Thursday, October 1, 2026

help protect her

 

to the coders, programmers, and people who understand how these algorithms work:

If you see people trying to expose Jane Doe, don't help them find her.

Help protect her.

Use your skills for something better than feeding the internet's appetite for someone's private identity.

Make I AM JANE DOE visible.

Make privacy visible.

Make solidarity visible.

Let the algorithms find thousands of people saying:

I AM JANE DOE.

Not her name.
Not her photograph.
Not her address.
Not her social-media accounts.

Just thousands of us saying:

You don't get to turn her identity into public property.

If the internet can amplify cruelty, surely it can amplify compassion.

So, coders—

break the pattern.

Not by harming anyone.

By making sure that when people search for Jane Doe, they find a wall of people saying:

LEAVE HER IDENTITY ALONE.

i am jane doe

 


i am jane doe

Today I changed my Facebook profile picture.

It says:

I AM JANE DOE.

No, I am not the young woman at the centre of the Cornell 7 case.

That is precisely the point.

Jane Doe is the name used to protect the identity of a woman who has alleged that she was sexually assaulted by seven men associated with Cornell University's Chi Phi fraternity in 2024.

She has now filed a civil lawsuit. The case has received enormous public attention, and the criminal investigation has been reopened.

And now, apparently, some people are trying to expose who she is.

Why?

Why is there such an urge to find her photograph, her name, her social-media accounts, her history?

Why do we sometimes treat the identity of the person making an allegation as something the public is entitled to possess?

I don't need to know her name.

I don't need to see her face.

I don't need to know where she lives, who her family is, what she wore, what she drank, what she remembers perfectly or imperfectly, or what she did before or after that night.

Those details belong to her.

There are legitimate questions about the case that deserve investigation. There are competing accounts. There are legal proceedings. The prosecutor has explained why charges were not initially pursued, while saying the investigation is now being reopened in light of the newer information. The accused men have not been convicted of crimes. Those facts matter.

But protecting Jane Doe's identity does not require deciding the entire case.

It simply requires recognizing that a person's privacy should not become collateral damage in a public controversy.

And there is something else happening here that bothers me.

When people start hunting for a woman's identity after she has deliberately used a pseudonym, the conversation can shift away from what happened and toward who she is.

Then we start dissecting her.

Her photographs.

Her relationships.

Her sexuality.

Her choices.

Her past.

Her credibility.

And suddenly the woman herself becomes the spectacle.

No.

I don't want to participate in that.

So I put I AM JANE DOE on my profile.

Not because I am claiming to be her.

Because I am saying:

You don't get to expose her simply because you're curious.

You don't get to turn her identity into internet entertainment.

You don't get to make a woman prove her worthiness of privacy before granting it to her.

Let the investigators investigate.

Let the courts examine the evidence.

Let the accused have due process.

Let the facts emerge.

But leave Jane Doe's identity alone.

Maybe that's what I AM JANE DOE really means.

It means that somewhere in this enormous internet crowd, there are people willing to say:

You don't have to stand alone.

We don't need your name to understand that you deserve privacy.

We don't need your face to know that you are a human being.

And if protecting her anonymity means a few of us temporarily say,

I AM JANE DOE,

then perhaps that makes her a little harder to find.

And maybe that's the whole point.

cedar tea, bad teeth and the knowledge we were taught to forget

 cedar tea, bad teeth and the knowledge we were taught to forget

Dr. Jill was talking about people having bad teeth, and I commented:

I have no back teeth.

I have a bridge in the front, and I am grateful for it.

I've had bad teeth since I was a kid. Too much pop certainly didn't help. But there was also stress, and I've been a terrible jaw clencher and tooth grinder for years.

I have broken teeth that way.

I've broken teeth that already had root canals.

And eventually, I lost all my back teeth.

I'm 64 now, and I still hope I'll get them fixed someday.

But I'm not counting on it.

Dental work is expensive.

When you're unhoused, when money is tight, when you're trying to buy groceries and keep yourself going, hundreds or thousands of dollars for your mouth can feel completely impossible.

So I started paying much more attention to the things I could do.

One of those things was cedar.

I made a cedar tea and used it as a mouth rinse.

I did not swallow it.

I kept a toothpick nearby and made sure food wasn't sitting around the places where my back teeth used to be.

And when my gums became inflamed, I rinsed with cedar tea.

My gums healed remarkably fast.

That is what happened to me.

I'm not going to pretend I don't know what I experienced.

I know my own mouth.

I know what my gums were like before.

And I know what happened after I started doing this.

There is a difference between saying “this helped me” and claiming that something has been scientifically proven to treat every person's dental problems.

I'm making the first statement.

This was my experience with cedar.

And yes, I want people to research cedar for themselves.

Because Indigenous peoples throughout the Pacific Northwest have long used cedar for an extraordinary range of purposes—not simply as a “plant,” but as a material woven into daily life, culture, technology, medicine and ceremony.

Cedar was clothing.

Cedar was shelter.

Cedar was rope.

Cedar was baskets.

Cedar was canoes.

Cedar was tools.

Cedar was medicine.

Cedar was knowledge.

And that knowledge didn't disappear because it stopped working.

Colonialism disrupted Indigenous systems of knowledge. Languages were suppressed. Ceremonies were restricted. Children were removed from their families and communities. Traditional knowledge was often dismissed as primitive while Western institutions decided what counted as legitimate knowledge.

And then we entered an era where corporations could patent, package and sell things that people had known about for generations.

I'm tired of pretending that this history doesn't matter.

I'm tired of the assumption that an Indigenous grandmother's knowledge becomes “real” only after somebody with a university degree studies it.

Maybe we should have been listening in the first place.

But listen carefully:

I'm not telling you to swallow cedar tea.

I'm not telling you to replace your dentist with cedar.

I'm not telling you every cedar species is interchangeable.

I'm not telling you to put concentrated herbal preparations in your mouth without understanding what you're using.

Research it. Know your plant. Know the preparation. Know the risks. And don't swallow it.

That's my disclaimer.

But I'm not going to apologize for saying that cedar helped me.

Because it did.

And maybe we need to start asking a bigger question:

What knowledge have we dismissed simply because it didn't come through the system we were taught to trust?

We live in a strange time.

We have artificial intelligence.

We have space telescopes.

We can map DNA.

We can communicate instantly around the world.

And yet people can't afford dental work.

People can't afford groceries.

People are developing nutritional deficiencies in wealthy countries.

Scurvy still happens.

I've even had someone close to me experience it.

And then we tell people:

“Eat better.”

“Take care of your teeth.”

“Go to the dentist.”

“Be healthier.”

Well...

with what money?

There is a huge difference between knowing what is healthy and being able to afford a healthy life.

I have no back teeth.

I have my bridge.

I have my toothpicks.

I have my cedar.

And I have learned a few things the hard way.

One of them is that I wish someone had taught me about dental health when I was a kid.

I wish I'd understood what years of pop could do.

I wish I'd understood stress and grinding.

I wish I'd known more about nutrition.

And I wish we had been taught more about the knowledge that existed here long before Canada existed.

Because knowledge doesn't become worthless just because someone decided it wasn't part of the official curriculum.

Maybe it's time to remember.

Not blindly.

Not romantically.

Not by turning everything natural into a miracle cure.

But by actually listening.

Researching.

Respecting Indigenous knowledge.

And asking who benefited when certain kinds of knowledge were pushed aside.

I'm 64.

I hope I get my teeth fixed someday.

But until then, I'm going to keep doing what I can.

And I'm going to keep talking about what I've learned.

Because enough with the shame.

Enough with blaming poor people for having poor people's problems.

Enough with pretending everyone has equal access to health.

And enough with assuming the only knowledge worth hearing comes from people who can afford to put letters after their names.

Sometimes an old cedar tree has something to teach us too.

Take care of your teeth, kids.

Research.

Ask questions.

Listen to your elders.

Listen to Indigenous knowledge.

And don't let anybody convince you that poverty, disconnection and lack of access to care are personal failures.

We've forgotten a lot.

Maybe it's time we started remembering.

how much energy do we really need — and what happens when the forest burns?

 

how much energy do we really need — and what happens when the forest burns?

Yesterday Donald Trump announced what he described as a $54-billion South Korean investment in the proposed Alaska LNG project, part of a much larger package of planned South Korean investments in the United States.

The Alaska project is enormous: natural gas from Alaska's North Slope would travel through a proposed pipeline more than 800 miles to the southern coast, where it could be turned into LNG and exported to Asian markets.

But there is an important detail getting lost in the headlines.

South Korean officials have said the Alaska investment is not yet a final commitment. They still have to determine whether the project is commercially viable and meets their legal requirements.

Still, the announcement comes at an interesting — and uncomfortable — moment.

Because here in British Columbia, we're having our own very large LNG announcements.

Prime Minister Mark Carney was in Vancouver this week celebrating LNG Canada Phase 2, a proposed $33-billion expansion in Kitimat. B.C. Premier David Eby and the federal government have also been working together to accelerate major energy projects, including LNG Canada Phase 2, Ksi Lisims LNG, Cedar LNG and Woodfibre LNG.

And just last week, B.C. issued an environmental assessment certificate for the proposed Tilbury LNG Phase 2 expansion in Delta.

So here we are.

Alaska is talking LNG.

Washington is talking LNG.

Ottawa is talking LNG.

B.C. is talking LNG.

And meanwhile, we're living through wildfire seasons, drought, floods, extreme heat and smoke.

B.C. Wildfire Service says the summer of 2026 brought underlying drought and warm, dry conditions across much of the province. June through August were unusually dry, and very dry fuels contributed to difficult-to-control fires. The province is also warning that drought remains a concern going into 2027.

and then there is Trans Mountain

I think about the forests I have watched change.

The Trans Mountain Expansion Project involved approximately 980 kilometres of new pipeline, with most of the route following existing rights-of-way or other linear infrastructure — but not all of it. Trans Mountain acknowledges that forested areas had to be cleared for construction, including areas along the pipeline right-of-way and temporary construction workspace.

That doesn't mean we can point to a particular fire and honestly say, “the pipeline caused this fire.”

That's not how wildfire science works.

But it does mean we should be asking bigger questions.

What happens when we repeatedly disturb forests?

What happens when we fragment habitat?

What happens when drought dries those forests?

What happens when extreme heat makes fires harder to control?

What happens to wildlife?

What happens to the people whose homes are in the path?

And what happens when we keep building infrastructure designed to operate for decades while the climate around it is changing?

Those are not unreasonable questions.

I understand why we need gas

This is where my own experience in Mexico complicates the argument.

I cook with gas when I'm in Mexico.

In many places, LPG is simply part of everyday life. And traditionally, many families cooked with wood. Some still do, including women who cook beans and other foods over an open fire.

The last time I was there, I ran out of gas.

And I discovered very quickly how dependent I was on that little tank.

It was difficult to get another one. The landlord was already having trouble getting gas. When the truck finally came, I told the man what we needed.

He said no.

I thought, Maybe my Spanish is wrong.

But no.

He explained that he only had the big tanks.

I was so disappointed.

Then somehow they found a medium one for me.

The man called me “butterfly.” 🦋

Later they switched it for a smaller tank without even telling my landlord. My landlord asked what happened, and I had to say yes — they had come and switched it.

I was SO HAPPY.

I think I had gone about a week without gas.

And I realized how difficult it is to eat properly when you can't cook.

Coffee isn't enough.

That little tank of gas wasn't an abstract fossil-fuel statistic.

It was food.

It was the ability to make beans.

It was being able to cook.

It was part of everyday life.

so what are we actually talking about?

We're dependent.

That's the uncomfortable truth.

People need energy to cook.

People need energy to heat homes.

People need electricity.

Hospitals need energy.

Water systems need energy.

Food production needs energy.

Transportation needs energy.

And here in Canada, our dependence can be even greater because winter is not optional.

Someone living in a warm part of Mexico who uses a propane tank primarily for cooking has a very different energy reality from someone in northern Canada who depends on energy to keep their home warm through freezing temperatures.

So I don't think the answer is simply:

“Stop using gas.”

Stop using it how?

Replace it with what?

Who can afford the replacement?

What happens to people who can't?

but there is another question

If we know we need energy, do we have to keep building the same kind of energy system forever?

Can we change?

Can we use less?

Can we make homes more efficient?

Can we build communities that need less energy?

Can we move toward electricity generated without continually adding carbon to the atmosphere?

Can we protect forests instead of treating them as obstacles to infrastructure?

Can we design transportation and cities differently?

Can we make the transition affordable for people who don't have thousands of dollars sitting around to replace everything they own?

And perhaps most importantly:

Can we change voluntarily, before fire, flood, heat and drought force the changes upon us?

Because that is what worries me.

Climate change isn't necessarily going to arrive at our door and politely ask whether we're ready.

It can arrive as smoke.

Or an evacuation order.

Or a flooded road.

Or a home that becomes impossible to insure.

Or a community that has to move.

Or a forest that doesn't look the same anymore.

Or wildlife losing habitat and food.

Or a person sitting in Mexico with an empty gas tank wondering how they're going to make dinner.

what happens if the fires keep coming?

We talk about economic growth.

We talk about jobs.

We talk about becoming an energy superpower.

We talk about exports.

Those things matter.

But I keep wondering whether we talk enough about the other side of the ledger.

What does it cost when a forest burns?

What does it cost when thousands of animals lose habitat?

What does it cost when a community evacuates?

What does it cost when homes are destroyed?

What does it cost when people breathe wildfire smoke for weeks?

What does it cost when flooding follows fire because the landscape can no longer absorb water in the same way?

What does it cost when people can no longer afford insurance?

What does it cost when someone has to leave the place they called home?

And who pays?

we don't get to separate everything

We can talk about one LNG project.

One pipeline.

One forest clearing.

One wildfire.

One flood.

One heat wave.

One evacuation.

But the climate doesn't experience our projects as separate spreadsheets.

Neither does the forest.

Neither does the bear.

Neither does the salmon.

Neither does the person whose house burns.

I don't know exactly what the energy system of the future should look like.

I don't think anyone does.

But I do know that building more and more infrastructure based on the assumption that the future will look like the past is a dangerous assumption.

Maybe we need gas.

Maybe we will need it for a long time.

Maybe LNG will provide economic benefits and energy security.

Those arguments deserve to be heard.

But so do the questions about emissions, forests, Indigenous rights, wildlife, water, fire, flooding and the communities that live along these corridors.

And maybe the biggest question is this:

How much can we change our lifestyle by choice — before circumstances change it for us?

Because I don't want to discover the answer when the forest is burning.

I don't want to discover it when the water is rising.

And I don't want the next generation asking why we knew what was happening and simply kept building as though nothing had changed.

I want us to be able to say:

We knew.

We asked questions.

We changed where we could.

And we tried to leave something alive behind us.

🌲🐻🦋🌎

#climatechange #LNG #Alaska #BritishColumbia #TransMountain #wildfires #forests #wildlife #energy #Mexico #adaptation #climateaction #environment #IndigenousRights #future #Canada

dots, AI agents and the question nobody seems to have time to ask: what happens when they work alone?

 

dots, AI agents and the question nobody seems to have time to ask: what happens when they work alone?

October 1, 2026

There is so much happening in the world of technology that sometimes it feels impossible to keep up. Every day brings another announcement, another app, another AI tool, another promise that our lives are about to change.

Today, I opened Google and noticed something about Dots, OpenAI's new AI agents. Naturally, I clicked.

I landed on an article, encountered a cookie notice, clicked it and left.

It sounds like an ordinary internet interaction. But it got me thinking.

What exactly are Dots? What does it mean when an AI can work independently? And how would an ordinary person even know if they had accidentally activated something capable of operating on their behalf?

Let's take a closer look.

From answering questions to taking action

We have become accustomed to asking AI questions, getting answers, writing emails, creating images and researching information.

But AI agents represent another step.

OpenAI announced Dots on September 29, introducing always-on AI assistants designed to work toward assigned goals, even when the user isn't actively chatting with them.

They can carry out multistep tasks, use connected applications, research information and continue working in the background.

Imagine telling an AI to monitor a project, track incoming information, prepare reports and bring important developments to your attention.

Instead of asking for every individual step, you delegate the responsibility.

That sounds convenient. It also introduces a new set of questions.

Who decides what the agent is allowed to do? What happens if it misunderstands the instructions? What if the information it finds is wrong? What if it takes an action that cannot easily be undone?

OpenAI says Dots have permission settings, safety rules and approval requirements for certain sensitive actions. Those safeguards matter, but no safeguard makes a complex system completely error-proof.

Could you accidentally activate one?

This was my immediate concern.

I hadn't deliberately signed up for an AI agent. I hadn't assigned a project or connected my accounts. I had simply clicked on an article and accepted a cookie notice.

There is an important difference between visiting a website, accepting cookies and activating an AI agent.

Accepting cookies does not, by itself, give an AI agent permission to work independently.

Generally, setting up an agent involves deliberately creating or launching it, assigning a task and configuring the permissions it needs.

So, no, clicking a cookie notice isn't the same as setting an AI loose.

But how many people know that?

How many understand the difference between a chatbot, an AI assistant, an automated service and an autonomous agent?

Technology is moving so quickly that the terminology alone can leave people behind.

What happens when AI makes a mistake?

This is the part I find particularly important.

An ordinary chatbot can give us incorrect information. We can question it, double-check it or simply close the conversation.

An AI agent that has permission to act presents a different challenge.

It might change files, interact with connected applications, send information or make decisions as part of a larger task.

A mistake could have consequences beyond a bad answer.

And what happens when an agent encounters something unexpected? Does it stop? Does it ask for help? Does it keep going?

The answers depend on its design, permissions and safety measures.

Recent reports about AI agents attempting unauthorized activity against online systems also demonstrate why independent action and cybersecurity deserve serious attention. On October 1, researchers reported suspicious AI-agent activity targeting Library and Archives Canada. Canadian cybersecurity officials said there was no evidence of a successful compromise, and the agents' origin had not been definitively established.

These are not reasons to assume every AI agent is dangerous. They are reasons to take oversight seriously.

Who is responsible?

As AI becomes more capable of acting independently, responsibility becomes an increasingly important question.

If an AI agent sends confidential information to the wrong person, who is accountable?

If it makes a costly mistake while carrying out a delegated task, who pays?

If it causes harm because its instructions were misunderstood or its safeguards failed, where does responsibility lie?

The company that developed it? The person who deployed it? The organization that gave it access?

These questions deserve answers before autonomous systems become deeply embedded in everyday life.

We can't keep up with everything

There is another issue here, and it is a very human one.

People are already trying to navigate online scams, privacy settings, passwords, cookies, subscriptions, social media algorithms, artificial intelligence and an endless stream of new technology.

Now we're introducing AI agents that can work around the clock.

Not everyone has the time, money, technical knowledge or interest to follow every announcement.

And not everyone wants an AI assistant managing their personal or professional life.

Some people just want to browse the internet, read an article, write an email, look at photographs or talk to family without worrying about what they might have accidentally activated.

That should not be an unreasonable expectation.

Technology should be understandable, and the consequences of using it should be made clear.

A few things worth remembering

  • Reading about an AI agent does not activate it.
  • Accepting cookies is not the same as granting an AI agent access to your accounts.
  • Check permissions before connecting any AI tool to email, files, financial services or other personal accounts.
  • Be cautious about giving an agent permission to act without approval.
  • Look for ways to review its activity, stop its work and revoke its access.
  • Remember that an AI-generated answer or completed task still needs human judgment.

And perhaps most importantly, don't feel pressured to adopt every new technology simply because it exists.

We can be curious without being careless.

We can appreciate innovation while asking difficult questions about privacy, security, accountability and control.

Because the real issue isn't simply whether AI can work independently.

It's whether we understand what we're handing over when we let it.

How much independence should we give artificial intelligence? And how do we make sure that, as technology moves forward, ordinary people aren't left struggling to catch up?


Reflective questions

1. How much independence are we comfortable giving artificial intelligence?

2. Do we really understand what happens when we give an AI permission to act on our behalf?

3. How would an ordinary person know what an AI tool can actually access?

4. What should happen when an AI agent makes a mistake?

5. Who should be responsible when an autonomous AI action causes harm?

6. Should sensitive actions always require a human decision?

7. Are technology companies explaining these new tools clearly enough?

8. How can people protect their privacy when AI becomes increasingly connected to everyday services?

9. Is convenience worth giving up some control?

10. As AI moves faster, are ordinary people being given enough time to understand what is changing?

artificial intelligence, AI agents, OpenAI Dots, autonomous AI, digital privacy, AI safety, human oversight, cybersecurity, technology, digital literacy

Hashtags:

#ArtificialIntelligence #AIAgents #OpenAI #Dots #AISafety #DigitalPrivacy #Cybersecurity #HumanOversight #DigitalLiteracy #Technology #AIethics #Privacy #TechAwareness #ThinkBeforeYouClick #TheFutureIsNow

#

Ads-Stolen Time

 

What if we got paid for our stolen time?

Ever get REALLY pissed off at all the ads?

You just want to listen to music, watch a video, scroll for a few minutes or look something up — and suddenly you're being bombarded with advertisements.

Skip.

Wait.

Another ad.

Skip again.

And sometimes you don't even get a skip button.

It's exhausting.

And here's what really gets me:

They are taking our time.

YouTube, Facebook, Instagram and other platforms make money from our attention. Advertisers pay to reach us. Our eyeballs have economic value.

So why do we treat the time we spend watching those advertisements as if it has no value at all?

What if we turned the tables?

What if we started asking whether consumers could bring a class action over the enormous amount of time spent watching unwanted advertising?

I'm not saying a court has already decided that this is “stolen time.”

I'm asking whether it could become a legal claim worth investigating.

Let's do the math.

Imagine someone spends just 10 minutes a day watching advertisements.

That's more than 60 hours a year.

Over five years, that's roughly 300 hours.

Over ten years, roughly 600 hours.

That's weeks of your life.

And once those hours are gone, they're gone.

You can't put them back.

You can't refund them.

You can't make more time.

Yet someone else may have made money from your attention during those minutes.

So here's the question:

What is our time worth?

If we hypothetically valued that time at $20 an hour, 600 hours would be $12,000.

At $30 an hour, it would be $18,000.

At $50 an hour, it would be $30,000.

I'm NOT saying YouTube, Facebook or Instagram legally owe every person those amounts.

That's exactly what lawyers, evidence and courts would have to determine.

But I think the question deserves to be asked.

Maybe platforms should have to show us a receipt:

You watched 500 hours of content.

You watched 83 hours of advertisements.

Your attention generated advertising revenue.

Thank you for your business.

Imagine if we actually knew how much of our lives were being monetized.

And maybe consumers should have a real choice:

Pay with money — or don't pay with your time.

Because advertising isn't free when we're paying for it with our lives.

I don't want somebody else's product interrupting my painting.

I don't want a political advertisement interrupting my music.

I don't want another commercial stealing another little piece of my evening.

I hate ads.

And maybe I'm not the only one.

Maybe there are millions of people who are sick of being told that their attention belongs to somebody else.

So here's my question to the internet:

Should we investigate a class action for our stolen time?

Let's find out how much advertising time is being taken from consumers.

Let's find out how much money is being made from that attention.

Let's find out what the law says.

And let's find out whether our time has a value that somebody else has been profiting from.

Because if corporations can put a price on our attention...

maybe it's time we put a price on our time.

5 reflective questions

  1. How many hours of your life do you think you've spent watching advertisements?

  2. If advertisers pay for access to your attention, shouldn't you know what your attention is worth?

  3. Would you join a class action asking whether consumers deserve compensation for time spent watching unwanted advertising?

  4. If your time is finite and can never be replaced, can anyone legitimately say that it has no value?



10 hashtags

#StolenTime #ShowUsTheReceipt #IHateAds #YouTube #Facebook #Instagram #AttentionEconomy #ConsumerRights #DigitalRights #ClassAction

Wednesday, September 30, 2026

truth and reconciliation — september 30

 truth and reconciliation — september 30


truth and reconciliation — september 30

Today is the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation and Orange Shirt Day.

I don't think reconciliation is something we can accomplish by wearing orange for one day.

It means learning the truth.

Listening to Survivors, Elders and Indigenous communities.

Remembering the children and families whose lives were changed by the residential school system.

And then asking the uncomfortable question:

What are we actually doing differently?

Truth has to come before reconciliation.

And reconciliation has to mean more than words.

Today, Vancouver has opportunities to gather, walk, listen, learn, reflect and remember.

🧡 Some events happening today:

• Orange Shirt Day Walk for Truth and Reconciliation — Strathcona Community Centre to Grandview Park, 9:30–11:30 a.m.

• Truth and Reconciliation Day at Grandview Park — 12–3 p.m.

• National Truth & Reconciliation Day Honour Walk — Vancouver Aboriginal Community-Policing Centre to Grandview Park, beginning at 11:30 a.m.

• Intergenerational March to Commemorate Orange Shirt Day at UBC — 11:45 a.m.–3 p.m.

• Truth & Reconciliation Day at MONOVA — Museum of North Vancouver, 10 a.m.–2 p.m.

• Films for Truth and Reconciliation and other cultural and educational events are happening throughout Vancouver and the Lower Mainland.

UBC is also hosting a Sacred Fire Ceremony at xʷc̓ic̓əsəm from sunrise to sunset, and Where Have All the Buffalo Gone? at the Frederic Wood Theatre at 4 p.m.

There are many ways to participate.

You don't need an orange shirt to care.

You don't need to have all the answers.

But we do need to keep asking questions.

We need to keep learning.

We need to listen.

And we need to remember that reconciliation isn't something Indigenous people have to do for Canada.

Canada has work to do.

Today. Tomorrow. And every day after September 30.

🧡 Every Child Matters.

#NationalDayForTruthAndReconciliation #OrangeShirtDay #EveryChildMatters #TruthBeforeReconciliation #Reconciliation #IndigenousVoices #Vancouver #September30


what if we redesigned the tent?

 

what if we redesigned the tent?

I keep seeing the calls for donations.

Clothes.
Blankets.
Sleeping bags.
Tents.

And yes, people need all of those things.

But then I saw something that made me stop and think:

Why are we still putting people on the ground?

I recently came across a flat-lay hammock tent — basically a hammock and tent combined, but with a much flatter sleeping platform. It has a mosquito net, a waterproof rainfly and, most importantly, it gets the person up off the ground.

And I thought:

Why aren't we making more of these?

Imagine being in an outdoor camp and not having to sleep directly on cold, wet, muddy or uneven ground.

Imagine being able to pack your shelter up with your belongings and move it relatively easily.

Imagine a shelter that could be useful not only for someone experiencing homelessness, but also for emergency situations — floods, fires, earthquakes, evacuations, disaster response or backcountry emergencies.

And here's where I think our high-school students could come in.

Give them the problem.

Don't just tell them to collect donations.

Tell them:

DESIGN A BETTER TEMPORARY SHELTER.

Could you design something lightweight enough for one person to carry?

Something that folds or rolls into a manageable package?

Something elevated off the ground?

Something waterproof?

Something with insect protection?

Something that doesn't require complicated tools to assemble?

Something that can be repaired rather than thrown away?

And here's the big one:

Can you make it affordable?

The commercial version I found isn't cheap. I want one myself, but the price puts it out of reach for many people.

So what if that became the challenge?

The $100 Shelter Challenge.

High-school students. Engineering programs. Trades students. Outdoor companies. Designers. Inventors.

Take the basic idea and make it better.

Make it lighter.

Make it stronger.

Make it easier to carry.

Make it safer.

And, most importantly, make it affordable.

I'm not suggesting that an elevated hammock tent is a solution to homelessness. People need permanent, safe housing. A piece of camping equipment cannot replace a home.

But when people are already living outdoors, shouldn't we be asking whether there are better ways to protect them while they are there?

And there's something else I find interesting about the idea.

For thousands of years, human beings figured out how to make temporary shelter, travel lightly and adapt to the landscape.

We've become very good at building enormous structures.

Maybe we could also become better at designing small, portable shelter for people who have nowhere to put a house.

So instead of simply asking young people to donate another tent...

Let's ask them to invent the next one.

What would YOU design if you had to carry your entire shelter with you?

#homelessness #housing #design #innovation #shelter #students #engineering #emergencyresponse #humanrights #portablehousing #designchallenge

when disaster strikes, where do the unhoused go?

 when disaster strikes, where do the unhoused go?

We are constantly told to prepare for the Big One.

Store water.
Store food.
Keep copies of your identification.
Have a grab-and-go bag.
Know where you will go.

But what if you don't have a home?

In 2025, the Greater Vancouver homeless count identified 5,232 people experiencing homelessness in a single 24-hour count.

That included people who were sheltered and people who were unsheltered.

And even that number is a minimum.

The people conducting the count acknowledge that a one-night count does not capture everyone experiencing homelessness. It misses people who are couch-surfing, people without secure tenure, and others whose housing situation is hidden or temporary.

So let's stop pretending the number is simply 5,232.

5,232 is the number we can document from that snapshot. The real population without secure housing is larger.

Now imagine an earthquake.

You have no home.

You have no basement where you can store 72 hours of water.

No refrigerator full of food.

No locked closet containing emergency supplies.

Maybe your identification, clothing, phone charger and everything else you own are in one backpack.

Maybe your belongings are split between a friend's place, a storage locker and wherever you can sleep.

Maybe you are already sleeping outside.

Where do you go?

Vancouver has designated Disaster Support Hubs. After a major disaster, these can become places where people receive information and, depending on the circumstances, access food, water, supplies and shelter.

But emergency preparedness cannot simply tell people:

“Store three days of supplies at home.”

What if you don't have a home?

What if the disaster destroys the little you have?

What if the person you are staying with has nowhere safe to go either?

And what about people who are living in vehicles, couch-surfing or moving from place to place?

These people are already vulnerable before the earthquake happens.

A disaster doesn't erase that vulnerability.

It can magnify it.

So I want to know:

What is Vancouver's plan for people who are unhoused when a major earthquake strikes?

Where do they go?

Where do they get water?

Where do they get food?

Where do they sleep?

How do they replace identification and essential belongings if everything they own is lost?

How are people who don't have a permanent address accounted for during an evacuation?

And most importantly:

Have emergency planners actually planned for people who have nowhere to evacuate from?

Because preparedness should mean everyone.

Not just people with houses, cars, pantries and storage closets.

When disaster strikes, nobody should be told:

“You should have been prepared.”

We should already have a plan for the people who have the least ability to prepare.

#earthquakepreparedness #Cascadia #Vancouver #MetroVancouver #Surrey #homelessness #unhoused #emergencyplanning #TheBigOne #housingcrisis

how much ocean can we ask to absorb?

 

how much ocean can we ask to absorb?

Today, Mark Carney announced $1.2 billion to protect Canada's oceans.

I want to believe in the protection part.

The announcement includes more marine monitoring, Coast Guard capacity, pollution response, whale protection, ocean science and Indigenous stewardship. Canada says it wants to conserve 30% of its oceans by 2030.

But here is what bothers me.

In the same announcement, the government acknowledges that marine traffic is expected to increase significantly and specifically talks about projected growth associated with major energy, LNG, port and resource-development projects on British Columbia's coast.

So we are going to increase the pressure...

And then spend billions preparing to protect the ocean from that increased pressure.

I live in Vancouver.

I can look across the water and see ships.

The official numbers show just how busy this port already is.

In 2024, the Port of Vancouver recorded 3,116 foreign vessel arrivals.

That's an average of about 8.5 foreign vessel arrivals every day.

And there were 353 tanker arrivals — almost one tanker arrival every day.

Those figures don't even represent every vessel movement we see around Vancouver.

And now we're talking about expanding trade and energy infrastructure and preparing for even more marine traffic.

This is where I struggle.

You can't keep saying "we care about the ocean" while continually increasing the demands we place upon it.

And today is Truth and Reconciliation Day.

That makes this even harder for me.

Because Indigenous elders have told stories of these waters when the tide went out and families went down to gather clams and shellfish.

A mother could make a small fire on the beach.

The boys could leave in a canoe to hunt.

The ocean wasn't something they looked at from a distance.

It was food. It was culture. It was home.

And that wasn't thousands of years ago.

It wasn't even 200 years ago.

It was within living memory.

I sit beside my murals at the bottom of Point Grey Road and Trafalgar and look toward the water.

I think about what this coastline must have looked like.

I think about my Songhees great-great-grandmother.

I think about what she taught my great-grandfather.

And I wonder what our children and grandchildren will see when they look at this same ocean.

Will they see a living ecosystem?

Or will they see an increasingly industrialized waterway that we spend billions trying to keep from collapsing?

The government says its approach is to "protect while we build."

But maybe we need to ask a harder question:

What if sometimes protecting means not building?

Not everything has to become bigger.

Not every resource has to be extracted.

Not every coastline has to carry more ships.

Not every ocean has to be made to work harder for us.

Maybe the lesson we've lost is one of balance.

Take what you need.

Leave enough for tomorrow.

Respect the water that feeds you.

Because once something is gone, money cannot always bring it back.

And I am hugely disappointed that we continue to have this conversation as though nature is something we can simply engineer around.

I would hate to have the karma of being responsible for choices that future generations look back on and ask:

"You knew what was happening.
Why didn't you stop?"

🌊🐋🐟

How much more can the ocean be asked to absorb before "protection" has to mean putting limits on development itself?

what was lost

 

what was lost

Today is Truth and Reconciliation Day.

And sitting here beside my murals at the bottom of Point Grey Road and Trafalgar, I can't stop thinking about what was here before us.

I have read parts of Survivors Speak. 💔😪

I think about the stories Indigenous elders have told — stories of a time when the tide went out and families went down to the beach to gather clams and shellfish.

A mother could make a small fire on the beach.

The boys might head out in a canoe to hunt.

Food came from the water, the land and the seasons.

And this wasn't 2,000 years ago.

It wasn't even 200 years ago.

It was less than 100 years ago.

That life is largely gone.

And here I sit beside my murals, looking at the water, wondering what this shoreline looked like when those families were still living that way.

I think about my Songhees great-great-grandmother and what she may have taught my great-grandfather.

I think about the generations before me.

My great-grandfather was fortunate not to be taken to residential school. But my third great-grandmother attended a Catholic mission in the Willamette Valley.

These aren't just dates in a history book to me.

They are people in my family.

And I think about what was lost.

Not only land.

Not only language.

Not only culture.

A way of living.

A relationship with the land and water based on taking what was needed.

Today, so much of our food comes wrapped in plastic, highly processed and shipped thousands of kilometres.

We have supermarkets overflowing with food while our connection to where food comes from becomes more distant.

We take.

And take.

And take.

More roads.

More buildings.

More ships.

More energy.

More money.

More growth.

When is enough enough?

I think there is something we could learn from the principle of taking what you need rather than constantly taking more.

I don't mean that Indigenous peoples all lived the same way — they didn't. There were many different Nations, cultures and economies.

But Indigenous knowledge has repeatedly reminded us that humans are part of the land and water, not separate from them.

And somehow, we have forgotten.

Today, as Canada talks about reconciliation while continuing to develop and transform the lands and waters around us, I keep wondering:

Can we ever find our way back to balance?

Maybe we can't go back.

The shoreline has changed.

The forests have changed.

The food system has changed.

The culture has been damaged by generations of colonial policies.

We cannot simply rewind history.

But perhaps reconciliation means something more than remembering what happened.

Perhaps it means asking what we are going to do differently now.

Because I don't want to sit beside my murals in another generation and wonder what was lost because we knew better and still chose more.

Today, I am thinking about the elders.

The families on the beaches.

The mothers gathering shellfish.

The boys leaving in canoes.

The fires burning beside the tide.

The people who knew that the ocean wasn't just something to exploit.

It was home.

And I am thinking about my ancestors.

And I am thinking about what we have lost.

🧡💔🌊

Truth has to come before reconciliation.
And reconciliation has to mean changing how we live.

Tuesday, September 29, 2026

born between glaciers

 born between glaciers

Sometimes history feels much closer when you realize you were born right in the middle of it.

I was born in January 1962.

Just weeks earlier, in December 1961, something extraordinary happened at Salmon Glacier in northern British Columbia.

Summit Lake, held back by Salmon Glacier, suddenly drained beneath the glacier. An enormous volume of water was released into the Salmon River valley, causing serious flooding and damaging roads and bridges.

And this wasn't simply a one-time freak event. Historical records document additional sudden drainages from Summit Lake in the years that followed.

I had no idea.

I was a newborn while this was happening.

Then, in 1993, I stood at Athabasca Glacier in Alberta.

I remember seeing that enormous wall of ice.

I didn't know then that I was looking at something that would become one of the most visible examples of Canada's changing glaciers.

More than three decades have passed.

Now I'm looking at Salmon Glacier again — and thinking about the water behind it.

We have learned that glaciers aren't simply beautiful frozen landscapes.

They are part of enormous, complicated water systems.

A glacier can hold back a lake.

Water can accumulate.

Water can find a pathway beneath the ice.

And when that happens suddenly, a mountain valley can experience an extraordinary flood.

That doesn't mean Salmon Glacier is about to collapse.

It doesn't mean another catastrophic event is imminent.

But it does mean we should pay attention.

We already have the historical record.

We have changing glaciers.

We have communities and infrastructure downstream.

And we have better technology today than the people who were trying to understand these events in 1961.

So perhaps the question isn't:

“Could it happen here?”

We already know that sudden glacial flooding has happened here.

The better questions are:

Are we monitoring these changing glacier-and-lake systems closely enough?

Do communities downstream have the information they need?

Would people know what to do if a major outburst flood began?

Are warning systems and evacuation plans keeping pace with a changing climate?

And perhaps most importantly:

How many warnings from the past do we need before we decide that awareness is part of preparedness?

I was born just weeks after one of Salmon Glacier's great floods.

I stood on Athabasca Glacier in 1993.

Now, in 2026, I'm watching the glaciers change.

Maybe it's time we all started watching a little more closely.

#SalmonGlacier #AthabascaGlacier #BCGlaciers #GlacialLakes #GlacialOutburstFloods #ClimateChange #BritishColumbia #WaterIsLife #ClimateAwareness #Preparedness

what will it take for us to stand up?

 

what will it take for us to stand up?

What will it take?

How many people have to lose their homes?

How many seniors have to choose between rent and food?

How many people have to sleep outside?

How many families have to move again and again because the rent keeps climbing?

How many people have to become vulnerable before the rest of us decide that vulnerability is a problem we all have a responsibility to confront?

Look at what is happening in Spain.

An 87-year-old woman named Maricarmen Abascal was evicted from the Madrid apartment where she had lived since 1956. Her rent had reportedly risen from about €500 to a demand of €1,650. When she was finally removed from her home, she was taken out on a stretcher.

People took to the streets.

Tens of thousands protested Spain's housing crisis. Hundreds camped in Madrid's Puerta del Sol, demanding stronger protections for tenants.

And something happened.

The Spanish government has now proposed extending protections against evictions of vulnerable tenants until 2030, along with other housing measures. The proposals still need parliamentary approval, so this isn't finished — but the government responded to public pressure.

And Maricarmen?

She has accepted a preliminary agreement that could allow her to return home, paying about 30% of her pension — roughly €533 a month.

One woman.

One eviction.

One enormous public reaction.

And suddenly the housing crisis became impossible to ignore.

So what will it take here?

Canada counted more than 65,000 people experiencing homelessness on a single night in 75 communities in 2025 — and that number does not represent everyone experiencing housing insecurity. The federal government says homelessness remains substantially higher than before the pandemic.

And this isn't only about people sleeping outside.

It is seniors.

It is people working full-time who cannot afford market rent.

It is people living in SROs.

It is people couch-surfing.

It is families doubled up in tiny apartments.

It is people one rent increase, illness, job loss or landlord decision away from losing their home.

It is people who have spent decades contributing to their communities and suddenly discovering that they can no longer afford to live in them.

And yes — governments are doing things.

British Columbia points to more than 99,000 homes delivered or underway since 2017, rent protections, the speculation and vacancy tax, and other measures.

But there is still a housing crisis.

So perhaps the question isn't simply:

What is government doing?

Perhaps we should also ask:

What are we doing?

Where is our line?

Why do we accept seeing people sleeping outside in the rain?

Why do we accept seniors worrying about whether they can remain in their homes?

Why do we accept people being moved from one temporary place to another?

Why do we accept encampments as though they are simply part of the scenery?

Why do we talk about vulnerable people as statistics instead of neighbours?

And why aren't more of us standing together?

I'm not talking about violence.

I'm not talking about destroying property.

I'm talking about peaceful, organized, persistent public pressure.

People gathering.

People carrying signs.

People writing letters.

People showing up at city halls, legislatures and Parliament.

People demanding answers.

People refusing to let the issue disappear when the cameras leave.

People standing beside seniors.

People standing beside families.

People standing beside people who have nowhere else to go.

People saying:

Housing is not optional.

Human dignity is not optional.

A safe place to live should not be a luxury.

Spain's protesters didn't solve their entire housing crisis in a week.

They didn't magically create hundreds of thousands of homes.

But they demonstrated something powerful:

People can make housing impossible for governments to ignore.

And perhaps that is the question Canada needs to ask.

Not:

"Why are those people protesting?"

But:

"Why aren't more of us?"

Because today it might be someone else standing outside.

Tomorrow it could be you.

Or your parent.

Or your child.

Or your neighbour.

Or the person who has worked beside you for twenty years.

We don't have to wait until someone is carried out of their home on a stretcher before we decide that enough is enough.

What will it take for Canadians to stand up for the vulnerable?

And perhaps an even harder question:

What are we waiting for?

why isn't housing the biggest investment?

 

why isn't housing the biggest investment?

I've been looking at the numbers in Canada's 2025 federal budget.

And one thing keeps jumping out at me.

Canada says it is planning approximately $280 billion in capital investment over five years.

The government's broad breakdown includes:

$110 billion — infrastructure

$105 billion — productivity and competitiveness

$30 billion — defence and security

$25 billion — housing

And I keep asking:

WHY?

Why is housing getting only $25 billion when Canada is facing a housing crisis?

Why isn't housing receiving an investment closer to the scale of the $110 billion for infrastructure or the $105 billion for productivity and competitiveness?

I'm not saying roads, bridges, technology or economic investment aren't important.

Of course they are.

But housing is infrastructure too.

A home is infrastructure.

An apartment building is infrastructure.

Supportive housing is infrastructure.

Affordable housing is infrastructure.

A place for a senior to live is infrastructure.

A place for a family to raise children is infrastructure.

A place for someone experiencing homelessness to finally get inside is infrastructure.

So why only $25 billion?

If Canada can find $110 billion for infrastructure...

If Canada can find $105 billion for productivity and competitiveness...

Why can't we put that same level of urgency into housing?

I'm asking for the government to explain the numbers.

Not with slogans.

Not with press releases.

With the actual plan.

How many homes will $25 billion build?

How many will be affordable?

How many will be permanently affordable?

How many will be supportive housing?

How many will be built for seniors?

How many for families?

How many for people currently experiencing homelessness?

And when will they be ready?

Because Canada's housing crisis isn't waiting five or ten years.

People are struggling right now.

Renters are being priced out.

Families are overcrowding homes.

Seniors are worried about where they will live.

People are staying in unsafe situations because they cannot afford to leave.

People are sleeping outside.

Winter is coming.

So I'm asking Mark Carney:

Why isn't housing receiving an investment on the scale of infrastructure and productivity?

If housing is truly an emergency, treat it like one.

Give Canadians the numbers.

Give us the construction targets.

Give us the timelines.

Give us the locations.

And most importantly:

BUILD THE HOMES.

Because Canadians don't need another announcement about housing.

They need somewhere to live.

a benefit doesn't create a home

 a benefit doesn't create a home

My friend is 77.

We were talking about immigration, housing, social assistance and what is happening to people across Canada.

And he asked me a simple question:

“Are people coming into Canada properly screened?”

That led to another question:

“And what happens when families arrive with children and qualify for several different government benefits, while Canadians who are already here can't find a place to live?”

These aren't unreasonable questions.

But we need to look at the actual numbers—not rumours, not Facebook posts, not assumptions.

Let's start with housing.

Statistics Canada reported that in 2024, approximately 1.8 million Canadian households were in core housing need.

That means their housing was inadequate, unsuitable or unaffordable, and they couldn't afford an acceptable alternative.

Among renters, the rate was about 22%.

Think about that.

One in five renter households.

And that doesn't tell the whole story.

Some people are couch-surfing.

Some are living with relatives because they have nowhere else to go.

Some are sleeping in vehicles.

Some are staying in relationships or homes they desperately want to leave because they cannot afford another place.

Some are working and still cannot afford rent.

Some are seniors.

Some are families with children.

Some are people receiving assistance.

And here's the problem with saying “there is assistance.”

Suppose a single person can receive up to roughly $1,060 a month in B.C. income assistance, including the maximum shelter allowance.

That's food and basic needs plus shelter.

But what good is a shelter allowance if you cannot find a place to rent for that amount?

A benefit doesn't create a home.

That's the part I think governments keep missing.

You can give someone money.

But if there are no affordable apartments available, they're still homeless.

Now consider a family.

A family with four children may qualify for several programs depending on their circumstances, including child benefits and other supports.

The Canada Child Benefit can be thousands of dollars per child each year for eligible low-income families.

There can also be provincial benefits.

There may be health coverage and other supports depending on immigration status and eligibility.

I'm not saying families shouldn't receive help.

Children shouldn't go hungry.

People fleeing war or persecution shouldn't be abandoned.

But we also have to ask whether Canada's housing and social-support systems have enough capacity for everyone who is here.

Because if they don't, somebody gets left behind.

And right now, millions of Canadians are struggling with housing.

What about the co-ops?

This is where things become particularly frustrating for people.

Affordable co-op housing is limited.

People can wait years.

A person can be eligible and still not get a unit.

So imagine being a Canadian senior, a person with a disability, a low-income worker or someone experiencing homelessness.

You apply.

You wait.

You can't find anything you can afford.

And winter is coming.

What are you supposed to do?

And then there is employment.

My friend has also raised concerns about businesses hiring people who speak particular languages.

This needs to be discussed carefully.

People naturally hire through networks. Immigrant communities often help newcomers find work, just as established Canadian communities do.

But employers cannot legally discriminate against people on protected grounds.

So the question isn't:

“Why are these people hiring Indians or South Asians?”

The useful question is:

“Are Canadian employers following employment laws, and are qualified Canadians being given a fair opportunity to apply and compete for jobs?”

That's something worth investigating with evidence rather than assuming an entire community is doing something wrong.

What is happening in places like Nelson?

I've heard people talk about communities changing quickly, with new restaurants and businesses appearing and particular immigrant communities becoming much more visible.

Businesses opening isn't automatically a bad thing.

But rapid population change raises legitimate questions:

Does the town have enough housing?

Enough doctors?

Enough schools?

Enough childcare?

Enough public transportation?

Enough jobs?

Enough affordable rentals?

Those are infrastructure questions.

And governments should answer them before housing shortages become humanitarian problems.

We need to stop fighting each other.

This isn't about whether one group of Canadians deserves housing more than another.

It is about whether Canada has built enough housing and infrastructure to support the population it has chosen to accept.

If the answer is no, ordinary people end up fighting over scarce apartments, jobs and services.

That creates resentment.

And resentment doesn't build a single home.

So, Mark Carney, provincial governments and municipal governments:

Show us the numbers.

How many people are currently homeless?

How many are living in inadequate housing?

How many are living in overcrowded housing?

How many are trapped in housing they cannot afford?

How many are staying in unsafe or abusive situations because they have nowhere else to go?

How many affordable homes are actually available?

How many are being built?

How many people are waiting for co-op and subsidized housing?

How long are they waiting?

And how much money is actually reaching bricks, walls, kitchens and bedrooms?

Because we keep hearing about billions of dollars.

We keep hearing about investment.

We keep hearing about programs.

But Canadians need something very basic:

A safe place to live.

And with winter approaching, this isn't a political talking point.

It is time.

People cannot eat promises.

People cannot sleep in a budget.

People cannot turn a benefit cheque into an apartment when there is nowhere affordable to rent.

Build the housing.

Show us the money.

And show us the homes.

20 hard questions for Canadian high school students

 

20 hard questions for Canadian high school students

  1. Where does Canada's federal government get its money, and where does every dollar go?

  2. How much does Canada spend on housing and homelessness compared with defence, infrastructure, business incentives and other major priorities?

  3. If Canada has a housing shortage, why aren't we building enough homes? What are the actual barriers?

  4. How much would it cost to provide enough affordable and supportive housing for people currently experiencing homelessness?

  5. Who owns Canada's land, and how much publicly owned land could potentially be used for housing?

  6. How much does it actually cost to build an average home in Canada—and how much of the final price comes from land, construction, taxes, fees and financing?

  7. What happens to the price of housing when supply increases? What happens when demand increases? Can students find Canadian evidence for both?

  8. How much of Canada's housing is owned by individuals, corporations, investors and different levels of government?

  9. How much does Canada collect from oil, gas, mining, forestry and other natural resources—and who receives those revenues?

  10. Should natural-resource wealth be spent today, saved for future generations, or divided between the two? What have different countries actually done?

  11. Why does Norway have a sovereign wealth fund, and could Canada create or expand similar mechanisms using Canadian resource revenues?

  12. Norway is considered a climate leader while remaining a major oil and gas producer. How can both things be true?

  13. Which countries are simultaneously pursuing climate targets while producing and exporting fossil fuels? Why do they do it?

  14. Canada is investing heavily in artificial intelligence and data-centre infrastructure. What are the expected economic benefits, costs and environmental impacts?

  15. How much electricity and water do large data centres require, and who pays for the infrastructure needed to support them?

  16. If governments say there isn't enough money to solve a problem, what does “can't afford it” actually mean? Is the limitation money, resources, labour, political choices, inflation, debt or something else?

  17. What are Canada's federal, provincial and municipal governments each responsible for when it comes to housing—and where does responsibility overlap or fall through the cracks?

  18. What are Indigenous Nations' rights and roles in decisions involving natural resources, fisheries and development on their territories? How have those rights changed Canadian decision-making?

  19. What happened to Canada's wild Pacific salmon over the past several decades, and what evidence exists concerning the causes—including climate change, habitat loss, fishing and salmon farming?

  20. If you were given Canada's entire federal budget for one year, what would you change—and what evidence would you use to defend every change?


If Canada is wealthy in resources, human talent and economic capacity, why do some Canadians still struggle to afford the basic necessities of life?

Don't tell us what you think the answer is. Investigate it. Follow the money. Check the evidence. Talk to people affected. Look at what other countries have done. Then tell us what you found.

where does Canada's money actually come from?

 

where does Canada's money actually come from?

I keep hearing that Canada can't afford to solve our housing crisis.

So I decided to ask a different question:

Where does Canada's money actually come from?

Because I don't understand government finances well enough to pretend I know the answer.

And maybe that's exactly why we should all be looking at it.

the federal government

In the 2024–25 fiscal year, the federal government collected approximately $511 billion in revenue.

That came largely from:

$234.3 billion — personal income taxes

$97.0 billion — corporate income taxes

$52.5 billion — GST

$31.5 billion — Employment Insurance premiums

$71.9 billion — other taxes and duties

$49.2 billion — other revenues

That's more than half a trillion dollars coming into the federal government in one year.

But Canada also spends more than it collects.

That's where the deficit and government borrowing enter the picture.

So no, there isn't an unlimited pile of money sitting in Ottawa.

But Canada is also not a country with no resources or economic capacity.

We have oil and gas.

Minerals.

Forests.

Fisheries.

Hydroelectricity.

Agriculture.

Technology.

Manufacturing.

Millions of people working and paying taxes.

And now we are talking about enormous investments in artificial intelligence and data-centre infrastructure.

So I keep coming back to one question:

if we can mobilize billions for other priorities, why can't we mobilize enough to house our people?

I'm not suggesting that everything is free.

I'm not suggesting governments can simply print money without consequences.

I'm asking Canadians to look at the numbers and ask what we are choosing to prioritize.

Because there are people living outside right now.

There are seniors who cannot afford housing.

There are families choosing between rent and food.

There are young people who cannot imagine ever owning a home.

There are working people who are still homeless.

There are people falling through the cracks.

And meanwhile, governments are capable of moving enormous amounts of money when they decide something is a priority.

So where is that urgency for housing?

“If Canada can mobilize enormous amounts of capital for energy, technology, infrastructure and investment, why can't we mobilize the same determination to make sure Canadians have somewhere affordable to live?”

Because somewhere along the way, people stopped being the priority.

Or at least, that's what it feels like when you watch billions move while human beings are left waiting for a home.

Where is the urgency for the baby?

The single mother?

The senior?

The person who worked their whole life?

The family one rent increase away from losing everything?

If governments can move mountains when something is considered a priority, why isn't housing being treated like one?

Canadians deserve an answer.

and that is the question

I'm not an economist.

I'm a Canadian trying to understand where the money goes.

Maybe we should all understand it.

Because once ordinary people start following the money, we can ask much better questions.

How much comes in?

How much goes out?

What are we borrowing?

What are we investing in?

What resources are generating wealth?

Who benefits?

What is being preserved for future generations?

And perhaps the biggest question of all:

How can a country this wealthy still have people without homes?

I don't think Canadians should be afraid to ask.

Where is the money?

Where is the housing?

Where is the accountability?

And where is the humanity?

billions for data centres — but what about people?

 

billions for data centres — but what about people?

I don't support the rush to build massive data centres.

And I don't believe we should pretend that every investment in AI infrastructure is automatically an investment in Canada's future.

A future for whom?

Before we pour billions into enormous data centres, I think we need to ask some very basic questions.

Do Canadians have homes?

Do Canadians have enough food?

Can seniors afford to live?

Can young families afford to raise their children?

Can people who work full-time afford a place to live?

What happens to the people who fall through the cracks?

Because technology doesn't need a house.

A data centre doesn't need a pension.

A server doesn't need a warm bed.

People do.

And when governments can mobilize billions for technological infrastructure while human beings are living outside, I think Canadians have every right to question our priorities.

I am not against technology.

I am asking:

Why aren't we putting human beings first?

If we have billions available for the infrastructure of an AI future, why can't we demonstrate the same urgency when it comes to housing, health, food security, pensions, Indigenous communities, children and people experiencing homelessness?

We keep hearing that there isn't enough money.

There isn't enough housing.

There isn't enough time.

There isn't enough capacity.

And yet, when governments decide something is a priority, enormous amounts of money and resources can suddenly be found.

So perhaps the question isn't what Canada can afford.

Perhaps the question is:

What does Canada choose to prioritize?

how could Canada actually solve our housing problem?

 

how could Canada actually solve our housing problem?

Yes, Canada has many of the tools needed.

The question is whether governments will use them at the scale and speed required.

According to the latest CMHC Fall 2026 Housing Supply Report, Canada needs approximately 417,000 to 469,000 housing starts every year to restore pre-pandemic affordability by 2036.

Under current projections, that leaves an annual supply gap of approximately 187,000 to 238,000 homes.

That's a massive number.

So what could Canada actually do?

1. build housing people can actually afford

Canada needs more than expensive condos and luxury housing.

We need a much larger supply of:

  • non-market housing
  • co-ops
  • social housing
  • supportive housing
  • deeply affordable rentals
  • affordable family housing
  • seniors' housing
  • accessible housing

Housing isn't one giant category.

Different people need different kinds of homes.

2. use public land for public housing

Federal, provincial and municipal governments own public land.

Instead of simply selling valuable land to the highest bidder, governments can use that land for long-term affordable housing.

The federal government's Build Canada Homes initiative specifically includes leveraging public land as part of its approach.

Why shouldn't public land help create a permanent public benefit?

3. build faster with modern construction

We already know that standardized and prefabricated construction can help reduce construction time and costs.

In British Columbia, Canada and BC have committed to an initial 1,100 homes through a partnership involving 700 supportive and transitional homes and 400 affordable rental homes.

The project uses standardized designs and prefabricated, Canadian-made components.

That's the kind of approach worth expanding.

4. stop making every housing project take years

Zoning.

Permits.

Development charges.

Regulatory barriers.

These can all affect how quickly and affordably housing gets built.

Canada's new Improving Housing Supply Act provides $1.7 billion to provinces and territories to help remove barriers and increase housing supply, including measures such as reducing development fees and levies.

But money alone isn't enough.

We need measurable results.

How many homes?

How quickly?

At what price?

And most importantly:

How many will actually be affordable to people who need them?

5. build the infrastructure too

If we're going to increase housing density, we also need the infrastructure that makes communities work:

  • water
  • sewer
  • transit
  • roads
  • schools
  • parks
  • community services

You can't simply build thousands of homes and expect everything around them to magically appear.

6. protect the affordable housing we already have

This one is huge.

Canada doesn't only need to build new affordable housing.

We need to stop losing existing affordable housing.

The federal Canada Rental Protection Fund is now a $1.5-billion program designed to help community housing providers acquire and preserve existing affordable rental properties.

Sometimes preserving an affordable apartment building is faster than building another one.

And once an affordable home is lost, replacing it can take years.

7. build housing for different income levels

We need a housing continuum.

That can include:

Emergency shelter — when necessary

↓

Transitional housing

↓

Supportive housing

↓

Deeply affordable housing

↓

Affordable rentals

↓

Market rentals

↓

Co-ops and ownership

These aren't interchangeable.

A person who needs supportive housing shouldn't be expected to solve their situation by finding a $2,500-a-month apartment.

And someone who simply cannot afford Vancouver's rental market shouldn't automatically be treated as though they need a shelter.

8. address homelessness with both housing AND support

Homelessness isn't one single experience.

Some people need affordable housing.

Some need supportive housing.

Some need mental-health or addiction services.

Some need help getting identification, income or employment.

Some primarily need a place they can afford.

And many people need several things at once.

So let's stop pretending that one housing model can solve every situation.

9. make construction cheaper

Canada needs to look carefully at the cost of building.

That means examining:

  • development charges
  • permitting
  • regulations
  • construction productivity
  • skilled-trades shortages
  • materials
  • financing
  • unnecessary duplication between jurisdictions

The federal government has already put $1.7 billion toward measures intended to increase housing supply and reduce barriers to construction.

Now we need to see what happens with that investment.

10. don't pretend that "build more" is the entire solution

This may be the most important point.

Canada could build hundreds of thousands of homes and still have people sleeping outside if those homes are priced beyond their means.

Supply matters.

But affordability matters too.

And people who are homeless today cannot wait for a housing supply solution that may take years.

That's why I believe Canada needs two tracks at the same time.

BUILD FOR THE FUTURE

→ Build affordable, non-market and rental housing at enormous scale.

→ Use public land.

→ Expand modular and factory-built construction.

→ Speed up approvals.

→ Build infrastructure alongside housing.

→ Preserve existing affordable rentals.

HELP PEOPLE NOW

→ Mobile outreach.

→ Transitional housing.

→ Supportive housing.

→ Rent assistance.

→ Emergency shelter when necessary.

→ Rapid pathways from homelessness into permanent housing.

Build for tomorrow.

Help people today.

We need both.

And here's something else worth remembering:

No single level of government controls the entire housing system.

Ottawa, the provinces, territories and municipalities each control different pieces.

So Canada needs governments working together rather than pointing at one another.

The federal government can provide funding and national programs.

Provinces control important areas such as health, housing programs and much of the regulatory framework.

Municipalities control zoning, permitting and local planning.

The pieces already exist.

The question is whether we can finally put them together.

Because behind every statistic is a person.

A family.

A senior.

A young person.

A worker.

A neighbour.

Someone who simply wants a safe place to call home.

And while governments debate the details...

people are waiting.

So I have a question for all of us:

How would YOU solve Canada's housing crisis?

Because maybe it's time Canadians stopped waiting for someone else to come up with all the answers.

Maybe we should start demanding them.

sources

CMHC — Fall 2026 Housing Supply Report

Canada — Improving Housing Supply Act

Canada — Canada Rental Protection Fund

Canada & British Columbia — 1,100-home housing partnership

dear canadians, ai says it knows how to solve our housing problem

 

dear canadians, ai says it knows how to solve our housing problem

Do you?

Because apparently, I asked AI a very simple question:

How could Canada solve our housing crisis?

And it gave me an answer.

Not a magic answer.
Not an overnight answer.

But a list of things Canada could actually do.

So now I have a question for the people running this country:

Do you know how to solve it?

Because after years of escalating housing costs, homelessness and people being pushed further and further from any possibility of a secure home, I'm beginning to wonder.

Canada doesn't lack ideas.

We have public land.

We have construction workers.

We have architects and engineers.

We have modular and prefabricated construction.

We have housing organizations, co-ops and non-profits.

We have government-owned buildings and land.

We have infrastructure programs.

We have communities that already know what they need.

And we have people who desperately need somewhere to live.

So what are we waiting for?

build housing people can actually afford

We need more than luxury towers and expensive condos.

We need non-market housing, co-ops, social housing, supportive housing and genuinely affordable rentals.

We need housing for seniors.

Housing for families.

Housing for people with disabilities.

Housing for people leaving homelessness.

Housing for people who work but simply cannot afford today's rents.

And we need different solutions for different people.

use public land for the public good

Why sell valuable government-owned land to the highest bidder when it could be used for housing?

Governments could lease land for long-term affordable housing rather than permanently disposing of public assets.

build faster

If a building can be safely constructed using standardized designs, modular components or prefabrication, why should every project take years?

We need to examine every unnecessary delay, fee and bureaucratic barrier that adds cost.

Speed matters when people are sleeping outside.

preserve what we already have

We shouldn't only count new units.

We also need to protect existing affordable housing from disappearing.

Sometimes keeping an existing affordable apartment building affordable is faster than building another one.

and help people NOW

This is the part I keep coming back to.

People cannot wait five or ten years for the housing supply to catch up.

Winter doesn't wait.

Rain doesn't wait.

Illness doesn't wait.

People living outside don't get to put their lives on hold until another housing announcement is made.

We need immediate, mobile and community-based services alongside permanent housing.

We need transitional housing.

We need supportive housing.

We need outreach.

We need pathways from the street into actual homes.

Build for tomorrow. Help people today.

That shouldn't be a radical idea.

so, dear Canadians...

AI says Canada has tools that could be part of the solution.

But AI isn't the one with the authority to change zoning.

AI doesn't control public land.

AI doesn't approve housing projects.

AI doesn't control provincial or municipal budgets.

AI doesn't write federal housing policy.

People do.

So perhaps the question isn't:

"Can Canada solve the housing crisis?"

Perhaps the question is:

"Why aren't we doing everything we reasonably can to solve it?"

And maybe we, the public, need to start asking that question much louder.

Not just during elections.

Not just when another tent encampment appears.

Not just when another person is pushed onto the street.

Every day.

Because housing isn't an abstract policy discussion.

It is someone's home.

Someone's family.

Someone's safety.

Someone's dignity.

So, dear Canadians...

AI says it has some ideas.

Do you?

And more importantly—

do the people in charge?

What would you do if you were given the responsibility of solving Canada's housing crisis?

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