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Category: Chairman’s Desk

The generals’ summit wasn’t about war abroad — it was about control at home

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I’ll admit that it can be challenging to know when to write about the Trump administration. It’s like having a noisy neighbour: for the sake of your sanity, oftentimes it’s simply best to ignore them. Other times, you simply have to name the behaviour for what it is.

That time is now.

When it became known the Trump administration had summoned the nation’s top generals and admirals from around the world to gather at a mysterious event in Quantico, Virginia, conspiracy theories swirled. Perhaps it was to formulate battle plans for World War Three. Maybe it was to announce a new foreign deployment or signal some global provocation.

But, as we have come to expect from the administration, the truth was stranger than fiction. What unfolded at Quantico was not the unveiling of plans for war abroad, but a chilling signal aimed inward, at America itself.

It wasn’t the usual spectacle of U.S. President Donald Trump’s rhetoric that set this gathering apart. Yes, there were the predictable broadsides against “woke” policies, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s glorification of the “warrior spirit,” and tired justifications for renaming the Department of Defense back to the “Department of War.” Trump even dusted off his greatest hits: Biden’s autopen, the Nobel Peace Prize and even Canada as the “51st state,”

All of that was predictable theatre.

What was new was this: America’s military leadership was told their next priority would not be overseas in some conflict-ridden corner of the globe, but home in the United States — specifically in those cities run by Democratic mayors. The likes of Washington, Chicago and Portland, which by Trump’s logic are breeding grounds for chaos and “career criminals” where police have lost control. Democratic idylls that, to any God-fearing MAGA follower, must be hellscapes. And that Trump suggested should serve as “training grounds” for troops to combat “the enemy within.”

Some of the greatest writers and theorists of the 20th century attempted to define fascism. For Walter Benjamin, it is the “introduction of esthetics into political life.” For (the sociologist) Michael Mann, a “movement of the lesser intelligentsia.” For Robert Paxton, the “most self-consciously visual of all political forms … a chauvinist demagogue haranguing an ecstatic crowd.”

And it is all those things. Hegseth’s pointed emphasis on male grooming, his disdain for “fat generals,” his obsession with male fitness standards — all reinforce these points.

But fascism isn’t just pageantry, to function it requires the hard machinery of power and intimidation: the military itself.

The U.S. armed forces, with its tradition of political neutrality, stands as one of the final institutions resistant to Trump’s project of total partisan capture. Last week, that firewall showed signs of cracking.

The message from Quantico was unmistakable: the defenders of democracy, both at home and abroad, are now to become enforcers of the MAGA agenda.

Actions speak louder than words and Trump and Hegseth’s words were meant to drive action. More boots on the ground in American cities. Soldiers patrolling not in a foreign nation but on domestic streets. To intimidate Americans into submission under Trump’s rule and, yes, to pick up trash when they have nothing better to do.

That is about as unmistakable a step toward fascist rule as one can imagine.

Unlike his first term, the safeguards on Trump’s ambitions are now exceedingly thin. But if the impassive looks on those generals and admirals were any indication, hope rests in the men and women who swore an oath to protect the U.S. Constitution from all enemies, foreign and domestic.

Trump himself put the stakes in stark relief when he said: “It’s a war from within. We have to handle it before it gets out of control.”

He’s dead right about one thing: there is a war from within. The question now is who’s waging it — and on whom?

Mark Carney faces a rare challenge for a Liberal PM: Selling a Conservative budget

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Let me give you a scenario. See if it sounds familiar.

After years of Liberal rule, a Conservative party is swept into office on the strength of a campaign promising to cut waste and invest more strategically.

Soon, that new government faces its first real test: the budget.

In the lead-up, they issue stern warnings that portend difficult decisions. Efficiencies are being sought. Deep cuts are in the offing.

Far from being a political vulnerability, this is treated as a coup — a return to fiscal sanity. And the signal is crystal clear: the grown-ups are back in charge, and the big red pen is coming out.

This, of course, is the standard script for many newly formed conservative governments, here at home and around the world.

And it might have been the story of Mark Carney — were it not for that one pesky, complicating detail: he doesn’t lead a new governing Conservative party. He leads the same Liberal one that presided over the overspending in the first place.

That legacy creates a profound communications challenge. Far from invigorating his base, Carney may well be forced to alienate key parts of it in the name of restoring fiscal order.

Layer on a shrinking economy and rising unemployment and you get quite the predicament.

But it’s precisely the nature of that predicament that makes the communications strategy surrounding this budget absolutely critical.

Political rollouts of this magnitude tend to follow a predictable choreography.

Step one: lay the foundation. Almost immediately after taking office, Carney directed his ministers to identify “ambitious savings,” with an overall target to cut operational spending by 7.5 per cent for the 2026-27 fiscal year.

Step two: set realistic expectations. Last Sunday, the Prime Minister announced that the deficit “will be bigger than it was last year.” (For the record, last year’s figure was an eye-watering $61.9 billion.)

Step three: apply a touch of budgetary finesse. On Tuesday, Finance Minister François-Philippe Champagne told reporters that the government will draw a line between operational spending and capital investments (as is done in the UK). Translation: operational costs will be trimmed, investments in infrastructure, defence and housing will grow.

Final step: drive home a clear, concise political message.

That final part is still emerging. But I would argue the path is clear.

Because the communication around this budget doesn’t have to be defensive, or an act of tightrope walking.

On the contrary, it’s an opportunity to show Canadians that the Liberal party has turned the page from the Trudeau era. To demonstrate the progressive base holds zero sway. That the age of expansive social programming and limitless spending is dead and gone.

No apologies required.

Will some voices on the progressive flank howl in betrayal? Yes, they will.

But Mark Carney was not elected as the heir to Justin Trudeau’s political project. He won on a different promise entirely — one rooted in economic expertise and a credible plan to steer the country through global uncertainty.

That movement, his new tent, was never about the progressive base. It consisted in peeling away soft Conservative support and capitalizing on the fact that the NDP voters had no other choice to stop Poilievre.

That math hasn’t changed.

So, here’s my message to the Liberal strategists: It’s not a vulnerability to communicate about cutting waste. It is an asset. Lean into it.

To be clear, there will be a political penalty to be paid. Pockets of that progressive support will be infuriated.

But to be blunt, those voices don’t have a dog in the fight.

The Carney government will not — and cannot — deliver cuts with the same relish and ideological clarity as a Conservative government. But they can make a powerful case that the age of indulgence is over, and that every dollar spent must now be justified against the stark backdrop of global volatility and a domestic affordability crisis.

No matter what, Pierre Poilievre will say this budget overspends and underdelivers.

But if Mark Carney can demonstrate that the government is reining in waste and investing strategically, he doesn’t just rebut the opposition, he redefines the Liberals. He sends a reminder his is a new government not just in leadership, but substance.

And given where Liberals stood in the polls just one year ago, delivering that reminder and proving that transformation isn’t just worthwhile, it’s essential.

‘Generation screwed’: With the dismal youth employment numbers, Poilievre found a wide-open lane and pulled in

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Being leader of the opposition is a little like being stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 401.

You’re boxed in. Options are limited. And any “creative” manoeuvres usually lead to pileups.

So when a lane opens up — a clear stretch of political laneway — you don’t ask questions. You step on the gas.

Pierre Poilievre did just that last week when he called upon the federal government to scrap the temporary foreign workers (TFW) program, claiming it had flooded the labour market, suppressed wages, and made it nearly impossible for young Canadians to find decent work.

It was part of a wider series of announcements and press events designed to reframe the conversation before Parliament returns on Sept. 15, and to drag the spotlight back to the cost-of-living pressure points facing everyday Canadians.

But buried in the announcement was a line worth paying attention to:

“Let’s be honest. Young people today form what I call ‘generation screwed.’ Let’s look at the situation … It’s the first generation that cannot afford a home in Canadian history. And now, the double gut punch, they have the worst employment number of any group of young people since the late 1990s.”

You can argue about who might be to blame for this state of affairs, or indeed the wisdom of axing this program.

But you cannot argue with the underlying facts. Nor their political potency.

The youth unemployment scandal that Poilievre referenced is not a niche concern. And we need to be absolutely clear about what it represents.

Young Canadians are graduating with more education, more debt, and fewer pathways.

They’re facing wage scarring: the long-term earnings damage caused by unemployment or entering the workforce during a downturn. It is dubbed “scarring” because the pain lingers, reshaping career trajectories, home ownership timelines, and family planning for years — sometimes decades.

It’s also a canary in the coal mine for the wider economy, as youth unemployment is often the first visible crack ahead of a broader economic recession.

“Screwed” might be putting it too gently. Because there is also AI.

Young Canadians are extremely digitally fluent. They know better than anyone how much of the white-collar job market is vulnerable to automation. They’ve already seen it. They’re not naive about the “future of work.” They’re anxious — justifiably so — that the future has no room for them.

As chancellor of OCAD University, I shake the hands of hundreds of graduates every year. And, I can tell you: this year was different.

The anxiety was palpable. Students weren’t just worried. Many felt disillusioned.

What we’re witnessing is the slow formation of a politically volatile cohort: highly educated, underemployed, underpaid, and increasingly impatient.

What does this mean for Poilievre and the Conservatives?

It means the generational lane is wide open.

In the last election, there is no question the Conservative party made tangible gains among this younger demographic.

There is a widely held perception, born out in exit polling, that the boomer generation drove the Liberal party’s resurgence, and the younger Canadians were more skeptical and leaned Conservative.

Specifically, young men. Advantage Poilievre.

But for Poilievre, the other half of that cohort — young women — it’s another story. Appeal to women has been a niggling, persistent problem for him.

So you can bet Anaida Poilievre, who has considerable political skill and — right on cue — has a book coming out, to take on an increasingly prominent role.

But the bottom line for Conservatives is this. If they get this right, they can fracture the generational vote in a way we haven’t seen in decades.

Because it is young, jobless Canadians who are feeling the economic downturn and poor job market conditions the most and who can speak loudest.

Critically, however, Poilievre must realize that the message is one thing. Waxing poetic about “generation screwed” is easy. Building a reactive, youth-focused comms machine that speaks in their language, reflects their anxieties, and channels their energy into votes — that’s the hard part.

But it’s also the most important.

Pierre Poilievre has found an open lane. Now he needs to build the right machine to seize it. Because young, jobless Canadians aren’t just watching — they’re waiting. And right now, they are up for grabs.

For both Carney and Poilievre, success has nothing to do with their strengths and everything to do with their weaknesses

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As a young boy, I reserved a special place in hell for whichever ad executive decided it was time to launch the “back to school” marketing blitz in the midst of my carefree late summer.

The reminder was, in a word, unwelcome.

So, at the risk of being “that guy” for Canada’s Members of Parliament and their hardworking staff, let me join the “back to Parliament” commentary train for Ottawa’s upcoming fall session, which kicks off Sept. 15.

But this is no preview.

It’s a definitive position: that success for Mark Carney and Pierre Poilievre will have absolutely nothing to do with their strengths — and everything to do with how they choose to address their weaknesses.

The strengths of both leaders are as familiar as they are formidable.

For Poilievre, it’s the simple fact that — after his recent byelection victory — he’s back on familiar territory. A consummate parliamentarian, the House of Commons has been his proving ground since he was barely old enough to rent a car. For Carney, it’s technocratic competence. A globally respected economist and former central banker, he exudes credibility. His reputation precedes him.

But these strengths are not revelations. They’re priced in.

As a result, there’s precious little upside in flexing a muscle everyone already knows you have. Public opinion won’t swing wildly when Poilievre delivers another biting performance in the House of Commons. No pundit will be floored by reports that Carney walks into a policy briefing and knows more than the people doing the briefing.

These aren’t plot twists. The characters are fully formed. The narrative is already established.

All of which only serves to underline where real ground is to be gained — and therefore where the battle is to be won: in addressing their weaknesses.

And that is not simply because these flaws exist. It’s because politics ensures they will be hunted, highlighted, and hung around your neck. It’s not personal or especially malicious. It’s the job.

Carney’s Weakness

Following an election, particularly when it comes to attacking a newly formed government, there’s a ritualistic quality to the Opposition’s work. It thrives on the power of contrast — between what was promised in lofty campaign speeches and what actually materializes in the stark realities of government.

And, for most new prime ministers, it’s this spectre of specific unkept promise that poses the greatest vulnerability.

Not for this one.

Mark Carney wasn’t elected on specific promises from a detailed policy menu. He was elected on a generic promise. To turn the page — decisively — from the Trudeau era. Where Justin  Trudeau offered idealism and improvisation, Carney promised seriousness and stability. Where Trudeau was all gesture, Carney would be all execution.

But the problem with running on competence is that you have to deliver it — fast. And competence, by definition, is measurable. It invites hard benchmarks: economic performance, public service efficiency, international credibility, and fiscal stewardship.

Unfortunately, Carney has inherited a country with falling GDP per capita, mounting fiscal pressure, and a possibly soon-to-be-torn-up CUSMA deal. Not to mention: a youth employment crisis and a public sector facing deep cuts.

The problem isn’t just that these expectations will go unmet. It’s that the expectations were abstract — and the disappointments will be concrete.

Inaction or incrementalism will feel like betrayal. And that gap could prove devastating if he doesn’t find a way to fill it quickly.

Poilievre’s Weakness

Poilievre’s weakness is the one shared by most Opposition leaders: the perception they’re simply not ready to be prime minister.

But in his case, the challenge is more specific — and more challenging. Poilievre was chosen by his party for a very specific task: defeat Justin Trudeau. But that job changed. Therefore, he must evolve to effectively fill it.

This is where opposition leadership becomes harder. It’s about tone, not volume. He must begin to sound like a prime minister. And that requires an entirely new approach.

A Conservative leadership review in January will bookend this upcoming parliamentary session.

Between now and then, Poilievre doesn’t just need the party to get a bump in the polls — he needs to start winning on personal leadership metrics: favourability, temperament, and trust.

Ultimately, success for either leader won’t hinge on flexing the strengths everyone already knows. It will depend on how effectively they recognize — and improve upon — their weaknesses.

That’s where the real contest lies. And that’s what this Parliament will test.

Canada must redouble efforts to secure trade agreements with China and India in response to escalating U.S. tariffs

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Ottawa’s new trade minister, Maninder Sidhu, recently told The Canadian Press his phone has been ringing off the hook with opportunities.

He shared that he’s looking to strike new deals in South America, Southeast Asia, Africa and beyond.

He added that he plans to visit Brazil to revive trade talks there.

He noted that Canada is considering “sector-specific agreements” with other countries — instead of broad, catch-all trade deals that span multiple industries — and, in his words: “We are getting very creative in how we can open up more doors.”

You can’t fault the ambition because it follows the watchword that’s been on the lips of every political talking head and economist since before Donald Trump was reinaugurated this past January: diversification.

There’s just one problem.

The entire GDP of the countries — and even continents — Sidhu is focused on barely register compared to the market gravity of the true economic superpowers: India, China, and the United States.

This isn’t to say the strategy is misguided or unworthy. And it’s not to suggest Sidhu is neglecting the bigger players — India and China are clearly on his radar (Canada-U. S. trade falls under Dominic LeBlanc’s file).

But it is to say we cannot afford to fixate on the margins while the main event goes ignored.

What most commentators have missed in the endless autopsy of Canada’s stalled negotiations with the U.S. is this: the reason the talks are incomplete is because Donald Trump is still busy with China and India.

And there’s a reason he’s handling those first.

They are the high-stakes tables. The upside is bigger. The downside is riskier. And in any negotiation, you deal with the main course before you turn to the side dishes.

Of course, Canada can’t pretend to be the entrée. We don’t have the same leverage or flexibility as the U.S. when it comes to sequencing trade priorities. But that doesn’t mean we get to ignore the fundamentals either.

We must prioritize re-engagement with China and India — not only because of their scale, but because they are the key counterweights to the American market.

While we’ve made meaningful diplomatic and economic strides with Europe, we’ve placed far too little strategic focus on the two economies that matter enormously to our long-term diversification.

With China, we remain locked in a tit-for-tat trade war. In March, Beijing retaliated against Canadian tariffs on electric vehicles, steel, and aluminum by slapping new duties on our agricultural exports.

With India, we remain in diplomatic purgatory following the fallout from an alleged assassination on Canadian soil. Yes, security talks have restarted. Yes, Modi accepted Mark Carney’s invitation to the G7 in Alberta. Yes, the ice is thawing — but the waters are still far too cold.

But now we share something in common. Thanks to India’s deepening trade with Russia, they too have landed in Trump’s crosshairs — facing a 50 per cent tariff on Indian goods. And last month, despite years of diplomatic overtures to position India as a strategic counterweight to China, Trump dismissed their economy as “dead.”

In other words, opportunity knocks.

So, the bottom line is this: Canada simply cannot afford to be out of sync with the world’s largest trading powers.

No trade trip to South America — valuable though it may be — can come anywhere close to filling that gap.

Let me be clear: this is not a dismissal of South America or the Global South. Those relationships matter. Sector-specific agreements in emerging markets are worthwhile and necessary. Nor is it to suggest we can take our eye off the United States — our largest trading partner and the bedrock of our integrated economy. With CUSMA up for review in 2026, every step we take now must be calculated to ensure Canada heads into those negotiations from a position of strength.

But if we’re going to “get creative” about opening doors, let’s start with the ones that matter most.

Because no matter how many side doors we manage to pry open, if the front gates to the likes of Beijing and New Delhi remain closed — our economy will miss out on the growth and scale only those markets can offer.