Tag Archives: history

Four Reforms to Make the Feds Smaller, Smarter, and More Accountable

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With a Fall budget on its way, I think it’s time to provide a little input to the government’s thinking. I plan on developing these ideas further over the next few days before Canada’s Finance Minister François-Philippe Champagne delivers the 2025 Federal Budget in the House of Commons on November 4, 2025.

Canadians are right to expect more from their government. Every year, the federal payroll grows, administrative costs rise, and services often fail to keep pace with expectations. Prime Minister Mark Carney has a rare opportunity: to modernize Ottawa, reduce waste, and deliver real results for citizens. Four reforms can achieve this vision: ending internal cost recovery, unifying pay and bargaining, adopting outcomes-based management with planned workforce reduction, and automating taxation for wage-only employees.

End internal cost recovery
Departments and agencies currently bill each other for routine services. Justice Canada invoices other departments for legal advice, Shared Services Canada bills for IT support, and administrative units cross-charge for HR and translation. This internal economy consumes thousands of staff hours for paperwork that adds no value to Canadians. Ending cost recovery would simplify budgeting, reduce bureaucracy, and free public servants to focus on meaningful work. Money would be directly appropriated for services, and departments judged by the outcomes they deliver, not the invoices they process.

Adopt a single pay scale and central bargaining agent
The current patchwork of pay scales and multiple unions is costly, confusing, and inequitable. Starting April 1, 2027, all new hires, and any promotions thereafter, should be placed on a single pay scale, with a central bargaining agent representing these employees. Over time, as legacy staff retire, the workforce will converge onto a transparent, uniform system. This builds on decades of prior harmonization work, such as the Universal Classification Standard (UCS) project, and dramatically reduces administrative complexity while ensuring fair and consistent compensation.

Focus on outcomes and shrink the workforce responsibly
Too often, success in Ottawa is measured by hours logged or forms completed. Shifting to outcomes-based management holds departments and employees accountable for results citizens can see. With clearer accountability, the government can responsibly reduce its workforce by 5% annually over five years through attrition and selective hiring. This ensures a smaller, more focused public service while maintaining service quality and providing a review point to adjust if needed.

Automate taxation for wage-only employees
Millions of Canadians file annual tax returns despite receiving income solely through employment, which is already subject to withholding for income tax, CPP, and EI. Like many European systems, Canada could automate reconciliation for these taxpayers, eliminating the need to file a return. This reform would dramatically reduce compliance burdens, shrink the Canada Revenue Agency, and allow the agency to focus on enforcement and complex cases rather than processing simple returns.

A coherent vision for reform
These four reforms share a common principle: simplify, focus, and deliver. They reduce waste, cut bureaucracy, and ensure public servants are evaluated on results rather than paperwork. They free staff to concentrate on tasks that provide tangible value to Canadians while saving hundreds of millions annually in administrative costs.

Prime Minister Carney has the chance to lead Canada into a new era of efficient, accountable government. Ending internal cost recovery, unifying pay, managing for outcomes, and automating taxation are practical, proven, and achievable reforms. Canadians deserve a federal government that works smarter, spends taxpayer dollars wisely, and prioritizes service above bureaucracy.

When Crown Corporations Forget Their Purpose

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Two of Canada’s most visible Crown corporations, Canada Post and VIA Rail, seem to have lost their way. Both were created to knit together a vast and sparsely populated country, ensuring that every Canadian, no matter how remote, had access to essential services. Yet today, both have turned their gaze inward toward big-city markets, downgrading or abandoning the rural, northern, and remote communities they were meant to serve.

The problem is not simply poor management. It is a deeper contradiction in how we think about these federal institutions. Are they public services, funded and guaranteed by the government for the benefit of all? Or are they commercial enterprises expected to operate like businesses, focusing on profitability and efficiency?

Canada Post was once the backbone of national communication. Its universal service obligation was understood as a cornerstone of Canadian citizenship: every town and hamlet deserved a post office, and every address would receive mail. But with letter volumes collapsing and courier giants competing for parcels, Canada Post has shifted its focus to the most profitable markets. Rural post offices are shuttered or reduced to part-time counters in retail stores, and delivery standards in remote regions are steadily eroded.

VIA Rail’s story follows the same pattern. Founded in the late 1970s to preserve passenger trains when private railways abandoned them, it was meant to provide Canadians with a reliable and accessible alternative to highways and airlines. Instead, successive governments have treated VIA as a subsidy-dependent business rather than a national service. The Québec–Windsor corridor receives ever more investment, while iconic transcontinental and regional services limp along on political life support. Communities once promised rail access now watch the trains roll past them, or disappear entirely.

This retreat from universal service runs against the spirit of equality that Canadians expect from their public institutions. The Charter of Rights may not explicitly guarantee access to mail or transportation, but the principle of equal citizenship surely demands more than a market-driven approach that privileges Toronto and Montréal while ignoring Thompson or Whitehorse.

What’s going wrong is simple: Crown corporations are being managed as if they were private companies, not public trusts. Efficiency metrics and financial self-sufficiency dominate decision-making. National obligations are left vague, unenforced, or quietly abandoned. Governments praise the rhetoric of service while starving these corporations of the dedicated funding that would allow them to fulfill it.

Canada is not a compact, densely settled country where commercial logic alone can sustain public goods. It is a nation stitched together across vast geography by institutions that recognize service as a right, not a privilege. If we want Canada Post and VIA Rail to serve all Canadians, we need to stop pretending they can behave like for-profit businesses and still fulfill their mandates.

That choice is ultimately political. Parliament must decide: either redefine these corporations as genuine public services with modern mandates and stable funding, or admit that rural and northern Canadians will always be left behind.

Until then, our Crown corporations will continue to forget their purpose, and with it, a piece of the Canadian promise.

From Dystopian Fiction to Political Reality: Britain’s Digital ID Proposal

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As a teenager in the late 1970s, I watched a BBC drama that left a mark on me for life. The series was called 1990. It imagined a Britain in economic decline where civil liberties had been sacrificed to bureaucracy. Citizens carried Union cards; identity documents that decided whether they could work, travel, or even buy food. Lose the card and you became a “non-person.” Edward Woodward played the defiant journalist Jim Kyle, trying to expose the regime, while Barbara Kellerman embodied the cold efficiency of the state machine.

Back then it felt like dystopian fantasy, a warning not a forecast. Yet today, watching the UK government push forward with a mandatory digital ID scheme, I feel as if the fiction of my youth is edging into fact.

The plan sounds simple enough: a free digital credential stored on smartphones, initially required to prove the right to work. But let’s be honest, once the infrastructure exists, expansion is inevitable. Why stop at work checks? Why not use it for renting property, opening bank accounts, accessing healthcare, or even voting? Every new use will be presented as common sense. Before long, showing your digital ID could become as routine, and as coercive, as carrying the Union card in 1990.

Privacy is the first casualty. This credential will include biometric data and residency status, and it will be verified through state-certified providers. In theory it’s secure. In practice, Britain’s record on data protection is chequered, from NHS leaks to Home Office blunders. Biometric data isn’t like a password, you can’t change your face if it’s compromised. A single breach could haunt people for life.

Exclusion is the next. Ministers claim alternatives will exist for those without smartphones, but experience tells us such alternatives are clunky and marginal. Millions in Britain don’t have passports, reliable internet, or the latest phone. Elderly people, the poor, disabled citizens, these groups risk being pushed further to the margins. In 1990, the state declared dissidents “non-people.” In 2025, exclusion could come from something as mundane as a failed app update.

The democratic deficit is just as troubling. Voters already rejected ID cards once, when Labour’s 2006 scheme collapsed under public resistance. For today’s government to revive the idea, in digital clothing, without wide public debate or strong parliamentary scrutiny, is a profound act of political amnesia. We were told only a few years ago there would be no national ID. Yet here it comes, rebranded and repackaged as “modernisation.”

And then there’s the problem of function creep. In 1990, the Union card didn’t begin as an instrument of oppression; it became one because officials found it too useful to resist. The same danger lurks today. A card designed for immigration control could end up regulating everyday life. It could be tied to financial services, travel, or even access to political spaces. Convenience is the Trojan horse of coercion.

The government argues this will tackle illegal working and make life easier for businesses. Perhaps it will. But at what cost? We will have built the very infrastructure that past generations fought to reject: a system where your ability to live, work and move depends on a state-issued credential. The show I watched as a teenager was meant to remind us what happens when people forget to guard their freedoms.

This isn’t just a technical fix. It’s a fundamental shift in the relationship between citizen and state. Once the power to define your identity sits in a centralised digital credential, you no longer own it, the government does. That should chill anyone who values freedom in Britain.

We need to pause, debate, and if necessary, reject this plan before the future we feared on screen becomes the present we inhabit.

VIA Rail Misses the Train on Serving Canadians

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VIA Rail recently trumpeted a new “pilot project” meant to shave half an hour off the Montréal–Toronto run. The idea was to run nonstop trains between the two big cities, bypassing Cornwall, Brockville, Kingston, and Belleville. The announcement was pitched as a bold experiment in “efficiency,” a nod to the 70 percent of surveyed passengers who supposedly wanted quicker travel between downtown cores.

But almost immediately, the wheels came off. Citing “operational constraints” with their partner CN, VIA Rail suspended the project before it even left the station. On paper, this looks like a technical hiccup, another example of Canada’s fragile rail system bending to the priorities of freight traffic. But in reality, the plan itself was the problem. It was never about serving Canadians, it was about copying European or Japanese rail gloss without any of the context, backbone, or infrastructure investment those systems require.

For decades, communities along the corridor have depended on trains as lifelines. Students in Kingston, retirees in Belleville, families in Cornwall – these aren’t “optional” stops. They’re the heart of what passenger rail is supposed to do: connect Canadians, not just shuttle executives between two large metro centres. The whole point of a public Crown corporation like VIA Rail is to balance speed with accessibility, ensuring that smaller communities aren’t stranded in the name of shaving 30 minutes off a trip for a select few.

Even politicians, often slow to notice transit tweaks, raised red flags. Brockville’s mayor called the nonstop plan “concerning” and Conservative MP Michel Barrett branded it “unacceptable.” They weren’t wrong. Stripping out regional stops would have meant sidelining thousands of riders, effectively telling entire towns they were expendable in the rush to serve big-city commuters.

The irony is that the project was marketed as modernization. But modernization, in a Canadian context, should mean strengthening regional ties, upgrading track infrastructure, and finally breaking free of freight’s stranglehold on passenger rail, not copying a TGV fantasy while underfunding the very communities that give the corridor its economic and social weight.

Instead, VIA Rail now looks like it tried to leap forward without noticing the tracks were missing. Worse, its apology to passengers rings hollow. The real apology is owed to the communities it dismissed as speed bumps, to the Canadians who still believe public transportation is about more than corporate surveys and flashy PR lines.

In the end, the scrapped nonstop pilot is a lesson: if VIA Rail wants to serve Canadians, it needs to remember who those Canadians are. They’re not just the 70 percent who want to get to Bay Street faster. They’re also the people in eastern Ontario whose taxes help keep VIA afloat, and who deserve not to be treated as collateral damage in a misguided chase for efficiency.

Sometimes slowing down isn’t failure, it’s service. VIA Rail might want to remember that before the next “pilot project” takes off.

The Ghosts at Wounded Knee and the Politics of Honour

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On December 29, 1890, near Wounded Knee Creek in what is now southwestern South Dakota, the U.S. Army’s 7th Cavalry surrounded a band of Lakota people led by Chief Spotted Elk, also known as Big Foot. What began as an effort to disarm a frightened group seeking refuge ended in slaughter. Eyewitness testimony, contemporary reports, and later historical study make clear that more than a hundred Lakota were killed outright, and estimates of the dead range commonly between 150 and 300, with many of the victims women and children. The column of Hotchkiss rapid-fire artillery on the ridge above the camp turned what might have been a chaotic surrender into an indiscriminate killing field. The event has been characterized by historians and by survivors’ accounts as a massacre, not a conventional military engagement.  

Within months, the army rewarded participants. Between March 1891 and 1897 the military issued a disproportionate number of Medals of Honor for actions tied to the Wounded Knee operation. Nineteen medals were awarded specifically for Wounded Knee, and 31 for the broader 1890 campaign. Modern historians have long questioned the propriety of these awards. They point out the disproportion when compared with other actions, the context of civilian slaughter, and the fact that late nineteenth century standards for the medal differed dramatically from today’s criteria. Those facts do not erase the moral question at the heart of this controversy. The medals were given for killing civilians during what many contemporaries already described as a tragic, shameful episode.  

For more than a century Native American leaders, scholars, and advocates have demanded that these honours be rescinded. They argue that keeping official military decorations for actions that amounted to the killing of noncombatants perpetuates a sanitized narrative of conquest and erases the suffering of the Lakota people. The push to revisit the medals intensified in 2024 when Congress and the Defense Department initiated reviews of honours awarded during Indian wars. Those reviews are not about rewriting history, they are about whether the United States wishes to continue officially celebrating actions that modern standards and moral judgment deem unconscionable.  

Into that fraught moral and historical space stepped Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth with a blunt, public proclamation on September 26, 2025. He announced that the soldiers who received Medals of Honor for Wounded Knee will keep them and said the soldiers “deserve those medals.” The decision was presented as a closure to the controversy and as a defense of martial valor. But treating the medals as a neutral technicality betrays two failures. First, it ignores the weight of historical evidence and eyewitness testimony that Wounded Knee was, by any honest reading, a massacre that included large numbers of noncombatant deaths. Second, it substitutes a crude politics of honour for a sober assessment of what military decorations are meant to signify. Medals of Honor are supposed to commemorate extraordinary gallantry consistent with the laws of war. When the conduct being commemorated is the killing of women and children in a one-sided action, the moral legitimacy of the award is rightly in doubt.  

Hegseth’s statement also displays a troubling detachment from the consequences of symbolic government acts. Official honours are not only personal rewards; they are public memory makers. Keeping these medals intact, while dismissing Native American calls for redress, sends a message about whose losses count in the American story. It is one thing to argue that you cannot retroactively apply modern sensibilities to historical actors. It is another to claim that the government should continue to sanctify actions widely recognized at the time as morally ambiguous or wrong. The choice to uphold the medals is not neutral. It privileges a narrative of conquest and martial glory over truth, accountability, and reconciliation. Contemporary Native leaders and organizations denounced the Pentagon’s decision, noting how it wounds descendants and undermines efforts at national healing.  

A final point. Government honours are mutable instruments of civic character. The United States has in many other instances chosen to correct honors that later ethical standards rendered inappropriate. To choose not to correct here is to place precedent over conscience. Furthermore, Hegseth’s framing, that the decision preserves the dignity of soldiers, rings hollow when the dignity of the victims is excluded from the calculus. Respect for soldiers and respect for victims are not mutually exclusive. A mature republic can acknowledge the bravery of individuals without perpetuating institutional honours that legitimize immoral collective actions.

Wounded Knee is not merely an historical footnote. It is a continuing wound in the national memory. How a nation treats its darkest episodes tells us as much about its present character as its triumphs do. Preserving medals awarded for conduct rooted in massacre is not an act of courage. It is an abdication of moral leadership and a refusal to allow public honours to reflect justice. Hegseth’s September 26, 2025 statement helps explain why calls for truth and reconciliation remain necessary. Those calls do not demand erasure of history. They demand honesty and a willingness to let national symbols reflect a fuller, truer account of what happened at Wounded Knee.  

Sources:
Hegseth decision reporting and reactions. Associated Press. Hegseth says Wounded Knee soldiers will keep their Medals of Honor.
Contemporary reporting and Native response. Reuters. Native Americans condemn Pentagon move to preserve Wounded Knee medals.
Contextual and historical overview. Britannica. Wounded Knee Massacre.
Primary accounts and museum histories. National Library of Medicine / Native Voices timeline and National Park Service battlefield materials.
Medal of Honor lists and army records. U.S. Army Medal of Honor listings for Indian Wars and Wounded Knee citations.  

🛡️ NATO & Allied Countries Shifting Away from U.S. Defense Equipment

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Several NATO and allied countries have recently rejected or are reconsidering U.S.-made military equipment in favor of European or domestic alternatives. This trend reflects a broader shift toward defense autonomy, industrial sovereignty, and reduced reliance on U.S. service contracts.

🇩🇰 Denmark

  • Air Defense: Opted for the Franco-Italian SAMP/T NG long-range system over the U.S.-made Patriot missile system, citing high costs and long delivery times. Denmark is also considering European alternatives like NASAMS, IRIS-T, and VL MICA for medium-range needs.
  • Arctic Exercises: Led the “Arctic Light 2025” military exercise in Greenland without U.S. participation, emphasizing regional leadership and reducing reliance on U.S. forces.

🇪🇸 Spain

  • Fighter Aircraft: Rejected U.S. F-35 proposals in favor of European options like the Eurofighter Typhoon and the Future Combat Air System (FCAS), aiming to bolster European defense autonomy and reduce dependence on U.S. military technology.

🇵🇹 Portugal

  • Fighter Aircraft: Reconsidered plans to replace aging F-16s with U.S.-made F-35s, exploring European alternatives to enhance operational control and reduce long-term dependency on foreign suppliers.

🇩🇪 Germany

  • Air Defense: Prioritized domestic production and local sustainment for tanks, artillery, and aircraft, including the Leopard 2 tank upgrades and Eurofighter Typhoon programs, to maintain control over maintenance and modernization capacities.

🇳🇱 Netherlands

  • Naval Platforms: Emphasized European suppliers for submarines and frigates, negotiating co-production and local sustainment agreements to reduce reliance on U.S. shipyards.

🇳🇴 Norway

  • Fighter Jets & Patrol Aircraft: Pushed for domestic assembly lines and local maintenance hubs, limiting dependence on American contractors for lifecycle support.

🇮🇹 Italy

  • Naval & Aerospace Systems: Invested in domestic shipbuilding and aerospace industries, including the FREMM frigate and domestic drone programs, while seeking interoperability standards that avoid long-term U.S. service dependencies.

🇨🇦 Canada

  • Submarine Procurement: Rejected U.S. proposals for new submarines, opting instead for bids from Germany and South Korea to gain autonomy over maintenance, lifecycle upgrades, and operational decision-making.
  • Fighter Aircraft: Evaluating Swedish fighter jets with plans for domestic assembly and maintenance, aiming to reduce reliance on U.S. contractors.

🇫🇮 Finland

  • Military Cooperation: Despite broader U.S. plans to scale back military operations in parts of NATO’s eastern flank, Finland maintains that its military cooperation with the United States is not being reduced. Finnish Defence Minister Antti Hakkanen affirmed that the U.S. remains committed to deepening bilateral defense efforts.

🇫🇷 France & 🇮🇹 Italy

  • NATO Arms Deal: Opted out of a new NATO-led initiative to finance the delivery of U.S. weapons to Ukraine, signaling a preference for European solutions and a move towards greater defense autonomy.

🔄 Broader Trends Influencing These Shifts

  • Cost & Delivery Timelines: U.S. defense systems like the Patriot missile system often face long production backlogs and higher costs, prompting NATO allies to seek more timely and cost-effective European alternatives.
  • Industrial Sovereignty: Countries are increasingly prioritizing local or regional production and maintenance capabilities to maintain control over their military assets and reduce dependence on foreign suppliers.
  • Political Tensions: Diplomatic strains, such as disagreements over Arctic territories and defense spending, have influenced countries like Denmark to reconsider their reliance on U.S. defense equipment.
  • Strategic Autonomy: The desire for greater control over defense decisions and capabilities is driving NATO allies to explore European solutions that align with their national interests and security priorities.

The Return of Britain’s Railways: A Justified Journey Back to Public Hands

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Few issues in the United Kingdom’s domestic infrastructure provoke as much consistent frustration, and cautious optimism, as the performance of the national railway system. After more than three decades of privatized operation, mounting failures in service quality, rising costs, and structural inefficiencies have prompted a significant policy shift. The renationalization of Britain’s train services marks the gradual undoing of a deeply ideological experiment that has fallen short of its promises.

This shift is not driven by nostalgia, but by necessity.

Background and Rationale for Renationalization
The privatization of British Rail in the mid-1990s was framed as a path to modernity. Proponents argued that market competition would drive efficiency, reduce government spending, and improve customer service. Instead, the result was a fragmented system comprised of multiple Train Operating Companies (TOCs), overseen by various regulatory bodies, while infrastructure was handed to a separate private firm, Railtrack—an entity whose eventual failure and replacement by Network Rail in 2002 was an early indicator of deeper systemic flaws.

Despite significant taxpayer subsidies, performance metrics across the privatized rail network began to deteriorate by the 2010s. Delays, overcrowding, high fares, and poor coordination became routine issues. Government spending on the sector did not decline; instead, public funds increasingly subsidized private profits. By 2020, annual state support exceeded £7 billion.

The COVID-19 pandemic laid bare the system’s fragility. As passenger numbers collapsed, the government assumed emergency control over all franchises, effectively nationalizing operations under temporary measures. This moment of crisis exposed the private sector’s dependence on public backing and underscored the need for structural reform.

Recent Developments and Implementation
Renationalization in Britain has proceeded in stages, marked by pragmatism rather than ideological confrontation. Several poorly performing franchises, such as Northern, Southeastern, and the East Coast Main Line, were brought under the control of the government’s Operator of Last Resort (OLR). This allowed continuity of service while avoiding legal entanglements with private firms.

A formal framework was introduced with the Passenger Railway Services (Public Ownership) Act 2024, passed under the Labour government. This legislation allows passenger services to be brought under public control as contracts with private operators expire. In May 2025, South Western Railway (SWR) became the first operator transitioned under this new legal mechanism. Other operators, including Greater Anglia and c2c, are expected to follow before the end of the year.

This incremental approach avoids costly buyouts and is designed to be financially and administratively sustainable. Most passenger services in England are projected to return to public ownership by 2027.

The Role of Great British Railways
A central element of the reform effort is the establishment of Great British Railways (GBR), a single public entity that will unify track and train operations, long-term planning, fare structures, and accountability. The GBR model replaces the franchising system with a concession-based framework, where the state retains fare revenue and strategic control while outsourcing operations under tightly managed contracts.

GBR is not intended to replicate the British Rail of the past. It reflects modern best practices, taking cues from integrated public systems in Germany, Japan, and other high-performing countries. The goal is to streamline operations, enable through-ticketing, and restore strategic coherence to rail governance.

Implementation, however, has encountered delays. Structural changes, legislative hurdles, and coordination challenges have slowed GBR’s rollout. Industry stakeholders continue to press for greater clarity and faster progress.

Challenges and Caveats
While the rationale for public control is widely supported, several challenges remain. Technical difficulties have marred the rollout of SWR’s new Arterio fleet, due to manufacturing delays and labour disputes. Industrial relations require careful management to avoid disruption and foster long-term cooperation.

Fares remain a sensitive issue. Although public ownership may improve value for money, there is as yet no guarantee of fare reductions. Without visible improvements in affordability and service reliability, public support, though currently strong, may erode.

Operational excellence will be critical. Renationalization removes profit motives but does not in itself guarantee efficiency, innovation, or customer satisfaction. Robust governance, sustained investment, and clear performance targets are essential for long-term success.

Public and Political Sentiment
Public opinion has consistently favoured renationalization. A 2024 Ipsos poll found that 54% of Britons support the return of rail services to public ownership. The policy aligns with broader desires for a reliable, affordable, and accountable public transport system, particularly in the context of climate commitments and regional economic development.

Politically, the approach adopted avoids the pitfalls of abrupt, combative state intervention. By allowing contracts to expire and absorbing operations through established legal mechanisms, the process has proceeded with minimal disruption.

A Measured Return to Public Responsibility
The renationalization of Britain’s railways represents a strategic recalibration of transport policy. After decades of dysfunction under fragmented private control, the reassertion of public oversight is both justified and overdue.

This is not a reversal for its own sake, nor a rejection of innovation or partnership. It is a reassertion of the principle that essential public infrastructure should serve the common good, not the balance sheets of corporate shareholders.

The coming years will determine whether this vision can be translated into a rail system that is reliable, integrated, and equitable. If managed well, the return to public ownership may yet become one of the most important and popular infrastructure reforms in modern British history.

Sources:
• “New dawn for rail as South Western services return to public hands,” GOV.UK, May 25, 2025. Link
• “Great British Railways and the public ownership programme,” GOV.UK, May 25, 2025. Link
• “Passenger Railway Services (Public Ownership) Act 2024,” GOV.UK, November 28, 2024. Link
• “Public Attitudes towards rail nationalisation and strike action,” Ipsos, May 2, 2024. Link
• “SWR to be first train UK operator to be renationalised under Labour plan,” Reuters, December 4, 2024. Link
• “Great British Railways Takes Major Step Forward: 2025,” Rail Industry Connect, May 29, 2025. Link

The Future of Museums, Part Two: Digitization, Repatriation, and the New Cultural Commons

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If the first step in the ethical evolution of museums is reckoning with the origins of their collections, the second must be reimagining how cultural treasures can be shared, studied, and celebrated without being hoarded. Fortunately, the 21st century offers tools our forebears could only dream of. Digital technology, particularly high-resolution 3D scanning, modeling, and immersive virtual platforms, is rewriting the rules of preservation and access. When used with cultural sensitivity and ethical intention, these tools allow us to honour ownership, facilitate repatriation, and still nourish a global commons of cultural knowledge.

Take 3D scanning: what was once an expensive novelty is now a powerful instrument of restitution and democratization. Museums can now create hyper-detailed digital replicas of artifacts, capturing every chisel mark, brushstroke, or weave of fabric. These models can be studied, shared online, integrated into augmented or virtual reality tools, or even 3D printed, all without requiring the physical artifact to remain on display in a distant capital city. This changes the equation. The original object can go home, back to the community or country from which it was taken, while its likeness continues to serve educational and scientific purposes worldwide.

There is a quiet but profound dignity in this digital compromise. It allows for the physical return of heritage to those to whom it belongs, not just legally, but spiritually and historically, while also supporting the broader mission of museums to educate and inspire. And in many cases, the digital version can do things the original never could. Scholars can examine its dimensions in microscopic detail. Teachers can beam it into classrooms. Visitors can manipulate it, interact with it, and even walk through the worlds from which it came.

Yet let’s not pretend digital tools are a panacea. A scan cannot replicate the scent of parchment, the weight of a carved idol, or the sacredness of a funerary mask imbued with ancestral memory. Creating these models demands money, time, and skilled technicians, resources that smaller institutions may lack. But for those who can muster them, the return is substantial: ethical legitimacy, global engagement, and future-proof access to cultural heritage.

Enter the virtual museum, a concept whose time has truly come. With internet access now ubiquitous in much of the world, online museum platforms are exploding. Whether it’s the British Museum’s virtual galleries or the immersive tours of the Louvre, these digital spaces offer a new kind of cultural experience: borderless, accessible, and unconstrained by bricks, mortar, or geopolitics. For those unable to travel, due to distance, disability, or cost, virtual museums are not just convenient; they are transformational.

These platforms do more than display scanned objects. They weave in video, sound, oral histories, and expert commentary. They let users “handle” objects virtually, walk through reconstructions of lost cities, or compare artworks from across time zones and traditions. And crucially, they offer a space where repatriated artifacts can remain visible to the world. A sculpture returned to Nigeria or a mask restored to a Pacific island doesn’t need to vanish from global consciousness. Its story, and its scanned image, can be co-curated with local voices, shared respectfully, and kept safe in the digital domain.

This co-curation is vital. A truly decolonized digital strategy doesn’t just upload images, it shares authority. It ensures that the descendants of artifact-makers help decide how those objects are described, displayed, and interpreted. Digital museums can become sites of collaboration, not appropriation; places where cultural equity is baked into the code.

And then there’s the sustainability argument. Virtual museums dramatically reduce the environmental costs of international exhibitions, staff travel, and artifact shipping. They offer resilience against disaster, a fire, flood, or war may destroy a gallery, but not its digital twin. In a world of increasing instability, that matters.

So where does this leave us? It leaves us at the edge of something hopeful. The combination of digital modeling and virtual museums does not replace the need for physical repatriation, it complements and strengthens it. It allows us to move beyond the binary of “ours” versus “theirs,” and into a more nuanced, shared stewardship of humanity’s treasures.

The museum of the future is not a fortress. It is a node in a network, a partner in a dialogue, and a bridge across histories. If museums can embrace this vision, ethical, inclusive, and digitally empowered, they can transform from institutions of possession to institutions of connection. And that, perhaps, is the most valuable exhibit of all.

A Dangerous Symbol: Why Alberta’s Citizenship Marker Is a Badge of Exclusion

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A government that tattoos its citizens with a loyalty stamp is not protecting democracy. It is manufacturing division.

Alberta’s plan to add a visible Canadian citizenship marker to driver’s licences and provincial photo IDs is sold as a pragmatic fix for administrative headaches, and a modest boost to election integrity. In reality it is a blunt instrument that will stigmatize newcomers, invite profiling, escalate privacy risks, and do virtually nothing to solve the narrow problems the government points to. This policy is not about efficiency. It is about visibility, and visibility in this case is a tool for exclusion.

Start with the claim that this will protect elections. The province has pointed to a handful of isolated incidents to justify a universal treatment of every person who carries a licence in Alberta. The scale does not remotely justify the sweep. Elections Alberta has not identified a systemic problem that requires permanently marking who is a citizen on the everyday card that everyone carries. There are far less intrusive ways to strengthen the integrity of the ballot than turning driver’s licences into a public ledger of status. If the problem is rare, the solution should be targeted, not universal.

Now consider the everyday, lived consequences of adding a visible citizenship marker. A small tag on a card is not a neutral bureaucratic convenience. It is a social signal that will be read within seconds by a wide range of people who exercise power over daily life: police officers, service providers, employers, landlords, front-line staff in health clinics and banks. The absence of that tag is, in practice, the same as a visible mark. When a human scans an ID and sees no “CAN” or similar symbol, they will know the person is likely not a citizen. That knowledge will change behavior.

The harm here is predictable. Racialized and immigrant communities will carry this burden disproportionately. Citizenship status correlates strongly with place of birth, language, and race. Policies that place a visible marker on status therefore do discrimination by another name. The Alberta Human Rights Act protects characteristics such as race, colour, ancestry and place of origin. A policy that has the predictable effect of singling out people because of those characteristics should be treated with deep suspicion. The government’s design converts private legal status into a public marker that will be used, intentionally or not, to exclude, interrogate and penalize.

Privacy is another casualty. Adding more personal data to a card that lives in pockets and purses increases the risk of misuse and error. The same announcement that proposed the citizenship marker also proposed including health numbers on the same cards. Those are sensitive identifiers. Combining multiple markers and numbers into a single, widely used document creates a tempting target for fraud and function creep. Once institutions are accustomed to seeing citizenship on an ID, the line between appropriate use and mission creep becomes dangerously thin. History shows that extra data on everyday documents rarely stays limited to the original, narrow purpose.

There is also the basic problem of accuracy. Mistakes happen. Bureaucratic records are imperfect. Imagine being wrongly marked, or left unmarked, and then facing a delay in accessing health care, government supports, or a job because an overworked clerk or a skeptical stranger read your card and assumed something about your rights. Fixing those mistakes takes time, money and dignity that many people cannot spare. That risk is not hypothetical. Governments themselves admit to data mismatches and unexplained records when they discuss the systems they use. We should not make people pay for a government’s sloppy data by making their legal status visible on a daily basis.

Finally, consider the chilling effect. Communities that feel targeted withdraw. They stop reporting crime. They stop seeking services. They withdraw from civic life. That is a perverse outcome for a democratic society. If the government’s aim is social cohesion and civic participation, stamping people’s IDs with a citizenship marker pushes in precisely the opposite direction.

There are sensible alternatives that protect both security and dignity. Back-end verification systems allow agencies to check status when the law requires it without turning every encounter into a status interrogation. Voluntary proof-of-citizenship cards could be issued for the small number of people who want a single card for passport office interactions or specific benefits applications. Strengthening poll-worker training and refining procedures at the point of service can shore up election integrity without branding the population. A proper privacy impact assessment and an independent human-rights review should be prerequisites for any change that touches identity.

This is not merely a policy error. It is a marker of values. Do we want a province that solves narrow administrative problems by creating new, visible categories that will be used to sort people? Or do we want a province that insists on privacy, on minimizing state visibility into people’s legal status, and on solving problems with proportionate measures?

If Alberta proceeds, expect legal pushback. Policies with predictable discriminatory effects should, and will, be challenged. Human-rights law recognizes that discrimination can occur through effects rather than explicit language. A seemingly neutral policy that disproportionately burdens persons who belong to protected groups will not withstand careful legal scrutiny.

The loudest argument for the citizenship marker is convenience. Convenience is not a trump card when human dignity hangs in the balance. We can tidy up administrative processes without creating a social scoring system that singles people out in grocery stores, hospitals, and bus stations. We can secure ballots without making identity a visible badge of belonging.

The test for public policy is simple. Does it solve the problem at hand with the least intrusion necessary? Adding citizenship to everyone’s everyday ID fails that test. It substitutes spectacle for problem solving, visibility for nuance, and bluntness for proportionality.

Alberta should drop this plan, sit down with civil-society groups, privacy experts and human-rights lawyers, and design targeted, less intrusive solutions. Failing that, opponents should prepare for court, for public protest and for relentless political pressure. Democracies survive on inclusion, not on visible lists of who belongs. If we care about the health of our civic life we should resist anything that turns identity into a signal for exclusion.

Sources: 
Global News, “Alberta adding proof of Canadian citizenship to provincial driver’s licences”, Jack Farrell and Lisa Johnson, Sept 15, 2025.
CityNews Edmonton, “Immigration lawyer, critics raise concerns about citizenship marker on Alberta ID”, Sept 16, 2025.
Statement from Premier Danielle Smith, official announcement posts, Sept 2025.
Institute for Canadian Citizenship commentary, reaction coverage, Sept 2025.
Alberta Human Rights Act commentary and analysis, relevant legal background.

The Future of Museums, Part One: Reckoning with the Past

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Museums occupy a cherished yet complicated place in our cultural landscape. They are, at their best, sanctuaries of human achievement and memory; places where we marvel, learn, and connect. They are guardians of our collective stories, offering glimpses into lives, ideas, and aesthetics across time and geography. Yet increasingly, those guardianship roles are being scrutinized. In this post, the first of a two-part reflection, I want to explore how museums must reckon with their past in order to remain relevant, ethical, and inspirational institutions in a post-colonial world.

Modern museums serve multiple purposes. They are educators, preserving and interpreting both natural and human histories. Through exhibitions, talks, and online media, they help us understand not only what came before us, but also how those pasts continue to shape the present. They are also preservers of culture, entrusted with tangible and intangible heritage, from tools and textiles to oral traditions and sacred rites. Increasingly, they are also spaces of community engagement and social inclusion. The best of today’s museums are no longer content to speak about people; they strive to speak with them, creating room for conversations around identity, migration, environment, and justice. And let’s not forget their economic impact: museums draw visitors, support local artisans, and boost cultural tourism. Their value is not only educational, but civic and economic.

And yet, many of the very objects that give museums their gravitas are also at the heart of a profound ethical challenge. Too many were acquired in contexts of coercion, extraction, or outright theft during the height of imperial expansion. The British Museum’s possession of the Elgin Marbles or the Rosetta Stone, icons of antiquity mired in controversy, is not exceptional; it is emblematic. These artifacts, however artfully displayed, carry the invisible weight of colonial conquest. For many communities of origin, their removal constitutes not just a historical grievance, but an ongoing erasure of identity.

Western museums often point to their capacity to conserve, study, and exhibit these artifacts responsibly. They argue, sometimes sincerely, that global access to human history is a noble goal. But this defense rings hollow in a world where digital preservation is commonplace and where the moral imperative to return stolen cultural property grows louder each year. The question isn’t simply who can care for these artefacts, it’s who should.

Repatriation, the return of cultural property to its place of origin, has shifted from a theoretical debate to a global movement. France’s pledge to return looted artifacts to Benin, Germany’s restitution of the Benin Bronzes, and the Smithsonian’s newly developed ethical return policies are not fringe gestures. They are signals of a deeper cultural shift. Repatriation, after all, is not just about boxes being shipped back across oceans. It’s about truth-telling. It’s about nations acknowledging histories of violence and dispossession, and about institutions committing to restorative justice.

This new ethical landscape demands changes in practice. Provenance research, once an obscure archival task, must now be a public commitment. Shared custodianship models, where institutions collaborate with origin communities to co-curate, rotate, or jointly own artifacts, offer ways forward that don’t sacrifice conservation. And above all, museums must embrace the decolonization of their own internal cultures: rethinking who gets to tell the stories, who sits on the boards, and whose voices shape the narrative.

Museums can still be temples of learning and wonder. But for them to truly serve society in the 21st century, they must relinquish their roles as colonial trophy cases. The future lies in humility, transparency, and cooperation. In part two of this series, I’ll look at how new technologies and evolving curatorial philosophies are helping museums reinvent themselves for the world to come.