Category: The Conversation – Canada

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Sibo Chen, Associate Professor, School of Professional Communication, Toronto Metropolitan University

When the Canadian government added the proposed Ksi Lisims LNG terminal on Nisg̱a’a territory in northwest British Columbia to its new list of fast-tracked “nation-building” projects this fall, it resurrected an idea many British Columbians thought had quietly faded away: that liquefied natural gas (LNG) exports are central to the economic future of both B.C. and Canada.

A decade ago, then-B.C. premier Christy Clark promised up to 20 LNG export plants, 100,000 jobs and a sovereign-wealth “prosperity fund,” turning B.C. LNG into one of the most polarizing issues in the province between 2011 and 2018.

My research on this period reveals how competing coalitions of industry, governments and environmental groups struggled over whether B.C. LNG represented a climate solution or a risky fossil-fuel lock-in.

In reality, most of those projects were shelved; only one major export terminal in Kitimat has now entered its first phase of operation.

In recent years, public debate over LNG has largely slipped from view. Media analysis of Canadian climate coverage during the COVID-19 pandemic, for example, shows a sharp drop in climate stories in 2020 compared to 2019 as COVID-19 dominated the news agenda. Ksi Lisims brings those debates back with a twist. It is promoted as an Indigenous-led project and as a pillar of a more “diversified,” resilient Canadian economy.

However, the rhetoric around Ksi Lisims as a “nation-building” project masks unresolved questions about who actually benefits, who bears the risks and how such projects fit within a rapidly changing global LNG market.

Ksi Lisims LNG is frequently described as an Indigenous-led project proposed “in partnership” by the Nisg̱a’a Nation, Rockies LNG and Western LNG and an example of what reconciliation can look like. Those aspirations deserve to be taken seriously. Yet, public documents tell a more complex story about who ultimately controls the project and where profits will flow.

What is resource nationalism?

As American political geographers Natalie Koch and Tom Perreault describe, resource nationalism is when “the people of a given country, rather than private corporations or foreign entities, should benefit from the resources of a territorially defined state.”

Scholars have used the related concept of petro-nationalism to describe how fossil fuel industries and their allies frame oil, gas and bitumen extraction as a national public good, casting critics as “anti-Canadian” or “foreign to the body politic.”

A key tactic in this tactic is what Canadian communications scholar Shane Gunster and his colleagues call “symbolic nationalization:” a “thoroughly capitalist enterprise organized to profit private corporations and shareholders” is presented as if it were a public enterprise serving citizens and the common good.

The language surrounding Ksi Lisims LNG fits this pattern. In a September news release announcing the project’s environmental certificate, the B.C. government called Ksi Lisims “Indigenous-led.” Premier David Eby emphasized that there has “never been a more critical time to diversify our economy and reduce reliance on the U.S.,” framing the project as part of “the next chapter of a stronger, more resilient Canada.”

Federal messaging has similarly bundled Ksi Lisims into a package of “nation-building” megaprojects intended to reshape Canada’s economy and trade patterns. Such narratives are classic markers of resource nationalism: the project is cast as serving the people and the national interest, even as its ownership and risk profile are far more complicated.

Who owns and controls Ksi Lisims?

The Nisg̱a’a leadership has framed the project as a vehicle for “sustainable economic self-determination” and as an example of what reconciliation can look like: “a modern Treaty Nation moving from the sidelines of our economy” to leading a major project.

Filings from B.C.’s Environmental Assessment Office show that Ksi Lisims LNG is a “wholly owned” subsidiary of Texas-based company Western LNG.

Under the partnership agreement, the Nisg̱a’a Nation and Calgary-based company Rockies LNG sit on a steering committee until construction begins; only then do they become limited partners with specified governance rights. In other words, the project’s governance structure grants Nisg̱a’a important influence and potential revenues, but it does not resemble a nationalized public utility.

Moreover, Indigenous support is not unanimous. Along the route of the planned Prince Rupert Gas Transmission pipeline that would supply Ksi Lisims, several First Nations — including the Gitanyow — have opposed the project and launched legal challenges. This raises a crucial question for any “nation-building” story: which nation, and whose consent, are we talking about?

A crowded global LNG market

The economic case for Ksi Lisims is being made at a moment when the global LNG market is undergoing rapid change — and not in ways that favour new, high-cost projects in British Columbia.

The International Energy Agency (IEA) forecasts that over 300 billion cubic metres of additional annual export capacity will become operational between 2025 and 2030 from projects currently under construction, primarily led by the United States and Qatar.

A 2024 study by the think tank Carbon Tracker, commissioned by the Pembina Institute and the David Suzuki Foundation, stated that B.C. is a late entrant to an LNG market “dominated by lower-cost competitors.”

The study found that all four B.C. terminals still awaiting final investment decisions — including Ksi Lisims — sit high on the global cost curve. B.C. projects are, on average, about 26 per cent more expensive than competing projects in countries like Qatar, the United States and Mozambique.

Carbon Tracker also notes that the world’s existing LNG capacity is sufficient to meet projected demand under all three of the IEA’s main scenarios, with no new LNG export projects needed to satisfy demand through 2040.

This fragile economic base for Ksi Lisims complicates the notion that LNG expansion is a reliable source of public revenue. It highlights that long-term LNG export contracts — often touted as a way to lock in stable prices — cannot fully shield against global market fluctuations.

Rethinking “nation-building”

Ksi Lisims LNG has been presented as a reconciliation project for the Nisg̱a’a Nation, a diversification tool for Canada’s economy and a clean fuel solution for Asian buyers. But the project’s ownership structure concentrates control and profits in foreign-backed corporate hands, even as its public branding emphasizes Indigenous leadership.

Regional First Nations remain divided, highlighting an unresolved debate over consent and the meaning of “the people” in resource nationalist narratives. B.C. is entering a crowded, increasingly risky LNG market late and at a cost disadvantage.

If we take climate commitments and economic justice seriously, nation-building in the 2020s should mean something different: investing in infrastructure and industries that reduce emissions rather than lock them in, and supporting Indigenous and local communities in ways that do not depend on highly volatile fossil fuel markets.

Public discussions about the Ksi Lisims LNG project offer an opportunity to question whether the government’s approach to “nation-building” still makes sense in a warming and changing world.

Sibo Chen receives funding from Toronto Metropolitan University and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. He is affiliated with International Environmental Communication Association and the Environment, Science, and Risk Communication Section of International Association for Media and Communication Research.

– ref. Who benefits from ‘nation-building’ projects like Ksi Lisims? – https://theconversation.com/who-benefits-from-nation-building-projects-like-ksi-lisims-271272

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Tuğçe Ellialtı-Köse, Assistant Professor of Sociology, University of Guelph

Despite decades of commitments to gender equality, women remain marginalized in news media. According to the latest report of the Global Media Monitoring Project (GMMP) — the largest research study on gender equality in the media — women constitute only 26 per cent of news subjects and sources.

This imbalance is especially concerning in Canada where local news outlets are increasingly shuttered and national newsrooms continue to shrink. As such, whose voices make it into the headlines matters now more than ever.

The problem, however, is not only underrepresentation but also misrepresentation. The GMMP report notes news stories that challenge simplistic, widely held beliefs about women and men are rare, indicating that gender stereotyping in news coverage is more pronounced than at any point in the past 30 years.

Equally alarming is the finding that stories of gender-based violence seldom make the news. In fact, fewer than two out of every 100 news articles, and only a third of these, focus on sexual assault and harassment against women.

These findings challenge the myth of post-feminism in 21st-century media and raise important questions such as:

• How do journalists cover cases of sexual violence?

• Whose views and voices are heard?

• And what has changed, if anything, since the #MeToo movement, which sparked an outpouring of stories of sexual assault, increased reporting and heightened public dialogue on the issue?

Our research explored these questions.

Examining sexual assault reporting after 2017

We analyzed news articles published after the viral spread of the #MeToo hashtag in 2017. We examined how Canadian news media report, portray and comment on sexual violence, primarily its causes, contexts and consequences.

The results are mixed.

On the one hand, there has been increased recognition of sexual violence as a widespread social problem.

On the other hand, news coverage remains fraught with sympathetic portrayals of perpetrators, skepticism toward victims/survivors and a reluctance to contextualize sexual violence within broader gender norms and inequities.

This creates a paradoxical picture, where the integration of feminist ideas and the much-discussed “narrative shift” — a transformation in how the public perceives and discusses sexual violence that moves from silence and stigma to validation and demands for accountability — that remains inconsistent.

Subtle language choices reinforce old myths

Our key finding is that news coverage still reinforces false, stereotypical beliefs about rape, rape victims and rapists that minimize, deny or justify sexual violence, often shifting blame from the perpetrator to the survivor.

Although victim-blaming and “overt sexism” seem to finally be diminishing in prevalence, news articles continue to cast doubt on the credibility of victims’/survivors’ accounts. This helps sustain the myth of false allegations and of the lying (female) victim.

In our study, the term “allege” and its derivatives appeared 525 times across 106 out of 162 articles, and words like “accuse” and its variations were used 240 times across 72 articles. While such language reflects legitimate legal precautions, its repeated and unexamined use in sexual violence reporting can shift attention away from victims’ experiences.

We also found that news coverage often casts perpetrators in a positive light, underscoring, for example, their social status even when it adds little to the case.

Across our pool of samples, accused perpetrators were described in flattering ways including “a top pain specialist during his four decades at Toronto Mount Sinai Hospital,” “the biggest stars of the Canadian entertainment industry” and “one of the wealthiest and most famous soccer players in the world.” These portrayals feature successful careers and draw attention to credentials and accomplishments.

Given the incorrect societal perception that high-status individuals are less likely to commit sexual assault, this complimentary language is problematic.

The consequences of selective storytellling

Our research shows that news articles tend to give the most attention to high-profile cases involving popular figures or celebrities.

While this selective focus often reflects the media outlets’ strategies to boost readership, it has real consequences. It shapes which stories get told and which do not, leaving many ordinary yet equally important cases without coverage.

This unequal attention can make sexual violence seem like an issue confined to a few “high-profile” settings such as film sets, business corporations or professional sports.

In doing so, it risks overlooking the fact that sexual victimization affects people across all backgrounds, with low-income, Indigenous and racialized women being at higher risk. It also echoes long-standing critiques of #MeToo for centring the experiences of white, affluent, young and able-bodied women, and lacking an intersectional perspective.

This can be mitigated through small but intentional efforts such as explicitly addressing known inequities in reporting.

Toward more responsible journalism

Prior research noted that news coverage relied heavily on political and criminal justice officials when relaying crime stories, including gender-based violence. Our research shows this is starting to change.

Notably, we are starting to hear from the victims/survivors, who have largely been left out from media accounts for being “unreliable narrators and testifiers.” This is significant as it sheds light on the firsthand experiences of the victims/survivors.

Our work, however, suggests that reporting on sexual violence remains inconsistent.

One significant observation is that even the articles that recognize the lasting impact that sexual violence has on victims/survivors tend to fail to provide support-service information. Only 10 out of the 162 articles in our study included such information. This is concerning given the significant positive impact that victim services have for victims/survivors and the media’s role in raising awareness on this topic.

It is timely to call for more news coverage that is not only accurate and reliable but also socially conscious and gender-equitable.

Editorial guidelines, for example, recommend using specific language that reflects the violating nature of sexual assault and avoids euphemisms like “inappropriate behaviour,” “sex scandal” or “sexual incident” to describe it.

This work is particularly important as the news remains the place Canadians turn to for information that they trust the most.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. What has — and hasn’t — changed in the way news addresses sexual violence – https://theconversation.com/what-has-and-hasnt-changed-in-the-way-news-addresses-sexual-violence-270008

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Jordan Stanger-Ross, Professor, History and Director, Past Wrongs, Future Choices, University of Victoria

In the closing weeks of 1945, months after the Second World War had ended, the Canadian cabinet enacted executive orders to banish more than 10,000 Canadians of Japanese descent to Japan, stripping many of them of Canadian citizenship in the process.

At the same moment that Canada began to turn its attention to the importance of human rights in the post-war world, it contemplated a brazen rights violation at home of enormous scale and cruelty. Canadian history has mostly forgotten about the exile of Japanese Canadians.

Our book Challenging Exile: Japanese Canadians and the Wartime Constitution delves into those dark days.

The end of a crisis often draws less attention than its onset. Dec. 7, 1941 has become, as United States President Franklin D. Roosevelt predicted, a date that lives in infamy.

Japan’s attacks on Hong Kong and Pearl Harbor plunged Canada and the Allies into war in the Pacific. In the months that followed, amid fears that the North American West Coast might become a new front in the Second World War and following decades of entrenched racism in law and policy, Canada ordered the uprooting of every Japanese Canadian from their home in coastal British Columbia.

Rendered stateless, homeless

The uprooting is largely remembered for the internment of more than 22,000 Japanese Canadians in more than a dozen sites scattered across the interior of British Columbia. But that was just the beginning of a cascade of injustice which followed.

Unlike in the U.S., internment did not end in 1945 in Canada. When the Second World War ended, Japanese Canadians had no homes to return to. Years earlier, the Canadian government had made the fateful decision to dispossess uprooted Japanese Canadians of everything they owned, including many of their personal possessions, as well as their businesses, farms and houses.

Dispossession carved the path to exile. As Canada contemplated how to end the internment of a dispossessed people, it settled on scattering and exile. Japanese Canadians would be encouraged to relocate to uncertain lives in eastern Canada or accept banishment to Japan.

To ensure as many Japanese Canadians as possible opted for exile, government officials toured internment camps stressing that rights to voting, the education of children and secure housing or employment would not be assured to Japanese Canadians in post-war Canada.

The policy was devastatingly effective. More than 10,000 Canadians of Japanese descent, all of whom had been uprooted and dispossessed from their homes, signed up for exile in the summer of 1945. When thousands wrote to the government to withdraw those signatures in the months that followed, Canada enacted the orders of exile on the premise that anyone who signed — and their children along with them — were no longer fit to reside in Canada.

As courts grappled with whether the exile was legal, Canada arranged for the exile of nearly 4,000 Japanese Canadians from May to December 1946. RCMP officers loaded men, women and children onto decommissioned warships and sent them to Japan.

Naturalized citizens were stripped of status, rendered stateless and placeless. Families arrived to a Japan devastated by war and wracked by famine. Many would never set foot in Canada again.

Rationales rooted in racism

Canada’s expulsion of thousands of Japanese Canadians offers lessons in a world of sharpening borders, insecurity and talk of who does and does not belong in a national community.

In the U.S., arguments have resurfaced about denaturalizing citizens, deporting people based on status and about the supposed racial character of citizenship. The same perspectives can be found in the legal and political arguments the governments of Canada and British Columbia employed to justify the exile of Japanese Canadians.

Turning our historical attention to the end of conflict rather than the beginning reminds us of the ways in which harms set in motion in one moment can twist and persist long after the originating crisis has abated.

It reminds us that rationales rooted in racism can become security claims, whether real or imagined. The history of exile should give us pause too about arguments we are hearing again that human rights should never prevent a government from implementing a policy favoured by the majority.

In December 1945, neither courts, legislatures, cabinets nor civil servants stopped the exile of Japanese Canadians. But here too is a final lesson worth remembering.

Although Canada claimed the legal power to exile many more than the 4,000 Canadians it banished to Japan, our book describes how it abandoned the policy when newspapers across Canada began to denounce the policy as fundamentally un-Canadian, anti-democratic and contrary to the equal promise of Canadian citizenship without discrimination.

Fragile rights to citizenship

If Canadian law allowed exile to occur, Japanese Canadians argued, then fundamental Canadian laws needed to change. Eighty years later, the consequences of the exile of Japanese Canadians lingers largely unseen — the trajectories of the lives of thousands of Canadians and the Japanese Canadian community would never be the same.

The Canada that emerged from the exile changed too. It was not that racism or rights abuses disappeared. And yet in the growing movement demanding greater protection for constitutional rights lay recognition of the harms vulnerable communities are exposed to, especially in moments of insecurity and its aftermath.

On the 80th anniversary of the exile of Japanese Canadians, we should remember the harmful way Canada’s Second World War ended for so many thousands. And we should remember that the fragile rights to citizenship we sometimes take for granted were hard won and emerged, in part as a result of their denial. In that sense, we all live in the shadow cast by exile.

Jordan Stanger-Ross receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. He is affiliated with the University of Victoria.

Eric M. Adams receives funding from SSHRC.

– ref. Canada’s exile of Japanese Canadian citizens: A shameful 80-year anniversary few remember – https://theconversation.com/canadas-exile-of-japanese-canadian-citizens-a-shameful-80-year-anniversary-few-remember-272202

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Amina Yousaf, Associate Head, Early Childhood Studies, University of Guelph-Humber

What some school boards now call the “winter break,” over the days leading up to and after Christmas, is approaching.

But in Canada’s diverse public schools, centring one religious holiday sends a subtle message to many children: your family’s traditions don’t quite belong here.

Our publicly funded schools are designed to be welcoming to everyone. Ministries of education and school curricula acknowledge the importance of equity and inclusion in supporting student learning, yet how this is applied in different contexts and classrooms can vary widely.

The focus around Christmas — experienced as holidays that privilege this festival, and sometimes also experienced as winter-themed events that pick up Christmas aspects — can make students from different cultural and religious backgrounds feel marginalized or left out.

As educators look to best practices for implementing guidance around supporting inclusion and affirming diversity in their classrooms, there are opportunities to build in-classroom activities that genuinely reflect and embrace every learner in our vibrant pluralistic communities.

The real impact of feeling left out

When a child’s family life, traditions or identity are missing from the school environment, this can have adverse consequences.

Research shows that school social exclusion is consistently linked to poorer well‑being, higher emotional distress and even changes in adolescent brain development. Large-scale studies have also shown that exclusion undermines belonging, while belonging acts as a protective factor for mental health and engagement. In other words, inclusion isn’t optional, it is essential for students’ emotional safety and academic success.

On the flip side, when students feel they belong, they thrive. Feeling personally accepted and socially valued at school is associated with better mental health and stronger academic trajectories, including lower depression, anxiety and stress into young adulthood. Creating a truly inclusive school environment is therefore not just an extra step, it’s fundamental to student well-being.

Four simple, powerful strategies for inclusion

While overhauling the entire school calendar may be out of reach, educators can start with four classroom changes that research shows are meaningful.

1. Start a storytelling circle with a trauma-informed lens.

Where generic holiday parties exist near the end of term, instead consider a storytelling circle: invite students to share “something special I enjoy in winter,” “a tradition from my community” or “a tradition I’d like to create.”

This keeps open invitations for students who may not have stable family contexts, such as children in foster care or those who’ve experienced loss.

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Why storytelling? Oral storytelling, especially when culturally referenced and developmentally scaffolded, builds identity, empathy and early literacy and has shown measurable gains for Indigenous learners. Story‑based routines are also a powerful vehicle for culturally responsive teaching across subjects.

Guidance from the the National Association for the Education of Young Children, a non-profit organization in the U.S., emphasizes that holiday activities should be approached through an anti-bias lens, ensuring they affirm all children’s identities rather than privileging one tradition.

Evidence shows that storytelling circles can support both cultural identity and emotional safety when implemented thoughtfully, through predictable routines and student choice. Trauma-informed classroom frameworks emphasize safety, trust and empowerment as core principles — all of which align with open-ended storytelling prompts.

So, instead of focusing on family-centric tasks, try the following:

• Make participation voluntary and provide alternative options;

• Use broad prompts that don’t require family disclosures;

• Embed predictable routines and emotional safety as recommended by trauma-informed frameworks.

2. A “celebrations wall.”

Mindful of open-ended prompts and children’s emotional safety, create a “celebrations wall” or “seasonal traditions corner” that invites students and families to share images, artifacts or descriptions of winter or year‑end traditions.

These could include religious and cultural festivals such as Hanukkah, Kwanzaa and Lunar New Year.

It could also include personal family traditions such as a special recipe or a trip.

Culturally responsive environments and tasks increase engagement and participation among diverse learners.

Feeling recognized in affirmative ways also strengthens belonging, which relates to motivation and persistence. Practical exemplars from classrooms show how inclusive displays foster voice and connection.

3. Use language that includes everyone.

Language signals who belongs. Replace event names and communications that tie activities to one tradition with neutral, inclusive terms (for example, “winter celebration,” “year‑end gathering”) alongside culturally affirming practices.

Canadian federal guidance provides explicit strategies for inclusive wording that avoids bias across gender, culture, religion and ability. Equity, diversity and inclusion resources align with these practices and emphasize mirroring how people self‑identify. Resources such as Celebrate! An Anti-Bias Guide to Including Holidays in Early Childhood Programs provide practical steps for creating inclusive celebrations.

4. Partner with communities.

Reach beyond school walls. School‑community partnerships bring cultural expertise, resources and authentic experiences into classrooms, and are associated with better attendance, engagement, social‑emotional outcomes and academics.

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Read more:
If I could change one thing in education: Community-school partnerships would be top priority

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This reduces the burden on educators while widening access to experiences that enrich curriculum and affirm diversity.

Examples could include nurturing community partnerships that support Indigenous storytelling, Lunar New Year presentations or settlement supports for refugee children.

A call for active inclusion

Fostering an inclusive environment is an active choice. It means examining inherited structures and building classroom cultures that affirm every student’s sense of self.

By celebrating the many narratives students bring, educators counteract the emotional toll of exclusion, strengthen resilience and equip young people to navigate a pluralistic society with confidence and respect.

The most important message schools can offer during holidays, and year round, is the certainty that every child belongs.

Amina Yousaf does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. School breaks privilege Christmas, and classroom strategies are needed to foster inclusion – https://theconversation.com/school-breaks-privilege-christmas-and-classroom-strategies-are-needed-to-foster-inclusion-271671

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Mohammadamin Ahmadfard, Postdoctoral Fellow, Mechanical & Industrial Engineering, Toronto Metropolitan University

On a winter day in Northern Canada, the cold feels absolute. Snow squeaks underfoot and rivers lie silent beneath thick ice. Yet beneath that familiar surface, the ground is quietly accumulating heat.

That hidden warming is destabilizing the frozen foundation on which northern communities depend. Permafrost — the permanently frozen ground that supports homes, roads, airports and fuel tanks across much of Northern Canada — is warming as a result of climate change. The North has warmed roughly three times faster than the global average, a well-documented effect of Arctic amplification — the process causing the Arctic to warm much faster than the global average.

Permafrost does not fail suddenly. Instead, it responds slowly and cumulatively, storing the heat of warm summers year after year. Over time, that heat resurfaces in visible ways: tilted buildings, cracked foundations, slumping roads and buckling runways. Long-term borehole measurements across Northern Canada confirm that permafrost temperatures continue to rise even in places where the ground surface still refreezes each winter.

Communities in the Northwest Territories, Nunavut and the Yukon are already living with these consequences. As permafrost degrades, it undermines housing and transportation corridors and disrupts mobility and land-based activities. The impacts are uneven, with Indigenous communities often facing the greatest exposure and paying the highest costs.

A damaged access road or unstable fuel tank is not just an engineering inconvenience; it can interrupt supply chains, emergency access and daily life. What these patterns reveal is that permafrost thaw is not simply a surface problem. It’s the result of long-term, uneven warming below ground that reshapes soils, water, ice and infrastructure together, often accelerating damage well after climate warming begins.

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Permafrost failure

Monitoring and numerical modelling point to a consistent conclusion: permafrost degradation is controlled less by individual warm years than by the long-term balance of heat entering and leaving the ground. Accumulated energy, combined with the large amount of heat required to thaw ice-rich soils, explains why damage often accelerates long after warming begins.

Summer warmth penetrates deeper into the ground than winter cold can fully remove. Snow further reshapes this balance by insulating the ground, especially as a warmer, more moisture-laden atmosphere delivers heavier snow in cold regions, earlier autumn cover, longer spring persistence and uneven accumulation around infrastructure, all of which limit winter heat loss.

Buildings, foundations and buried infrastructure add their own steady sources of warmth. Each input may seem modest on its own. Over decades, their combined effect becomes decisive.

For much of the past century, northern engineering has been designed to keep heat out of frozen ground. Practices such as elevating structures on piles, minimizing ground disturbance and installing passive cooling systems like thermosyphons have proven effective under historically cold conditions. But these approaches depend on long, reliably cold winters. As winters shorten and insulating snow arrives earlier, the benefits of those practices are becoming harder to sustain.

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Read more:
Heat waves, wildfire & permafrost thaw: The North’s climate change trifecta

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From blocking heat to managing it

Engineers in Canada have already demonstrated ways to deliberately influence subsurface temperatures. Along northern highways and embankments, ventilated shoulders and air-convection systems have been used to increase winter heat loss from permafrost foundations, measurably cooling the ground beneath key infrastructure. These projects show that underground temperatures can be deliberately managed, not just endured.

More recently, work in the Yukon has shown that sloped thermosyphons installed beneath highway embankments can lower permafrost temperatures and raise the permafrost table, stabilizing ice-rich ground that would otherwise continue to settle. These systems are effective but only as long as winters remain cold enough to drive heat extraction.

Geothermal engineering offers a more adaptable approach. In southern Canada and elsewhere, some buildings already use foundation piles that serve two purposes: structural support and heat exchange. Rather than allowing waste heat to leak passively into surrounding soil, these systems circulate fluid to move heat in or out of the ground as conditions require.

In northern permafrost regions, the same principle could be applied differently. Instead of allowing heat from buildings, pipelines or power systems to migrate downward into thaw-sensitive soils, foundation piles could intercept some of that energy and return it to buildings during winter, when heat demand is highest. In summer, operation would focus on limiting new heat input, preserving seasonal cooling gains.

This is not about turning permafrost into an energy resource. It is about preventing uncontrolled heat leakage, sustaining the very foundations that hold northern infrastructure in place.

Protecting what holds communities together

The implications extend far beyond individual buildings. Roads, airstrips, fuel storage facilities, water treatment plants, power lines and communication systems across Northern Canada all depend on stable ground. Many also introduce persistent sources of warmth through traffic, buried utilities and electrical infrastructure.

As thaw progresses, roads deform, fuel tanks shift and runways become unsafe. A settling airport runway, for example, can ground flights that deliver food, fuel and medical supplies for weeks at a time.

For infrastructure expected to remain in service for 50 years or more, managing subsurface temperature may matter as much as structural design itself. When these systems fail, the effects ripple outward, increasing isolation, raising costs and limiting access to essential services.

Indigenous partnership is essential

The impacts of permafrost thaw are not shared equally. Indigenous communities are often the most exposed, facing disproportionate damage to housing and infrastructure that underpins mobility, food security and access to health and education services.

Many northern communities also remain heavily dependent on diesel for heat and electricity, locking in energy systems that add persistent heat to the ground and raise the long-term cost of maintaining infrastructure.

Any approach to geothermal or ground-temperature management must therefore be developed in genuine partnership with Indigenous governments and residents. Engineering solutions that stabilize the ground while reducing fuel dependence will only succeed if they align with local priorities and support long-term community self-determination.

None of this replaces the need to rapidly reduce greenhouse-gas emissions. No technology can preserve all permafrost under unchecked warming. But in Northern Canada, adaptation is no longer optional.

Research shows that long before damage becomes visible, heat accumulates underground, weakening soils and reshaping landscapes. This is where infrastructure can play a central role, by influencing how heat enters, moves throughout and leaves the ground.

Canada now faces a choice: it can continue building as if frozen ground were static, or it can design for permafrost as what it is: a sensitive thermal system with a long memory. The heat accumulated below ground over decades reflects past decisions. But how much heat we add next, and how carefully we manage it, is a choice.

Mohammadamin Ahmadfard receives funding from the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada and Mitacs Inc. for his postdoctoral research at Toronto Metropolitan University.

Ibrahim Ghalayini receives funding from the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada (NSERC) and Mitacs, and has also been the recipient of academic scholarships in support of his research at Toronto Metropolitan University.

Seth Dworkin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Canada’s North is warming from the ground up, and our infrastructure isn’t ready – https://theconversation.com/canadas-north-is-warming-from-the-ground-up-and-our-infrastructure-isnt-ready-272005

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Frank Boers, Professor of Applied Linguistics, Western University

Being a linguist — and someone who has tried to learn several languages (including English) in addition to my mother tongue (Flemish Dutch) — I have an annoying habit: instead of paying attention to what people are saying, I often get distracted by how they are saying it. The other day, this happened again in a meeting with colleagues.

I started writing down some of the expressions my colleagues were using to communicate their ideas that may be puzzling for users of English as a second or additional language.

In a span of about five minutes, I heard “it’s a no-brainer,” “to second something,” “being on the same page,” “to bring people up to speed,” “how you see fit,” “to table something” and “to have it out with someone.”

These are all expressions whose meanings do not follow straightforwardly from their lexical makeup — they’re called idioms by lexicologists.

Idioms are part of daily communication. But this anecdote also suggests that we take it for granted that such expressions are readily understood by members of the same community. However, when it comes to people who are new to said community, nothing could be further from the truth.

Idioms and the limits of language proficiency

Research conducted at the University of Birmingham several years ago revealed that international students for whom English is an additional language often misunderstand lecture content because they misinterpret their lecturers’ metaphorical phrases, including figurative idioms.

More recent research confirms that English idioms can remain elusive to second-language learners even if the expressions are intentionally embedded in transparent contexts.

One of my own recent studies, conducted with international students at Western University in Canada, also found that students incorrectly interpreted idioms and struggled to recall the actual meanings later on after being corrected.

This shows just how persistently confusing these expressions can be.

It’s worth mentioning that we’re talking about students who obtained high enough scores on standardized English proficiency tests to be admitted to English-medium universities. Knowledge of idioms appears to lag behind other facets of language.

When literal meanings get in the way

The challenge posed by idioms is not unique to English. All languages have large stocks of idioms, many of which second-language learners will find puzzling if the expressions do not have obvious counterparts in their mother tongue.

There are various obstacles to comprehending idioms, and recognizing these obstacles can help us empathize with those who are new to a community. For one thing, an idiom will inevitably be hard to understand if it includes a word that the learner does not know at all.

However, even if all the constituent words of an expression look familiar, the first meaning that comes to a learner’s mind can be misleading. For example, as a younger learner of English, I was convinced that the expression “to jump the gun” referred to an act of bravery because, to me, the phrase evoked an image of someone being held at gunpoint and who makes a sudden move to disarm an adversary.

I only realized that this idiom means “to act too soon” when I was told that the gun in this phrase does not allude to a firearm but to the pistol used to signal the start of a race.

I also used to think that to “follow suit” meant taking orders from someone in a position of authority because I thought “suit” alluded to business attire. Its actual meaning — “to do the same thing as someone else” — became clear only when I learned the other meaning of suit in card games such as bridge.

The idea that idioms prompt a literal interpretation may seem counter-intuitive to readers who have not learned a second language because we normally bypass such literal interpretations when we hear idioms in our first language. However, research suggests that second-language learners do tend to use literal meanings as they try to make sense of idioms.

Unfortunately, when language learners use a literal reading of an idiom to guess its figurative meaning, they are very often misled by ambiguous words. For example, they will almost inevitably misunderstand “limb” in the idiom “to go out on a limb” — meaning “to take a serious risk” — as a body part rather than a branch of a tree.

Recognizing the origin of an idiomatic expression can also be difficult because the domains of life from which certain idioms stem are not necessarily shared across cultures. For example, learners may struggle to understand English idioms derived from horse racing (“to win hands down”), golf (“par for the course”), rowing (“pull your weight”) and baseball (“cover your bases”), if these sports are uncommon in the communities in which they grew up.

A language’s stock of idioms provides a window into a community’s culture and history.

Same language, same idioms? Not exactly

Idiom repertoires vary across communities — whether defined regionally, demographically or otherwise — even when those communities share the same general language.

For example, if an Aussie were to criticize an anglophone Canadian for making a fuss by saying “you’re carrying on like a pork chop,” they may be lost in translation, even if there isn’t much of one. At least, linguistically that is.

Although people may have learned a handful of idioms in an English-language course taken in their home country, those particular idioms may not be the ones they will encounter later as international students or immigrants.

The moral is simple: be aware that expressions you consider perfectly transparent because you grew up with them may be puzzling to others. We need to have more empathy for people who are not yet familiar with the many hundreds of potentially confusing phrases that we use so spontaneously.

Frank Boers receives funding from the Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

– ref. The trouble with idioms: How they can leave even fluent English speakers behind – https://theconversation.com/the-trouble-with-idioms-how-they-can-leave-even-fluent-english-speakers-behind-271681

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Matt Polacko, Postdoctoral Researcher, University of Calgary; University of Toronto

The Liberal government’s recent budget aims to reduce the size of the federal public service by around 40,000 positions, which is roughly 10 per cent of the workforce. The government argues that the size of the public service has swelled to an unsustainable level.

Needless to say, federal public sector workers cannot relish this prospect.

Along with the Conservatives, two NDP members voted to pass the budget in order to avoid another election. But in their public responses to the budget, New Democrats have emphasized concern over the cuts by expressing their hesitation about supporting it.

This decision could have significant electoral consequences in that it may drive public sector workers away from the Liberal Party of Canada to the NDP in the next election.

Deep divide?

A conventional understanding of Canadian politics suggests a stark divide between public sector workers who support expanding the welfare state and private-sector employees who oppose that.

A Conservative-leaning pundit has portrayed contemporary Canadian politics as a battle between a “public class, who live on the avails of taxation, and a private class, who pay the taxes.” The “public class” in this instance is largely made up of public sector workers who “would welcome an expansion of the state, which would benefit their class.”

In a recent paper published in the Canadian Review of Sociology, we studied the political divide between Canadian public and private-sector workers.

We identified a sectoral divide whereby public sector workers are distinctly less likely to vote for the Conservatives than other parties. The graphs below show how being in the public sector has on impact on whether someone votes for the Conservatives, Liberals or NDP versus the two other parties combined since the 1960s.

Sectoral status seems to have the largest impact on NDP support, rather than the Liberals. But one feature of our analysis shows that increased support for the NDP and the Liberals is primarily — although not exclusively — attributable to the fact that the public sector is heavily unionized.

Effectively, non-unionized public sector workers demonstrate a weaker proclivity to support the Liberals and the NDP.

This is curious and complicates some of the stark commentary on the divide between public and private sector workers. If public sector workers were so interested in choosing a party out of self-interest, they would presumably support the federal Liberals because of their greater electability, rather than the NDP, who rarely exercise influence at the federal level.

Left-leaning attitudes

Overall, our data says something about motivation: public sector voters in Canada are more inclined to support the NDP and the Liberals — not necessarily out of self-interest to expand their budgets or increase their salaries, but because they have political attitudes more to the left than their private sector counterparts.

We show this from the information illustrated below, which shows the average support for four different types of socio-economic policies: publicly delivered child care; a government role in creating jobs, increased wealth redistribution from rich to poor and increased spending on welfare.

These data points were amassed from the Canada Election Studies from 1993 to 2019, and report support for these policies by class and sector of employment.

What’s striking about this chart is that on all four measures, public sector managers and professionals are more left-wing than their public sector counterparts.

But there is virtually no difference in the policy preferences at the level of working or routine non-manual classes. By contrast, if we run the same analysis with measures on social or cultural issues, we find almost no difference between public and private sector employees.

So the public and private sector divide in Canada today exists in some small measure because higher-class public sector workers are more left-wing economically than their higher-class private sector counterparts.

Hope on the horizon for the NDP?

We also examined whether public sector employees vote at higher rates. If public sector workers were interested in voting for the left in order to maximize their budgets, presumably, they would vote at greater rates overall.

But we found that public and private sector employees vote at roughly the same rate.

Overall, we find that there is in fact a sectoral divide in Canada. Public sector workers in Canada tend to vote Liberal or NDP. However, they do so primarily because of their more left-wing attitudes toward economic policy and redistribution, not necessarily only because of narrower interests related to job security.

The Liberal government’s intention to reduce the size of the federal public service could very likely drive some of their voters back to the NDP in the next federal election.

Matt Polacko receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC).

Peter Graefe has received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council. He is a research fellow at the Broadbent Institute.

Simon Kiss receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council for research into the New Democratic Party and is a longtime member of the NDP.

– ref. What Canada’s public sector voting divide could mean for future elections – https://theconversation.com/what-canadas-public-sector-voting-divide-could-mean-for-future-elections-272144

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Lorne Michael Hartman, Associate Faculty, Faculty of Medicine, University of Toronto; York University, Canada

Consider the following scenario. You’re facing pressure to meet quarterly targets, but the numbers aren’t quite where they need to be. With a deadline looming, you “round up” a figure just slightly to make the results look better.

This kind of thinking is far more common than many realize. Research in behavioural ethics shows these subtle choices are exactly how unethical behaviour takes root in organizations.

Most people see themselves as fair, rational and ethical, yet research in behavioural ethics consistently shows we are far less objective than we assume.

Even well-intentioned people can explain away questionable actions — not because they’re immoral, but because their minds are wired to protect their moral self-image.

How we talk ourselves into bad decisions

The concept of moral disengagement describes the subtle mental moves people use to convince themselves that ethical standards don’t apply “just this once.” Rather than viewing themselves as rule-breakers, people reframe their behaviour in ways that allow them to feel moral while acting otherwise.

These rationalizations tend to take the following forms:

• “It’s just creative accounting.” This is euphemistic labelling, which reframes misconduct in more acceptable terms.
• “I did it for the team.” A form of moral justification that recasts a self-serving decision as altruistic.
• “Everyone signed off on it.” Here, individuals displace responsibility onto colleagues or superiors.
• “It’s not a big deal.” This involves distorting the consequences and minimizing impacts of choices.
• “At least we’re not as bad as the competition.” Known as advantageous comparison, this tactic makes questionable behaviour seem reasonable by contrasting it with a worse alternative.

These narratives allow people to preserve a positive self-image even when their actions contradict their values. Over time, these narratives can normalize misconduct and corrode workplace culture.

The real-world impact of moral rationalization

Unethical behaviour in organizations isn’t rare, nor is it limited to a few “bad apples.” Research indicates that harmful or dishonest actions at work result in significant financial losses for companies and society, amounting to billions of dollars each year.

While we often assume unethical behaviour is driven by personal greed, high-profile corporate scandals tell a different story. In cases like the Boeing 737 Max crashes, Siemens’ corruption scandal or Volkswagen’s emissions scandal, news coverage suggest employees were motivated by a sense of obligation, loyalty or pressure to advance company goals, not by personal gain.

What’s striking is not just the number of people who participated, but how many recognized wrongdoing and remained silent. This pattern highlights a deeper problem: ethical failures rarely result from deliberate malice.

They emerge when ordinary people talk themselves into crossing lines they would normally respect. Understanding how that happens is essential if leaders want to create workplaces where employees don’t just know the right thing to do, but actually act on it.

Why ethics training often falls flat

Many organizations assume that teaching employees the rules will naturally translate into better behaviour. However, knowledge alone doesn’t close the gap between intention and action.

Across several studies, I examined whether moral disengagement can be reduced through training and reframing. In one experiment, participants learned to spot eight common rationalizations. They became adept at identifying these cognitive traps, but their awareness didn’t translate into making more ethical choices later.

In another experiment, we tried shifting how people thought about responsibility by emphasizing individual accountability over group harmony. This framing slightly reduced moral disengagement, especially among women, but the overall impact was modest.

Across all studies, the bottom line is that moral disengagement is stubborn. Simply knowing better rarely ensures that people will act better.

Why is it so difficult to move the needle? A key reason is that our explanations for why we behave the way we do are shaped by cultural norms learned early in life. Once formed, these beliefs are surprisingly resistant to change, even in the face of evidence or explicit instruction.

Culture is what drives ethical behaviour

If ethics training alone has limited impact, what does make a difference?

Our research points to workplace culture, which strongly shapes levels of moral disengagement and the ethical choices that follow.

We found that environments that prize assertiveness, competition and material success are more likely to encourage rationalizations. By contrast, cultures that emphasize care, modesty and concern for others make moral disengagement harder.

Ethical behaviour, in other words, is less a matter of personal integrity than organizational context.

When employees face unrealistic goals, aggressive norms or leaders who silence dissent, the space for ethical reflection becomes increasingly narrow. Rationalization fills the gap, allowing people to maintain a sense of integrity even as their decisions drift further from their values.

7 ways to resist rationalization at work

Creating an ethical organization means designing systems that make reflection easier and self-justification harder. Effective strategies include:

1. Normalizing ethical dialogue. Ethical dilemmas often arise in grey areas, where there is no clear right or wrong answer. Leaders should encourage open discussions about ambiguous situations before they escalate into problems.

2. Rewarding the process, not only the result. When outcomes are all that matter, employees are more likely to cut corners or bend rules to achieve targets. By recognizing the work process, organizations reinforce the importance of integrity alongside performance.

3. Modelling moral humility. Leaders set the tone for acceptable behaviour. When they admit mistakes, they signal ethics is about vigilance, not moral perfection.

4. Building in “ethical speed bumps.” People are more likely to rationalize decisions under pressure. Interventions like checklists, second reviews or pausing to slow down can give employees the time to consider whether their actions align with ethical standards.

5. Creating psychological safety. Employees must feel confident that raising concerns or questioning decisions won’t lead to fear of reprisal or harm to their careers. Creating psychologically safe workplaces reduces the likelihood of ethical lapses.

6. Aligning incentives with values. When incentives focus only on short-term results or profit, employees are more likely to justify harmful shortcuts. Performance metrics should emphasize collaboration, accountability, feedback and conflict resolution.

7. Supporting well-being and work-life balance. Stress and burnout make people more prone to self-justification. Policies that support well-being indirectly foster ethical workplace behaviour.

These approaches reflect growing evidence that behaviour change requires more than information. It requires habit formation, cultural reinforcement and aligned systems.

Learning to be more reflective

Humans are rationalizing creatures. We edit our moral narratives to protect our sense of ourselves as good, competent and principled people. But understanding this tendency is empowering.

Leaders who recognize the psychology of moral disengagement can design workplace environments where ethical reflection is routine and the right decision is the easier one.

While we may never be able to fully eliminate rationalization, we can learn to notice it, question it and choose differently. Ethical workplace cultures are built on systems that help ordinary people do the right thing.

Lorne Michael Hartman does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. How good people justify bending the rules at work — and what leaders can do about it – https://theconversation.com/how-good-people-justify-bending-the-rules-at-work-and-what-leaders-can-do-about-it-270427

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Dianne Lalonde, PhD, Political Science, Western University

The words we use to describe gender-based violence (GBV), such as “victim,” “survivor” and “person with lived experience,” aren’t neutral. These labels are powerful. They can affirm dignity or reinforce stigma. They can mobilize movements or obscure systemic issues.

GBV can include sexual, physical, mental and economic abuse. Coercive control and manipulation in intimate partner relationships are an example, as is sexual assault, child marriages or technology-facilitated violence. And in Canada, GBV disproportionately impacts women and girls.

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Read more:
Why Canada needs to recognize the crime of femicide — on Dec. 6 and beyond

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As GBV evolves across digital and in-person contexts, the stakes of language are especially high.

Drawing on our research and practice, we explore what these labels mean, how they are used and the impact they have on people’s lives. Our aim is to support intentional language as part of the broader work of violence prevention, collective action and addressing harm.

Two starting points help anchor this discussion. The first is that when you are in direct contact with someone who has experienced GBV, follow their lead in how they describe their own experience. The second is to recognize that different communities use terms rooted in their own histories that demand our respect, not our translation.

What ‘victim’ reveals and what it distorts

“Victim” centres the harm experienced by individuals and the impacts it has had on their lives. It first gained prominence early in the women’s rights movement, when it was deployed to evoke sympathy and action. Today, it remains central to the legal system.

Research indicates that labelling someone as a victim frames them as someone in need of saving or protection rather than being recognized as knowledgeable and capable.

The label has also been criticized for reinforcing the “perfect victim” stereotype, suggesting that only those who appear innocent or socially respectable deserve empathy or justice. This stereotype often dismisses and blames certain groups, including Black women and women with disabilities who face compounded discrimination and disbelief.

Yet some individuals embrace the label of “victim” as an honest reflection of what they endured.

As American writer Danielle Campoamor states:

“As a victim of sexual assault, I am not a happy ending. I do not exist for others to feel better about a systemic problem.”

‘Survivor’ — the resilience story

“Survivor” foregrounds empowerment and resilience. People labelled as survivors are generally perceived more positively than people labelled as victims.

For men who have experienced sexual violence, “survivor” can offer a way to name harm in a context where acknowledging victimization is socially discouraged.

However, the label can shift attention away from aggressors and toward expectations that individuals demonstrate strength or recovery. Healing is not a linear process, and the label of “survivor” can create pressure that a person or community simply “get over it.” These expectations stigmatize people whose healing does not align with socially accepted ideas of recovery or “good” behaviour.

A focus on personal resilience can also reflect society’s discomfort with GBV by celebrating endurance rather than confronting the systems that create harm.

“Victim-survivor” has also been proposed as an umbrella term that aims to disrupt the victim/survivor binary, though it can reproduce some of the same pressures attached to both.

Does person-first language respect or obscure?

Person-first language, such as “individual who experienced GBV,” emerged from disability activism. It leads with the person rather than the label, offering an alternative to identity-first terms like “victim” or “survivor.”

Person-first language has been found to affirm dignity and emphasize that violence is only one part of a person’s story. It highlights individuality and complexity, reflecting the wide range of experiences within this group.

But person-first language can unintentionally portray the person’s identity as inherently negative or shameful. It can also individualize violence, obscuring the broader social and political structures that enable it.

Ultimately, the value of person-first language depends on how it is applied and whether it recognizes both personal experience and systemic accountability.

Navigating labels in real-life contexts

Every label captures something true while also missing something else.

The goal is not perfection or consistency; it is intention. Ask: What purpose does this label serve? How is it shaping assumptions about harm and agency? How might you capture what the label misses? Are you imposing one term universally or making space for the multiplicity of language people actually use? If you are speaking to or about an individual, what term do they prefer?

While we recognize that institutional settings often limit the language used, these questions remain useful because they help guide how those terms are applied, offering space to challenge harmful assumptions even when the terminology itself cannot change.

No single label can fully and accurately summarize experiences of violence. Labels often overlap, shift with context and evolve over time.

What matters most is using language that reflects care and respect. Our words should neither confine people to their experiences of violence nor erase the realities of that harm. Intentional language is one way we move closer to a world where GBV is actively named and dismantled.

Dianne Lalonde is affiliated with the Federation for the Humanities and Social Sciences.

Sue O’Neill received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council. Sue O’Neill is on the board of directors for Bryony House, a crisis GBV shelter in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

– ref. What’s in a label? Rethinking how we talk about gender-based violence – https://theconversation.com/whats-in-a-label-rethinking-how-we-talk-about-gender-based-violence-270650

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Michelle Stack, Associate Professor, Department of Educational Studies, University of British Columbia

Canadian students are struggling. Many cannot afford housing, are struggling with mental health crises and increasing numbers don’t have enough money for food.

At the same time, universities are spending time and money chasing media-driven rankings that don’t offer tools for responding to these challenges or improve the quality of education or research in Canada.

But there’s a proven alternative that generates trillions in the global economy but remains largely invisible in higher education: co-operatives.

Canada’s 2025 budget mentions co-operative housing as a way to deal with the housing crisis, but co-ops go beyond housing. They could provide a place for students to practise democratic governance, to have a sense of community, to find dignified work and affordable food and housing — and to make research more accessible.

Co-operatives come in different forms, but they all sign on to key principles, many of which are similar to those espoused by educational institutions.

These include democratic member control, economic participation by members, autonomy and independence, voluntary and open membership, education and training and concern for the community.

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Read more:
Housing co-ops could solve Canada’s housing affordability crisis

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Thriving Canadian co-operatives

As university professors, we frequently hear from students who struggle to make ends meet. For many, the first time they learn about co-operatives is in our classes, yet Canada developed a robust system of co-operatives during other periods of hardship, including the Great Depression. Many of these co-ops continue to thrive today.

Some co-ops are huge and others are small. In 2023, it was estimated that the most profitable 300 co-operatives globally made a combined total of USD $2.79 trillion.

Vancity is an example of a financial co-op. It started in 1946 to provide loans for working-class people in the east side of Vancouver. Today, its total assets are $36 billion. Co-operatives in Canada hold $50.5 billion in assets and employ more than 100,000 people.

Co-op innovators are often people who have been excluded or marginalized from systems that measure an individual’s economic wealth with success and leave out their contributions to society and sustainability. For example,
In 2015, Solid State Communities Industries was founded. It’s well known for its success in building a solidarity economy in Surrey, B.C., and is led by racialized communities including students.

Mondragon co-operative

The co-operative Mondragon was founded in the 1950s in the town of the same name in the Basque region of Spain. It started by selling parrafin heaters and expanded to create a range of goods and services providing financial, education and health services, and has inspired many co-operative ventures, including in Winnipeg.

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Read more:
The Mondragon model: how a Basque cooperative defied Spain’s economic crisis

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Today, Mondragon employs more than 70,000 people and comprises 92 autonomous co-operatives, including a university with approximately 5,000 students who learn and have opportunities to practise democratic governance throughout their education. Students also have employment opportunities at a Mondragon co-operative.

Mondragon was key to the region during Spain’s recession and was able, through co-operation, to minimize harm caused by lost housing, jobs and cuts to social services. Research and innovation is central to the strength of Mondragon.

Co-operatives come in different forms

An often overlooked but important part of the co-operative movement is Rotating Savings and Credit Associations (ROSCAs).

One of the authors of this story, Caroline Shenaz Hossein, chronicles how these work in her book The Banker Ladies: Vanguards of Solidarity Economics and Community-Based Banks. In a ROSCA, a group of people contribute a set amount to a common fund at regular intervals, and each member takes turns receiving the total amount collected.

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Read more:
Banking co-ops run by Black women have a longtime legacy of helping people

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ROSCAs foster connection, community, trust, mutual support and financial inclusion. ROSCAS show that co-operative principles can thrive in formal organizations and everyday community life, including on university campuses.

Democratic decision-making

Co-operatives are not utopias — they are, after all, run by humans — but they do provide a structure for democratic decision-making, fairness and security. None of us is an island unto ourselves.

We need each other to ensure we all have the necessities of life — and the co-operative structures — to grapple with the existential threats we all face including climate change, the rise of disinformation and authoritarianism.

Co-operatives are a proven model for creating connection and providing affordable housing. They can also provide a means to make knowledge more freely available and to authenticate sources.

Canadian universities could choose to move away from competing over rankings to building a collaborative educational ecosystem that strengthens Canada’s ability to create and share knowledge.

As living co-operative labs, universities could connect economic capacity and democratic governance with well-being. That means providing all students opportunities to learn about co-ops and creating government and university policies that support the development of co-operatives on campuses.

The mention of co-ops in the 2025 budget is a start — but we need to do more to connect co-operatives to improving education, access to research and well-being across university campuses.

Caroline Shenaz Hossein receives funding from the Canada Research Chair program.

Michelle Stack does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Co-operatives empower people — and students need to know about them – https://theconversation.com/co-operatives-empower-people-and-students-need-to-know-about-them-269345