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Category: Chairman’s Desk

Canadian politics in 2026: Two fault lines that could alter the landscape

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The year-in-review phase is over. It’s time to look ahead.

In Canadian politics, 2025 will be remembered as the year of Trump. In 2026, I regret to predict, very little will change. In my last column, I argued that the U.S. midterms — and President Donald Trump’s rhetoric in the lead-up — will turn Canada into an increasingly convenient political target, spelling trouble for our economy and particularly for the looming CUSMA renegotiations.

That is a seismic risk. But it is far from the only political story Canadians should be watching in the year ahead.

As 2026 dawns, here are two more consequential political fault lines to keep an eye on.

Quebec and the shadow of a referendum

Quebecers head to the polls in October, unless Premier François Legault pulls the plug earlier.

Despite Legault’s year-end insistence that Parti Québécois support is overstated and his laughable claim that his CAQ Party can recover, the writing is on the wall. Think Justin Trudeau in 2024-2025. Once a political narrative gets to this stage, it sets like concrete.

Perhaps even more beneficial for the PQ’s chances of forming a government, however, is the implosion of the Quebec Liberal party following Pablo Rodriguez’s resignation amid serious allegations of corruption.

Unless the Liberals rapidly find a credible, unifying leader, the path to a referendum becomes far more plausible as the PQ have promised a vote on sovereignty within its first term if elected.

History — Brexit in particular — teaches us these moments are not to be trifled with. Campaigns harden positions. Foreign actors interfere. Events spiral. And the consequences of Quebec breaking away from the federation would be economically and politically catastrophic.

Not to be outdone, in Alberta, a referendum looms with Elections Alberta approving a referendum question that now requires a petition with just 178,000 signatures to trigger a vote. In my view, the odds of a sovereign Alberta remain remote. But after a year marked by rare national unity, the renewed gravitational pull of separatist politics — in more than one province — is a reminder of how quickly the pendulum can swing. And how fragile our federation can feel when it does.

Party infighting: The real battles are internal 

In 2026, the most consequential fights may not be between parties, but within them.

For the Conservatives, the risk is straightforward. Pierre Poilievre must prevent further floor crossings that could hand Mark Carney a majority government. If more MPs defect, Poilievre’s leadership will come under immediate threat, particularly ahead of a leadership review that would suddenly feel far less academic.

For the Liberals, unity may look deceptively strong following the additions of Michael Ma and Chris d’Entremont. But the Carney version of Liberalism has yet to be fully tested.

Stephen Guilbeault’s departure from cabinet may be the first of several moments of internal friction as Carney rolls out a more fiscally conservative governing agenda. Watch for more Trudeau-era ministers to decide to spend more time with their families.

But here’s the good news: infighting may be bad for parties, but it’s good for everyday Canadians.

Rigid partisanship serves ideologues and party elites, not voters. Most Canadians don’t care what jersey a politician wears. They care whether their lives are getting more affordable and their streets safer.

We’ve already seen the trend. In 2025, voters who once leaned Conservative moved toward Mark Carney. In the U.S., voters who supported Trump backed Zohran Mamdani. These are not anomalies, they are signals. The era of automatic party loyalty is eroding.

2026 will belong to politicians who can move with that reality, who are willing to shed tribal instincts, adapt their language, and focus relentlessly on results over ideology. That is the real political story of the year ahead.

Canada is the perfect target for Trump’s midterm survival strategy

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Let’s start with a few assumptions.

U.S. President Donald Trump has reached his political ceiling.

He will never again enjoy the high-water mark he hit on election night last year. What remains is a slow, steady leaking of his support — drips at first, then larger spills as the inevitable crises he provokes roll in.

Historically, polls have understated Trump’s support. This time, I believe they are closer to the mark — not because they’ve suddenly become more accurate, but because Trump finds himself in a position he has never managed to successfully navigate: owning a struggling economy.

And yet, he promised Americans the moon — a booming, cheaper, more prosperous future. That promise will go unfulfilled. And as every unpopular president eventually learns, the midterms are when voters stop listening to excuses and start demanding results.

In short, 2026 will be a very bad year for Donald Trump.

But he won’t go down without a fight.

It’s impossible to overstate how damaging it is for any U.S. administration when their party stands to lose both the House of Representatives and the Senate — an outcome that now seems more likely than not. It is tantamount to governing with both hands tied behind your back.

The president’s advisers understand the gravity of this situation. Trump’s chief of staff has already telegraphed their plan: instead of hiding an unpopular president, they intend to nationalize the midterms around him. He will campaign like it’s 2024 all over again.

Which brings us to what all of this means for Canada. In reality, there are only two options ahead.

Option one: Trump reverses course. He halts most tariffs, normalizes trade relations and frees American consumers from the self-inflicted price shocks. This would presumably help him politically.

We can dream.

Option two: He blames Canada. He doubles down and escalates tariffs.

I would bet the farm on option two.

Whether Trump likes it or not, the 2026 midterms will be a referendum on the state of the U.S. economy. And Trump’s core challenge is not the performance of the stock market. Wealthy Americans are doing just fine. His real vulnerability lies with low- and middle-income households — the voters who decide elections and who feel the pain of every grocery bill.

Those Americans don’t care if Nvidia posts a record quarter. Their lives are getting more expensive by the day.

And far from changing his spots, admitting that tariffs have helped create this affordability crisis, Trump — especially on the campaign trail — is likely to lean even harder into the narrative that has always underpinned his politics: that America is the victim, that someone else is taking advantage of them.

In that narrative, Canada will be in the crosshairs.

And we will be in the crosshairs because of who we are.

No matter how warmly Trump may speak about our prime minister, Canada remains fundamentally out of step with the administration’s ideological world view. As JD Vance’s social-media feed reminds us regularly, Canada is held up as the textbook example of liberal excess — a country too socially progressive and too immigration friendly.

But the clearest signal of this shift is found in the administration’s update to America’s national security strategy. I will spare readers the tedium, but the thrust is unmistakable: nations that once counted as America’s closest friends are now cast as potential adversaries. Old alliances are disposable.

And in this world view, Canada becomes something between a bargaining chip and a vassal state.

Which only serves to underline the point: the politics of grievance fuel the politics of tariffs. And Canada is a convenient target. That vulnerability will only grow as the 2026 midterms approach.

A president campaigning on grievance, tariffs, and “America First” will see CUSMA not as a stabilizing framework but as yet another arena to extract concessions and manufacture conflict.

If there is a silver lining, it is this: should Republicans face significant losses in the midterms, the political logic of tariffs will shift. As the party turns toward the 2028 presidential race, there will be enormous pressure on its nominee to campaign on an economy that is stronger, cheaper and growing — a difficult proposition with self-inflicted tariffs still in place.

A sliver of hope, to be sure. But in a Trump-dominated environment, even a sliver is worth something.

Mark Carney’s pipeline marks a shift from values-based trade-offs to economically grounded ones

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“This is Canada working. This is co-operative federalism.”

That is how Prime Minister Mark Carney framed the recent memorandum of understanding between Ottawa and Alberta to build a pipeline to Canada’s west coast.

Credit where credit is due: it’s a sharp line.

But it didn’t take long for rhetoric to collide with reality.

Just hours after Carney and Alberta Premier Danielle Smith were smiling for cameras in downtown Calgary, B.C. Premier David Eby denounced the deal, insisting his government could not support any arrangement that revives tanker traffic on the province’s coastline. He went further, labelling the pipeline project an “energy vampire” that would drain federal, Indigenous, and provincial resources.

What our optimistic prime minister calls “co-operative federalism” might, in practice, be better described as “waterbed federalism”: push down to accommodate one province and righteous anger rises up elsewhere. Sometimes in the form of a premier. Sometimes from within your own caucus.

Maddening as it is, this is the Canada we have.

And while critics may wish to pretend otherwise, no one in the Carney government is under any illusion about this reality and the risks it presents. They are simply choosing to engage with them anyway.

Because the bet Carney is making is straightforward: that he can outmuscle the opponents of this project with the administrative force of the new Major Projects Office, the regulatory and convening tools of the federal government, and the broad public support — across parties and regions — that wants this built.

But make no mistake: it is still a bet. A big one.

And his most important instrument in executing it isn’t some new legal tool — rather, it’s a new political language. Not the virtues-forward moralism of the Trudeau years, but a more pragmatic, materially focused economic nationalism.

Which brings us to the larger picture.

This pipeline is not just about soothing Alberta. It is about diversifying our export markets, loosening our dependence on the United States, and opening pathways to new partners.

That ambition requires a shift from “values-based” trade-offs to economically grounded ones — both at home and abroad.

Of all the globe-trotting Carney has done in his time as prime minister, nothing has been as concrete or consequential as the agreement he signed with the United Arab Emirates earlier this month. Under that deal, Canada and the UAE will jointly invest more than $1 billion to expand critical mineral processing here at home. More remarkably still, the UAE has pledged up to $70 billion in investment across Canada’s economy.

That is genuine economic statecraft. Not just foreign financing, but foreign partners sitting at the table, sharing risk, supply-chain exposure, and industrial ambition.

Of course, such deals come with complications. Carney was asked about reports the UAE is fuelling ethnic violence in Sudan, a grim and legitimate concern.

But if Canada wants the massive international capital required to build the infrastructure of our future, we must accept an uncomfortable truth: new partners do not come without new complexities.

This is part of a broader pivot, not only away from American dependence, but toward a more hard-headed, globally competitive posture.

For a man who literally wrote a book about values, this shift might seem jarring to some. Even politically hazardous.

They could not be more wrong.

In fact, any opportunity that allows Mark Carney to differentiate himself from Justin Trudeau is a political gift. Every Trudeau-era cabinet minister who steps aside, every change in message, tone, or emphasis, every move away from moralistic internationalism toward economic pragmatism — signals to voters: this is not the same Liberal party.

Carney is consolidating his power and reshaping the party in his own image.

That is not a vulnerability. Most parties struggle for years to rid themselves of the lingering scent of a former leader. Carney is doing it with purpose and speed.

And that matters.

Because the prime minister’s entire project — the pipeline, the global investment strategy, the shift away from the Trudeau brand — will depend on whether Canadians see not continuity, but reinvention, a government defined not by moral posture, but by a commitment to material progress.

Affordability has become the only issue — everything else is just noise

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Nothing corrodes political credibility faster than pretending a problem doesn’t exist. Especially when that problem is one that voters feel in their bones. And nothing angers voters more — or accelerates their distrust — than denying the reality that life is getting more expensive.

You can stall, spin, or distract from this fact. But eventually, the bills come due.

Last week offered two striking examples of just that.

First up, U.S. President Donald Trump.

It was a bruising week for the orange menace to the South. In the first major elections since 2024, Democrats swept contests across the United States. In New York, mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani secured a decisive victory. In Mississippi, Democrats flipped two Republican-held state Senate seats, breaking through the GOP’s supermajority in a state long considered untouchable. Abigail Spanberger and Mikie Sherrill scored double-digit wins in gubernatorial races in Virginia and New Jersey. The list goes on.

The common thread? Democratic candidates being laser focused on the cost of living and pocketbook issues.

Sensing the danger ahead of the 2026 midterms, the Trump administration scrambled to catch up. Suddenly, the issue of affordability was the theme of the week.

Trump unveiled a plan to send $2,000 cheques to low- and middle-income Americans, funded by tariff revenues. He directed the Justice Department to probe price-fixing in the meat industry. He announced a deal aimed at cutting the price of weight-loss drugs. And he even floated a rather ludicrous plan for 50-year mortgages to help lower homeowners’ payments.

All of it — however far-fetched — amounted to real action. But his words told a very different story.

Days after the elections, Trump described affordability as a “new word,” and dismissed it as a “con job” by Democrats. Later, he declared, “I don’t want to hear about affordability.”

In other words, pure denial.

This kind of reality-bending has long been Trump’s political hallmark. But cracks are forming. Next year’s midterms will show just how deep they run and whether Trump’s rhetoric begins to align with the reality his administration is being forced to confront.

But denial takes subtler forms too. And you don’t need to look across the border to find them.

Here at home, despite Conservative infighting, last week was no picnic for the Liberals. Their budget landed with a dull thud. The announcement of several new “major projects” largely met the same fate.

As communications products, both leaned heavily on the familiar themes of nation-building: infrastructure, productivity, long-term competitiveness.

All worthy goals. All necessary. And yet, for most Canadians, entirely beside the point.

Because none of it answers the questions keeping families up at night: How do I afford Christmas gifts this year? What can I put on the table this week without blowing the grocery budget? When will anything actually get cheaper?

Ask anyone on Bay Street and they’ll give you the logic: strengthen the fundamentals, and the rest will follow. Build a more productive, self-sufficient Canada and affordability pressures will ease. Eventually.

But that word — eventually — is only half the problem.

Because when families watch prices climb and rent devour more than half their paycheques, and then hear politicians talk about productivity targets, megaprojects, and long-term competitiveness, it sounds like their priorities are upside down.

Talk about anything but the thing that’s hurting people most, and voters reach a simple conclusion: you don’t get it. They don’t hear a plan to help them, they hear a government talking past them.

It isn’t outright denial, but it lands exactly the same way.

It’s often said that in politics, perception is reality. That’s the real danger here. Whether it’s Trump mocking affordability or Ottawa talking around it, the result is the same: people stop listening. And when governments fixate on what they want to say instead of what people need to hear, they cross an invisible line, from governing to gaslighting.

And the truth is this: voters can forgive mistakes, but they won’t forgive denial of the problem they confront every day in the checkout line.

As Prime Minister Mark Carney’s government settles into the hard realities of governing, it faces that very test. If it keeps sounding like it’s talking past Canadians — no matter how sound the policy or grand the strategy — it risks being heard the same way Trump was: as leadership in denial.

Denial comes in many forms. But whether it’s shouted from a podium or buried in bureaucratic jargon, it leads to the same place — political defeat.

It took the Royals far too long to reach the right answer on Andrew

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There’s a maxim in crisis management: in moments of reputational jeopardy, go to “endgame” fast.

If someone must be fired or demoted, if an apology is owed, if a line must finally be drawn — do it as quickly and humanely as possible. Don’t dribble out half-measures and euphemisms. Don’t wait. Don’t hope the smell dissipates on its own.

Because it won’t. The longer you dither, the worse it gets.

The House of Windsor has demonstrated that truth in real time. Every extra year, month, minute Prince Andrew retained even a trace of title or privilege — and every cent that could be traced, directly or indirectly, to the public purse — the institution paid compounding interest on reputational damage.

Instead of moving decisively, the palace took the slowest walk to the most obvious conclusion. And they are now paying the penalty for that hesitation.

Let’s recap this slow-moving car crash. In 2011, Andrew’s friendship with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein came to light, and he stepped down as the U.K.’s special trade envoy. Years later, in 2019, came the infamous BBC “Newsnight” interview — an exercise in self-immolation — in which he claimed he had “no recollection” of ever meeting Virginia Roberts Giuffre, despite the now-famous photo with his arm around her; insisted he could not sweat; and otherwise strained credulity through plain old blubbering.

In the aftermath, he was stripped of the “His Royal Highness” style.

But recent events delivered the coup de grâce. An email surfaced showing Andrew remained in contact with Epstein long after he suggested the relationship had ended — chummily and revoltingly promising they would “play more soon” and were “in it together.” On top of that, Giuffre’s posthumous memoir, “Nobody’s Girl,” landed in Britain with detailed allegations of her encounters with Andrew.

The result: Andrew has now been stripped of the “prince” title, all other honours removed, and he’s being shown the door at Royal Lodge.

I’m counting well past three strikes.

You could argue royalty does not play by the same rules as everybody else. But no one is exempt from the rules of public favour. And public favour is the monarchy’s oxygen.

By avoiding endgame and choosing a drip-by-drip discipline — another style stripped here, a privilege removed there, a wincing statement when the headlines flared — the Royal Family didn’t just fail to cauterize the wound, it allowed it to keep reopening and reopening. And each partial step invited the same question: Do they actually understand the gravity of this?

Moving to endgame fast matters because it signals just that understanding. It shows the people in charge grasp the scale of the wrongdoing and are acting — not managing optics, not protecting one of their own, but protecting the standard.

Linger, and you communicate the opposite: an irrational attachment to the person over the principle.

Of course, families are anything but rational. They are complicated, sentimental, and often forgiving to a fault. That may be the best argument for why it took so long; but it is no excuse. In leadership — especially where one’s legitimacy rests on trust — mercy cannot outrun accountability.

There’s another, frequently overlooked, reason to get to endgame: it is better for the person you’re cutting loose. It gives them a finality that allows them to move on, instead of living on permanent probation and relapsing into fresh embarrassments that drag everyone back to the beginning.

Several currents finally converged this week. The King was publicly heckledabout Andrew. The Prime Minister, Keir Starmer, broke with the usual kid-glove deference and endorsed proper scrutiny of Andrew’s peppercorn lease at Royal Lodge; the Public Accounts Committee duly asked for documents. And, if palace whispers are right, the generational gears engaged: William and Catherine pressed for a clean break.

They’re not wrong to see urgency. Only four working royals are under the age of 70. The institution’s future depends on a smaller, harder-working cadre who cannot afford reputational freeloaders.

Monarchy survives on public standing — and on the judgment to protect it. At last, the next generation seems to have decided that the endgame had arrived.

It should have been reached years ago. But late, I suppose, is better than never.