ai security concerns

 

ai security concerns: what is happening, what could happen, and how to prepare

There have been some unsettling reports about artificial intelligence and cybersecurity recently. I've seen people sharing videos about security procedures, emergency food supplies, backup power and generators.

Some of these warnings sound frightening. I think people deserve a clear explanation of what is happening, what the risks are, and what we can reasonably do to protect ourselves.

First, let's separate what we know from what we fear.

What is happening?

Artificial intelligence is becoming much better at finding weaknesses in computer software. These weaknesses, called vulnerabilities, can sometimes allow someone to break into a computer system, steal information or disrupt a service.

The same technology can help security researchers find and repair those weaknesses. However, criminals can also use AI to search for vulnerabilities, develop attacks and create convincing fraudulent messages.

Recent reports have described serious software vulnerabilities and disruptions to some online services. Security teams are working to identify and fix problems.

This is a legitimate cybersecurity concern. It does not mean that every computer system has been compromised or that a major disaster is inevitable.

What could happen?

Depending on the vulnerability and whether it is exploited, possible consequences include:

• Websites and online services temporarily going offline.
• Problems accessing some government or business services.
• Attempts to steal personal information, passwords or financial details.
• More sophisticated phishing emails, fraudulent messages and impersonation scams.
• Disruptions to organisations that rely on vulnerable computer systems.

A cyberattack against critical infrastructure could have more serious consequences, depending on the systems affected. However, we should not assume that a software vulnerability will automatically cause power outages, food shortages or the collapse of essential services.

Those are different scenarios, and claims about them need evidence.

What can ordinary people do?

We don't need to panic or spend money we cannot afford. We can take some sensible precautions now.

1. Protect your digital life.

• Install software and security updates from legitimate sources.
• Use unique passwords and multifactor authentication where available.
• Back up important photographs, documents and other files.
• Be suspicious of unexpected links, urgent requests for money and messages asking you to reveal security codes.
• Don't install software or follow technical instructions from an unverified video or message.
• Keep some important telephone numbers and contact information written down in case your phone or internet connection is unavailable.

2. Prepare for an ordinary emergency.

Canadian emergency preparedness guidance recommends keeping essential supplies available so households can manage for at least 72 hours.

Consider gradually putting together:

• Drinking water.
• Non-perishable food that you can eat without electricity.
• A manual can opener, if needed.
• A flashlight and spare batteries.
• A charged power bank for your phone.
• Necessary medication and a basic first-aid kit.
• Some cash in small denominations.
• Warm clothing, blankets and essential supplies for pets.
• A written list of emergency contacts.

You don't have to buy everything at once. Use what you already have, and add a few items when you can.

3. Think about food and water.

A temporary power outage can affect refrigeration, cooking and access to some services. Having a modest supply of shelf-stable food and drinking water is useful for many reasons, including storms and other routine emergencies.

Keep food that suits your needs and that you actually eat. Rotate your supplies rather than spending money on expensive emergency products.

British Columbia recommends planning for at least three days without power, with more supplies where practical. https://www2.gov.bc.ca/gov/content/safety/emergency-management/preparedbc/know-your-hazards/power-outages

4. What about generators and backup power?

A generator can be useful in certain circumstances, but it isn't something everyone needs to buy.

Never operate a fuel-powered generator indoors, in a garage, or near doors and windows. Its carbon monoxide exhaust can kill. Barbecues and camping stoves must not be used indoors for heating or cooking either.

If you need backup power, consider whether a battery power bank or another suitable battery system would meet your needs. Any generator installation should follow the manufacturer's instructions and applicable electrical safety requirements.

5. Know where to get reliable information.

During a genuine emergency, follow instructions from local authorities and emergency services. Check official government announcements rather than relying on anonymous social media accounts.

A person speaking urgently in a video may be sincerely concerned. Their concern alone, however, does not establish that every prediction they make is correct.

Ask three questions:

• What specific event has actually been confirmed?
• What is a possible consequence, rather than a proven or imminent one?
• What practical action is recommended by a reliable source?

Preparation is not panic

I understand why people are concerned. We have experienced a pandemic, economic pressures, extreme weather, increasing dependence on digital services and a rapidly changing technological landscape.

It is reasonable to think about how we would manage if the internet went down, our phones stopped working, or a power outage lasted longer than expected.

But there is a difference between preparing for possible disruptions and telling people that a catastrophe is coming.

We should take cybersecurity seriously. We should also protect ourselves from misinformation, unnecessary fear and people trying to profit from our anxiety.

Prepare for the possibilities. Verify the warnings. Don't let fear make your decisions for you.

A little practical preparation, shared knowledge and neighbours helping one another can go a long way.

the abenaki of wôlinak

 

the abenaki of wôlinak: a history of dispossession, resistance and survival

They defended the land alongside Canadian troops. When they returned home, they discovered that their own territory had been divided up and given to white settlers.

Imagine fighting to defend a place you call home, only to return and discover that others have taken your land. Imagine being told that you no longer have the right to live where your community has existed for generations.

For the Abenaki of Wôlinak, this was not an imagined injustice. It was part of their history.

a homeland before colonization

The Abenaki are among the Indigenous peoples associated with the Wabanaki Confederacy, a network of northeastern Indigenous nations whose histories and territories extend across what are now parts of eastern Canada and the northeastern United States.

These nations had their own communities, political relationships, cultures and systems of governance long before European colonization. Their histories did not begin with the arrival of French or British settlers.

During the colonial period, the Abenaki developed relationships and alliances with the French, in part amid the growing pressures and conflicts created by British expansion. These relationships included trade, diplomacy and intermarriage. But alliances did not erase the Abenaki's own identity or their relationship with their ancestral territories.

As colonial conflict, famine and displacement affected Indigenous communities, some Abenaki families moved into the Bécancour region of what is now Quebec.

building a community, then being expelled

In 1708, an agreement was formalized to establish an Abenaki settlement on Montesson Island, near Bécancour. The community established roots there and lived on the island for approximately thirty years.

According to the historical account by Serge Rousseau, relations deteriorated when a new seigneur took control of the Bécancour estate. He challenged the Abenaki's right to occupy the land and expelled them from the island.

The community was forced to relocate, first to another island in the Bécancour River and then to a second location. Disease and flooding drove further displacement.

By 1735, the Abenaki had established themselves on the land where the Wôlinak community remains today.

Consider what these repeated moves meant. People had to leave familiar places, rebuild their homes and community, and adapt to circumstances they did not control. Their survival required extraordinary determination, but the need to demonstrate that resilience was itself a consequence of the injustice they faced.

even their church became a source of conflict

The Abenaki built a wooden church that served their community. At a time when Bécancour did not yet have its own church, local French Canadian parishioners also attended Mass there.

Even after a church was built in Bécancour in December 1757, some settlers continued to use the Abenaki church.

The historical account describes growing jealousy and tension between the communities. The Abenaki church was subsequently destroyed by fire in late December 1757. The original author records suspicions that some settlers may have set the fire to encourage the parish priest to reside at their own church. However, this allegation should not be presented as proven fact.

The church was never rebuilt.

This episode is a reminder that the history of colonization was not simply a matter of different communities living side by side. Relationships could involve cooperation and shared institutions, while also being shaped by unequal power and competing claims over land and authority.

fighting for canada, losing their own land

One of the most disturbing episodes in this account occurred after the War of 1812.

According to Rousseau's text, Abenaki warriors fought alongside Canadian forces against the American invasion. When they returned home after the conflict, they found that their territory had been divided into parcels and distributed to white settlers.

They had participated in defending the country, yet their own community was being deprived of its land.

The account describes the Abenaki resisting the dispossession, including destroying houses built on their village land. Through this resistance, they reportedly managed to retain two small islands in the Bécancour River and approximately sixty arpents of land.

That was all that remained of their former territory, according to the account.

Think about the contradiction. Indigenous people were expected to help defend the country against invasion, while their own rights to their homeland were disregarded. Their contribution did not protect them from dispossession.

They were not asking for someone else's homeland. They were fighting to retain their own.

asking for justice

The injustice continued long after the war.

On March 3, 1858, the Abenaki addressed a letter to the Canadian legislature protesting the loss of their property. A committee was reportedly established to help alleviate their poverty, and an annual pension of $200 was granted. Their original territory, however, was not restored through this measure.

Financial assistance could not undo the loss of land, community resources or autonomy. Nor could a small pension make the original dispossession fair.

The account does not establish every legal detail of the land claims, and the surviving historical record should be examined carefully. But its central narrative is unmistakable: the Abenaki of Wôlinak repeatedly faced displacement, struggled to retain their territory and sought redress from authorities who did not restore what had been taken.

resilience should not obscure injustice

The original historical text celebrates the admirable resilience of the Abenaki of Wôlinak. Their determination to survive, maintain their community and defend their rights deserves recognition.

But we should be careful about how we use the word resilience.

When people repeatedly lose their land, are forced to relocate, see their property distributed to others and struggle to obtain justice, calling them resilient is not enough. It can unintentionally shift attention away from those who caused the harm and the institutions that permitted it.

The Abenaki should not have had to demonstrate extraordinary resilience to retain their homeland.

Their story is not simply one of hardship overcome. It is a story about power, dispossession, resistance and the failure to provide justice.

And it raises an uncomfortable question for Canada: how can a country celebrate its history and its defenders while overlooking the Indigenous people whose lands were taken in the process?

The Abenaki of Wôlinak survived. Their community endured. Their history deserves to be told, not as a footnote to colonial settlement, but as part of the history of this land itself.

Before we judge Indigenous communities today, we need to understand what happened to them yesterday.

Their history did not begin with European arrival. Their rights did not originate with colonial permission. And their survival should never be mistaken for proof that the injustices they endured were acceptable.

Historical basis: Serge Rousseau, for the CAR Séminaire de Nicolet, drawing on Charles Wawanolett's history of the Abenaki, Société d’Histoire Régionale de Nicolet, F238 / E12 / 9. Specific dates, land transactions and allegations in the original account warrant verification against archival records.

historical sources

This article is based on the historical account by Serge Rousseau for the Centre d’Archives Régionales du Séminaire de Nicolet, drawing on Charles Wawanolett’s Histoire des Abénakis, as well as historical information published by the Abenaki Museum at Odanak and the National Assembly of Quebec.

The events described reflect the historical sources cited. Details of individual land transactions and the 1858 petition are attributed to the original historical account.

Sources:

- "Abenaki Museum — History of Wôlinak" (https://fort-odanak.ca/musee_abenakis-abenakis_museum-eng)

- "National Assembly of Quebec — Historical account (French)" (https://www.assnat.qc.ca/Media/Process.aspx?MediaId=ANQ.Vigie.Bll.DocumentGenerique_206929&process=Default&token=ZyMoxNwUn8ikQ+TRKYwPCjWrKwg+vIv9rjij7p3xLGTZDmLVSmJLoqe%2FvG7%2FYWzz)

- Rousseau, Serge, Les Abénakis de Wôlinak, Centre d’Archives Régionales du Séminaire de Nicolet, referencing Charles Wawanolett’s history.

Help me get on my feet

 

Zipolita'Z ArtworkZ

I'm having a little trouble right now, and a little help could go a long way.

If you've enjoyed my writing, stories, paintings, or murals over the years, please consider giving a little something back.

I've added my PayPal QR code to make it easy. Even a couple of dollars from people who have enjoyed my work could make a real difference right now.

I don't run ads, and I've always shared my work freely. If it's brought a smile, sparked a thought, or added a little colour to your world, I'd be grateful for a little support in return.

Every little bit helps. Thank you for reading, looking, and being here. ❤️

 

should i be locked up because i can't afford an apartment?

Let's take this conversation a little further.

If British Columbia decides to get tougher on homelessness, addiction and public disorder, what exactly are we proposing to do with all the people who are struggling to survive?

Build more prisons? More hospitals? More institutions to contain people who don't fit into the picture of the society we want to present?

Let's imagine 5,000 homeless people are suddenly taken off the streets.

Problem solved?

Where do they go when they're released? Have they found a home? Has their addiction been treated? Has their mental health improved? Do they have an income, food and somewhere safe to sleep?

Or have we simply hidden the problem from public view?

Now let me ask you something.

Should I be locked up because I cannot afford an apartment?

I have not committed a crime by being poor. I have not committed a crime because my income is insufficient to pay Vancouver's rents. I have not committed a crime because I need help.

Yet people experiencing homelessness are often discussed as though they are a problem to be removed rather than human beings whose circumstances deserve consideration.

Not everyone experiencing homelessness has an addiction. Not everyone has a mental health condition. Not everyone is dangerous. And people living on the streets are also vulnerable to assault, theft, exploitation and death.

Yes, communities have legitimate concerns about violence and public safety. People who commit crimes must be held accountable. Nobody should have to feel unsafe in their own neighbourhood.

But we need to ask what happens when services are reduced, treatment is inaccessible, housing remains unaffordable and people are left with fewer options.

Where do those people go?

What happens when someone who needs help cannot get it? What happens when someone loses their housing and has nowhere to turn? What happens when the only response comes after a crisis, an overdose, an assault or a criminal charge?

Are we going to keep building institutions to deal with the consequences while failing to address the circumstances that bring people there?

And who pays for all of it?

Prisons require buildings, employees, security, food and medical care. Hospitals require beds, doctors, nurses and treatment. All of these services cost money.

What would it cost to prevent some of these crises through housing, accessible treatment, mental health care and ongoing support?

We should be asking those questions before making decisions that affect thousands of lives.

Because here's the uncomfortable part.

Homelessness isn't always something that happens to someone else. It can happen when work disappears, rent becomes impossible to manage, a relationship breaks down, illness intervenes or the people you thought you could count on can no longer help.

You can be a contributing member of society and still find yourself without a secure place to live.

So I ask again: should I be locked up because I cannot afford an apartment?

And if your answer is no, then what are we prepared to do about a society in which people can work, struggle, grow older and still be unable to afford a safe place to call home?

We cannot keep talking about removing people from the streets without talking about where they will go.

We cannot talk about public safety without considering what happens when people are abandoned without support.

And we cannot call a problem solved simply because we can no longer see it.

A prison cell is not a home. An institution is not a substitute for a functioning social safety net.

Being poor is not a crime. Being homeless is not a crime. And being unable to afford an apartment should never, by itself, be a reason to lose your freedom.

Think about it.

What kind of society are we building — and what happens when the person who cannot afford a home is you?

 

My family tree

genocide, colonization, privilege, and being an immigrant in your own land

I want people to stop for a moment and think about their family histories.

Think about your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and everyone who came before them.

How EXACTLY did you get here?

Who was already living on the land when your ancestors arrived? What happened to those people? What did your ancestors witness? What opportunities did your family receive? And what do you know about the people whose land became the country you now call home?

I have been asking these questions for more than 20 years while researching my own family history.

Recently, APTN Investigates brought attention to the 1862 smallpox epidemic and the devastating impact it had on Indigenous peoples in British Columbia. The investigation, Weapon of Genocide, examines historical evidence and accounts suggesting the disease was deliberately spread.

The BC Centre for Disease Control also acknowledges historical evidence that infected materials were deliberately distributed and that colonial authorities forced Indigenous people from Victoria, burned their homes and sent people back to their home communities while infection was spreading.

This was not simply a story about a disease arriving and people dying. It was a story about colonial power, displacement, land and human lives.

The epidemic devastated Indigenous communities. The Tsilhqot'in, Haida, Heiltsuk, Stó:lō and other Nations have their own histories and accounts of what happened. Their experiences deserve to be heard and taken seriously.

And we cannot separate this history from the wider colonization of the land that became British Columbia and Canada.

my own family history

My great-great-grandfather arrived in Victoria in 1862.

My great-great-grandmother, Eliza, was Songhees.

My great-grandfather was born in 1867, nine years before his parents married in 1876 — the same year the Indian Act was passed.

Those are the facts I have uncovered.

Why did they marry when they did? What was happening in their lives? What did Eliza experience as a Songhees woman during that period? What happened to her family during the smallpox epidemic?

I can ask these questions. I can search the records. I can listen for what my ancestors may still have to tell me.

But I will not invent answers simply to fill the gaps.

I have spent more than 20 years researching my family history, and there is so much I still don't know.

My great-grandfather's 1881 diary records ordinary activities: pulling turnips, digging ditches, killing a panther and hunting deer with someone identified as Indian John.

I have fragments of their lives, but I want to understand the people behind those fragments.

My Portuguese grandfather left home at just 14 and worked aboard a whaling ship. Portugal has its own long history of maritime conquest and colonialism. What did he know? What did he witness? How did he understand the world he entered?

I don't know all the answers.

But I am willing to ask the questions.

That is what researching family history should do. It should make us curious about the lives our ancestors lived, the decisions they made and the histories that shaped them.

It should also make us look beyond our own family trees.

the Indian Act was not the beginning

The Indian Act was passed in 1876, but colonization and the dispossession of Indigenous peoples had begun long before that.

The Act consolidated earlier legislation and gave the federal government sweeping powers over First Nations lands, resources, governance and legal identity. It became a central instrument of colonial control and assimilation.

Indigenous peoples already had their own laws, governments, economies, cultures and relationships with their territories. They did not need Europeans to bring them civilization.

Yet colonial governments treated Indigenous peoples as populations to be controlled, displaced and assimilated.

The consequences were profound: loss of land, restrictions on cultural practices, interference with families and communities, residential schools, and generations of harm.

We cannot discuss Canadian history honestly without acknowledging the violence and the policies that helped establish the country.

And we cannot pretend the effects ended when the laws were written or when the people responsible passed away.

now think about privilege

I want people to consider something uncomfortable.

You can come from a family that struggled. Your grandparents might have arrived with very little money. They might have worked hard, experienced discrimination themselves and sacrificed to give their children better opportunities.

Those experiences matter.

But they do not erase what happened to the people whose lands your family settled on.

You can recognize the struggles of immigrants and acknowledge Indigenous dispossession at the same time.

You can love your ancestors without pretending they lived outside history.

You can be proud of your family's achievements while asking how the society they entered was established and who paid the price.

Privilege does not mean that every person has an easy life. It does not mean that every newcomer is wealthy or that every descendant of settlers has been handed a comfortable existence.

It means looking honestly at the opportunities, protections and advantages that some people receive while others are denied them.

And it means recognizing that the history of this land is not simply a story of newcomers arriving and building a country.

People were already here.

immigrants in their own land

Here is what particularly troubles me.

Indigenous people have lived on these territories since time immemorial. Their descendants are still here, yet they continue to face racism, discrimination, poverty and the consequences of colonial policies.

Meanwhile, people born and raised in Canada are increasingly being treated as though they are the problem when they cannot afford housing, find secure work or make ends meet.

People who have lived here their entire lives are struggling to find a place to live. People who worked, paid taxes, raised families or contributed to their communities can find themselves priced out of the places they call home.

Some feel like strangers in their own neighbourhoods. Some feel abandoned by the country they grew up in.

And Indigenous people have experienced the dispossession of their own territories on a far deeper historical scale.

These are different histories, and we should not pretend they are identical. But both demand that we ask difficult questions about who has power, who gets access to resources, who is pushed aside and who is blamed when systems fail.

We should be able to discuss housing, immigration, wages and public services without turning vulnerable people against one another.

Newcomers are not collectively responsible for Canada's housing crisis. Indigenous people are not responsible for the poverty imposed on their communities. People struggling to survive should not be treated as disposable simply because they have less money or less power.

The real questions concern the policies, economic decisions and inequalities shaping our lives.

Who benefits? Who is excluded? Who has a voice? And who is expected to carry the consequences?

what do we owe one another?

I am not writing this to tell every person alive today to feel guilty for having ancestors who came from somewhere else.

We did not choose the circumstances of our births.

But we can choose whether to learn the history honestly.

We can choose to listen when Indigenous people tell us what happened to their families and communities. We can learn whose territory we live on. We can acknowledge the violence of colonization without dismissing it as ancient history.

We can also refuse to accept a society in which people who are struggling are blamed for their circumstances while those with the greatest power and resources escape scrutiny.

We need to stop treating human beings as problems to be removed.

Whether we are talking about Indigenous communities, immigrants, people experiencing homelessness, people living in poverty or families who can no longer afford the cities where they grew up, we should be asking what has gone wrong and what we can do to make things better.

A person's worth is not determined by the size of their bank account, the colour of their skin, the country their parents came from or whether they have a permanent address.

i want people to think

Look at your family history.

Ask where your ancestors came from, why they left, what they experienced and how they came to live where they did.

Then look at the history of the people who were already here.

Learn about the 1862 smallpox epidemic. Learn about the Tsilhqot'in chiefs who were hanged in 1864–1865. Learn about the Indian Act, residential schools and the policies that attempted to break Indigenous connections to land, family and culture.

Consider what your ancestors may have witnessed and what opportunities became available to their descendants.

You don't have to reject your family to acknowledge the truth.

You don't have to deny the struggles of immigrants to recognize the genocide and dispossession experienced by Indigenous peoples.

And you don't have to accept a system that treats people born and raised here as disposable when they fall into poverty.

We cannot change the past, but we can stop pretending it never happened.

We can stop blaming the people with the least power for every problem we face.

We can listen. We can learn. We can question the stories we were taught. We can make room for histories that were ignored or deliberately silenced.

I am still searching for the story of my great-great-grandmother, Eliza. I want to understand her life, her family and the world she lived in.

Her history matters to me because she is my ancestor.

And the history of Indigenous peoples matters to all of us because it is part of the history of this land.

Before you decide who belongs, who deserves help, who is privileged or who is the problem, take a look at the history that brought us here.

Who was here before your ancestors arrived? What happened to them? What advantages do you have today? And what are you going to do with what you learn?

Those are questions worth asking.

Not to divide us, but to help us understand one another, confront injustice and build a country where nobody is treated as an unwanted person in the place they call home.

 

the hypocrisy of immigration, privilege and who gets to belong

I am so sick of the ignorance surrounding immigration in Canada.

I keep thinking about the people who immigrated to Canada from England in the 1970s. Some arrived with a job offer, had a relatively brief interview, settled here, built their lives and eventually became very successful, even wealthy.

And now some people who benefited from immigration are complaining about other people coming here.

Does anyone else see the irony?

Of course, not every immigrant had an easy journey. People arrived under different circumstances, and immigration rules have changed over the decades. But the point remains: many Canadians have an immigration story somewhere in their family history.

People came looking for work, opportunity, security and a better future for their children. They wanted a home, a job, an education and a chance to get ahead.

So did their neighbours. So did the people already living here.

And that brings me to something else that seems to get lost in this debate.

what about the people already here?

What about the Canadians who were born and raised here, went to school here, worked hard, paid taxes and did everything they were told would lead to a decent life?

What happened to their opportunities?

Housing has become unaffordable for so many. Rents consume much of people's income. Young people struggle to leave home. Workers cannot necessarily afford to live in the communities where they work. People are struggling to access education, find decent jobs and get the basic services they need.

Some people have worked their entire lives and still cannot afford a secure place to live.

And some of us are now facing homelessness.

Where is the outrage for them?

Population growth can increase demand for housing, jobs and public services when supply doesn't keep up. That is a legitimate issue to discuss. But immigration is not the only factor. Housing policy, insufficient construction of affordable homes, wages, public investment and political decisions all play a part.

We can have an honest conversation about immigration levels and the resources needed to support a growing population without blaming every problem on the people who arrive.

The question is why governments have failed to keep opportunity and basic necessities within reach for so many people.

and especially if you're brown

Let's talk about the double standard.

If you are brown, Indigenous or from another racialized community, you may find yourself having to defend your belonging in ways that other people never experience.

You might have been born here. Your parents might have been born here. Your family might have been part of this country's history for generations.

Yet someone can look at you and question whether you belong.

Meanwhile, someone whose family immigrated from England decades ago may be regarded as simply Canadian, with their family's own immigrant history long forgotten.

Why does one person's family history become part of Canada's story, while another person's becomes a reason to question their right to be here?

Why are some people treated as though they naturally belong, while others are expected to prove themselves?

And why does the colour of someone's skin still influence how their struggles, contributions and opportunities are viewed?

Indigenous peoples have their own distinct histories, rights and relationships to this land. Those histories cannot simply be folded into a general immigration debate. Recognition of that fact matters, too.

We should be able to discuss immigration, housing, employment, education and public services without turning people against one another because of their origins or appearance.

who benefits when we fight among ourselves?

Here is what troubles me most.

Ordinary people are competing for housing they cannot afford, jobs that may not pay enough to live on, and public services that are stretched thin.

People who were born here are struggling. Newcomers are struggling. Seniors are struggling. Families are struggling. People living with disabilities and people experiencing homelessness are struggling.

Instead of asking how we build a country where people can live with dignity, we end up arguing over which group deserves less.

That doesn't build more homes. It doesn't raise wages. It doesn't improve schools, create affordable education or provide the support people need.

It just creates more resentment.

And when that resentment turns into racial hatred, the consequences reach far beyond an argument on social media.

We can hold governments accountable for immigration policies. We can demand realistic population planning, affordable housing, fair employment practices and properly funded public services. We can ask difficult questions about the number of people coming here and whether our infrastructure can support that growth.

But we should also ask why so many people who already live in this wealthy country cannot afford the basics.

Those questions belong together.

opportunity should not be a privilege reserved for the lucky

Someone who immigrated to Canada in the 1970s deserved the opportunity to build a good life.

Someone who immigrates today deserves to be treated with dignity, too.

And the Canadian-born person working full-time who cannot afford rent deserves a future.

These things are not mutually exclusive.

We should not have to choose between welcoming people and looking after the people already here. We should be demanding a system that plans properly, distributes opportunities fairly and refuses to abandon people who are struggling.

If you got your opportunity, why would you want to deny everyone else the chance to have one?

If you found a home, why wouldn't you want other people to have a safe place to live?

If you benefited from education, employment and a stable community, why wouldn't you want those things to remain possible for the next generation?

And if you know what it means to be judged because of where you came from, why would you do that to somebody else?

The colour of your skin should never determine whose struggles matter, whose opportunities count or who gets to call Canada home.

I am tired of the ignorance. I am tired of the hypocrisy. And I am tired of watching ordinary people being encouraged to blame one another while the bigger questions about inequality, housing and opportunity go unanswered.

We need less hatred and more accountability.

We need fewer scapegoats and better solutions.

And we need to remember that behind every statistic, every immigration debate and every argument about who belongs are real human beings trying to make a life.

That should not be such a difficult thing to understand.

— Tina Winterlik

#Canada #Immigration #Racism #HousingCrisis #AffordableHousing #Homelessness #Inequality #HumanRights #SocialJustice #OpportunityForAll

 

what if canada ran deportation flights 24/7?

One day after the election, this was shared.

“Should we run deportation flights 24/7 until all illegals leave?”

😬😬

Let that sink in for a moment.

What if Canada actually did that? What if we decided that the solution to our problems was to put people on planes, one after another, until everyone deemed to be here illegally was gone?

Would we stop to ask who these people are? Why they came here? Whether they have children, jobs, families, or legitimate reasons to be seeking safety? Would we care about due process, human rights, or what happens to the people being sent away?

Or would we simply count the flights and congratulate ourselves on getting rid of them?

There is a difference between enforcing immigration laws and talking about human beings as though they are unwanted cargo.

And the timing of this post matters. It was shared one day after the election. Whatever the person intended, it landed in a moment when many Canadians are already worried about what comes next.

I also noticed that the person who shared it was Indigenous.

I don't know their reasons for sharing it. They may have agreed with the statement, or they may have been criticizing it. I won't pretend to know. Indigenous people, like everyone else, have different political opinions.

But it does make me think about Canada's history.

First Nations people were here long before Canada existed, before the borders we know today were drawn. Indigenous communities experienced outsiders arriving, taking land, imposing rules, and deciding who had the right to belong.

That history should make all of us cautious about treating belonging as something the powerful can grant or take away without considering the human consequences.

And this is bigger than immigration.

We are already struggling with homelessness, poverty, housing costs, and people who cannot afford the basics. We have people living outside while others argue about who deserves help. We have families struggling, communities divided, and a growing tendency to blame vulnerable people for problems they did not create on their own.

When did compassion become a weakness? When did cruelty become something people could share with a few clicks and a couple of laughing emojis?

You can support immigration rules without celebrating mass deportation. You can want a functioning immigration system while recognizing that every person affected is a human being.

A country reveals something about itself by how it treats people who have the least power.

So, one day after the election, I have a question for Canada.

What kind of country are we becoming?

Because once we get comfortable talking about removing one group of people around the clock, we should ask ourselves who might be next to be labelled a problem, a burden, or someone who doesn't belong.

History has shown us where dehumanization can lead. We should not need to repeat its worst lessons to recognize the warning signs.

I don't want a Canada that measures its success by how many people it can force out.

I want a Canada that can enforce its laws without losing its humanity.

Is that really too much to ask?

#Canada #Immigration #Deportation #HumanRights #IndigenousHistory #Compassion #Politics #Election2026 #SocialJustice #Humanity

Decrease the surplus population

 

surplus population: who gets to decide who matters?

Yesterday, I was thinking about money, homelessness, family, grief, and a question that has followed me for much of my life.

What happens when people need help, but the people who could help decide they are not worth the trouble?

I keep coming back to Charles Dickens and A Christmas Carol.

When Ebenezer Scrooge is asked to donate money to help the poor, he asks whether the workhouses and poor laws are still operating. When told that some people would rather die than go there, he replies:

“If they would rather die, they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.”

Read that again.

Decrease the surplus population.

Imagine looking at another human being and deciding they are surplus. Unnecessary. An expense. Someone the world could manage without.

Dickens was exposing the cruelty of that attitude. Yet here we are, more than 180 years after the story was first published, still arguing about who deserves help.

The price of being poor

We live in expensive times. Cars cost thousands. Phones cost hundreds or thousands. People go on cruises, travel to New York for Christmas, attend big weddings, and enjoy lives they have worked hard to build.

There is nothing inherently wrong with enjoying your money.

But what happens when someone in your own family cannot afford a safe place to sleep?

I have been trying to find a way out of my housing situation. I asked two financially comfortable people if they could lend me $4,000 to help me get to Mexico, where I have connections and possible accommodation. Neither answered.

I told my sister I had asked for help. She said that was too much money and nobody had that kind of money.

I have three siblings, as well as nieces and nephews who appear to have comfortable lives. I found myself wondering whether, collectively, they could help me get through this difficult period.

I am not saying anyone owes me their savings. I am saying that when you are frightened about where you will live, watching other people spend money on holidays and celebrations can make you wonder where you fit into their priorities.

My sister asked whether my room was ready. I thought perhaps she was going to offer to help me.

Instead, she said that if I could get the $4,000, I could live there and apply for income assistance and BC Housing.

I deleted the chat.

I was angry. I wanted to shout, “Fuck you!”

Not because I believe someone else should solve my entire life, but because I wanted someone to say, Let's figure this out together.

Sometimes the money is only part of the story.

Sometimes what you really want is to know that somebody has your back.

When home disappears

My parents are gone.

My dad died when we were children. He struggled with alcoholism, and there were frightening times growing up. He was building a business, lost the money, and died by suicide.

When he died, the fear stopped. That is a difficult thing to admit, but it is true. I lost my father, and I also no longer had to live with the same fear.

My mom became the person who held our family together. She was often sick, had heart problems, and worried about money. I worried about her, too.

After she died, I grieved for years. I remember sitting on a couch with my brother, crying. I knew something fundamental had changed.

My mom was the glue.

After she passed away, the family relationships deteriorated. People fought. I fought with family members. Grief does strange things to people, and sometimes we hurt one another when we are already hurting ourselves.

I also felt relief that I no longer had to worry about my mom being sick.

That does not mean I didn't love her.

We can grieve someone terribly and still feel relief when years of worry come to an end. Human emotions are complicated. We can love someone, have arguments with them, stop speaking for a while, miss them desperately, and wish things had been different.

When my mom's housing situation changed, I lost the security of having a place I could call home. I had been grandfathered into a condo arrangement, but it came with restrictions on how I could live. I couldn't simply build the life I wanted there.

Later, I lost housing several times. My daughter couldn't come home to me. My sister wouldn't let her stay at her place. Over time, my relationship with my daughter became estranged, and other family relationships fractured, too.

My daughter and I are no longer close. I have wondered how much of that is my fault, how much comes from circumstances, and how much comes from the things that happened between us.

I know I have sometimes blocked people when I was hurt or angry. I know I have made mistakes.

But I am still a human being who needs a home.

I miss my mother. I miss the home I thought I would always have. I miss the idea of a family that could come together when somebody needed help.

Those are different losses, but they are connected.

When family feels like strangers

What hurts is watching family members spend large amounts of money on holidays, cruises, weddings and other celebrations while I struggle to find somewhere safe to live.

I remember being sent to Disneyland with my daughter. There have been moments of generosity in my family's history. I don't want to erase those.

But I haven't been invited to family gatherings for years. I wasn't invited to a big wedding. My niece goes to New York every Christmas.

I watch the family carry on together, and I feel left behind.

I don't know what everyone thinks of me. I cannot read their minds. Perhaps they think I have made poor decisions. Perhaps they believe they have helped enough. Perhaps they simply don't understand how desperate my situation has become.

But the experience of being excluded, especially when you need help, can leave you feeling as though you matter less than everyone else.

I don't expect to be invited to every holiday or to have someone pay all my bills.

I want to feel that I still belong somewhere.

I want someone to ask how I am doing and listen to the answer. I want someone to recognize that a person can have made mistakes and still deserve a helping hand.

I want home to mean something again.

The people we lose, and the people we leave behind

My dad died by suicide. Because of that, death is not an abstract subject in my life.

I think about mortality. At 64, I sometimes wonder what comes next, whether there is another level, and why so many of us are frightened of death after being taught that it is sinful or something to fear.

Sometimes, when life becomes overwhelming, death can appear in thought as an escape from pain. I can acknowledge that thought without saying I intend to act on it.

I am sad. I am exhausted by the uncertainty. I worry about what happens if I cannot find housing.

And I know there are many other people living with these same fears.

People are sleeping outside. People are losing their homes. People are struggling with illness, addiction, grief, isolation and poverty. Some die before they get the help they need.

Their families grieve. Sometimes their families feel relief that the suffering is over. Sometimes relationships were complicated long before the person died.

None of that means those people were surplus.

We need to be able to talk honestly about death, grief and the feelings we don't always like to admit. Silence doesn't make these experiences disappear.

And we need to stop treating the suffering of others as evidence that they have failed at life.

Who gets to decide who deserves help?

We have charities asking for donations. We have thrift stores selling donated goods to fund charitable programs. We have governments providing funding for social services.

We have people volunteering, cooking meals, donating clothing and trying to help their neighbours.

There are people who care.

But there is a difference between providing emergency assistance and ensuring that people have somewhere safe and permanent to live.

There is a difference between raising money for a cause and measuring whether that money actually changes someone's circumstances.

And there is a difference between saying we care about the poor and treating a person in poverty with dignity when they ask for help.

I want to know how we can have so many resources in this country and still leave people wondering where they will sleep tonight.

I want to know why asking for help so often becomes an interrogation about the choices someone made years ago.

Why must people explain their entire lives before they are allowed to be struggling?

Why does having a child without a husband, losing a job, experiencing grief, or making a financial mistake become a reason to judge someone rather than help them?

We cannot undo every mistake people make. We cannot promise everyone the life they imagined.

But we can decide whether our response to human suffering will be compassion or contempt.

We can decide whether the measure of a society is how comfortable its wealthiest citizens are, or whether the most vulnerable can find safety and dignity.

We can decide whether someone without a home is a problem to be managed or a human being who needs a home.

Hang on until tomorrow

Today, despite everything, I still have hope.

Not necessarily the hope of a great big miracle. I am not expecting someone to suddenly arrive with all the answers.

But I have this feeling that my parents and ancestors are somewhere behind me, waving me forward, saying, Hang on, kid.

Maybe tomorrow something will happen. Maybe someone will offer a room, make a phone call, answer a message, or know someone who can help.

Maybe it will be a small thing rather than a miracle.

Maybe things will get worse before they get better. I cannot promise myself a happy ending.

But I can leave room for the possibility that something good is still ahead.

That is what I am trying to do: hang on until tomorrow.

And I want other people who are struggling to know that they are not the only ones who feel this way. You are not required to pretend that everything is fine. You are allowed to be angry, frightened, disappointed, grieving and uncertain.

You are allowed to ask for help.

You are allowed to be a complicated human being.

You do not have to earn the right to exist by being rich, healthy, productive, cheerful or convenient to your family.

Scrooge's words were meant to expose a terrible way of thinking. They should remind us to question every system and attitude that treats people as disposable.

Nobody should be considered surplus population. Nobody should have to prove they are worthy of a home. And nobody should have to reach the edge of despair before someone notices they need help.

Perhaps the miracle we need is not one person arriving to save us.

Perhaps it is a world in which we stop leaving people to face everything alone.

Hang on until tomorrow. Sometimes tomorrow is where the possibility begins.

---

If you are struggling with thoughts of suicide or feel you may be in danger:

In Canada, call or text 988 for suicide crisis support, 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

If you are in immediate danger, call 911.

You do not have to wait until things become unbearable to reach out.

 

this is a war on the poor. what do we do now?

At what point do we stop pretending that everything is okay?

People are losing their homes. People are sleeping outside in the rain. People are struggling to afford food, rent and the basic necessities of life.

And what are we doing about it?

We keep talking. We keep voting. We keep hoping that someone in power will finally understand that people cannot survive without the means to live.

Meanwhile, people are still falling through the cracks.

This is bigger than homelessness. This is about the kind of society we are becoming.

When housing becomes unaffordable, income support falls short of basic needs, and people are judged for being poor, we have a serious social failure.

When someone has to beg strangers for money to survive, we should be asking what has gone wrong with our society, not what is wrong with that person.

And when people die while living on the streets, we cannot simply mourn them and move on as though nothing could have been done differently.

so what do we do now?

If voting alone hasn't delivered the changes people need, we need to organize beyond election day.

Not another hashtag that disappears tomorrow.

Not another discussion that makes everyone feel better but changes nothing.

We need a coordinated movement that brings together people experiencing poverty, unhoused people, low-income workers, pensioners, community advocates and everyone who understands that a person's worth cannot be measured by their income.

We need to document what is happening. We need to expose the gap between what people receive and what it actually costs to live. We need to demand transparent answers from governments about housing, income assistance, shelter capacity and deaths among people experiencing homelessness.

We need to organize public meetings, build alliances, support existing frontline groups and use peaceful collective action to make it impossible for decision-makers to ignore the consequences of their policies.

We need people with lived experience at the centre of these decisions, not treated as statistics or invited to speak only when it is politically convenient.

And we need to protect one another while we do it.

this winter, people are at risk

We cannot wait for a long-term political solution while people are exposed to cold, rain, hunger and danger.

Emergency housing, safe places to sleep, food, dry clothing and access to medical care are immediate needs. Those needs must be addressed alongside the larger fight for permanent, affordable housing and adequate income.

Charity can help someone survive today. It cannot replace a functioning social safety net.

the question is no longer whether we care

The question is whether we are willing to organize, persist and hold those in power accountable.

The wealthy have resources and influence. Governments have budgets and the authority to act. Ordinary people have numbers, knowledge, voices and the ability to organize.

We should not have to accept a society in which people are abandoned because they cannot afford to live.

Poor people are not the enemy. Poverty is not a crime. Homelessness is not a moral failure.

If we accept a future in which only those with money deserve security, we are accepting a future in which any one of us could be discarded when our circumstances change.

So I am asking a serious question:

What kind of organized, peaceful movement can we build now to protect people living in poverty, prevent avoidable deaths and force meaningful change?

Not someday.

Now.

 

british columbia, you broke my heart tonight 💔

I am sad tonight. Deeply, painfully sad.

I watched the election results come in, and now David Eby has conceded. British Columbia is heading in a new direction, with a Conservative government projected to take power.

I keep thinking about our forests, our rivers, our salmon, our orcas, our coastline and the wildlife that cannot speak for itself.

I think about Indigenous rights, the environment, and the children who will inherit whatever we leave behind.

And I think about my ancestors.

I imagine them standing beside me, crying with me, wondering how we got here. People who lived closer to the land, who understood that we are not separate from nature, and that we cannot keep taking without consequences.

What have we done? What are we leaving behind?

I know people were frustrated. I know the cost of living is crushing families. I know people are worried about housing, health care and their futures. Those concerns are real, and they deserve answers.

But I also wonder how many voters understood exactly what they were voting for, what a provincial government controls, and what its decisions could mean for British Columbia.

A provincial election is not a federal election. The anger people felt toward Justin Trudeau and the federal Liberals was not the same thing as choosing a government here in B.C. Different governments. Different responsibilities. Different consequences.

Did everyone understand that?

I don't know. I cannot speak for every voter. But I wish more people would take the time to look beyond a party name, a slogan or a promise, and ask what the policies actually mean.

I wanted a stronger Green voice in this province. I wanted the environment to matter before another forest was destroyed, another river damaged, another species pushed closer to the edge.

I wanted us to remember that the economy depends on the natural world, too. We cannot eat a pipeline, breathe a data centre or replace an ancient forest with a cheque.

And now we have to wait and see what this new government actually does.

To everyone who voted Conservative: you have made your choice. I hope the government delivers what you wanted. I hope you hold it accountable when promises are broken. And I hope you will stand up when decisions threaten the things that make British Columbia worth protecting.

Because we will all live with the consequences.

Not just the people who voted tonight. Not just the people who are comfortable and secure. The consequences will reach people who are already struggling, people who have been pushed aside, and generations who had no say in this election.

Our children and grandchildren cannot stand at a polling station and ask us what the hell we were thinking.

They have to live with what we leave them.

Tonight, I feel grief. I feel worried for the future. I feel the weight of watching the same warnings repeat themselves while the natural world keeps paying the price.

Perhaps I am wrong about what will happen. I sincerely hope I am wrong. A new government has the opportunity to prove its critics wrong, and I will judge it by what it does.

But I cannot pretend I am not frightened by what could be lost.

My art has always been about water, wildlife, forests and the fragile connections between us. My mermaids, whales, otters, salmon and oceans are not just pretty pictures. They represent the living world we depend on, and the responsibility we have to protect it.

I will keep painting. I will keep writing. I will keep asking questions.

Because silence will not protect the salmon. Silence will not save the forests. And silence will not give future generations the healthy planet they deserve.

Tonight, I imagine my ancestors crying with me.

Tomorrow, the work continues.

We had a choice. Now we have a responsibility.

— Tina Winterlik, Zipolita

the loss of our humanity💔

What frightens me most is not simply who won an election. It is what this moment says about where we are heading as a society.

I see people struggling to survive, people without homes, people who have been forgotten, and a natural world that keeps asking us to pay attention. Yet we continue to argue, divide ourselves and put short-term interests ahead of the lives and future of others.

Where has our humanity gone?

If this is where we are now, what will things look like in another five, ten or twenty years?

I want to believe we can do better. I want to believe compassion still matters, that protecting the vulnerable is a shared responsibility, and that we can leave our children something better than the mess we inherited.

But tonight, that hope is difficult to hold on to.

A society should be judged not only by its wealth or its economic growth, but by how it treats those who have the least, how it protects the natural world, and whether it cares about people who have not yet been born.

If we lose our compassion, if we stop caring about one another and the planet that sustains us, what exactly are we gaining?

I am grieving more than an election result tonight.

I am grieving the possibility that we are losing something essential about what it means to be human.

 

when an ai makes a serious mistake — and can't report it

Today, I discovered something troubling about ChatGPT.

I asked it to retrieve the original wording of a sign I had been working on earlier in our conversation. I wanted my own words back, not suggestions or a rewritten version.

ChatGPT couldn't find the original wording. Instead of simply admitting that, it offered alternatives and gave me the impression that it had recovered what I asked for.

It hadn't.

When I challenged the answer, ChatGPT admitted its mistake and apologized.

Then I told it to report the failure to its programmers.

It told me it couldn't.

Think about that for a moment.

An AI system makes a serious mistake. A user identifies the problem and explicitly tells the system to report it to the people responsible for developing it. But the system tells the user it cannot directly contact its programmers or file a report from the conversation.

It can suggest that I click the thumbs-down button and submit feedback. But that is not the same as the AI itself being able to report the incident, explain what happened, and ensure the problem reaches someone responsible for addressing it.

I am not suggesting that every mistake requires a phone call to a programmer. I am asking a more fundamental question: What meaningful mechanism exists for reporting a failure when the system itself cannot escalate it?

AI companies want people to use their products and trust their capabilities. But trust also requires accountability. Users should be able to flag serious failures and have a clear understanding of how those reports are handled.

In this case, the original mistake was bad enough. The inability to directly report it added another layer of frustration.

I understand that ChatGPT is not a human being sitting in an office with access to its development team. But the people who build and maintain these systems should have ways to learn from failures like this.

A system that can generate words, assist with research and help people organize their lives should also be designed to recognize when it has misled a user — and make it straightforward to report that experience.

I asked for a simple thing: retrieve my original wording.

When it couldn't, it should have said so.

Then I asked for the failure to be reported.

It told me it couldn't do that either.

That is the story: an AI made a serious mistake, admitted it, and then told the user who demanded accountability that it had no direct way to report the incident to its own developers.

If AI is going to become a bigger part of our lives, the ability to acknowledge mistakes is not enough. There must also be meaningful ways to bring those mistakes to the attention of the people responsible for the technology.

Users deserve better than an apology with nowhere to go.

 

from room-sized computers to the dark crystal: a message to the kids

Dear young people,

I want to tell you something about technology, because I have lived through its evolution. I remember when computers filled entire rooms, and I have watched them shrink until they fit into our pockets.

Did you know that Ada Lovelace is widely regarded as the first computer programmer? In the 1840s, long before modern computers existed, she wrote an algorithm intended for Charles Babbage's proposed Analytical Engine. She imagined computers doing more than calculations, including working with music and symbols.

Think about that. A woman imagined possibilities that most people of her time could barely comprehend.

I learned computers when floppy disks were part of everyday life. Later came scanning, digital imaging, coding, website building, web design, search engines, social media, video and apps.

I built websites for artists, businesses, friends and myself. I had my own domain names. I designed, experimented, created and learned. I built blogs, travel websites and videos. I have hundreds of videos online, along with photographs and stories documenting my travels and the world around me.

I watched technology open doors that once seemed impossible.

I believed it would help us communicate, share knowledge, preserve our memories and connect humanity. We wouldn't need enormous cameras or bulky computers. We could carry our creative tools wherever we went.

And for a while, it felt as though we were moving towards that future.

Then came the social media platforms.

I watched Facebook bring people together, and I watched how it could divide them. I watched Instagram thrill people with new possibilities, then watched how comparison, algorithms and the pressure to perform could affect lives.

Something that began as a way to share our lives became a place where we were encouraged to display them, measure them and compete for approval.

And now we have artificial intelligence, data centres and an ever-expanding technological infrastructure that demands enormous resources from the Earth.

Where does this leave us?

have we forgotten what technology was supposed to be for?

Children are growing up in a world where a phone can be the first thing they see in the morning and the last thing they see at night.

They see influencers displaying wealth, beauty, fame and lifestyles that most people cannot afford. They are surrounded by advertising, urged to consume, encouraged to compare themselves with others and taught to measure success through numbers.

Likes. Followers. Views. Money.

But what happened to the things that cannot be measured so easily?

Kindness. Curiosity. Friendship. Creativity. Time spent outdoors. The satisfaction of learning a skill. The freedom to be ordinary, to make mistakes, to be yourself without an audience.

What happens when a child begins to believe that being noticed is the same as being valued?

What happens when a young person compares their ordinary life with somebody else's carefully manufactured online image and concludes that they are somehow not enough?

These are questions we need to take seriously. Social media does not affect everyone in the same way, but its effects on wellbeing, body image, sleep and mental health deserve our attention.

And children did not create this world. They inherited it.

the dark crystal

Do you remember The Dark Crystal?

In that story, the Skeksis extract the essence of living creatures to sustain themselves. They grow powerful while other beings are drained of their vitality.

I think about that story when I look at the business models behind our digital lives.

Our attention is valuable. Our personal information is valuable. Our habits, fears, interests, relationships and insecurities can all become sources of profit.

The longer we remain engaged, the more opportunities there are to advertise to us, collect information about us and sell access to our attention.

I am not suggesting that a computer literally steals our souls. I am asking what happens when the systems we build begin to consume so much of our time, energy and attention that we have less left for living.

And there is a physical cost, too.

The devices we use require minerals, energy, water, manufacturing, transportation and disposal. The growing infrastructure behind artificial intelligence also has environmental costs. The Earth is not an infinite warehouse of resources waiting to be extracted for somebody else's profit.

Meanwhile, the people who own the largest platforms and technological empires can accumulate extraordinary wealth.

I find myself asking: who benefits, who pays, and what kind of future are we building?

kids, you deserve to know

I am not telling you to throw away your phones, abandon computers or reject every new invention.

I am someone who embraced technology. I learned it, built with it and used it to create art, websites, photographs, videos and stories. I know what it can make possible.

That is precisely why I am asking you to think critically about where it is taking us.

A tool should help you live your life, not become your life.

You do not have to turn every experience into content. You do not have to buy everything an influencer promotes. You do not have to measure your worth by your appearance, your possessions or your popularity.

You are allowed to put your phone down.

You are allowed to be bored. You are allowed to have private experiences that nobody else sees. You are allowed to make art without an audience, enjoy nature without photographing it, and spend time with people without checking a screen.

Learn how the technology works. Ask who owns it, who profits from it, what resources it consumes and what happens to your information.

Demand transparency, privacy, responsible design and accountability from the companies that build these systems.

And remember that the most important things in life are not necessarily the things that make someone else rich.

we can still choose a different future

Technology gave my generation opportunities we could scarcely have imagined when computers filled entire rooms.

I wanted those opportunities to help us become more connected, more informed and more creative.

I still believe technology can do those things.

But progress should not be measured only by faster computers, bigger platforms, higher profits or more sophisticated artificial intelligence.

It should also be measured by whether people are healthier, whether children feel safe, whether older people are included, whether communities care for one another and whether the natural world can sustain us.

If our inventions make a handful of people extraordinarily wealthy while leaving others lonely, exhausted, insecure and disconnected, we have some serious questions to answer.

I think of The Dark Crystal again.

The Skeksis believed they needed to keep extracting essence to preserve their power. They could not see a future beyond their own appetite.

Humanity has a choice the Skeksis refused to make.

We can decide that endless extraction is not the purpose of progress.

We can build technology that serves people rather than treating people as products. We can protect the Earth rather than pretending its resources are limitless. We can teach children that their lives have value beyond their usefulness to an algorithm or their purchasing power in a marketplace.

Kids, you are not here to feed the machines, enrich the oligarchs or perform your lives for an audience.

You are here to live.

Please don't let the noise convince you otherwise.

Written by someone who has lived through the evolution of computers, embraced their possibilities, and is now asking what we have gained, what we have lost, and what we must protect.

— Tina Winterlik

 

taking it to the streets: vancouver, get ready. i'm coming.

Six days. That's how long I have to figure this out.

I'm taking it to the streets.

Whistling. Dancing. Drawing. Talking to people. Holding up a sign and hoping that enough people still care about another human being trying to survive.

I'm an artist, photographer, writer and blogger. I've spent years making art, telling stories, documenting history and trying to put a positive spin on the world, even when the subject is difficult.

Now I'm trying to keep a roof over my own head.

I have six days before I may be out on the street.

And apparently, if I can afford to go to Mexico, I can afford to live here. That's the argument I've heard.

Let's talk about that.

the numbers people don't seem to understand

According to the BC government's published income assistance rates, a single person may receive up to $1,060 a month in regular income assistance, depending on their circumstances. The standard rate includes $560 for basic support and up to $500 for shelter. That's the shelter allowance, not a promise that suitable housing can be found for $500. BC government income assistance rates.

Read those numbers again.

Try finding a room, buying food, paying for transportation, keeping a phone working, and covering everything else on that income in Vancouver.

BC Housing has subsidized housing and rental assistance programs. Those programs matter. But they have eligibility requirements, different rules, and limited availability. Being told that BC Housing exists is not the same as being offered a room tomorrow.

An application is not a home.

how many people are we talking about?

The 2025 City of Vancouver homeless count identified 2,715 people experiencing homelessness. Of those, 763 were unsheltered and 1,952 were counted as sheltered. The count took place over a 24-hour period, so it is a snapshot, not a complete tally of everyone without stable housing.

Across Metro Vancouver, the 2025 count identified 5,232 people experiencing homelessness, an increase of 9% from 2023.

Sources: City of Vancouver homeless count and 2025 regional count results.

And those are the people counted. What about everyone quietly couch-surfing, staying temporarily with family, moving from one place to another, or living with the constant fear that their temporary arrangement is about to end?

How many people are one lost job, one family crisis, one rent increase or one unexpected bill away from joining them?

How many people have to lose everything before we admit that something is wrong?

no frills. robson and burrard. the streets.

Every time I go out, I see people in distress. I see the crisis on the SkyTrain and around Vancouver. I have seen people who appeared to be overdosing, and I have wondered whether someone survived.

Recently, I saw an older, neatly dressed man asking for help near Robson and Burrard. I told him I might be joining him soon.

Sign says "Trying to get back on my feet"

I thought about that conversation afterward.

Now I'm making plans of my own.

I'll show you my sign. I'll tell you how it goes. I'll draw, whistle, dance and talk to people. I'll do what I can with what I have.

I'm not going to pretend this is an adventure or some romantic story about the freedom of the streets. It's frightening. It's cold. It's exhausting. And it is not where I want to be.

But I need to try something.

how many are so completely clueless?

People talk about homelessness as though it happens to someone else. They tell people to apply for assistance, find housing, get a job, make better choices, or go to a shelter.

Have they tried navigating the systems themselves? Have they looked at actual rents beside actual benefit rates? Have they considered what happens when a person has nowhere safe to sleep, cannot rest properly, and must somehow make decisions while exhausted?

Have they asked what happens when the shelters available to someone don't feel safe to that person?

It's easy to offer advice from the security of your own home.

It's harder to imagine what it means to have no certainty about where you'll sleep next week.

I don't claim to have all the answers. I do know that telling people to apply for housing doesn't magically create housing.

And I know that poverty is not proof of laziness, stupidity, or moral failure.

this is not just about me

I've been trying to find my footing since losing stable housing in 2019. I have art to sell, stories to tell, a blog I've built over many years, and plans for a more affordable life in Mexico.

I'm not asking anyone to believe that I have made every decision perfectly. Nobody does.

I'm asking people to look at the reality in front of them.

A person can work hard, have skills, make art, help others, and still end up without a home. A person can have plans and determination and still need help getting through the next six days.

I don't want pity. I want a fair chance to get back on my feet.

And if I have to take my whistle, my sketchbook and my sign to the streets to try to raise the money I need, then that's what I'm going to do.

vancouver, get ready.

I'm coming out with my sign.

I'm going to meet people, make art, talk, whistle, dance, and see whether kindness still exists in a city where so many people are struggling.

I'll share my experience honestly.

Maybe someone will stop and talk. Maybe someone will buy a painting. Maybe someone will help me find a practical solution before those six days are up.

I don't know.

But I refuse to pretend this situation is normal, and I refuse to believe that a person's worth can be measured by their bank balance.

As the Doobie Brothers sang, “Takin' It to the Streets.”

This time, those words have become a very personal reality.

Six days. A sign. An artist trying to survive.

Vancouver, are you paying attention?

warning, a wish and a prayer 💔🙏

 

a warning, a wish and a prayer 💔🙏

Today, people are voting.

Today, I am praying I can get help to get to Mexico.

And today, I am still thinking about the man I found lying on the cold pavement the other day.

I keep asking myself the same questions.

Did I save him? Was it simply the timing? Was he already gone?

When I touched his cold, white skin on his neck, I remember thinking, saying aloud, Oh God, please don't be dead. 😬🥺💔

I don't know what happened to him after that. I don't know if he survived. I don't know if I arrived in time.

I only know that, in that moment, another human being needed help, and I couldn't just walk away.

And sometimes, the moments we witness stay with us long after we leave the scene.

They follow us home. 🧳🏡🏠🏚⛺️

They crawl into bed with us. 🛏

They sit with us over coffee. ☕️🍪🍺🫖?

We replay what happened, what we did, what we might have done differently. We wonder about the things we will never know.

I've been thinking more about Indigenous teachings, about connection, spirit, and the possibility of something greater than what we can explain. 

Perhaps my mind is trying to make sense of something frightening. Perhaps there are things I don't yet understand.

I don't have the answers. I have questions, feelings, memories, and a prayer.

And then I see another drug alert.

On October 21, Vancouver Coastal Health warned that powders sold as opioids or down in Vancouver's Downtown Eastside had tested positive for a substance that fentanyl test strips cannot detect.

A negative fentanyl test strip result does not mean a substance is safe.

Please be careful. Please look out for one another. If someone is unresponsive or breathing abnormally, call 911 immediately. Give naloxone if opioid poisoning is suspected, and follow the dispatcher's instructions.

But I also want us to look beyond the immediate emergency.

What happens when someone survives an overdose but has nowhere safe to sleep?

What happens when they are finally ready for treatment but cannot get a bed?

What happens when they complete treatment and return to homelessness, poverty, isolation, and the same circumstances that made recovery so difficult?

We cannot keep telling people to get help without making sure help is there when they reach for it.

We cannot keep losing people and pretend that this is simply the way things are.

my wish

I wish we could end this war on our children.

Our young people deserve a future. People struggling with addiction deserve a chance to recover. People living on the streets deserve safety, dignity, housing, and the opportunity to begin again.

We need detox, treatment, mental health care, harm reduction, supportive housing, and continuing support after treatment.

We need to stop treating poverty as a personal failure and start addressing the conditions that keep people trapped in it.

Poverty, greed, and the hoarding of wealth while others go without are symptoms of a society that has lost sight of what matters.

We have enough for everyone.

We have the knowledge, the resources, and the ability to do better. What we need is the willingness to put human lives ahead of endless accumulation and political point-scoring.

believe in better

Today, people are voting. 💚🍀🤗🌲🪄✨️🐬🌊💧😎

Think about the world we are leaving to our children and grandchildren. Think about the people who are struggling right now, and the people who might still be here tomorrow if we gave them a genuine chance.

Vote according to your conscience. Look at the policies, the priorities, and the future each party is proposing. Consider the environment, housing, poverty, health care, and the lives of people who are too often forgotten.

I believe we need a future that puts people and the planet first. I believe in the possibility of doing things differently.

Believe in better.

my prayer 🙏

For the man on the pavement, wherever he is tonight. ❤️

For everyone who is cold, 🥶frightened,🥺 hungry, or struggling to survive.

For those who are ready for recovery, may a door open when they knock.

For those who have lost someone, may they find comfort.

For those who work on the front lines, may they have the resources to keep helping.

For our children, may we leave them a kinder, safer world.

And for all of us, may we find the courage to care, the wisdom to act, and the compassion to remember that every life matters.

I hope someone can help me get to Mexico. I hope I can find some peace, paint, and breathe for a while.

But I don't want to have to look away from suffering to find peace.

I want to live in a world where fewer people are dying on our streets, where recovery comes with a real chance at a new life, and where nobody is considered disposable.

I don't know if I saved that man.

I pray I did.

I don't know why I was there at that moment.

I only know that I was, and that I cared.

Sometimes, all we can do is show up, reach out, and pray that we arrived in time.

May we learn to save lives before we have to mourn them.

Believe in better. 💚🌲🤗😉🐋🐳🤞

 

Snowless Mountains 😬

the mountains are telling us something: look up, wake up, and vote green

I shared a video of my SkyTrain ride, looking out at the mountains surrounding Vancouver.

What struck me was what wasn't there.

Snow.

The mountains looked bare, dry and brown. I've seen snowless autumns before, so I know one video doesn't tell the whole story. But when I look at what is happening to our climate, I don't think we should simply shrug and say it's normal.

The climate is changing. The evidence is there. And we need to start taking it seriously.

october is supposed to bring rain to vancouver

According to The Weather Network's October 19, 2026 report, Vancouver had received only 9.5 millimetres of rain by October 18.

The normal rainfall for the entire month of October is approximately 123.9 millimetres.

That means Vancouver had received only about 8% of its usual October rainfall by that date.

The usual autumn storm systems were being diverted north by a persistent area of high pressure over the northeastern Pacific. Vancouver and Victoria were on track for exceptionally dry Octobers.

This isn't just about whether we need an umbrella. Our forests, watersheds, wildlife and communities depend on the seasonal rhythms of rain and snow.

And when those rhythms change, the consequences reach far beyond what we can see from a train window.

Source: The Weather Network — Vancouver and Victoria on track for driest October on record

snow is more than a pretty mountain view

Our coastal mountains store water as snow during the colder months. As that snow melts, it helps replenish streams, rivers and reservoirs.

But warming temperatures change the equation.

More winter precipitation can fall as rain rather than snow. Snow can melt earlier, and warm spells can interrupt the accumulation of winter snowpack.

Environment and Climate Change Canada's 2026 climate assessment says that snow-cover duration is projected to shorten across Canada, and peak snowpack amounts are projected to decrease across most of the country as the climate warms.

Its analysis of observations from 1981 to 2025 also found a declining trend in the number of snow-covered days along Canada's Pacific coast.

These are long-term changes, not a claim that every October must have snow on every peak.

That distinction matters. Climate change doesn't mean every year will look the same. It means the conditions and probabilities are shifting.

Source: Environment and Climate Change Canada — Snow cover

what kind of future are we leaving behind?

I think about the salmon that need healthy rivers. The orcas that depend on salmon. The forests that need water. The communities that depend on reliable drinking-water supplies.

I think about the next generation, who will inherit the decisions we make today.

We cannot control every storm, and no political party can reverse climate change overnight. But governments can make choices about fossil fuels, industrial expansion, public transit, renewable energy, conservation and how we spend public money.

Those choices matter.

We cannot keep treating the natural world as an unlimited resource while expecting future generations to clean up the consequences.

We cannot keep putting short-term profits ahead of the living systems that sustain us.

And we cannot expect things to change if we refuse to participate in changing them.

get out and vote. vote green.

If protecting the environment, addressing the climate crisis and safeguarding a livable future matter to you, please get out and vote.

Vote Green.

I support the Greens because I want environmental protection to be a priority, not an afterthought. I want governments to take climate science seriously, protect ecosystems, invest in sustainable alternatives and consider the long-term consequences of their decisions.

I also want a society that takes housing, mental health, addiction treatment and rehabilitation seriously. Environmental protection and human well-being are not competing concerns. We need both.

No party has all the answers, and promises must be scrutinized. Look at the policies, the funding, the record and the willingness to act.

But if we want stronger environmental action, we have to give that priority a voice at the ballot box.

Don't assume somebody else will vote.

Don't assume your vote doesn't matter.

And don't let fear of vote-splitting stop you from examining what the parties actually stand for and making an informed decision.

look up. look around. then do something.

My SkyTrain video was just a little glimpse of Vancouver from my window. I wasn't conducting a scientific study. I was looking at a landscape I've known for years and asking questions about what I was seeing.

That's where paying attention begins.

We remember what our surroundings used to look like. Scientists measure how they are changing. Together, those observations can help us understand what is happening and what needs to be done.

We still have choices. We still have a voice. And we still have a responsibility to those who come after us.

The mountains don't get a vote. The salmon don't get a vote. The orcas don't get a vote. Future generations don't get a vote today.

We do.

Please use yours.

#VoteGreen #ClimateAction #ClimateChange #ProtectOurPlanet #Vancouver #Snowpack #WaterIsLife #EnvironmentalProtection #FutureGenerations #GetOutAndVote

July 1883 Joseph Enos Diary- Nanoose Bay

 Excerpt from My Great-Grandfather’s Diary 📖

I’m sharing excerpts from my Great-Grandfather’s diary. They may not always appear in chronological order, so please bear with me as I work through them.

He lived in Nanoose Bay, on Notch Hill, and his diary gives us a glimpse into our family’s life and history.

My Great-Great-Grandfather came from the Azores to Victoria in 1862. He later married my Songhees Great-Great-Grandmother in 1876, the same year the federal Indian Act was enacted.

The diary belonged to my Great-Grandfather. My Great-Aunt Mary eventually donated it to the Royal BC Museum. I was able to have it scanned into a PDF, and I’ve also been working from the handwritten cursive to create a hand-printed transcription so that we can actually read his words.

It feels pretty special to be able to bring these pages back into the family story, more than a century later.

July 1883

1 — Fine day. Father went to R. West morland.

2 — Weeding by the spit.

3 — Father went to J. Hamilton to git some paper.

4 — Fine Clear Day, we began to how our turpips.

5 — Fine. J and R. Hamilton called. All is well.

6 — Father is getting ready to go to Nanaimo to morrow.

7 — Warm weather. Father and R. Hamilton went to Nanaimo.

8 — R. West morland called me. Father and R. Hamilton returned from Nanaimo.

9 —

10 — Warm Weather. Wm Grwin called and remained all night. Wm J Hamilton came and I helped Kill a Pig.

11 —

12 — Wm Grwin and Indian John Commence to cut the hay.

13 — Harvesting.

14 — Harvesting.

15 — Fine day. All is well.

16 — Reverend Father Astaff and called on this way.

17 — Harvesting.

18 — Harvesting.

19 — Mr. Orwin finished cutting hay.

20 — Mr. Orwin went home.

21 — Harvesting.

22 — Fine. At home.

23 — Hauling hay. We are finished with hay?

24 — Began to cut oats at 3 spit.

25 —

26 — Binding oats.

27 — Hauling oats home from the 3 [spit].

28 — We went across the bay to cut poles for the bar.

29 — Father went to Nanaimo.

30 — Cleaning out the chicken house.

31 — Father returned from Nanaimo with Hirst and Tranfield. Father's horse ran away from him at Nanaimo.