A Strategic Reset: Is the UK’s 12-Year Deal with the EU a Trial Run for Rejoining?

In a move that may mark the beginning of a new chapter, or even a slow reversal, in post-Brexit Britain, Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s government has signed a sweeping 12-year deal with the European Union. Spanning trade, fisheries, defense, energy, and youth mobility, the agreement is being sold as a pragmatic step toward economic stability. Yet, for keen observers of European geopolitics and domestic UK policy, this isn’t just about cutting red tape or smoothing customs formalities. It’s about direction, intent, and trajectory; a trajectory, some might argue subtly, but surely points back toward Brussels.

Let’s be clear – this is not rejoining the EU. The UK retains its formal sovereignty, its independent trade policy, and its seat at the World Trade Organization. Yet, in practical terms, this agreement represents a partial realignment with the European regulatory and political sphere. It’s a détente, but one that many suspect could serve as a trial run for re-entry.

Trade and Regulatory Alignment: Quiet Integration
The most immediate impacts will be felt in trade. The deal includes a new sanitary and phytosanitary (SPS) agreement that significantly eases checks on animal and plant products, long a point of friction for exporters. British sausages and cheeses can once again cross the Channel with ease, and exporters have been granted breathing room after years of customs chaos.

The price? The UK will align dynamically with EU food safety rules and standards. Not only that, but the European Court of Justice (ECJ) will have an oversight role in this domain. It’s a politically delicate concession that the previous Conservative government would have balked at, but it is one that Starmer is positioning as an economic necessity rather than a political capitulation.

This kind of soft alignment, regulatory cooperation without full membership, mirrors the arrangements held by countries like Norway and Switzerland. The UK isn’t there yet, but it’s moving in that direction, and the economic benefits are likely to reinforce the case.

Fisheries: Symbolism and Compromise
Few sectors embody the emotion of Brexit like fisheries. The 2016 Leave campaign made maritime sovereignty a powerful symbol of national self-determination. Now, the UK has agreed to extend EU access to its waters for another 12 years, hardly the full “taking back control” once promised.

However, the government insists that the deal does not grant additional quotas to EU vessels, and preserves the right to annual negotiations. To offset the political fallout, £360 million is being invested into modernizing the UK fishing industry, a sweetener aimed at skeptical coastal communities.

Yet symbolism matters. This agreement effectively freezes the reassertion of full UK control over its fisheries until 2038. That’s long enough for an entire generation of voters to become accustomed to a cooperative status quo.

Energy, Climate, and Economic Integration
Perhaps the most telling element of the deal is its ambition in energy and carbon market integration. The UK and EU will link their Emissions Trading Systems (ETS), smoothing the path for cross-border carbon credit trading, and exempting British companies from the EU’s incoming Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM). This could save UK firms an estimated £800 million annually.

In strategic terms, it brings the UK closer to the EU’s climate governance framework, and represents a quiet, but firm repudiation of the “Global Britain” fantasy that post-Brexit Britain could thrive on deregulated free-market exceptionalism.

Security and Mobility: A Return to Practical Cooperation
Defense is also back on the table. The UK will participate in the EU’s PESCO initiative for military mobility, signifying renewed cooperation on troop and equipment movements. Intelligence sharing and sanctions alignment are also included, moves that suggest an increasingly coordinated foreign policy framework, even outside EU structures.

Meanwhile, UK travelers will soon regain access to EU e-gates, reducing airport queues, and negotiations are underway for a youth mobility scheme. The return to the Erasmus+ student exchange programme, in particular, is a major symbolic step, reconnecting young Britons with continental Europe in a way that had been severed post-2020.

A Trial Run for Rejoining?
Viewed in isolation, each element of the deal appears pragmatic and limited. Viewed together, however, they amount to a re-entangling of the UK within EU institutions and standards. The length of the deal, 12 years, is conspicuous. It places a review just past the midpoint of what could be two Labour governments, opening a window in the 2030s for a possible reapplication for membership.

Critics argue that Starmer is “Brexit in name only,” effectively undoing much of the substance of the 2016 vote. Proponents counter that he is offering economic stability, and international credibility without rekindling the divisive debate of formal re-entry, but no one should be under any illusions: this is a serious recalibration. For a generation of younger voters who never supported Brexit, it might just feel like the first step toward righting a historic wrong.

In this light, the 12-year deal may be best understood as a proving ground. It allows both the UK and the EU to rebuild trust, test cooperation mechanisms, and create the legal and political scaffolding that could one day support full re-accession. Starmer may deny it, and Brussels may downplay it, but history has a way of turning such “interim measures” into new norms.

For now, the UK is not rejoining the EU, but the doors, long thought closed, are no longer locked. And the steps taken in this agreement may well be remembered as the start of the long walk back in.

Sources
• BBC News: https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/czdy3r6q9mgo
• Sky News: https://news.sky.com/story/uk-eu-trade-deal-what-is-in-the-brexit-reset-agreement-13370912
• Al Jazeera: https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/5/21/will-eu-deal-make-food-cheaper-add-12bn-to-the-uk-economy
• Financial Times: https://www.ft.com/content/66763def-d141-465d-ba96-31399071bf3b
• The Times: https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/starmers-done-no-better-with-the-eu-than-may-8l37jm2sf

A Municipal Remedy: Why North Grenville Should Open Its Own Healthcare Centre

In North Grenville, the demand for primary healthcare has long outpaced the available supply. While the Rideau Crossing Family Health Clinic has served the community admirably, it seems to have reached its physical and staffing capacity. With a growing population, and increasing concerns over access to primary care, it’s time for the Township of North Grenville to consider a bold, but practical move: establish its own municipally-operated healthcare clinic.

This is not an untested idea. Across Canada, municipalities are taking healthcare into their own hands – literally. In Colwood, British Columbia, the city made headlines in 2023 when it became the first in the country to hire family physicians directly as municipal employees. Offering job stability, pensions, and administrative support, Colwood removed many of the barriers that deter physicians from entering or staying in primary care practice. It wasn’t about competing with existing private clinics, it was about ensuring no resident went without a family doctor.

Orillia, Ontario, is exploring a similar strategy. Recognizing that nearly 25% of the region lacks access to a primary care provider, city councillors there are considering opening a municipal clinic and hiring physicians as city staff. Their aim is to enhance, not undermine, the local healthcare network by filling a gap that traditional models are no longer meeting.

In Manitoba, rural communities like Killarney-Turtle Mountain are actively recruiting international physicians and managing their relocation as part of a municipally driven recruitment strategy. These towns have realized that waiting for provincial solutions is no longer viable. Meanwhile, in Huntsville, Ontario, a physician incentive program funded by the town is already yielding results, with new doctors signing on to help address longstanding shortages.

North Grenville has a chance to follow this growing municipal trend. Simply encouraging more physicians to join the private sector won’t be enough, there’s nowhere for them to go within the Township. A municipally-operated clinic, built with a collaborative mindset, and not as competition, can complement existing services while expanding capacity.

Such a clinic could offer a modern team-based care model that includes nurse practitioners, physician assistants, social workers, and administrative staff, all working under the umbrella of the municipality. With support from provincial and federal programs such as Ontario’s primary care transformation funds or the federal Foreign Credential Recognition Program, North Grenville could create a sustainable and forward-looking solution tailored to its own needs.

How to Move Forward: A Practical Path for the Township
To begin, North Grenville’s municipal council could establish a Healthcare Services Task Force to study local demand, identify gaps in coverage, and recommend a viable service delivery model. This task force should include community health experts, residents, and local politicians.

Next, the Township should apply for funding through Ontario Health’s community-based primary care programs, and the federal government’s health human resources strategy. Partnering with the local hospital, regional health teams, and post-secondary institutions could support the recruitment of new healthcare professionals, including recent graduates and internationally trained physicians.

Land acquisition or repurposing of an existing municipal facility could provide a location, with design input ensuring accessibility, environmental sustainability, and integrated team care. North Grenville does have the amazing resource of the Kemptville Campus, with one of its strategic pillars being “Health and Wellness”. The Township could also offer incentives such as relocation grants, housing support, and flexible hours to make municipal employment attractive to prospective staff.

Finally, a clear communications strategy should be launched to explain that the goal is not to replace or compete with existing providers, but to enhance and expand healthcare access in underserved areas and improve outcomes for all residents.

It’s time to stop waiting and start acting. Our citizens deserve timely, reliable healthcare. Let’s build it, right here at home.

Sources
https://tnc.news/2024/12/26/b-c-city-hiring-family-doctors-as-municipal-government-workers
https://barrie.ctvnews.ca/orillia-could-hire-family-doctors-to-create-municipal-clinic-1.7173907
https://www.winnipegfreepress.com/breakingnews/2024/04/19/diagnosis-critical-desperate-manitoba-municipalities-recruiting-doctors-on-their-own
https://barrie.ctvnews.ca/incentive-program-attracts-new-physicians-to-huntsville-to-address-shortage-in-primary-care-1.7093138
https://www.canada.ca/en/employment-social-development/news/2025/03/the-government-of-canada-is-investing-up-to-143-million-to-help-address-labour-shortages-in-the-health-sector.html

MEC: The Trail Back Home

As my regular readers know, I am a big supporter of the Canadian cooperative movement, and so I have to applaud this recent change in ownership bringing MEC back to Canada.  

MEC’s return to Canadian ownership isn’t just good news, it feels like a homecoming. For many of us who grew up buying our first tent, hiking boots, or pannier bags from Mountain Equipment Co-Op, the brand has always stood for more than just outdoor gear. It stood for trust, community, and a kind of quiet pride in doing things the Canadian way: cooperatively, responsibly, and with a clear eye on the land we all share.

Founded in 1971 by a group of climbers in British Columbia, MEC was created not to chase profits, but to help people get outside, affordably and together. It was a co-op, meaning it was owned by its members. If you paid the $5 lifetime membership fee, you weren’t just a customer, you were a part-owner. That sense of shared purpose ran deep. MEC was where we went not just to buy things, but to connect with others who cared about the same things we did: nature, community, and getting out into the wild with the right gear and the right mindset.

Yet over time, something shifted. The company grew fast. It opened more stores, expanded into new markets, and lost touch with its co-op roots. Eventually, the leadership made decisions that put growth and profit ahead of members’ voices. When MEC ran into financial trouble in 2020, the board quietly sold the company to a U.S. private equity firm, Kingswood Capital, without consulting the members. Just like that, a Canadian co-op was turned into a foreign-owned chain. People were furious, and rightfully so. Over 100,000 Canadians signed petitions demanding accountability, but by then, the deal was done.

That’s why it matters so much that MEC is back under Canadian ownership. In May 2024, a group of investors based in Vancouver bought it back. Their promise? To return the company to its values, more local partnerships, more transparency, more of the community spirit that made MEC special in the first place. They’re not promising to turn it back into a full co-op, but they are saying they’ll listen more, invest in Canada, and act with the kind of care that’s been missing for years.

This shift isn’t just about ownership. It’s about trust. It’s about remembering that good business doesn’t have to mean cutting corners or selling out. It’s about doing the right thing, even if it’s harder. MEC still has a long way to go to rebuild what was lost, but for many of us, knowing it’s Canadian again is enough to make us want to give it another chance.

What this shows is that Canadians still care deeply about how companies behave. We want businesses that reflect our values, not just our wallets, and when something we love is taken away, we fight for it. MEC was built by us. It should never have been sold without us, and now that it’s back, we can start climbing again – together.

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.”

A Welcome with Questions: What Dr. Kaur’s Arrival Reveals About North Grenville’s Physician Incentive Strategy

Ontario is facing a growing shortage of primary care physicians, leaving millions of residents without regular access to a family doctor. This crisis is particularly acute in rural and small-town communities, where aging populations and physician retirements have widened care gaps. In response, municipalities across the province are adopting innovative strategies to attract, recruit, and retain doctors. These include financial incentive programs, housing and relocation support, flexible practice models, and community integration initiatives aimed at making smaller communities more appealing.

So, the arrival of a new physician in a small Ontario town is typically a cause for celebration. Access to primary care is under increasing pressure across the province, and communities like North Grenville work diligently to recruit and retain family physicians. Thus, when Mayor Nancy Peckford announced the addition of Dr. Pawandeep Kaur to the Rideau Crossing Family Health Centre in Kemptville, it was a moment of optimism.

However, a closer examination of the circumstances surrounding Dr. Kaur’s recruitment reveals complexities that warrant further scrutiny, particularly concerning the application and effectiveness of North Grenville’s Family Physician Incentive Program.

Dr. Lavitt’s Brief Tenure
Dr. Samantha Lavitt joined the Rideau Crossing Family Health Centre in June 2024 as part of the municipality’s North Grenville Primary Care Incentive Program. Her arrival was heralded as a significant step forward in enhancing primary care access for the community. However, less than a year into her tenure, Dr. Lavitt announced her departure, effective June 1, 2025. The reasons for her short stay have not been publicly disclosed, but her brief tenure raises questions about the program’s ability to retain physicians in the community. 

A Seamless Transition – But Not an Expansion
To ensure continuity of care, Dr. Kaur will begin transitioning into Dr. Lavitt’s practice starting April 16, 2025, with a full handover by June 1. This overlap aligns with the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario (CPSO) guidelines, which mandate that physicians provide appropriate arrangements for patient care continuity upon leaving a practice.

While this transition is commendable from a patient care perspective, it is important to note that Dr. Kaur is not an addition to North Grenville’s physician roster, but a replacement. The total number of family physicians in the community remains unchanged.

The Optics of Growth
Mayor Peckford’s announcement welcomed Dr. Kaur as “another new family doctor,” a phrase that suggests an increase in the local healthcare workforce. However, this characterization is misleading, as Dr. Kaur is filling the vacancy left by Dr. Lavitt. The use of the term “new” in this context may create a perception of growth where there is none.

Furthermore, Dr. Kaur’s recruitment is again tied to the township’s Family Physician Incentive Program. This raises questions about the program’s application. Designed to attract new physicians to underserved areas, the program appears, in this instance, to be used to maintain existing capacity rather than expand it. 

A Stepping Stone, or a Sustainable Solution?
The brief tenure of Dr. Lavitt and the subsequent recruitment of Dr. Kaur under the same incentive program highlight potential vulnerabilities in the program’s design. If physicians view the program as a short-term opportunity or a stepping stone to other positions, the community may face ongoing challenges in maintaining stable, long-term primary care services. Perhaps the program’s retention strategies may need reevaluation to ensure sustainable healthcare delivery in North Grenville? 

Moving Forward with Transparency
While Dr. Kaur’s arrival ensures that existing patients continue to receive care, the situation underscores the need for transparency in how recruitment programs are utilized. It is essential to assess whether these programs are achieving their intended goals of expanding healthcare access, and to consider adjustments that enhance their effectiveness in both attracting and retaining physicians.

As North Grenville continues to navigate the complexities of healthcare provision, clear communication and strategic planning will be key to ensuring that the community’s needs are met not just today, but in the years to come.

Sources
• Rideau Crossing Family Health Centre. “Practice Update.” rideaucrossingfhc.ca
• My Kemptville Now. “North Grenville welcomes newest physician.” mykemptvillenow.com
• North Grenville. “North Grenville Enhances Primary Care Access with Arrival of Dr. Lavitt.” northgrenville.ca
• College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario. “Physician Information.” register.cpso.on.ca

Cameron Davies and the Rise of Alberta’s Republican Right: An American Echo in Western Canada

The emergence of the Republican Party of Alberta (RPA) on the political stage is more than just another footnote in the long tale of Western alienation, it’s a calculated, ideologically driven attempt to redefine Alberta’s place not just within Canada, but in the broader North American political culture. At its centre stands Cameron Davies, a seasoned conservative strategist whose own political evolution mirrors the rightward lurch of the party he now leads.

The RPA was officially registered with Elections Alberta in January 2024, marking the latest effort to unite various hard-right and sovereigntist factions that have cycled through Alberta politics over the past decade. It inherited the legacy of groups like the Wildrose Independence Party and Wexit Alberta, which had captured the imagination of disillusioned voters but failed to sustain momentum. The new branding, “Republican” in name and nature, signals a stark ideological shift. It’s not just about independence anymore; it’s about importing the ethos of American-style conservatism, down to the MAGA-hued slogans and policy choices.

When Cameron Davies was acclaimed as leader in April 2025, the party’s intentions crystallized. Davies, a former backroom operator for the Wildrose and United Conservative Party (UCP), is best known for his role in the controversial “kamikaze” campaign during the 2017 UCP leadership race. That episode, which sought to undermine Brian Jean in favour of Jason Kenney, resulted in Davies being fined $15,000 for obstructing an election investigation. Though bruised by scandal, he remained a prominent figure in conservative circles until he publicly resigned from the UCP in 2025, accusing it of corruption, entitlement, and ideological betrayal.

His resignation letter read like a manifesto, a rejection of institutional politics in favour of what he described as grassroots conservatism, though critics might call it a hard-right insurgency. Davies’ departure was both strategic and symbolic. He positioned himself as the torchbearer of the “real right” in Alberta, unencumbered by the compromises of power that had come to define Danielle Smith’s increasingly centrist UCP government.

Under Davies’ leadership, the RPA has embraced a platform that reads like it was drafted in a red-state Republican think tank. There’s the call for a binding referendum on Alberta independence, followed by a non-binding vote on joining the United States. There’s strong rhetoric about parental rightsreligious freedom, and gun ownership, coupled with opposition to “woke” policies like diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs. Carbon taxes, public healthcare, federal immigration policies—these are all painted as signs of moral and fiscal decline, to be swept away by a new order rooted in faith, family, and “freedom.”

If this sounds familiar, it’s because it is. Davies has openly fashioned himself in the mold of American populist leaders. His social media presence references his military background (“Marine”), his patriotism, and his adherence to traditional values. He speaks of Canada, especially under Liberal governments, in the kind of dire terms more commonly heard on Fox News than in Canadian legislatures. For Davies, Ottawa is not just a political rival; it is a moral adversary, and Alberta must be rescued from its grasp.

There is no hard evidence yet of direct ties between Davies and the machinery of the American right, no funding pipelines, no visits to CPAC (yet), no endorsements from U.S. figures. But the ideological alignment is unmistakable. The RPA’s aesthetics, policy priorities, and culture-war messaging are all deeply influenced by the Make America Great Again (MAGA) movement. It is a party that sees itself less as a provincial player and more as a cultural movement, seeking to spark a broader populist awakening.

Davies’ recent moves show that this isn’t just rhetorical posturing. In May 2025, the RPA signed a Memorandum of Understanding with The Independence Party of Alberta, forming a loose coalition aimed at consolidating the separatist vote. The message is clear: there is no room anymore for fragmented protest parties. To mount a serious challenge to the UCP and, by extension, the federal order, the independence movement must speak with one voice, and Davies intends to be that voice.

The question now is whether the Republican Party of Alberta will become a formidable political force, or simply another flare in Alberta’s long-burning bonfire of right-wing discontent. The UCP has already learned, painfully, what happens when the right fractures. The Wildrose-PC split in the early 2010s handed the NDP a surprise victory in 2015. That memory is still fresh, and it was precisely what motivated the formation of the UCP as a big-tent conservative party in 2017.

Yet that tent is fraying. Many rural voters feel the UCP has compromised too much on issues like education, healthcare privatization, and provincial sovereignty. The RPA, with its unapologetically radical platform, offers them an alternative, a place where the message isn’t diluted by political pragmatism. Davies has a keen understanding of this tension, and he’s betting that enough Albertans are tired of half-measures and ready to blow the whole system up.

But winning a few headlines and gaining traction in the echo chamber of social media is one thing; winning seats is another. The RPA currently has no MLAs. Its organizational infrastructure is limited. Unless a high-profile defection occurs or it pulls off an upset in a by-election, the party remains on the fringe. Moreover, its overtly American positioning, especially the proposal to join the U.S., may strike even sympathetic voters as unserious or dangerously naive.

Canadians, after all, are not Americans. While cultural conservatism resonates in parts of Alberta, many still value universal healthcare, peacekeeping diplomacy, and the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The RPA’s invocation of U.S.-style populism could ultimately alienate more voters than it attracts, especially if it becomes associated with the chaos and polarization of American politics.

Still, it would be unwise to dismiss Cameron Davies and the RPA out of hand. They are tapping into something very real: a deep and growing disillusionment with traditional politics, a sense of cultural siege, and a yearning for bold, even revolutionary change. Whether that can be translated into electoral success remains uncertain, but the message is loud and clear: the populist right in Alberta is no longer content to sit on the sidelines. And under Davies’ leadership, it’s ready to speak with an American accent.

The Cameron Comparison: Will Danielle Smith Trigger Her Own Political Exit?

Danielle Smith’s political gambit with Alberta sovereignty bears an uncanny resemblance to David Cameron’s fateful decision to call a referendum on the United Kingdom’s membership in the European Union. Both leaders, faced with mounting internal pressures and populist insurgencies, sought to contain nationalist sentiment by giving it a structured outlet. In so doing, each gambled with the stability of their broader political project. Cameron, convinced that a plebiscite would put the Brexit question to bed and silence his party’s right-wing flank, ended up catalyzing the very crisis he had hoped to avoid, leading to his own political demise. Smith may be following the same treacherous path.

At the heart of both movements is the seductive notion of “taking back control”, from Brussels in the case of Brexit, and from Ottawa in Smith’s Alberta. The appeal is emotional and immediate: a narrative of betrayal by distant elites, a promise of restored autonomy, and the fantasy of economic self-sufficiency. Cameron allowed that narrative to play out on a national stage, legitimizing it with a referendum. Smith is doing something similar through legislation and rhetoric, invoking Alberta’s right to ignore or nullify federal laws under the guise of defending provincial jurisdiction.

Yet here lies the danger. Like Cameron, Smith has chosen to weaponize the language of sovereignty without a clear or viable endpoint. Her Alberta Sovereignty Within a United Canada Act is not a roadmap to secession, but it flirts with the logic of separation. The very act of mobilizing this discourse strengthens the hand of more radical forces in the province; those who see confederation not as a partnership, but as a prison. If Smith cannot deliver meaningful change within the framework of the Canadian constitution, and she likely cannot, she risks being outflanked by the separatists she once sought to co-opt. Just as UKIP’s rise drove Cameron’s decisions, the Maverick Party and other Alberta-first voices are shaping Smith’s hand, perhaps more than she realizes.

Politically, the parallels are striking and cautionary. Cameron misread the electorate and overestimated his ability to control the narrative. He expected the rational case for Remain to win out but failed to grasp the emotional and symbolic power of “Leave.” When the vote went against him, he resigned, leaving his party and country in turmoil. Smith may also be underestimating the Pandora’s box she is prying open. If public expectations are raised for a decisive break with Ottawa, one that cannot be delivered through mere provincial legislation, she may find herself either forced to escalate into unconstitutional territory or retreat in humiliation.

Moreover, Smith’s strategy could fracture the broader conservative coalition in Alberta. Urban moderates and business conservatives, critical to her electoral base, may grow weary of perpetual constitutional conflict, especially if it begins to affect investment, interprovincial relations, or federal funding. Meanwhile, the more extreme nationalist voices she has tried to placate will grow disillusioned if her sovereignty agenda produces no tangible results. Like Cameron, Smith is dancing between factions with incompatible goals, and she may end up satisfying none.

The tragedy of Cameron’s Brexit lies not just in the decision itself, but in the hubris that preceded it; the belief that one could flirt with nationalist fire and not get burned. Smith now faces a similar moment. In reaching for short-term political gain through an aggressive assertion of provincial autonomy, she may be sacrificing long-term credibility and coherence. The lesson from Brexit is not just about consequences, it’s about the limits of strategic populism. Smith, like Cameron, could soon discover that once sovereignty becomes the language of politics, it is no longer possible to control who speaks it, or how far they want to go.

When Can We Expect the Alberta By-Election, and What’s the Process, Anyway?

Well, folks, the question on everyone’s lips in Ottawa and across the Prairies is this: when can we expect the by-election in Alberta’s Battle River–Crowfoot riding? Especially now that Pierre Poilievre is looking to claw his way back into the House of Commons after that stunning loss in Carleton. With Damien Kurek stepping aside to clear the path, the machinery of a federal by-election is now grinding into motion, but how soon is soon? And what exactly does the process look like?

Let’s walk it through.

Step 1: The Writs Must Be Returned
Before anything official can happen, the election results from the April 28 general vote need to be certified and the writs returned. According to Elections Canada, the official deadline for that is May 19, 2025. Until then, the government can’t formally acknowledge the vacancy in Battle River–Crowfoot, even if we all know Kurek’s seat is about to be up for grabs.

Step 2: Notifying the Vacancy
Once the results are certified and published in the Canada Gazette, the Speaker of the House issues a warrant to the Chief Electoral Officer, officially declaring the seat vacant. That’s the moment the countdown truly begins.

Step 3: Issuing the Writ
Here’s where the Canada Elections Act comes into play. The Governor General must call the by-election no fewer than 11 days and no more than 180 days after the vacancy is declared. That gives the Prime Minister a fair bit of discretion in setting the date, unless, of course, he’s under pressure to get the Leader of the Opposition back into Parliament sooner rather than later.

Mark Carney, now comfortably in the PM’s chair, has said he’s not playing games with this one. He told reporters on May 2 that the by-election would happen “as soon as possible…no games, nothing, straight.” That could mean we’re looking at a late June or early July contest, an unusually quick turnaround, but not out of the question.

Step 4: Campaign Period
By law, a federal campaign must last a minimum of 36 days. So once the writ drops, expect a quick-and-dirty sprint to the finish line.

And if you thought this was going to be a sleepy rural by-election, think again. The Longest Ballot Committee, a merry band of electoral reform activists, is threatening to run up to 200 candidates in the riding. It’s a stunt aimed squarely at exposing the flaws of our first-past-the-post system. Whether it derails Poilievre’s re-entry or just clogs the ballot box, it’s going to add a layer of political theatre to what might otherwise be a foregone conclusion.

Bottom Line
Barring delays, we’re likely to see the writ dropped sometime in late May or early June, putting election day in late June or early July. The political urgency, Poilievre’s comeback bid, Carney’s no-nonsense commitment, and a media circus brewing in east-central Alberta, suggests Ottawa isn’t going to wait the full 180 days.

So keep your calendars open and your popcorn handy. Battle River–Crowfoot may be heading into the national spotlight.

Sources
Canada Elections Act – Elections Canada
Battle River–Crowfoot federal by-election – Wikipedia
iPolitics – Longest Ballot Committee
OurCommons.ca – Election Candidates

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.

Crown and Country: King Charles’s Visit Tests Canada’s Unity

King Charles III is scheduled to open Canada’s Parliament on May 27, 2025, an event of considerable constitutional and political significance. It will be the first time a reigning monarch has performed this ceremonial role since Queen Elizabeth II in October 1977, during her Silver Jubilee tour. The announcement, made jointly with Prime Minister Mark Carney, carries symbolic weight and calculated political intent. As Canada contends with renewed provocations from U.S. President Donald Trump, including veiled economic threats and rhetoric that edges toward neo-imperial posturing, the Carney government appears to be leveraging the royal visit as a demonstration of constitutional resilience and international dignity. The moment is carefully staged to evoke continuity, stability, and institutional maturity in a time of cross-border unpredictability.

Yet there is a deeper strategic layer to this decision. Donald Trump has, in recent months, made no secret of his admiration for the British monarchy. He has praised royal decorum as a model of “true leadership” and even quipped during a campaign rally in Ohio that the United States “might do better in the Commonwealth.” While intended as theatre, the remark underscores Trump’s peculiar reverence for monarchical symbolism, a reverence that contrasts sharply with his often dismissive tone toward democratic norms. By welcoming King Charles into such a central role in Canadian political life, Carney may be sending a coded diplomatic signal to Washington: Canada, unlike its southern neighbour, is grounded in institutions that project both dignity and endurance. If Trump is moved by monarchy, then Carney is speaking a language he understands.

Domestically, however, the political optics are more complicated. While the Crown remains Canada’s formal head of state, public sentiment toward the monarchy is lukewarm at best. Recent polling suggests that 67 percent of Canadians were indifferent to Charles’s accession, and more than 80 percent described themselves as personally disconnected from the institution. For many, the monarchy feels like a vestige of another era, more relevant to history books than to modern governance. Carney’s gamble, then, is that the ceremonial gravitas of a royal visit will outweigh the public’s prevailing sense of apathy or irrelevance.

That apathy becomes pronounced opposition in Quebec, where nationalist sentiment remains particularly resistant to symbols of British authority. Quebec’s sovereigntist movements have long framed the Crown as emblematic of colonialism and cultural erasure. During King Charles’s coronation, the Société Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Montréal sent a telegram to Buckingham Palace declaring him “not welcome” in the province. The message was more than rhetorical: it echoed a deep-rooted political ethos that has challenged Canada’s constitutional architecture since the Quiet Revolution. In 2022, Premier François Legault’s government moved to eliminate the requirement that members of the National Assembly swear allegiance to the monarch, a pointed gesture of institutional defiance. For Quebec nationalists, the King’s presence in Ottawa may not symbolize unity, but rather federal tone-deafness.

Yet even as the visit stirs unease in some quarters, it presents a lesser-discussed opportunity: to reimagine the role of the Crown in Canada’s ongoing reconciliation with Indigenous peoples. The monarchy is, historically and legally, a signatory to many of the foundational treaties that continue to define the relationship between Indigenous nations and the Canadian state. For many Indigenous leaders, the Crown is not merely a colonial artifact, but also a legal partner whose standing can be invoked to press for the recognition of rights, lands, and sovereignty. If handled with humility and commitment, the King’s visit could serve as the opening of a new chapter, one in which the Crown renews its role not through symbolic visits alone, but through meaningful engagement with treaty obligations. Such a move would not erase historical wrongs, but it could elevate the discourse from ceremonial niceties to active responsibility and mutual respect.

In this light, the King’s appearance is more than a formal gesture. It is a high-stakes exercise in multi-layered symbolism, directed outward to a volatile American neighbour, inward to a fragmented federation, and downward through the strata of Canada’s colonial legacy. Carney is clearly betting that monarchy, however ambivalently received, can still serve as a unifying force if cast with the right mixture of diplomacy, gravity, and forward-looking intent. The risk is that in attempting to speak to all Canadians, the gesture may resonate with too few people. On the other hand, if successful, it could lay the foundation for a reimagined relationship between Canada and its institutions, one that asserts sovereignty, invites reconciliation, and strategically reclaims tradition in a turbulent geopolitical moment.