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The UK government recently passed the most aggressive surveillance law in history. Like the Patriot Act a decade ago, the Investigatory Powers Act 2016 sets a new standard for what information governments can access from their citizens in the name of public safety. According to Edward Snowden, it’s ‘the most extreme surveillance in the history of Western democracy’. Whether it is introducing new powers or legalizing what has been going on in secret for years, the UN Privacy Chief said passing the bill is ‘worse than a scary shift’ — ‘privacy’ as we know it will never be the same and because most of the bill has to do with the Internet, neither will surveillance.

Comparisons to China and Russia are not far off, and referring to the act as unprecedented is not an understatement. Right now, there is no country with as much surveillance capabilities as Great Britain. The bill covers users’ Internet history, smartphone apps, and meta data from calls. It forces service providers to store which websites users visit, for how long, and at what time, for at least a year. For the first time ever, government bodies are legally sanctioned to hack private citizen’s computers and phones and the same law requires technology providers to assist them in doing so. The bill increases the number of agencies with access to this information and reduces the number of safeguards that ensure they have a good reason to have that access in the first place.

For privacy activists in the UK, the lack of initial opposition to the bill and the fact that this is just another step in the slow erosion of privacy is probably scarier than the bill itself. The legislation consolidated changes to how we think about privacy that have been going on since social media and digital communication became part of daily life. It’s not that people necessarily agree with the changes, they’ve just accepted them as inevitable. Not inevitable like gravity, ice cream melting in the sun, or John Gibbons countering lefty hitters with left handed relievers — it’s become a trade off or necessary evil in exchange for something more valuable. The digital world, with integrated feeds, accounts, and profiles catered to our individual personalities, is built on third parties — governments or agencies — accessing our personal data.

Think about everything your phone does. It can search the Internet, check email, make most banking transactions, and order food or a car to your exact location, not to mention your social media and all the different ways it enables both self expression and mass communication. As a society we’ve agreed this is awesome. For all of it to happen, the companies providing these services need to access and share your personal, banking, and location information. This is not really news and even though it may scare people, we’ve long since consented or opted in. Even though the passage of the bill resulted in increases in coverage and led to more aggressive calls for repeal or revaluation, those close to the issue say its changes are here to stay. At most, the language will be edited to be more palatable as the bill goes back to Parliament.

Just hours after a petition against the Investigatory Powers Act reached 10,000 signatures, the government announced plans to appoint a national censor for online pornography and alluded to more stringent restrictions on certain types of adult content that experts warn penalizes sexual minorities while creating a national database of porn-watchers and their fetishes. What used to be private is literally being collected.

The Investigatory Powers Act doesn’t make that much more of your personal data available It formalizes a new standard of privacy by involving the government and consolidating the information you already provide into one place. Government involvement is what generally turns ‘data mining’ into ‘surveillance’. They both involve gathering personal data, the difference is in how that information can be used. Where a company practicing data mining, like Facebook, may use your personal data to ‘improve user experience’ or help sell ads, state institutions can use that same data in far more substantial ways.

It’s not all tacit acceptance, though. There is growing opposition to the bill. The Investigatory Powers Act marks a new standard for what data people consider private and personal and what can theoretically become official state business. There was a time when what you read or watched was not collected for any reason. This is no longer the case. The most sinister reading of the bill is that it allows government to record everything we access. By subjecting leisure activities to a new level of scrutiny, it effectively polices free time. The dark assumption as to why someone would police your free time is that what you’re doing can somehow be used against you. The increase in surveillance has a lot of critics lamenting the death of freedom and quoting Orwell, which is understandable, though if we’re picking dystopias, the situation is probably closer to Brave New World. Neil Postman famously pointed out that the difference between Orwell and Huxley is in how their dystopias are created. In 1984, fear is what drives surveillance and oppresses the public. Brave New World features a similarly repressed society, but people are essentially blackmailed by what brings them joy. The Huxlian idea of private pleasures as the source of government intrusion is what makes The Investigatory Powers Act different from overt censorship even if the end result is the same: people change how they behave online because they’re afraid their digital activities will be revealed.

A recent episode of Black Mirror brings Huxley’s idea to a more contemporary context, using social media to illustrate how constant digital surveillance injects an element of performance into everything we do. The show uses exaggerated situations to explore the consequences of our reliance on various technologies. One episode focuses on a young woman desperate to improve her social score, which correlates to her social rank. People are ranked on a scale from one to five and these scores become a kind of class system. Higher ranked individuals receive preferential treatment and a person’s number becomes a manifestation of their worth as certain services are only available to people with high enough scores. Every real-life interaction is rated and contributes to characters’ overall score, resulting in shallow and disingenuous relationships that are based on pleasing one another. In Black Mirror, the surveillance is by committee. Other people, not the government, are the authority capable of awarding and subtracting points.

Perhaps the most chilling scene in the episode is when the main character, Lacie, has a coffee while ‘working on her socials’ or broadcasting her mundane and traditionally private activities in hopes of getting enough points to raise her overall score. After a series of overly sweet greetings and carefully biting off a small section of a cookie so it looks perfect in the picture she posts online, Lacie winces when she actually goes to take a sip of her coffee. In a split second the effect of constant digital driven surveillance becomes clear: Lacie does not like the coffee she orders every day but continues to do so because people are watching. Her choice of drink flavour is not considered private in a world where these things are expected to be shared online. People might not notice or care what Lacie’s drinking but since she could be awarded points for every aspect of her life, Lacie tailors her behaviour to maximize every small detail for points..

Black Mirror is careful to present a continuum of consent or different characters opting into this perpetual surveillance via social media to different degrees. However, although Lacie could obviously ease up in her quest for more points, opting out of the game entirely is not an option. Even the enlightened, off-the-grid, low-score character has a ‘feed’ and Lacie can quickly scan through her most recent interactions. The show may be hyperbole but its point about the idea of someone watching being just as powerful as actual surveillance is very real.

Constant surveillance as a form of control is not new. Years before smartphones and social media, Jeremy Bentham designed a prison where thousands of inmates would suffer through a similar paranoid performative existence as Lacie’s in Black Mirror. He called it The Panopticon. It’s a circular building with cells on the outside surrounding a tower in the middle for the lone guard or source of surveillance. The guard can see out of the tower but none of the prisoners can see the guard. They know he may be looking but cannot be sure when. Bentham theorized this constant state of maybe being watched would force prisoners to act as if the guard was staring right at them all the time. Applying Bentham’s principle outside of jail and in the context of the Investigatory Powers Act, everything that accesses the Internet becomes a guard tower that may be sending your online activity to a government agency. The act is a big deal because it makes the idea of private social information becoming public a legitimate possibility. That said, just because something is searchable does not necessarily mean someone will look it up. The real fear in surveillance is not from being watched but being judged based on what the watcher saw. If something stands out, people will have more incentive to investigate and pass judgement on whatever behaviour caused the anomaly or is in someway different from the norm. Theoretically, when more data is available, the only way to maintain the same level of privacy as before is to give no reason for people to look at that data even though they now can.

In this data driven world where our most intimate details are available, we can still find comfort in everyone else being equally exposed. Knowing the same discussion has been happening since Bentham, Orwell, and Huxley, it can be comforting to see privacy as a spectrum rather than a fixed concept. What is traditionally private will continue to evolve. It’s likely we will keep enjoying the ability to connect to each other and different devices through new technology. These new devices will determine what information remains off the grid and what you must trade to participate in an increasingly social digital society. The distinction between information not being available and not being acted on will grow much more apparent. As personal data becomes more accessible than ever, anonymity becomes the new privacy. The data is out there but so long as no one has the incentive to access it, any secrets are still as unexposed as they would have been had the data not been collected. This makes perpetual performance to avoid unwanted attention or someone making use of your available personal data the scariest consequence of increased surveillance. Its why Black Mirror is creepy and Bentham’s prison only needs one guard. Perhaps the scariest part about the Investigatory Powers Act is not the government’s increased surveillance abilities, but that we keep changing our behaviour when we feel someone is watching.

November 8 was unforgettable for all the reasons we’ve all been talking about since. But it was also history in the making for reasons beyond the obvious. For the first time ever, political ad spending on Facebook surpassed spending on Google’s search and display network. We’re talking to the tune of $1 billion. That’s up three-fold from 2012.

For a guy who has spent his entire professional career in digital advocacy and political campaigns, this shift is a watershed moment. In previous campaigns, I would agonize with the bright minds on my team about all the search terms for which we wanted our issue-based ads to appear, and for which we felt we had the best chance of converting searchers into donors or volunteers. In many ways, search ads were—and still are—the perfect vehicle for this kind of targeting. You will likely convert someone who is searching terms related to a compelling policy you’re selling if your ad has the right message, if you’re landing page makes a compelling case, and if you perfectly seize the ‘now’ moment of search. So long as search traffic accounts for two-thirds of Internet traffic, any good digital advocacy campaign will make use of this amazing platform.

However, we should pause just to consider how much of Facebook’s ad platform has advanced in recent years. Just as important, we should consider what it means to run a proper, well-executed, and strategic advocacy campaign in this era. Consider this: despite claiming that data is an’overrated‘ tool, Trump’s campaign ran ads on Facebook that drove users to no less than 100,000 unique landing pages in August. Each landing page was micro-targeted for a different voter segment.

Think about this.

*One-hundred thousand unique landing pages.*

The next time your ad agency comes to you with a plan to build 10 landing pages, using a set-and-forget placement strategy, give them this number and ask for a better plan. This is what it takes to cut it on digital. This is what it takes to run effective advocacy campaigns online. The people we need to reach live their lives glued to their devices, looking for—and hoping to be served—content that is hyper-relevant to them, at that very moment.

To turbocharge your strategy, you need data. You need good data. And this is where America has always been great (if you’re a data-science nerd). Trump’s data provider reportedly supplied the President-elect with 220 million records, each with no less than 4,000 data points. Yes. Four. Thousand. We’re talking voter registration records, shopping patterns, ethnographic details, household composition, etc.

Now, imagine you’re armed with all that information. It won’t do you much good if you can’t reach these people with a message that will resonate with them. That, of course, is where Facebook comes in. In Canada, you can hit no less than 22 million monthly active users. In the US, you can hit three out of four Americans. All from one platform. And guess what? You can segment each of your ads to serve creative and copy that speaks to those individual interests, knowing you’re hitting it out of the park with your accuracy rate. With access to this kind of reach and data, it’s like having the ability to poll every single voter. Facebook is making every data nerd’s dreams come true (and making a killing at it). In the process, it’s helping campaigns realize efficiencies in other verticals. You can test and optimize a message online, see what works, and apply those changes to your call scripts and door-knocking scripts. The same applies in a private-sector context. You can use what is practically the world’s largest focus group to assess, in real-time, which message works for which demographic target.

It boggles my mind that in this kind of era some folks balk at the idea of shifting their ad spend so that digital accounts for the largest share of the ad buy. The $1 billion figure I talked about at the top? Impressive, right? Yes. But it only accounts for 10% of all political advertising. Ten percent? Think about your daily habits. Would you say you only spend 10 percent of your time with digital devices? I’m going to wager not. In a world where most of us are glued to our devices all day long, how is it that digital only accounts for a fragment of all ad spending?

The power of digital advertising lies in its unprecedented efficiency. You can reach more people for a fraction of the cost of traditional advertising. You can reach the right people, with the right message, at the right time. And you can measure those results with pinpoint accuracy (mostly). In a political campaign, the savings can make a huge difference in freeing up resources to focus on swing states or to pull votes. In Canadian campaigns, with our ridiculously low spending limits, the difference is a game-changer. In fact, I think we’re probably two cycles away from seeing the first digital-only political campaign, at least from an ad-spend perspective.

Of course, at the end of the day, the best targeting in the world simply can’t replace a good message. And it certainly can’t replace the power of word-of-mouth advocacy — which is why even the most perfect digital strategy can’t save a hapless, tone-deaf message. However, serving as a listening post, it can certainly help you avoid a tone-deaf message. In fact, a good digital campaign will give you early warning signs if you’re on the wrong path. So, don’t shy away from shifting more resources to digital. You may realize efficiencies while finding the message that compels action amongst your target audiences.

Slender Man, or Slenderman, is an Internet myth, an urban legend for the digital age, a ‘here there be monsters’ for a world with borderless and edgeless boundaries. The cartography of the web is unclear, the shaded unknowns are unseen, and the drop-off points are hidden. Slender Man lives in the cracks. What he is exactly, is a purely fictitious Internet character. He’s a tall, thin man, usually shown or described ‘ whether through drawings, images, or stories ‘ as hanging around children and compelling them to do awful things. Born of collective storytelling in the Internet’s back channels, he’s ambiguous and mutable, nowhere and everywhere.

Technically, Slender Man was created in 2009 on the website Something Awful. The site asked users to use Photoshop to create paranormal pictures and one user, Victor Surge (n’e Eric Kundsen), created Slender Man. He posted a couple of photos, the most famous of which is a black and white image featuring a child on a playground slide in the foreground. In the background there are more small children, and under the shade of a tree a group stands around a tall, thin, dark figure with long tentacle-like arms. The caption for the photos are ominous:

‘we didn’t want to go, we didn’t want to kill them, but it persistent silence and outstretched arms horrified and comforted us at the same timeﾅ – 1983, photographer unknown, presumed dead’.

The meme spread, despite everyone knowing its origin in the Something Awful forums. People added to the folklore by creating more photos, more references, more oblique stories. He is usually depicted as faceless, wearing a black suit and tie; he was the subject of a found-footage style YouTube series called Marble Hornets and he appears in several video games. And so the story endured, with people contributing various details here and there, building on a fiction now seven years old. Even the name of the original forum — a humor site that is, according to the Washington Post, home to ‘jokes about things like Dungeons & Dragons, porn and 3-D printers’ — enhances the creepiness of the origin story. Rather than nerdy web outskirts, Something Awful becomes more Blair Witchian, as Something Wicked This Way Comes.

For all of the Internet folklore took a much darker turn in June 2014, when two twelve-year old girls stabbed a classmate 19 times. When interrogated by police, they said they did it so they could see Slender Man and prove that he is real. The classmate survived; the girls’ trial is ongoing and they were back in court on November 11. HBO has made a documentary about the case, scheduled to air in January 2017. Before the incident, there was just the right amount of almost-true to keep the legend alive. But as the girls are held in prisons and evaluated, pressed for reasons and asked to recount again how Slender Man influenced their decision, it has become part of the real-life record.

Slender Man has been discussed at large as a kind of metaphor for our societal anxieties of the unknown. Shira Chess, an academic at the University of Georgia, is quoted most frequently in news articles on the incident, stating that myths reflect our cultural fears and that Slender Man represents ‘helplessness, power differentials, and anonymous forces.’

As an on-screen legend made into a real-life horror story for three girls, there’s something about Slender Man’s apparent power to compel his victims that’s reminiscent of The Ring, even if that would be an outdated way to think of the Internet specter. The American version of the film was released in 2002 and features VHS and landlines, that kind of mute the terror when viewing today, with a wave of nostalgia for devices of yesteryear. There’s a sequel that moves the film into the digital age, with online videos and webcams — an update that is necessary to accurately instill some sense of terror. Because although neither the 2002 nor 2016 version is explicitly about technology, technology is the mode through which dangerous transference takes place.

The fact that the web — which is by no means new at this point — still inspires fear, is impressive. Part of this is because so many of us don’t fully understand how the web actually functions. Although we use it on a regular basis and know the user end, those who control the technical elements hold the power to completely revert our worlds. VHS and its entirely contained mechanics are hardly frightening compared to the nebulous networks we have created — networks that live within the same universe as our everyday activities. Viruses are probably the best example. They infect through familiar channels like email and downloads. We have come to expect pop-ups and spam on less credible sites as kind of casual reminders that there are anarchists and dissenters who know much more about our digital footprints than we do. The real viruses, the ones that do more than just slow your operating system, lock you out of your files, your hard drive — essentially your whole life. They put you on pause and remind you of your reliance on systems that are, in reality, almost wholly beyond your control.

Following the American election, we’re worrying about the limits of this digital world to sustain a pan-anything dialogue. Depending on who you’re reading, it may be responsible for electing Trump. The silos of the Internet and the echo chambers of social media are being blamed for the lack of insight that those on either side of the presidential campaign had into the other before election night. BBC documentary filmmaker Adam Curtis created a kind of visual essay on this topic called Hypernormalisation, released on BBC iPlayer just before the election. Dramatic and conspiratorial, the documentary sees the web as a vast and shallow tool that feeds society’s narcissism by validating our pseudo-sense of reality: basically we immerse ourselves in select worlds, so we forget that the big picture is often very different.

And this is often the most worrisome thing, because more than anything, we worry about how technology affects our behavior. The latest season of Black Mirror delves into the dark sides of technology, or more accurately, the dark side of humans and how technology can be used in service of our worst selves. For every story of how the web is connective and redemptive — in creating networks where none existed, in uniting disparate forces through new communications channels, in giving those formerly voiceless an outlet and a microphone — there are cautionary tales that harken back to parental control apps and hand-wringing over anonymous chatrooms. The way these discussions go, it is the dark side of the power of the Internet that we don’t see coming. It’s a slow burn we don’t notice — we’re inoculating ourselves from the things we don’t want to see, the opinions that disagree with our own. That bit by bit, we’re building ourselves a reality that fits the perspective we want. It’s an argument that is easy to latch onto, especially while looking to assign blame for the unexpected.

However, there are things that don’t fit with this theory. As much as we would like to tie a bow on it and say we are lulled into false senses of security by our newsfeeds and our online social circles, and that media outlets contribute to this fa’ade, this isn’t true for a number of people. We can’t acknowledge the one side of media bias without also acknowledging the vitriol that gets expressed online to members of the press ‘ particularly toward women and people of colour ‘ that never allows them to forget that there is fierce opposition, not only to their perspectives, but to their very personhood.

Discussing the impacts of social media in relation to the election is not pointless, but it does have a whitewashing tendency to forget that there are people behind the tweets and that engagement is a choice. That social media is a tool — not a cause — for communication. We can no more easily assign blame for a seemingly unbridgeable gap to Twitter or Facebook than we can fully lay the blame at the feet of any one person or group. Even the anonymizing aspect of the web — which is often nefarious and cowardly — is not as simple as good or bad. For the arguments that say facelessness enables the worst behavior, there’s the counterpoint of Emily Doe.

Emily Doe is the stand-in name for the young woman from Stanford who was sexually assaulted by Brock Turner in January 2015. Earlier this year, Brock Turner received a six-month sentence for his crime — a crime that could have resulted in a sentence of fourteen years, of which he only served three months. At his trial, Emily Doe read a victim-impact statement, detailing her side of the assault and the effects on her life. The statement went viral, and to date has been viewed 11 million times, and was read on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives. This month, she was named Glamour Magazine’s Woman of the Year. Parts of her statement were read on stage and Michelle Daube, a law professor at Stanford, accepted the award on her behalf. With the announcement of the award, Emily Doe also wrote an essay in Glamour. Emily Doe remains anonymous, and it is through her anonymity that she has shared her story and that she continues to fight against her assailant and the system that prioritized his well being over hers. In what seems counterintuitive in most cases of hidden identity, her anonymization has reminded people that there is someone, a real person, behind the viral content.

And really, the building of online myth depends on what you categorize as legend. By definition, myths have an element of something fantastical, beyond what we recognize as real life. They’re usually explanatory, helping us as a culture understand how something came to be. But there is something to be said for those who are not afforded the things in real-life that others are, and for whom ideas of equality often seem equally fictitious. Where the things that we currently do not recognize as real life are for what we could be striving. Where understanding how things came to be demands a reckoning that could use something fantastical and out of the ordinary, for the ordinary is not always a comfort. Imaginary worlds are not always treacherous, but ones that face cultural, societal, and legal obstacles often seem equally out of reach.

Perhaps the Internet can be used to further entrench our ideas and disconnect us from reality. And perhaps the Internet will always be suspect and drive our fears of our inability to separate fact from fiction. But perhaps there’s also the flip side, where the fiction is not only a respite, but home to a necessary optimism that things can change. While there is no doubt that a dark side of the web exists, not all Internet myths are dangerous, and there are even some where we could benefit from their transference.

In the aftermath of an unexpected victory for Donald Trump on election night, questions have been asked about how Hillary Clinton and the Democratic Party could have won what appeared to be an easy race.

Trump was massively unpopular with voters. According to CNN’s Exit Poll, 60% of voters had an unfavourable view of Donald Trump. Unfortunately for Clinton, her negatives weren’t too far behind with an unfavourable view among voters of 54%.

During the primaries, Hillary Clinton faced stiff competition against Independent-turned-Democrat, Bernie Sanders. Sanders was able to win 23 states in the democratic primary and more than 13 million votes.

However, the hard-fought primary campaign left deep divides within the Democratic party. After Wikileaks released a batch of Democratic National Committee e-mails appearing to show that the DNC leadership was supportive of Clinton, many Sanders supporters accused the DNC and Clinton of rigging the election against their candidate.

Ultimately, those accusations turned out to be false — while the e-mails did show a bias among several DNC employees towards the Clinton campaign, no concrete steps to limit Sanders’ success were ever undertaken. That fact did not stop many Sanders supporters from breaking from the Democratic Party and vowing to support a far-left, third party option. For the most part, these individuals backed Jill Stein, the Green Party’s two-time presidential nominee.

Stein also ran in 2012 against President Barack Obama and Mitt Romney. In that race she won 469,628 votes. This election season (with some votes still being counted at the time of writing), the Green Party has increased its vote total to 1,209,758 — more than double what it received last cycle. Undoubtedly this increase was brought on in part by a significant number of Sanders supporters who publicly backed Stein.

American voters may hear echoes of the 2000 presidential election in all this, when Ralph Nader, while also running for the Green Party, was accused of pulling left-wing votes away from the more moderate Democrat, Al Gore. Ultimately, Nader’s opponents claim these votes cost Gore Florida and, as a result, the election.

But is this the case for Clinton and Stein?
In order to have won the election, Clinton would have needed to win a combination of three of the following states: Michigan, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, and Florida.

Michigan: Trump — 2,279,210; Clinton — 2,267,373; Difference — 11,837; Stein — 50,686
Wisconsin: Trump — 1,409,467; Clinton — 1,382,210; Difference — 27,257; Stein — 30,980
Pennsylvania: Trump — 2,912,941; Clinton — 2,844,705; Difference — 68,236; Stein — 48,912
Florida: Trump — 4,605,515; Clinton — 4,485,745; Difference — 119,770; Stein — 64,019

In only two of those states — Michigan and Wisconsin, which also happen to be the smallest of the states — is the Green Party vote large enough to make up the gap between Clinton and Trump. Even if she had won those two states, Clinton would have lost the election to Trump 280 electoral votes to her 258. Trump’s support in Pennsylvania and Florida was so great that even a unified centre-left and left-wing voter coalition would not have displaced him.

It is always difficult to assume how voters, if given different candidates, in what would be a different race, would have voted. Were Bernie Sanders the nominee, it is possible he could have lost just as definitively as Clinton had — or won in a landslide. Likewise, we cannot assume the Green Party would not have been a factor in a race between Bernie Sanders and Trump. However, given the fact that Jill Stein offered the top spot of the Green Party ticket to Sanders after her nomination, it is reasonable to assume that a Sanders-led Democratic presidential ticket would have won a significant number of Green votes. At the end of the day, though, all we have are the votes as they stand now, and the numbers clearly show that Jill Stein and the Green Party are not responsible for Clinton’s loss to Trump via vote splitting — certainly not in the states that decided the election. There are many arguments to be made about why Clinton lost, but vote splitting among left-wing candidates does not appear to be a meaningful one.

At Navigator, research is a big part of everything we do. The best public affairs campaigns are developed on the solid foundation of insightful research results. That’s why we can’t help but admire those clients who take research as seriously we do when it comes down to developing and maintaining their brand.

The Consumer Technology Association recently released their first-ever study of Canadian consumer habits, an in-depth look into how We the North own and think about buying the latest gadgets and electronics on the market. As the Government of Canada wades into a lengthy innovation review and a Canadian content review, such research will be critical to understanding the landscape of how millions of Canadians use consumer technologies as part and parcel of their everyday lives.

Unsurprisingly, Canadians match their American neighbours stride for stride when it comes to ownership of the three screens – smartphones, televisions, and laptops. Canadians have a loving relationship with their smartphones, with 95 per cent saying they plan to purchase another one in the next year — a buyer intent stat that rivals only televisions. Canadians also have a healthy appetite for in-vehicle devices for entertainment and navigation, as well as audio devices like headphones and wireless speakers.

While the study found few significant differences between Canadians’ consumer technology ownership habits and those of their American neighbours, Canadian households were still slower to adopt emerging technologies like drones and smart home devices than U.S. households.

On the surface, slower adoption of emerging technologies among Canadians may be attributed to issues of availability and pricing; most cutting-edge consumer electronics are often launched in the U.S. before they’re expanded to other markets and often at a higher price. Cross-border shopping and e-commerce have gone a long way to bring down barriers to adoption, but at the end of the day, a low Canadian dollar and the exclusivity of some premium services for U.S. markets (case in point, Amazon) will deter many savvy Canadians from actively seeking out and owning the latest technologies.

At the same time, marketers and innovators of these technologies can sometimes forget Canadian consumer habits are not identical to those of Americans. While our neighbours to the South are obsessed with having the latest flat-screen TVs and household gadgets as badges of social status, Canadians are much more focused on holding the things they have when it comes to ownership. Compared to Americans, we tend to seek out the the best deal on the item they want, rather than a specific brand — it’s more about the product itself than the label associated with it. In fact, a 2013 TD Economics report showed Canadian consumers dedicate more of their budget to non-discretionary spending (i.e. the necessities like groceries, rent or mortgage payments) than their American counterparts, who like to spend their budget on more discretionary items (did someone say camouflaged solar panels?).

Nevertheless, underneath our slow adoption trends lies enormous potential for growth, especially for home-grown innovators who are looking to break into both the Canadian and global consumer technology markets. While we might not be focused on a particular brand, we are still seeking new gadgets. On their wishlist this holiday season, many Canadian households say they expect to buy their first set of wireless speakers, curved ultra-HD televisions, and fitness trackers sometime in the next year.

With Canadians already pegged as voracious consumers of digital content, they will continue to rely on and seek out more devices and services that support those needs. It will be up to Canadian lawmakers and cross-border efforts from all the governments involved to help boost access and availability of the technologies that Canadians need most in their day-to-day lives, as well as create an open and competitive environment for innovators at home and abroad.