where high-speed train travel is the norm, not the exception, where rail becomes the obvious choice over short-haul flights and intercity car travel.

Unlike fragmented current systems with varying standards and operating procedures, Starline envisions a unified travel experience. All trains would operate at speeds between 300 and 400 km/h, offering significant reductions in travel time and presenting a credible challenge to regional air traffic. The service concept is refreshingly egalitarian, with no first-class carriages, a commitment to accessibility, and a shared passenger experience across the board. Trains will include quiet zones, family-friendly areas, and social lounges, and even the design language, the distinctive deep blue exterior, is meant to invoke a sense of unity and calm.

Sustainability is not an afterthought here; it’s central. The project is committed to using 100% renewable energy, aligning with Europe’s broader decarbonization goals. This kind of modal shift, enticing millions of travelers out of planes and cars and into sleek, silent electric trains, could be transformative in reducing carbon emissions across the continent. It positions Starline not only as a transportation solution, but as a climate policy instrument, a concrete answer to many of the EU’s lofty green commitments.

The governance model proposed is equally forward-thinking. A new European Railway Authority would oversee everything from scheduling and ticketing to safety and security standards, providing a single-point authority for what is now a patchwork of national rail operators. The financing model would rely on a blend of public investment and private-sector partnerships, a necessity for infrastructure of this scale and ambition.

To be clear, Starline is still a proposal. The target date for launch is 2040, and the path to realization is strewn with political, technical, and financial hurdles, but as a vision, it is breathtaking. It offers not just improved travel times, but a new way of thinking about European identity and connectivity. For public transportation advocates, it’s a blueprint worth championing, and watching closely.

The Desert Reactor That Could Power the Future

I’ve spent decades watching promising nuclear technologies come and go; from breeder reactors to pebble beds to compact fusion dreams. Most end up in the “what might have been” pile, but something different is stirring in the Gobi Desert, and for once, the promise feels within reach. China’s recent success with a small thorium-fueled molten salt reactor (MSR) might just be the beginning of the nuclear renaissance we’ve all been waiting for.

It’s not just that they got the reactor running, that’s impressive in itself. What’s groundbreaking is that China’s researchers, operating under the Chinese Academy of Sciences, didn’t just fire up the experimental two-megawatt reactor. They ran it at full power and, in a world first, reloaded it while it was still running. That kind of feat is only possible with molten salt designs, where the fuel is dissolved in a hot liquid and circulates through the reactor like lifeblood. That fluid nature allows for continuous refueling, which not only boosts efficiency, but also sidesteps many of the safety risks that haunt traditional pressurized water reactors.

Molten salt reactors have long been the “what if” of nuclear design. The U.S. tried this back in the ‘50s at Oak Ridge, looking for ways to power nuclear bombers. But once uranium became the fuel of choice, and the Cold War demanded weapons-grade material, thorium was shelved. China dusted off those old reports (many of which were openly published), studied them carefully, and got to work. Now, they’re ahead of everyone else in a race that could redefine what nuclear power looks like in the 21st century.

And it’s not just about the molten salt. Thorium, the element at the heart of this reactor, is a game-changer. It’s far more abundant than uranium,  about three to four times as common in the Earth’s crust, and it doesn’t carry the same baggage. While uranium reactors inevitably produce plutonium-239 (which can be used for bombs), thorium reactors don’t. In fact, the byproducts of the thorium fuel cycle are notoriously hard to weaponize. It’s nuclear energy with a built-in disarmament clause.

Safety, too, is baked in. Unlike conventional reactors that operate under enormous pressure, molten salt reactors run at atmospheric pressure. There’s no steam explosion risk. If things start overheating, a freeze plug at the base of the reactor melts, draining the fuel into a safe containment tank. The fuel simply stops reacting. This isn’t theory, China’s demonstration shows it works.

We’re talking about a reactor that produces less waste, can’t easily be weaponized, runs more efficiently, and might even be paired with renewables or used to generate clean hydrogen. Add in the fact that thorium is cheap and widely available, and you start to wonder: why didn’t we do this sooner?

The answer, of course, is politics, economics, and inertia, but that may be changing. China’s quiet, but steady march toward thorium MSRs has now captured global attention. If this tiny desert reactor is scaled up, it could provide a path toward carbon-free baseload power, without the nightmares of Fukushima, or the baggage of Cold War proliferation. It’s not just a technological breakthrough. It’s a glimpse of a world powered differently.

And for once, that’s a world I believe we can build.

Sources:
South China Morning Post: “China’s experimental molten salt reactor project achieves major milestone” (https://www.scmp.com/news/china/science/article/3247984)
Nuclear Engineering International: “China achieves online refuelling with MSR” (https://www.neimagazine.com/news/newschina-achieves-online-refuelling-with-msr-11607915)
World Nuclear Association: “Molten Salt Reactors” (https://world-nuclear.org/information-library/current-and-future-generation/molten-salt-reactors.aspx)
Oak Ridge National Laboratory archives on MSR development (https://info.ornl.gov/sites/publications/files/Pub29596.pdf)
National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine: “Thorium Fuel Cycle — Potential Benefits and Risks” (https://nap.nationalacademies.org/catalog/13368/thorium-fuel-cycle-potential-benefits-and-risks)

Ottawa’s Quiet Revolution: The 15-Minute City and the Rise of Local Commerce on Residential Lots

The City of Ottawa is in the midst of a bold, transformative journey; one that’s reshaping how we live, move, and connect. It’s called the “15-minute neighbourhood,” a simple idea with radical potential.  What if everything you need; groceries, a decent cup of coffee, childcare, your barber, a pharmacy, were just a short walk from your front door? No car required. No long bus rides, just a neighbourhood that works for you.

Ottawa’s New Official Plan, approved in 2021, plants the seeds for this future. At its heart is a commitment to building inclusive, sustainable, and healthy communities. The plan explicitly prioritizes 15-minute neighbourhoods across urban areas, and even pushes for better access to local services in suburban and rural villages. That’s right, this isn’t just a downtown pipe dream. This is city-wide policy.

What’s especially exciting is the quiet, determined push to overhaul the zoning rules that have long governed what can (and can’t) exist in our neighbourhoods. The city is in the thick of writing a new Zoning By-law, and the early drafts reveal a big shift. Residents may soon be able to host small-scale businesses on their own properties. Imagine that, a ground-floor bakery under your neighbour’s apartment, a tiny yoga studio two blocks over, a tailor or vintage shop tucked into a backyard laneway suite. This is no longer just theoretical, it’s in the works.

Ottawa planners are calling these new “Neighbourhood Zones,” and they reflect a sea change in how we think about land use. Rather than rigidly separating residential, commercial, and institutional uses, the city is beginning to embrace a more flexible, mixed-use vision; one that makes space for life to happen more organically. And yes, that means you might be able to open that little business you’ve always dreamed of, without needing to rent expensive storefront space on a commercial strip.

It’s not all roses yet. The first draft of the new by-law has been published, and city staff are collecting public feedback. A second draft is expected in spring 2025, with final council approval tentatively set for fall of the same year. Until then, existing zoning remains in place, but if the final version holds true to its promise, we’ll see the biggest zoning reform Ottawa has seen in decades.

Of course, this kind of change raises questions. Will small businesses in residential zones create noise or traffic? How will parking be handled? Will local character be preserved or diluted? These are fair concerns—and ones the city must address carefully. But the potential benefits are enormous: stronger local economies, reduced car dependency, and vibrant, human-scaled communities.

My regular readers will know that I am a supporter of the 15-minute community. I grew up in NE England where nearly everything we needed on a daily basis was within a 15 min walk, and so I am happy to see that for Ottawa this isn’t just a slogan here, it’s becoming real. And if we get this zoning update right, we may just find ourselves living in a more neighbourly, resilient, and walkable city than we ever imagined.

The Ottawa Amalgamation Failure

The amalgamation of the 13 municipalities into the single-tier City of Ottawa in 2001 was touted as a transformative move. It was expected to streamline governance, reduce redundancy, and create financial efficiencies. Promises of improved municipal services and lower taxes were at the forefront of the pitch made by the Harris government in Ontario. However, in practice, the amalgamation has faced widespread criticism for its failure to fulfill these expectations. I worked as a member of a geospatial applications team to support evidence-based decision making during this transition, and it soon became clear that politics rather than data and community requirements was driving the bus. 

Improved Services
One of the primary promises of amalgamation was to standardize and enhance municipal services across all former municipalities. However, this promise has not been fully realized, particularly for rural and suburban areas, which have often felt left behind. Several key issues have been noted:

Prior to amalgamation, smaller municipalities had tailored services suited to their unique needs. Post-amalgamation, rural areas, such as West Carleton and Rideau-Goulbourn, have voiced concerns over reductions in services like road maintenance, snow clearing, and public transit availability. Urban-centric planning has often overshadowed rural priorities. Rather than simplifying governance, the larger bureaucratic structure of the amalgamated city has at times hindered efficient decision-making. Residents have reported delays in service delivery and inefficiencies in resolving local issues.

One of the most visible struggles has been with Ottawa’s public transit system, particularly with the Ottawa Light Rail Transit (LRT) project. This has been plagued by cost overruns, operational challenges, and inadequate service in suburban and rural areas. Residents question whether the amalgamated city’s centralization has exacerbated these issues.

Lower Taxes
Another major promise was the reduction of property taxes due to economies of scale and centralized administration. However, this has not materialized, and in many cases, taxes have increased. Many residents of rural and suburban areas have seen tax hikes without proportional improvements in services. Before amalgamation, smaller municipalities often operated with lower budgets and tax rates tailored to their limited scope. Amalgamation brought uniform tax rates, which disproportionately impacted these regions.

Amalgamation created unforeseen administrative and operational costs. For example, the integration of different IT systems, payroll structures, and service contracts has led to ballooning expenses. These costs have been passed on to residents through higher taxes. The perception that rural residents are subsidizing urban infrastructure projects, such as the LRT, has deepened dissatisfaction. Rural areas often feel they are paying higher taxes for services that primarily benefit the urban core.

Loss of Local Control
Another often-overlooked consequence of amalgamation has been the loss of local decision-making. Smaller municipalities had more control over their budgets, development priorities, and service delivery. Post-amalgamation, these decisions are centralized, often resulting in policies that do not reflect the needs of individual communities. This has alienated many residents and fostered distrust in the amalgamated city’s leadership.

Evaluation and Criticism
Critics argue that amalgamation prioritized financial theories over the realities of local governance. While some benefits of centralization, such as unified planning and a larger economic development strategy, have been achieved, the overall failure to deliver on improved services and lower taxes has undermined public confidence. Amalgamation’s implementation lacked sufficient consultation with residents and did not adequately address the diverse needs of Ottawa’s urban, suburban, and rural communities.

The amalgamation of Ottawa’s 13 municipalities was envisioned as a way to create efficiencies and deliver better services at lower costs. However, the reality has been far more complex, with significant gaps between promises and outcomes. The perceived failure to deliver on these promises has left many residents, particularly in rural and suburban areas, feeling underserved and overtaxed. This has sparked ongoing debates about whether the amalgamation truly benefited the diverse communities it was meant to unite or whether it simply centralized problems under a single, unwieldy structure.

Beyond Alto: The Ripple Effect of High-Speed Rail on Local Transit and Business

The Alto high-speed rail project is poised to do more than just transform intercity travel—it will also act as a catalyst for expanded local public transportation networks and economic growth in smaller communities along the corridor. High-speed rail doesn’t exist in isolation; it requires efficient first- and last-mile connections to ensure that travelers can seamlessly reach their final destinations. As Alto stations are developed in cities like Peterborough and Trois-Rivières, there will be a natural demand for increased bus services, light rail connections, and other forms of public transit to serve passengers arriving and departing from these hubs.

In cities like Ottawa and Montreal, where light rail transit (LRT) networks are already in place or under development, Alto will likely drive additional investment in urban transit expansion. Commuters traveling into these cities will need efficient ways to connect from high-speed rail stations to workplaces, universities, and residential areas. This could lead to the creation of new LRT lines, expanded bus routes, and improved transit hubs that integrate multiple modes of transportation under a single, seamless system. Toronto, for instance, may see an expansion of its GO Transit network or additional streetcar service to accommodate increased passenger flow from the high-speed rail station.

Smaller communities like Peterborough, which has long suffered from limited transit options, stand to benefit significantly. With an Alto station positioned in the city, businesses catering to travelers—hotels, restaurants, and retail establishments—will likely see increased activity. At the same time, local governments may prioritize the development of new transit services, such as regional bus routes that connect surrounding rural areas to the high-speed rail station. This increased connectivity could make Peterborough a more attractive destination for commuters who work in Toronto or Ottawa but prefer the affordability and quality of life found in a smaller city.

The economic ripple effects extend beyond just transit and business development. High-speed rail has been shown in other countries to attract new industries, create demand for office space near stations, and encourage residential development in previously overlooked areas. With Alto, towns along the route could see a surge in interest from businesses looking to take advantage of the improved connectivity. Real estate markets may also experience a boost as professionals and families consider relocating to these areas, knowing they can quickly access larger cities for work or leisure.

Ultimately, Alto is not just about linking major urban centers—it’s about reshaping the broader transportation ecosystem. By creating a high-speed backbone, it encourages cities and towns to rethink their own transit strategies, leading to improved local services that benefit both residents and visitors. If properly managed, this project has the potential to generate a more interconnected and accessible transportation network across Ontario and Quebec, fostering economic growth and enhanced mobility for generations to come.

The Alto Project: A New Era for Canadian Public Transportation

The Canadian government’s announcement of Alto, a new high-speed rail network linking Toronto and Quebec City, marks a watershed moment in the nation’s transportation history. This 1,000-kilometer electrified corridor will connect major urban centers while slashing travel times, with trains reaching speeds of up to 300 km/h. The journey from Toronto to Montreal, currently a grueling five-hour trip by rail, will be cut to just three hours, making it a direct competitor to short-haul flights. More than just a transportation project, Alto represents a long-overdue commitment to sustainable, efficient public infrastructure—one that could reshape how Canadians move between their largest cities.

Canada has been here before, at least in theory. The dream of high-speed rail has surfaced repeatedly over the decades, only to be shelved due to shifting political priorities, economic downturns, or a lack of public and private investment. In the 1960s, CN’s TurboTrain attempted to bring high-speed service to the Montreal-Toronto corridor, but despite its impressive top speed of 225 km/h, it was plagued by technical challenges and ultimately discontinued. Later, in the 1980s, Bombardier proposed a high-speed link between Quebec City and Windsor, but enthusiasm waned in the face of funding concerns and political inertia. Meanwhile, other nations surged ahead. France launched the TGV in 1981, Japan’s Shinkansen had already been running since 1964, and China rapidly built the world’s most extensive high-speed rail network. Canada, with its vast geography and car-dependent culture, lagged behind, leaving VIA Rail to struggle with aging rolling stock and shared freight tracks that made reliable service nearly impossible.

The Alto project signals a long-overdue course correction. The government has committed $3.9 billion over six years to develop the project, covering environmental assessments, land acquisition, Indigenous consultations, and detailed engineering work. The project’s scale makes it the largest infrastructure investment in Canadian history, with an estimated 51,000 jobs created during construction and a projected annual boost of $35 billion to the national GDP. The selected consortium, Cadence, brings together some of the most experienced transportation and infrastructure firms in the world, including CDPQ Infra, AtkinsRéalis, Keolis Canada, SYSTRA Canada, SNCF Voyageurs, and, notably, Air Canada. With SNCF’s involvement, Alto benefits from France’s decades of expertise operating one of the world’s most successful high-speed rail networks.

Air Canada’s participation in the Alto consortium is a strategic move that acknowledges the inevitable disruption high-speed rail will bring to the lucrative Toronto-Montreal air corridor. As one of the busiest short-haul routes in North America, this segment has long been a key profit driver for the airline, particularly in the premium business travel market. However, with Alto set to offer a three-hour city-center-to-city-center journey—eliminating the hassles of airport security, boarding delays, and weather disruptions—many travelers, especially corporate clients, may shift their loyalty to rail. Rather than resisting this change, Air Canada is positioning itself within the Alto project to maintain influence over intercity travel dynamics, potentially leveraging its expertise in ticketing, loyalty programs, and intermodal connectivity. By integrating rail service into its broader network, Air Canada can remain a key player in the evolving transportation landscape, offering seamless connections between domestic, international, and rail-based travel. This approach mirrors strategies seen in Europe and Asia, where major airlines partner with high-speed rail operators rather than compete head-on, ensuring they remain relevant as travel preferences evolve.

Beyond the economic and technical aspects, Alto represents a fundamental shift in how Canada approaches public transit. For decades, intercity travel has been dominated by cars and airplanes, both of which contribute heavily to congestion and carbon emissions. The Toronto-Ottawa-Montreal corridor is one of the busiest in North America, yet for years, travelers have been forced to endure overcrowded highways, unreliable train schedules, or expensive, inconvenient air travel. High-speed rail changes the equation. Electrified trains eliminate the carbon footprint of regional flights, reducing overall transportation emissions in line with Canada’s climate goals. At the same time, by shifting travelers from cars to rail, Alto can alleviate highway congestion, making regional mobility smoother for everyone.

Connectivity is another major advantage. The Alto corridor isn’t just about linking Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, and Quebec City—it’s also about providing a reliable transit spine for smaller communities like Peterborough and Trois-Rivières. For decades, these towns have struggled with limited or non-existent rail service, forcing residents to rely on personal vehicles or slow, infrequent buses. With high-speed rail, these regions stand to gain new economic opportunities, easier access to larger job markets, and increased tourism. Countries like France, Spain, and Japan have seen firsthand how high-speed rail can transform regional economies, bringing prosperity to areas once considered too remote to thrive.

At its core, the Alto project is a declaration that public transit is not just an afterthought, but a national priority. Efficient, well-funded public transportation is a hallmark of modern, forward-thinking societies, reducing economic inequality by making mobility accessible to everyone, not just those who can afford cars or flights. It also offers a more comfortable, humane travel experience—one where passengers can relax, work, or enjoy the scenery instead of navigating traffic or enduring the frustrations of airport line ups, and security checks. 

Of course, the road ahead is not without obstacles. As my regular readers will know, I am not a fan of Public-Private Partnerships.  Large-scale infrastructure projects in Canada have a history of delays, cost overruns, and political roadblocks. Public support, political will, and careful management will be critical in ensuring that Alto doesn’t become another shelved idea. If the government and its private-sector partners can deliver on their promises, however, Alto has the potential to redefine travel in Canada for generations to come.

For too long, Canadians have watched as other countries invested in the kind of fast, efficient, and sustainable transportation systems that make daily life easier. Now, with Alto, Canada finally has the chance to catch up. If done right, this project could mark the beginning of a new era—one where public transportation is recognized not just as a necessity, but as an engine of economic growth, environmental responsibility, and national connectivity.

Public Utilities in Public Hands: The Case Against Privatization in Ontario

The privatization of public utilities is one of the most serious threats to the well-being of Ontario’s citizens. Essential services such as electricity, natural gas, and potable water are not mere commodities; they are fundamental to public health, economic stability, and social equity. Yet, time and again, privatization has proven to be a short-sighted policy that prioritizes corporate profit over public interest, leading to rising costs, reduced accountability, and degraded service quality.

Ontario has already had a taste of these consequences. The partial privatization of Hydro One in 2015, sold as a way to fund infrastructure projects, stripped the public of full control over a critical utility. The result? Electricity rates surged while executive salaries ballooned, all while Ontarians faced an affordability crisis. Now, the same logic is being applied to water infrastructure, with growing interest in public-private partnerships (P3s) that risk putting a basic human right in the hands of profit-driven corporations.

The United Kingdom serves as a cautionary tale. Margaret Thatcher’s aggressive privatization agenda in the 1980s dismantled public control over water, gas, and electricity. Decades later, the consequences are glaringly evident—privatized water companies have failed to maintain infrastructure, leading to widespread sewage pollution in rivers and skyrocketing utility bills. In 2023, public outrage reached a boiling point as UK citizens demanded renationalization, fed up with a system that prioritized shareholder dividends over basic service quality.

Ontario does not need to look across the Atlantic to see privatization’s dangers. The sale of Highway 407 in the late 1990s remains one of the most infamous examples. Originally built with public funds, the highway was sold to a private consortium, which promptly implemented steep toll increases. Now, it is one of the most expensive toll roads in North America, generating billions in private profits while Ontario drivers pay the price.

Similarly, in the 1990s, Premier Mike Harris’s government moved to privatize parts of Ontario’s water services, leading to deregulation that contributed to the Walkerton tragedy in 2000. E. coli contamination in the town’s water supply led to seven deaths and thousands of illnesses. A key lesson from Walkerton was that water safety should never be compromised for cost-cutting measures—yet renewed interest in water privatization suggests that this lesson is being ignored.

Proponents of privatization often push P3s as a supposed middle ground, but the reality is that these arrangements often result in long-term financial burdens for taxpayers and reduced service quality. In Ontario, numerous P3 infrastructure projects, including hospitals and transit systems, have faced cost overruns, delays, and contract disputes that leave the public footing the bill. The Brampton Civic Hospital, one of Ontario’s earliest P3 healthcare projects, ended up costing nearly $200 million more than a traditional public model, demonstrating how these deals frequently benefit corporate interests at the public’s expense.

When it comes to water and electricity, the risks are even greater. Private firms operating under P3 models have strong incentives to minimize costs, which can lead to deferred maintenance, staff reductions, and lower service quality. Meanwhile, the public remains on the hook for any failures, as companies structure contracts to shield themselves from financial risk while reaping the profits.

Once essential services are privatized, reversing the decision becomes extremely difficult. Private companies, armed with deep lobbying power, fight fiercely to protect their revenue streams. In the case of Hydro One, the Ontario government now owns less than 50% of the company, making it virtually impossible to fully reassert public control without an expensive and politically complex buyback.

The simple truth is that profit should never be the primary driver in the management of public utilities. Roads, water, electricity, and natural gas are the backbone of a functioning society, and their operation must be based on public interest, environmental sustainability, and affordability—not corporate greed.

Ontario must resist further privatization and instead strengthen public ownership of essential services. This means investing in infrastructure, enforcing transparency, and ensuring that these utilities serve the people rather than the pockets of a few wealthy shareholders. The province has seen the consequences of privatization firsthand, and the path forward is clear: protect public utilities, prioritize public well-being, and reject the false promises of privatization before it’s too late.

Why Metrolinx Should Run Ottawa’s Broken LRT

Those of you who regularly read my blog, know that I am a huge advocate of public transport, and a critic of the Public Private Partnership developing and operating the capital’s Light Rail Transit (LRT). 

Ottawa’s LRT system has been a profound disappointment, a fiasco of engineering failures, political mismanagement, and corporate negligence. Years after its launch, the system remains unreliable, its reputation tarnished by derailments, service disruptions, and public distrust. City officials, despite their best efforts, have failed to restore confidence or implement meaningful reforms. Given this ongoing dysfunction, it is time to consider a serious alternative: uploading the LRT to Metrolinx. A provincial takeover would bring in the expertise, resources, and oversight that Ottawa desperately needs while alleviating the financial strain on local taxpayers.

Metrolinx, despite its own challenges, has experience managing large-scale transit projects across Ontario. The agency has delivered rapid transit systems, expanded GO Transit, and led infrastructure projects that dwarf Ottawa’s troubled LRT. Unlike the City of Ottawa, which has been hamstrung by political infighting and bureaucratic inertia, Metrolinx operates with a broader provincial mandate and access to significantly greater funding. The province already has an interest in ensuring that Ottawa’s transit system is functional—after all, a well-run capital city benefits all Ontarians. Entrusting the LRT to Metrolinx would align Ottawa’s transit with the province’s long-term infrastructure planning, creating opportunities for better integration with intercity rail and bus services.

Financially, the benefits of provincial control are obvious. The LRT has drained Ottawa’s municipal budget, diverting funds away from other pressing priorities such as road maintenance, affordable housing, and social services. The city cannot afford to keep throwing money at a broken system while simultaneously planning for future expansions. If Metrolinx were to assume responsibility, the province would take on a greater share of the financial burden, allowing Ottawa to focus on local transit improvements that fall outside the LRT’s scope. This would not be an unprecedented move—Queen’s Park has already taken over major transit infrastructure in Toronto, such as the subway expansion projects, recognizing that municipal governments simply do not have the fiscal capacity to manage billion-dollar projects alone.

Of course, critics will argue that surrendering local control means sacrificing accountability. But let’s be honest: Ottawa’s local control has not served residents well. The city’s handling of the LRT has been defined by secrecy, questionable decision-making, and a lack of transparency. The provincial government, for all its faults, at least has the ability to intervene decisively when things go wrong. Under Metrolinx, operational standards would be enforced with greater rigor, and the pressure to deliver a functional transit system would be far greater than what we’ve seen from Ottawa City Hall. The public inquiry into the LRT debacle revealed a municipal government that was overwhelmed and, at times, complicit in its own failures. Perhaps it is time to let a more competent player take the lead.

This is not to say that Metrolinx is perfect. The agency has faced its own share of controversies, from cost overruns to delayed projects. But at least it has experience dealing with transit systems on a scale far larger than Ottawa’s. Unlike Ottawa’s municipal government, Metrolinx has the ability to negotiate directly with major infrastructure firms, access provincial funding streams, and bring in technical expertise that the city simply lacks. A takeover would not magically fix everything overnight, but it would place the LRT in the hands of those who at least know how to run a transit system.

The reality is that Ottawa’s LRT is beyond the city’s ability to fix on its own. Metrolinx, with its provincial backing and infrastructure expertise, offers the best hope for a reliable and efficient transit system. Ottawa residents deserve better than what they’ve been given. If that means surrendering local control to get a working train system, then so be it. The LRT was meant to be a transformative project for the city. If Ottawa cannot deliver on that promise, then it’s time to let Queen’s Park step in and do the job properly.