Category: The Conversation – Canada

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Tracey Raney, Professor, Politics and Public Administration, Toronto Metropolitan University

Tuesday is the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women and the beginning of 16 days of activism against gender-based violence. It’s a global call to action by the United Nations to prevent and eliminate all forms of violence against women and girls.

This year’s theme — “End digital violence against all women and girls” — aims to draw attention to the rapid rise of hate directed at women online. Sadly, this problem is all too common in today’s political world.

Why do we need attention drawn to this issue in politics?

Technology-facilitated gender-based violence is a serious and growing threat to women and girls. It’s defined by the UN as:

“Any act that is committed, assisted, aggravated, or amplified by the use of information communication technologies or other digital tools that results in or is likely to result in physical, sexual, psychological, social, political, or economic harm, or other infringements of rights and freedoms.”

It includes hate speech, violent threats, cyber-harassment, doxxing, image and video-based abuse, astroturfing, gendered disinformation and defamation.

Silencing prominent women

Marginalized women and women with public-facing roles — especially politicians, journalists and activists — often bear the brunt of attacks, with the intent to silence and push them out of the public arena.

While popular assumptions about online misogynists view them as “bearded white dudes in a basement” ranting about women on their computers anonymously, some political leaders are also unfortunately spreading misogyny openly online.

What motivates leaders to spread gendered hate online?

Politicians who are most likely to use misogynistic rhetoric are those who seek to uphold a “masculinist strongman ideal,” according to research by British scholar Nitasha Kaul. She explains how public figures like Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin and Narendra Modi have all used misogyny to assert their power.

By positioning women (and men who do not conform to dominant masculine norms) as inferior, strongmen are signalling their dominance to their followers and to other “strong” men.

When it’s directed at women in the public eye, political misogyny serves to suppress the voices of political opponents and people with differing views, posing threats to freedom of expression and fundamental human rights.

---

Read more:
Why some populist supporters want a strong-arm leader and others just want change

---

American public policy scholar Suzanne Dovi explains how political misogyny unfolds through an evolving process, and includes three stages:

1. Political elites advance “nasty claims” about high-profile women in politics;
2. Those “nasty claims” connect with and/or activate conscious and unconscious prejudices regarding women in politics; and finally
3. The audience receives and accepts the nasty claims as their own.

Online political misogyny is violent

Given their vast reach, digital platforms have become ideal spaces for leaders to spread their misogynistic views. In 2017, a Conservative MP referred to former environment minister Catherine McKenna as “Climate Barbie” on social media (the MP later apologized).

Since then, McKenna has shared details about the online violence she experienced in connection with this slur, with one meme featuring a Barbie Doll being crushed by a sledgehammer and another saying, “Tick Tock, Barbie Bitch.”

In 2023, former Conservative leader Andrew Scheer shared a post on his X account (which today has more than 250,000 followers) styled as a “wanted” poster, featuring the photos and office phone numbers of two women senators.

He urged his followers to call their offices, falsely claiming they had deliberately shut down debate on a Conservative-backed bill. Afterward, Sen. Bernadette Clement, who identifies as Black, received racist online abuse and a phone call from an unknown man threatening to come to her home. Sen. Chantal Petitclerc also reported her office being inundated with sexist voicemail messages.

‘Play dirty’

Women journalists are also being attacked, fuelled by misogynistic online posts from political leaders. In 2021, several Canadian women journalists — almost all of whom were racialized — were targeted by an online hate campaign encouraged by Maxime Bernier, leader of the People’s Party of Canada.

After the journalists raised questions about white supremacy inside the party, Bernier told his X followers to “play dirty” with them. The reporters were subsequently inundated with rape and death threats, as well as racist abuse. While X forced Bernier to take down the post and briefly restricted his account, the damage had been done.

In the United States, Trump has frequently relied on gendered attacks on women journalists as a way to humiliate, discredit and silence them. Just recently, Trump responded to a question from a woman journalist by telling her “quiet, piggy.” He has previously described women journalists as “dogs and pigs.”

The cost of online political misogyny

Online political misogyny has real-world consequences. After Trump’s Nov. 20 Truth Social post inciting violence against his Democratic rivals, congresswoman Jasmine Crockett’s office in Washington, D.C., was threatened by a white supremacist.

Writing on Blue Sky, Crockett vowed she would not back down and reminded the public that “when leaders promote hate, hate shows up — sometimes right at our door.”

As my research with Canadian political science professor Cheryl Collier shows, gender-based violence in politics has democratic costs, diminishing diverse voices and expertise in public office.

---

Read more:
Another barrier for women in politics: Violence

---

In journalism, research by Australian scholar Julie Posetti and her colleagues at the International Center for Journalists shows that online attacks against women reporters have a chilling effect, reducing their willingness (along with those of their sources, colleagues and audiences) to participate in public debate.

These attacks also undermine journalistic accountability and trust in facts during a time when mis- and disinformation have become a scourge.

How to bring about change

The UN’s global campaign challenges us to reflect on how online political misogyny can be stopped. Worldwide, governments must pass public policies and enforce laws that criminalize hate-motivated digital violence. Technology companies must ensure platform safety and enforce robust, transparent codes of conduct.

Men and boys need access to mental health support and positive role models who encourage healthy forms of masculinity, rather than framing toxic masculinity as the ideal. Concerned citizens can donate to organizations dedicated to eradicating gender-based violence, such as the Native Women’s Association of Canada, WomanACT, White Ribbon or to a women’s shelter in their local community.

Finally, public leaders must actively refuse to engage in political misogyny and lead efforts to uphold respect and civility in public discourse. Campaigns like Gov. Gen. Mary Simon’s “Building a Safer and Respectful Digital World” and Elect Respect, initiated by Burlington Mayor Marianne Meed Ward, are positive steps in the right direction.

Tracey Raney receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC).

– ref. ‘Quiet piggy’ and other slurs: Powerful men fuel online abuse against women in politics and media – https://theconversation.com/quiet-piggy-and-other-slurs-powerful-men-fuel-online-abuse-against-women-in-politics-and-media-270435

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Stephen M Yeager, Professor of English, Concordia University

It’s a cliché that any “geek” who knows how to program computers will also probably play Dungeons & Dragons, or D&D. If you need to find someone at work who can explain to you the latest episode of Stranger Things, then you could probably safely start in the IT department and the D&D fans working there.

This isn’t an accident, and it isn’t a new development. The history of D&D and the history of the personal computer are closely aligned, and today’s social media platforms are basically just free-to-play mobile role-playing games.

D&D is more popular than it’s ever been. In October 2024, D&D’s owners, Wizards of the Coast, estimated that 85 million people either played the game or engaged with the brand, either through its physical “table-top” games or through smash success video games like Baldur’s Gate 3.

A 2022 survey determined that the average age of a D&D player was 30 years old, and that more than 40 per cent of players identified as female, non-binary or gender-fluid.

Jon Peterson, a major D&D historian, traces the origins of D&D back to the war-game hobbyists of the late 1960s. He refers to them as a “conservative youth movement” of overwhelmingly white male gamers who kept in touch through a loose social network based in hobby magazines.

D&D’s growth over the last 50 years was driven by digital social networks in the same way that the evolution of digital social networks was driven by D&D.

Progression mechanics

Social media platforms like X, Facebook, Instagram and LinkedIn all make money from views, refreshes and eyeballs on advertisements. To motivate their users to stay on the apps, these platforms have developed algorithms to govern what posts are seen by which users.

These algorithms deploy what game designers call “progression mechanics,” which is to say systems of points where the more points you have, the more control you have over events in the game.

If you get a high score in Tetris, you still start over at zero the next time you play. But if you get a high number of likes and followers on Facebook, then it’s more likely that other people will see your posts, and in that sense your high scores are a form of “progress.”

The most important precedent for social media progression mechanics is the “experience points” of D&D’s collaborative story-telling game system. When D&D players choose actions to shape the story surrounding their characters, they roll dice, which determines if their actions succeed or fail.

Experience points — or “XP” — reward player successes by improving the odds in future rolls, thereby giving them more control over the shared narrative of their D&D adventure. Similarly, social media progression mechanics give users control over what public relations specialists call “the narrative” about whatever subject those users choose to discuss.

There’s a long history of D&D progression mechanics in the design of social media platforms, going back to the dial-up “BBS” or “Bulletin Board System.”

A BBS was a computer hooked up to a modem that let users log in one at a time to leave messages for other users to read, like a cork bulletin board in a community space. Like D&D, the community of computer hobbyists who built and ran the very first BBS systems were mostly white, male and midwestern — the first edition of D&D was published in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin in 1974, and the first BBS was started in Chicago in 1978.

Also like D&D, BBS communities started out as subscribers to hobby magazines: the Avalon Hill General for D&D, Byte for BBS users.

The role of BBS

In 1986, a programmer named Guy T. Rice launched a BBS named TProBBS, which in Version 4.2f was both an early social media platform and an early digital role-playing game.

Like other BBS systems, TProBBS 4.2f required its users to create user profiles. But 4.2f took this a step further to ask users to create D&D characters for themselves: you weren’t just “User3788,” but “User3788 the Novice Bard.” The more you logged into the system, the more treasure and experience points you could gain, and so the more motive you had to log in to make use of the resources you’d accumulated.

---

Read more:
How the bulletin board systems, email lists and Geocities pages of the early internet created a place for trans youth to find one another and explore coming out

---

In his book The Modem World: A Prehistory of Social Media, Internet historian Kevin Driscoll identifies another BBS designed around fantasy role-playing progression mechanics: Seth Able Robinson’s Legend of the Red Dragon (LoRD), launched in 1989.

In LoRD, players were allowed a limited number of “actions” per day: exploring, trading, duelling, hunting, hanging out in the tavern. The more days you dialled in, the more actions you could complete, and so the more “progress” you could make in the fantasy world of the BBS.

In 2006, Facebook introduced the first social media algorithm, EdgeRank. It curated the posts on each users’ feed, assessing, among other factors, the evidence of each poster’s engagement to promote certain posts over other posts. The more you liked other users’ posts, the more “affinity” you built with those other users, and so the more likely your posts would be visible to a wider audience.

These progression mechanics aren’t just similar to the progression mechanics of D&D — they co-evolved alongside the progression mechanics of D&D towards the same ends.

Stephen M Yeager receives funding from SSHRC.

– ref. Social media can be understood as a role-playing game like Dungeons & Dragons – https://theconversation.com/social-media-can-be-understood-as-a-role-playing-game-like-dungeons-and-dragons-266440

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Meg D. Lonergan, Contract Instructor and Doctoral Candidate, Legal Studies, Carleton University

The Supreme Court of Canada’s decision in the Attorney General of Québec v. Senneville struck down one-year mandatory minimum sentences for accessing or possessing child pornography. Immediately, politicians and commentators denounced the ruling.

Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre, Ontario Premier Doug Ford and Alberta Premier Danielle Smith have urged Ottawa to invoke Section 33, also known as the notwithstanding clause, of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The clause allows Parliament or provincial legislatures to override certain Charter rights for five years.

Their alarm fits a broader pattern of constitutional populism in which politicians move to sidestep court rulings and Charter protections whenever they obstruct political objectives — whether that’s targeting the unhoused, trans rights, labour rights or now criminal sentencing.

One media commentator accused the Supreme Court of trying to “help” sex offenders, while Manitoba Premier Wab Kinew declared offenders should be “buried underneath prisons.” His reaction echoes last year’s episode in which he apologized for his caucus’s move to expel Mark Wasyliw — a criminal defence lawyer and NDP member of provincial parliament — after Wasyliw’s colleague, Gerri Wiebe, represented convicted sex offender Peter Nygard.

What the court actually did

In her seminal 1984 essay “Thinking Sex,” queer theorist and scholar Gayle Rubin observed that few political tactics are as effective at generating moral panic as invoking the need to “protect children.”

That remains true today, in part because voices across the political spectrum are vulnerable to the same knee-jerk, sensationalized responses whenever sexual harm involving children is at issue.

While the furious response to Senneville shows Canada in the grip of a new moral panic, the Supreme Court’s decision to strike down mandatory minimums for child pornography offences reflects constitutional fidelity — not leniency.

The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms must apply to everyone if it’s to have any meaning at all. Section 12 of the Charter, in fact, guarantees that everyone has the right not to be subjected to cruel or unusual punishment.

Generally, mandatory minimums are constitutionally suspect, since they remove judicial discretion in sentencing based on the evidence and the specific situation at hand, and infringe upon the legal doctrine of stare decisis that requires precedence be followed.

In Senneville, the court held that mandatory minimums violate Section 12 Charter rights because they prevent judges from imposing proportionate, individualized sentences based on the facts of the case. The court also noted that Section 12 acknowledges innate human dignity and the inherent worth of individuals.

Proportionality, the Supreme Court emphasized, is a constitutional limit on state punishment, not a discretionary preference. At no point did the court diminish the gravity of child exploitation; on the contrary, it devoted an entire section in its ruling to detailing the profound harm caused by these offences.

This is consistent with the similar R. v. Friesen ruling in 2020, when the Supreme Court reaffirmed that the seriousness of child pornography does not erase the need for principled, proportionate sentencing. To cast this careful reasoning as “helping” sex offenders is not only wrong, it distorts the role of sentencing in a constitutional democracy and diminishes justice and rehabilitation in favour of punishment for its own sake.

A ‘flimsy’ hypothetical isn’t flimsy at all

An overlooked part of the majority decision in Senneville is that the appellants (the Attorney General of Québec) did not argue that, if the mandatory minimums were found to infringe the Charter’s Section 12, those minimums could be saved by Section 1.

Section 1 of the Charter guarantees that rights and freedoms are protected, but allows for “reasonable limits” that can be demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society.

This section gives governments the power to override Charter rights and freedoms when they can justify limiting them — most often in the name of protecting the rights and freedoms of others. Historically, this is what has made obscenity and hate speech laws constitutionally valid.

Many commentators claimed the Supreme Court relied on a “flimsy” and “far-fetched” hypothetical of an 18-year-old who receives an intimate image of a 17-year-old girl from a friend as one example of why the mandatory minimum sentences violate Section 12 of the Charter.

But there is nothing flimsy about this scenario. Canadian criminal justice scholars ranging from Alexa Dodge to Lara Karaian and Dillon Brady have shown that peer-based image-sharing among youth is common, and that criminal law routinely miscasts such behaviour through the lens of child porn, casting ordinary sexual expression as exploitation.

Karaian, in particular, shows how moral panic over “sexting” has long cast teenagers — especially girls — as simultaneously lacking agency and being responsible. This framing has helped create a legal landscape in which consensual, near-age image sharing is reinterpreted as criminal behaviour.

Familiar outrage

Since their introduction in 1993, Canada’s child-pornography laws have been criticized as overly broad.

One of the first tests came in the Eli Langer case, when police raided a Toronto art gallery and seized works — an early alarm bell about the law’s sweeping reach and capacity to criminalize artistic expression unconnected to exploitation.

The Supreme Court confronted these issues directly in the 2001 case R. v. Sharpe _[2001], ruling that existing child-pornography laws ensnared materials that posed no realistic risk of harm, including fictional writings and drawings. The court also carved out narrow exceptions to prevent criminalizing constitutionally protected expression.

---

Read more:
Why Canada’s Supreme Court isn’t likely to go rogue like its U.S. counterpart

---

Canadian law professor Brenda Cossman observed that moral panic around child pornography shields the law “from any and all criticism” to the point that: “Nothing can be said. And if it is, the speaker is denounced as a pedophile.”

The Senneville case reflects the realities of life, not some abstraction — and definitely not the carceral mindset that sees harsh punishment as moral and treats empathy as a weakness.

To normalize overriding Charter rights using the notwithstanding clause erodes not only public trust in judicial independence, but also the very rights and freedoms it enshrines.

The outrage of Poilievre, Smith, Ford and Kinew serves to assert their own moral authority and to repeat a familiar message: only incarceration protects the innocent. But if Canada is serious about keeping children safe, it must also invest in the social services, education and community supports that prevent harm.

As the Supreme Court itself reminded us in its ruling: “Criminal justice responses alone cannot solve the problem of sexual violence against children.”

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. Reality check: The Supreme Court actually did the right thing in its child pornography ruling – https://theconversation.com/reality-check-the-supreme-court-actually-did-the-right-thing-in-its-child-pornography-ruling-270014

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Giselle Thompson, Assistant Professor, Faculty of Education, University of Alberta

The devastation in Jamaica caused by Hurricane Melissa exposed a harsh reality that’s been hidden in plain sight for decades — most schools were not structurally sound enough to sustain high winds, heavy rainfall and storm-surge flooding.

Almost 800 government schools were designated as community shelters before Hurricane Melissa descended. More than 600 were damaged when the hurricane hit. Roofs were blown off. Walls collapsed. Windows broke. Debris scattered everywhere.

Citizens found themselves in “shelters” that could not protect them from the elements and for this reason have had to find alternative living arrangements.

As education researchers based in the Jamaican diaspora whose combined work has examined the Jamaican education system, we are deeply concerned about the future of Jamaica’s schools and their ability to not only serve students and teachers — but to be safe havens in natural disasters.

These thoughts came to mind as we watched reels of footage of Hurricane Melissa’s destruction on social media with feelings of helplessness and regret.

Personal exchanges with friends, research collaborators and family members — who are fortunate to have electricity, cellular service or access to WiFi — told us about harrowing experiences on the ground, especially in communities in western and southern parishes such as Hanover, Westmoreland, St. James and St. Elizabeth.

Principals raise red flags

Previous research carried out by Giselle Thompson, the lead author of this story, has examined education spending in Jamaica and how members of the Jamaican diaspora in Canada support schools “back home” through formal and informal fundraising initiatives.

This research was undertaken in partnership with a primary school community, including the principal, teachers, students, families and neighbours in Hanover. They welcomed Giselle to work with them as a supply teacher, recess monitor and in other supportive roles they needed in 2018.

Being immersed in their everyday, under-resourced environment and having one-on-one conversations with them forged lasting personal and professional bonds that form the foundation of current research. It also offered insight into the structural inequities and related vulnerabilities inherent in the Jamaican school system.

At a media briefing before Hurricane Melissa struck, Jamaica’s minister of local government and community development criticized schools that were designated emergency shelters for electing not to open to the public.

But in June 2025, the Jamaica Gleaner reported that some principals raised concerns about the schools, saying they lacked adequate sanitation facilities, weren’t furnished with items that people would need in a shelter or were in need of repair.

These issues were recently echoed in a conversation with a Jamaican principal and research collaborator on Giselle’s current research project, funded by Social Sciences and Humanities Council of Canada and Killam Trusts. The study involves three public primary schools in Hanover and Westmoreland and examines Afro-Jamaican women teachers’ care work in these rural areas.

The principal noted her concerns were ignored when she brought them to the attention of personnel from the Office of Disaster Preparedness and Emergency Management (ODPEM) when her school was assessed and put on the emergency shelter list before the hurricane. Ninety per cent of ODPEM-designated shelters were schools, and close to 78 per cent of them were destroyed.

She also said the expectations of school staff during sheltering periods were unclear, and she was worried about the implications of leaving schools with scant resources unlocked without oversight.

Given the extensive and likely irreparable damages to her school, her decision to keep its doors closed may have been a life-saving move.

An account like this stands in contrast with the Ministry of Education, Skills, Youth and Information’s announcement that it had “taken deliberate and comprehensive steps to ensure the resilience of the education sector” and that the school “facilities are prepared for what is forecast to be an active hurricane season.”

Structural vulnerabilities

Approximately $5.5 million (J$628 million) was spent to prepare 204 schools for hurricane season in the 2025-26 academic year after Hurricane Beryl, a Category 4 storm, damaged 101 institutions in 2024.

This injection of capital was part of a more than $50 million (J$5 billion) government infrastructure preparation project for Hurricane Melissa’s descent.

Although not all schools were damaged in the hurricane, the high percentage of those impacted is a cause for concern. But the structural vulnerability of many Jamaican schools to the effects of climate change is nothing new.

---

Read more:
COP30: Pacific leaders now have world court backing to call countries to account over climate risk

---

It is directly linked to decades of under-resourcing, particularly in the “era of structural adjustment” (1977 to present) as the state has had to adopt severe austerity measures imposed by the International Monetary Fund and other international financial institutions to reduce its spending on public goods such as education.

Such fiscal belt-tightening is meant to help Jamaica and other heavily indebted countries placate their debt to external creditors. But this economic growth formula is seldom associated with social development.

The cost of inflation and the forced devaluation of the Jamaican dollar — additional austerity measures required by international financial institutions — have reduced government capacity to adequately resource school infrastructure.

Jamaica Teachers’ Association advocacy

Since 1977, the year that structural adjustment programs took root in Jamaica, education spending has fluctuated between five and six per cent of the country’s GDP. However, many stakeholders, including the Jamaica Teachers’ Association (JTA), have been vocal about the negative implications of inadequate spending on education for several years.

In 2024, the JTA president said such low spending puts the nation “woefully” behind. Much needed physical infrastructure and maintenance (and, we might add, books and other learning materials, nutritional programs and transportation) have lagged as a result.

It’s therefore not difficult to comprehend why the scale of Hurricane Melissa’s assault on schools was so significant.

Casting a hopeful vision

Through our ongoing engagements in Jamaica as scholars, educators, activists and community members, we have borne witness to, and are involved in, ongoing efforts to support numerous aged, decrepit and crumbling school structures, which are the result of the state’s neglect and weather systems that are growing increasingly harsh.

We write with hope for the future, one that includes new ecologically resilient schools for teaching and learning and where community members can shelter safely when natural disasters hit. This is essential because Jamaica, and the wider Caribbean region, is susceptible not only to hurricanes, but also floods, landslides, earthquakes and other hazards.

Yet we are not optimistic that the state alone can effect necessary changes because of its heavily indebted status, and therefore, relatively weak capacity.

---

Read more:
4 urgent lessons for Jamaica from Puerto Rico’s troubled hurricane recovery – and how the Jamaican diaspora could help after Melissa

---

Although not an explicit admission, the creation of the National Education Trust in 2010 to raise funds and resources for schools, demonstrates this. The state has already begun its official solicitation of support from the international community.

But as members of the Jamaican diaspora in Canada, we urge others in our communities who are interested in supporting the reconstruction of schools in Jamaica to engage with principals, teachers, students and local community members directly so they are able to convey their institutions’ immediate and long-term needs.

This will increase the efficacy of our support and strengthen our ability to work together as Jamaicans at home and abroad.

Giselle Thompson received funding from the Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC) and the Killam Trusts. She is affiliated with the not-for-profit organization, World Class Jamaica.

Meshia Brown 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. Weak infrastructure leaves Jamaican schools devastated in the aftermath of Hurricane Melissa – https://theconversation.com/weak-infrastructure-leaves-jamaican-schools-devastated-in-the-aftermath-of-hurricane-melissa-269783

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Oriane Couchoux, Assistant Professor of Accounting, Carleton University

Mothers aren’t just losing the income, promotions and career advancements that we’ve known about for quite some time. They’re also quietly spending their own money, absorbing more day-to-day costs and making financial sacrifices that place them at a long-term disadvantage.

We already knew about the impact of motherhood on women’s income. A 2015 study by Statistics Canada shows that mothers earn 85 cents for every dollar earned by fathers. Ten years after the birth of their first child, mothers’ earnings are still around 34.3 per cent lower than they would have been without children.

But our research also reveals that women’s relationship with money is rewired with motherhood and that having children changes their financial decisions and spending habits.

Study participants describe two competing narratives when discussing their personal finances. On the one hand, they view motherhood as a financial project they must manage independently, within the limits of budgets and cost-benefit considerations. On the other hand, they also see motherhood as a role that requires financial sacrifice, where children’s needs and well-being take priority over all financial considerations.

The true cost of motherhood

Motherhood comes with a price. Studies have shown that becoming a mother negatively affects women’s finances and career.

Some research suggests that among other changes, their colleagues might start to perceive their competence and commitment to their professional work less favourably. Mothers also face intensified work-life balance pressures, often leading to part-time employment.

Women are 19 times more likely than men to cite “caring for children” as the primary reason for working part-time.

But beyond the well-documented motherhood penalty — the name given by social scientists to this phenomenon of workplace disadvantages — and the impact of motherhood on women’s income, our qualitative study reveals that motherhood alters the relationship women have with money.

We interviewed mothers living in the Canadian province of Québec to better understand how they manage their finances after having children, and found that motherhood reshapes how mothers spend and think about money.

When asked about how they manage expenses related to their children, participants in our study said they feel they must navigate competing societal expectations that drive them to juggle two narratives — seeing the financial aspect of motherhood as, one, a project to manage, and, two, as a sacrifice to make for their children.

Taking on the role of financial strategist

Mothers, on one hand, strive to be autonomous financial managers capable of developing financial strategies and making decisions considered economically responsible for their families.

As a study participant described:

“Everything goes through my account, I manage everything. I like it that way too. I’m a very meticulous person […] I like to be in control of the budget.”

This leads them to create “baby budgets,” tracking and comparing the prices of different diaper brands in spreadsheets, or setting up savings strategies for their children’s potential future education.

This vision of themselves as independent financial managers, coupled with their desire to fully take on the financial responsibilities of having children, sometimes leads participants in our study to shoulder certain child-related expenses on their own without sharing full details with their co-parent or asking the co-parent to contribute to everyday costs such as food, clothing or family activities.

Another person in the study explained:

“I know that I buy more things for the children. I put them on my card so I know that there are more expenses that I incur as extras … But, at the same time, that’s what I like. I love shopping for them. It’s a gift for me too. But sometimes, I find it a little annoying. I really devote myself a lot to the family, buying things for the house, the family.”

The cultural script of maternal self-sacrifice

Mothers also see themselves as the primary caregivers responsible for making financial sacrifices for their children.

Within this narrative, participants in our study tend to believe that being a good mother means putting their children first, doing everything possible to ensure their happiness and well-being and not tracking the time and money they devote.

As another shared:

“That’s what being a good mom is all about […] you can’t count that. You don’t count the time, being present, taking care of them, the activities, the clothes, everything. You don’t count the expenses, you’re the person they go to.”

This can lead mothers, for example, to put their children’s future ahead of their own, prioritizing education savings or splurging on non-essential items they believe will make their children happy over their own retirement.

This view of motherhood that normalizes financial sacrifice also appears in mothers’ reluctance to calculate the full cost of raising their children and the overall impact of these expenses on their own financial situation, as if determining the amount of money spent on a child were somehow incompatible with the maternal ideal of selfless devotion.

Gender inequality’s long-term financial fallout

This shift in women’s financial perspective highlights some factors behind the persistent gaps between women’s and men’s personal finances. In Canada, the gender pension gap is at about 17 per cent, meaning that “for every dollar of retirement income men receive, women get only 83 cents”.

The additional mental load carried by mothers doesn’t just cost them time and energy, it takes a real toll on their budgets too.

In fact, financial burdens can fall unevenly within couples and between co-parents. Many participants said that they focus on shouldering the financial responsibilities of motherhood independently, no matter the impact on their finances or the contribution from the other parent.

Over time, all of this can contribute to reduced savings and lowered retirement security for mothers, reinforcing the disparities in wealth accumulation and the gender pension between men and women.

Our findings highlight that the true cost of motherhood goes beyond what meets the eye and the need for a broader recognition of the financial labour that mothers bear. We, as a society, must better support them.

Oriane Couchoux received funding from the Canadian Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council and the Centre for Research on Inclusion at Work (CRIW) at the Sprott School of Business, Carleton University, Canada.

Gabrielle Patry-Beaudoin received funding from the Canadian Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council and the Centre for Research on Inclusion at Work (CRIW) at the Sprott School of Business, Carleton University, Canada.

– ref. Motherhood changes how women spend, save and think about money – https://theconversation.com/motherhood-changes-how-women-spend-save-and-think-about-money-268737

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Alison McAfee, Postdoctoral Fellow, Applied Ecology, University of British Columbia; North Carolina State University

When the results of the Canada’s national honey bee colony loss survey were published in July 2025, they came as no surprise. According to the Canadian Association of Professional Apiculturists, an estimated 36 per cent of Canada’s 830,000 honey bee colonies had perished over the winter.

These figures used to make headlines. But after almost two decades of the same story ― colonies dying in the winter, beekeepers struggling to rebuild, somewhat succeeding, rinse and repeat ― the sad statistics are no longer news, and we are still working out why the cycle persists.

Now, we might be having a light-bulb moment. My colleague Abigail Chapman and I recently found that queen honey bees are infected with viruses that compromise their fertility and may get them ousted from their colonies. And that’s meaningful, because “poor queens” is the top-ranked cause of colony losses reported by Canadian beekeepers.

The life of a queen

A typical honey bee colony has a single queen at the helm, and she is solely responsible for laying thousands of eggs per day ― more than her own body weight ― to grow and replenish the colony’s population for years.

A healthy, productive queen also secretes pheromones that, like a chemical bouquet, signal her quality to the workers (sterile females who make up most of the colony’s population).

The queen cannot afford to get sick. She already barely has time to sleep, and the colony depends on her to remain reproductive. But she may indeed become sick.

Queen “autopsies” point to viruses

Our surveys of queens from members of the British Columbia Bee Breeders’ Association showed that “failing” (poor quality, unproductive) queens had a higher viral burden than their healthy counterparts. That is, they were either infected with more viruses, had more intense infections, or both. The failing queens also had smaller ovaries, a sign they could be less fertile.

But this doesn’t necessarily mean that viruses were the culprit or that queens were sick, per se. They could have been failing for other reasons that also made them more susceptible to infection.

So, Chapman designed an experiment to take a closer look. She infected queens with two common honey bee viruses, then measured the queens’ egg-laying activity and the mass of their ovaries.

Not only did the infected queens lay fewer eggs per day, they were less likely to lay eggs at all when compared with controls, at least during the monitoring period, despite all queens laying normally before the experiment. When we saw that the infected queens also had shrunken ovaries, just like the queens supplied by B.C. beekeepers, we knew we were onto something.

In the apiary, too, infected queens had problems. The worse a queen’s infection was, the more likely her workers were to begin rearing a replacement ― a process known as “supersedure.” If the upcoming replacement queen reaches adulthood, she will normally duel any other queen to the death, mate and become the new conveyor of eggs.

The workers’ dilemma

Superseding colonies are over three times more likely to perish when compared with healthy colonies, in part because there is no guarantee that the new queen will successfully mate. But from the workers’ perspective, supersedure is a necessary risk. If the old queen is compromised, producing a new one is the colony’s best chance at survival.

Normally, the queen produces and secretes a retinue pheromone — a blend of at least nine different chemical components — that, among other functions, inhibits workers from replacing her if all is well. But if one or more of those cues is disrupted by a viral infection, that could act like a red flag, we reasoned, signalling to the workers that the queen can’t lay her weight.

Our new data shows that this is the very process underlying the workers’ drive to replace infected queens. The infections caused a deficiency in methyl oleate ― one flower in the queen’s bouquet. This change encourages the workers to begin raising a new queen.

From beekeeper to queenkeeper

This validates beekeepers’ reports of having “queen issues” when infection levels are high and supports murmurs of queens not lasting as long as they used to. There are many other reasons why a queen may sputter, including pesticide exposure, extreme temperatures, poor mating and more. But viruses are a universal problem, and we did not previously understand the extent to which they could compromise queens.

Now that we do, colonies can be managed differently to better support the queen. There are currently no treatment options for honey bee viruses and there is a real need for commercial products, but luckily, there is still a way to act. Viruses are spread and sometimes amplified by varroa, a parasitic mite that can thankfully be controlled.

---

Read more:
Deadlier than varroa, a new honey-bee parasite is spreading around the world

---

Varroa treatments ― which must be conducted two to three times per year to keep colonies alive ― already keep beekeepers up at night. Some may want to surrender at the thought of needing to be even more diligent.

But until an antiviral is developed and brought to market, stepping up varroa control is likely the best defence for keeping queens healthy and bringing down colony losses. Pollination of our fruits, nuts and seeds will depend on it.

Alison McAfee receives funding from Project Apis m. She is affiliated with the Canadian Association of Professional Apiculturists and the British Columbia Honey Producers’ Association.

– ref. Worker honey bees can sense infections in their queen, leading to revolt – https://theconversation.com/worker-honey-bees-can-sense-infections-in-their-queen-leading-to-revolt-269054

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By George S. Rigakos, Professor of the Political Economy of Policing, Carleton University

Baseball in Canada is thriving, from the grassroots to the professional level.

Recent Toronto Blue Jays viewership numbers have been extraordinary, youth participation continues to climb, elite player showcasing and recruiting is expanding — and a new 19U national championship has just been announced by Baseball Canada.

When I’m not researching or writing about policing and security — an area requiring reflection about the interplay of structures, power and bureaucracy — I devote my energies to doing my small part to help the state of baseball in Canada, both as general manager of the Carleton Ravens baseball team and as a researcher.

I helped found the Ottawa chapter of the Society for American Baseball Research, co-authored a peer-reviewed article for the Baseball Research Journal and have reflected on the state Canadian university baseball for the Canadian Baseball Network.

My research and experience points to an an unavoidable conclusion: university baseball in Canada is shaped less by a lack of interest than by a series of persistent organizational barriers.

Formal recognition lacking

To start, outside Ontario, no major university sport body formally recognizes baseball.

University teams in Atlantic and Western Canada operate only because coaches and students organize their own schedules, pay their own way and operate outside the formal sport-administration structure that supports varsity teams. The notable exception is the UBC Thunderbirds, who play in the U.S.-based National Association of Intercollegiate Athletics.

The bodies overseeing university sport in Western Canada, the Maritimes and Québec don’t sanction or host university baseball in any capacity.

A three-game season

While Ontario University Athletics (OUA) formally recognizes university baseball, the organization’s official university baseball schedule is woeful, consisting of three, maybe four games. Under the OUA structure, the only sanctioned competition is a single regional weekend in October, followed by an underwhelming two-game provincial championship for the four teams that win their regions. This represents the entire formal university baseball calendar in Ontario.

A team that doesn’t move past the regional stage, therefore, completes its entire OUA “season” in one weekend.

This would be extraordinary for any major sport, but it is especially remarkable in baseball: a game built around long schedules, repeat matchups and consequential sample sizes. The 20 or more games that teams actually do play in September and early October are not acknowledged by the OUA in any formal way.

There are no official standings, statistics, athlete profiles or an official league website. For most of the fall, university baseball effectively takes place outside the provincial athletic system.

Held together by volunteers

Because the OUA acknowledges only a small fraction of the schedule, coaches organize every game, secure fields, arrange umpires, co-ordinate travel and compile statistics that are published by yet another savvy volunteer.

Some programs receive modest institutional support; most rely on player fees. Some Ontario universities treat baseball as varsity sport while most classify it as a “club” or “varsity club.”

By contrast, for student athletes participating in the three other major Canadian sports — hockey, football and basketball — established provincial and national structures provide visibility, scheduling and predictable competitive pathways.

Baseball’s exclusion from the varsity system in Ontario and its complete absence from university athletics bodies in the remainder of the country simply does not square with fan interest and participation.

Despite its tremendous popularity, baseball has been treated as the odd man out.

Baseball athlete exodus

This structural absence contributes to the large number of athletes who leave the country to pursue collegiate competition. According to data compiled by the Canadian Baseball Network for 2025, 1,187 Canadian baseball players are currently competing at U.S. colleges across NCAA, NAIA and junior college levels.

To put this into some perspective, Canadian collegiate baseball rosters typically carry about 25 to 30 athletes. The Canadians now playing south of the border therefore represent approximately 45 fully rostered university and college baseball teams.

Even if only a small fraction of these players remained in Canada, it would dramatically expand the competitive landscape and provide enough depth for a robust college and university system. As I wrote this article, there were only 26 recognized university programs competing in Canada.

The cost of this exodus is not merely athletic. Canadian colleges and universities are currently facing a serious financial crisis.

Assuming an average annual undergraduate tuition of $7,573 per year, the Canadian student-athletes now playing baseball at U.S. colleges represent up to $36 million dollars in foregone four-year domestic tuition revenue alone.

This is not simply a story of elite prospects seeking professional opportunities. Many players leave because there is no structured, visible or reliable university baseball pathway at home.

A dead zone

Even so, the experience of university baseball is meaningful to those who play.

Coaches, managers and other volunteers record results, manage schedules and transform the fall season into consequential competition, counting the results toward qualification for a grassroots championship involving teams from Ontario, Québec and the Maritimes.

The broader problem is institutional. Public interest is high, youth development is strong and the talent exists in abundance. University baseball in Canada is active, committed and culturally meaningful — but left outside the structures that ordinarily support and sustain collective achievement, it struggles to thrive.

In sociological terms, it operates in a state once described by the late, great social anthropologist David Graeber: a “dead zone.”

For Graeber, a “dead zone” is fostered when a system creates obstacles that frustrate and silence people, effectively making them unseen. Often these zones operate outside formal rules, and are dependent on unpaid labour. As a consequence, they’re prone to crises and collapse.

How could this change?

Despite the apparent fragility of the current system, change would be neither complicated nor costly. Indeed, as we have noted, a “rogue” national championship already exists.

In late October, coaches from Ontario, Québec, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia organize their own Canadian “national” tournament, selecting teams, setting the schedule and administering the entire event.

Teams from Alberta and B.C. compete in the Canadian College Baseball Conference with a different calendar. A fuller national tournament — a “Canadian University World Series” — could incorporate these teams, even by using final placement from the previous year as a qualifier if necessary.

In a 2019 research paper, statistics student Mitchell Thompson and I explored the utility of a simple mathematical model used in NCAA baseball to determine “at-large” qualifiers and seeding for their College World Series.

We examined how useful the NCAA’s Ratings Percentage Index (RPI) would be for a potential Canadian University World Series, which would see teams across Canada compete for a national championship.

Nothing, of course, beats head-to-head qualifiers but most programs currently lack the resources for athletes and staff to travel on short notice. Any viable system will therefore have to respect limits of time, distance and funding.

But what’s missing is not data, talent or competitive interest. It’s a willingness by provincial sport organizations, Baseball Canada and, most importantly, universities to build and resource a structure that addresses their shared constraints.

At this point, even modest institutional co-ordination would move university baseball out of its current dead zone and into a system where student-athletes could be seen, recognized and supported.

George S. Rigakos is affiliated with the Carleton University Ravens baseball team but writes here as an independent researcher. His views are his own and do not represent Carleton University or Carleton University Athletics.

– ref. Baseball in Canada is thriving — but not on campus – https://theconversation.com/baseball-in-canada-is-thriving-but-not-on-campus-269785

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Simon Blanchette, Lecturer, Desautels Faculty of Management, McGill University

Artificial intelligence is fascinating, transformative and increasingly woven into how we learn, work and make decisions.

But for every example of innovation and efficiency — such as the custom AI assistant recently developed by an accounting professor at the Université du Québec à Montréal — there’s another that underscores the need for oversight, literacy and regulation that can keep pace with the technology and protect the public.

A recent case in Montréal illustrates this tension. A Québec man was fined $5,000 after submitting “cited expert quotes and jurisprudence that don’t exist” to defend himself in court. It was the first ruling of its kind in the province, though similar cases have occurred in other countries.

AI can democratize access to learning, knowledge and even justice. Yet without ethical guardrails, proper training, expertise and basic literacy, the very tools designed to empower people can just as easily undermine trust and backfire.

Why guardrails matter

Guardrails are the systems, norms and checks that ensure artificial intelligence is used safely, fairly and transparently. They allow innovation to flourish while preventing chaos and harm.

The European Union became the first major jurisdiction to adopt a comprehensive framework for regulating AI with the EU Artificial Intelligence Act, which came into force in August 2024. The law divides AI systems into risk-based categories and rolls out rules in phases to give organizations time to prepare for compliance.

The act makes some uses of AI unacceptable. These include social scoring and real-time facial recognition in public spaces, which were banned in February.

High-risk AI used in critical areas like education, hiring, health care or policing will be subject to strict requirements. Starting in August 2026, these systems must meet standards for data quality, transparency and human oversight.

General-purpose AI models became subject to regulatory requirements in August 2025. Limited-risk systems, such as chatbots, must disclose that users are interacting with an algorithm.

The key principle is the higher the potential impact on rights or safety, the stronger the obligations. The goal is not to slow innovation, but to make it accountable.

Critically, the act also requires each EU member state to establish at least one operational regulatory sandbox. These are controlled frameworks where companies can develop, train and test AI systems under supervision before full deployment.

For small and medium-sized enterprises that lack resources for extensive compliance infrastructure, sandboxes provide a pathway to innovate while building capacity.

Canada is still catching up on AI

Canada has yet to establish a comprehensive legal framework for AI. The Artificial Intelligence and Data Act was introduced in 2022 as part of Bill C-27, a package known as the Digital Charter Implementation Act. It was meant to create a legal framework for responsible AI development, but the bill was never passed.

Canada now needs to act quickly to rectify this. This includes strengthening AI governance, investing in public and professional education and ensuring a diverse range of voices — educators, ethicists, labour experts and civil society — are involved in shaping AI legislation.

A phased approach similar to the EU’s framework could provide certainty while supporting innovation. The highest-risk applications would be banned immediately, while others face progressively stricter requirements, giving businesses time to adapt.

Regulatory sandboxes could help small and medium-sized enterprises innovate responsibly while building much needed capacity in the face of ongoing labour shortages.

The federal government recently launched the AI Strategy Task Force to help accelerate the country’s adoption of the technology. It is expected to deliver recommendations on competitiveness, productivity, education, labour and ethics in a matter of months.

But as several experts have pointed out, the task force is heavily weighted toward industry voices, risking a narrow view on AI’s societal impacts.

Guardrails alone aren’t enough

Regulations can set boundaries and protect people from harm, but guardrails alone aren’t enough. The other vital foundation of an ethical and inclusive AI society is literacy and skills development.

AI literacy underpins our ability to question AI tools and content, and it is fast becoming a basic requirement in most jobs.

Yet, nearly half of employees using AI tools at work received no training, and over one-third had only minimal guidance from their employers. Fewer than one in 10 small or medium-sized enterprises offer formal AI training programs.

As a result, adoption is happening informally and often without oversight, leaving workers and organizations exposed.

AI literacy operates on three levels. At its base, it means understanding what AI is, how it works and when to question its outputs, including awareness of bias, privacy and data sources. Mid-level literacy involves using generative tools such as ChatGPT or Copilot. At the top are advanced skills, where people design algorithms with fairness, transparency and accountability in mind.

Catching up on AI literacy means investing in upskilling and reskilling that combines critical thinking with hands-on AI use.

As a university lecturer, I often see AI framed mainly as a cheating risk, rather than as a tool students must learn to use responsibly. While it can certainly be misused, educators must protect academic integrity while preparing students to work alongside these systems.

Balancing innovation with responsibility

We cannot ban or ignore AI, but neither can we let the race for efficiency outpace our ability to manage its consequences or address questions of fairness, accountability and trust.

Skills development and guardrails must advance together. Canada needs diverse voices at the table, real investment to match its ambitions and strong accountability built into any AI laws, standards and protections.

More AI tools will be designed to support learning and work, and more costly mistakes will emerge from blind trust in systems we don’t fully understand. The question is not whether AI will proliferate, but whether we’ll build the guardrails and literacy necessary to accommodate it.

AI can become a complement to expertise, but it cannot be a replacement for it. As the technology evolves, so too must our capacity to understand it, question it and guide it toward public good.

We need to pair innovation with ethics, speed with reflection and excitement with education. Guardrails and skills development, including basic AI literacy, are not opposing forces; they are the two hands that will support progress.

Simon Blanchette 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. We can’t ban AI, but we can build the guardrails to prevent it from going off the tracks – https://theconversation.com/we-cant-ban-ai-but-we-can-build-the-guardrails-to-prevent-it-from-going-off-the-tracks-268172

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Juliano Palacios Abrantes, Postdoctoral researcher, Institute for the Oceans and Fisheries, University of British Columbia

This year’s COP30 comes after the international Agreement on Marine Biological Diversity of Areas beyond National Jurisdiction (BBNJ) finally acquired the required number of ratification votes by United Nations member states.

The treaty, effective from January 2026, is the first global agreement for marine areas beyond national jurisdictions, with a direct reference to climate change risks in its legal text. Its ratification comes at a crucial time for marine environments.

The momentum of COP30 and the BBNJ treaty creates a unique opportunity to further integrate the ocean, particularly the deep sea, into the climate agenda. By connecting the BBNJ under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea and the 2015 Paris Agreement, UN member states now have the tools to better conserve the deep sea’s biodiversity and its role in the global carbon cycle.

The deeps sea’s role in our climate

The deep sea (areas deeper than 200 metres) covers more than half our planet’s surface and accounts for over 90 per cent of the ocean’s volume. It is Earth’s largest long-term carbon sink.

Since the Industrial Revolution, the deep sea has absorbed roughly 30 per cent of human-caused carbon dioxide emissions and about 90 per cent of excess heat, significantly slowing warming and buffering the planet against even more catastrophic impacts.

The deep sea stores 50 times more carbon than the atmosphere and 20 times more than all terrestrial plants and soils combined. It helps regulate the Earth’s climate and its importance in fighting climate change is immense, stretching from pole to pole.

The polar regions support essential climate functions. The Southern Ocean around Antarctica absorbs approximately 40 per cent of the global oceanic uptake of human-generated carbon. The opposite pole, the Arctic Ocean, is facing some of the most immediate threats from climate change.

---

Read more:
A walk across Alaska’s Arctic sea ice brings to life the losses that appear in climate data

---

Against this backdrop, COP30 is hosting an unprecedented number of Indigenous people, with around 3,000 participants. Inuit, Sámi, Athabaskan, Aleut, Yupiit and other Arctic and global Indigenous leaders are voicing the need for climate policy to reflect local knowledge, rights and values in line with claims by Arctic states to sovereignty and stewardship.

However, discontent exists given the lack of representation of Indigenous people in COP30 negotiations. More than 70,000 people participated in the parallel People’s Summit which produced the Declaration of the Peoples’ Summit towards COP30. The declaration calls for more equitable solutions to climate change that include Indigenous and other communities.

Indigenous Peoples already co-create scientific management of marine protected areas, such as the Primnoa resedaeformis coral habitats and glass sponge reefs in Nova Scotia. However, more efforts are needed to reach the 30×30 target to designate 30 per cent of the Earth’s land and oceans as protected areas and achieve the goals of the Paris Climate Agreement.

Closing the ocean gap

Recent sessions of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) have focused on co-ordination across major international agreements like the BBNJ. These sessions, along with the latest vulnerability assessments from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change and UNFCCC’s Ocean Climate Change Dialogues, have urged parties to align ocean actions with climate commitments and close measurement and reporting gaps.

In the summer of 2024, Brazil and France started the Blue NDC Challenge, encouraging countries to include ocean-based climate solutions in their National Determined Contributions (NDCs) and National Adaptation Plans.

The UNFCCC requires NDCs to increase carbon uptake rather than historical storage to mitigate. Carbon uptake is the process, activity or mechanism by which natural sinks remove CO2 from the atmosphere. On the other hand, National Adaption Plans may protect deep-sea ecosystems and their biological pump roles.

While recent syntheses show that about 75 per cent (97 out of 130 coastal states that have submitted their NDCs) of UN member states now reference marine and coastal actions in their NDCs, the formal mechanisms for implementing adaptation efforts that include the ocean are lagging behind.

Of the roughly 100 climate indicators being considered at COP30 to monitor the progress of the Paris Agreement’s global goal on adaptation, only 14 include marine or ocean dimensions, with the majority focusing on coasts or shallow waters.

Although those with marine dimensions could be extended to include the deep sea, a persistent omission of deep-sea ecosystems risks undermining both mitigation and adaptation goals. While the final indicators are yet to be determined, it’s critical to ensure that deep-sea ecosystems are explicitly incorporated.

The global stocktake — the Paris Agreement’s process to evaluate the world’s climate action progress — determines if countries are meeting goals and identifies gaps. The stocktake must also identify the deep ocean and deep-sea life specifically, and elaborate on appropriate ocean-based climate actions, comparable to elaborations on the need to halt and reverse deforestation and forest degradation.

Supporting the Paris Agreement

Emerging activities, misguidingly branded as helping the energy transition — like deep-sea mining — further threaten oceans by causing irreparable damage to the sea floor and in the water column.

Geoengineering technologies to remove excess CO₂ from the atmosphere are so far costly and ineffective, but may be necessary to meet the Paris Agreement’s 1.5 C target. However, marine-based technologies may disrupt seafloor habitats, alter ocean chemistry and disrupt the natural carbon cycle in unpredictable ways.

The largest uncertainties in future climate projections stem from potential changes in ocean circulation and biological activity that could reduce the ocean sink efficiency. Even if emissions are stopped, a substantial fraction (20 to 40 per cent in some models) of emitted CO₂ will remain in the atmosphere for a millennium or longer, persisting until slow geological processes complete the sequestration.

If deep-sea carbon sinks were to weaken due to these climate-induced changes, CO₂ would accumulate faster in the atmosphere, making the 1.5 target significantly more difficult to achieve. Therefore, the deep ocean’s capacity determines the long-term fate of CO₂ and the ultimate success of the Paris Agreement’s targets.

Acting without a precautionary approach and failing to incorporate Indigenous values could further damage marine ecosystems and increase inequalities. In addition, failing to establish appropriate protocols for research ethics, project implementation and scientific assessments could result in negative outcomes in terms of CO₂ sequestration.

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. The deep sea and the Arctic must be included in efforts to tackle climate change – https://theconversation.com/the-deep-sea-and-the-arctic-must-be-included-in-efforts-to-tackle-climate-change-269581

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Regan Lipes, Assistant Professor of Comparative Literature and English, MacEwan University

As an assistant professor of comparative literature, when I ask undergraduate students how they define “Canadian literature,” I get half-hearted answers about it encompassing anything inherently Canadian. They don’t, however, specify which language, if any, they believe Canadian literature must be written in.

I specifically ask this question because — although I teach in an anglophone environment — just as Canadian identities are multilingual, so too is the literature that tells Canada’s stories.

Defining a national literary canon can be complex. But literature written in any language can be Canadian when the experiences it describes are grounded in the realities of life in Canada.

Yiddish literature, though often overlooked, is an example that offers essential Canadian stories that broaden the national canon.

Reflecting multilayered identities

In my literary trends and traditions class, I teach the short story collection Natasha And Other Stories by Canadian author David Bezmozgis. Bezmozgis’s six English-language stories about a young Soviet-born, Russian-speaking, Latvian-Jewish immigrant to Toronto chronicle the gradual cultivation of a Canadian identity.

Students have a much easier time seeing the work of Bezmozgis as Canadian literature, despite the diversity of multilayered cultural influences, because it was written in English. To them, it’s more accessible.

I follow my first question with another: can Canadian literature be written in Yiddish?

This is usually answered with noncommittal shrugs. Some students are unsure whether Yiddish is still a functioning language and are surprised to learn it is the mother tongue of daily life in many communities globally, with 41,000 speakers residing in Canada.

Yiddish, traditionally spoken by Eastern and Central European Jews before the Second World War, has also experienced a renaissance because of growing appreciation for its evocative flair among contemporary culture connoisseurs.

My students were skeptical when I tell them we are going to read Canadian literature that had been translated from Yiddish. I introduce them to Jewish-Canadian writer Chava Rosenfarb, who was recognized by the University of Lethbridge with an honorary doctorate in 2006 for her literary achievements.

Born in Łódź, Poland, in 1923, Rosenfarb has become a core literary figure for the city because of her three-volume novel Tree of Life chronicling the conditions of perpetual struggle in the Łódź Ghetto. In 2023, a street in Łódź, was named after Rosenfarb, underscoring her importance in the Polish literary sphere.

But outside of Yiddish circles in Canada, her poetry and prose were not widely associated with the country’s literary canon for a long time.

Yiddish literature is Canadian

Though Rosenfarb spent most of her adult life in Canada, raising a family in Montréal, it is only in recent years that she is being appreciated for her significant contribution to Canadian literature. Even though it may have limited her audience, she predominantly published her work in Yiddish because it remained the language in which she felt most artistically at home.

Although Rosenfarb’s individual stories have been previously published in Yiddish literary magazines and in separate translations, it was not until In the Land of The Postscript: The Complete Short Stories of Chava Rosenfarb came out in 2023 that we had the author’s short fiction in a single volume for the first time.

Chava Rosenfarb’s daughter, Dr. Goldie Morgentaler — professor emerita at the University of Lethbridge who was honoured with a Canadian Jewish Literary Award for her translation work from Yiddish to English — translated the collection unifying the text with an insightful and synthesizing forward. She finally brought her mother’s short fiction, about the lives of Holocaust survivors rebuilding lives in Montréal, to anglophone audiences.

Rosenfarb’s stories in the collection tackle the philosophical and existential quandaries of the universal human experience, but with a recognizably Canadian backdrop. Her characters grapple with the obstacles of immigration and ongoing displacement while simultaneously navigating the legacy of their Holocaust trauma. The resettlement of survivors contributed significantly to Canadian Jewish culture, and the impact is still present today.

As Morgentaler notes, it is the ever-visible silhouette of Mount Royal in Montréal that reminds Edgia, the title character of “Edgia’s Revenge,” that as a Jew, she is always under the watchful gaze of the dominant Christian power structure. When Lolek, Edgia’s husband, later dies, it is a set of spiral wooden stairs characteristic of Montréal architecture that are to blame for his fall.

These are distinctly local, Montréal-rooted elements of Rosenfarb’s storytelling, and are immediately familiar to readers. Despite being written in Yiddish, these are Canadian stories that depict the lived experiences of a generation of traumatized newcomers.

Translation supports Canadian narratives

A nation’s literature used to be tied to language, but this can no longer be the narrow criterion for defining a canon. Migration, both voluntary and resulting from forcible displacement, has diversified and enriched the chorus of voices that narrate the stories of Canada. And translation makes it possible to appreciate Canadian literature in its diversity of voices.

Despite having written her short fiction in Yiddish, Rosenfarb’s work tells Canadian stories that provide a valuable glimpse into a chapter of the national narrative seldom explored.

After exposing my students to Rosenfarb’s short fiction, I ask them again whether they consider literature written in languages other than those officially recognized by the Canadian government as belonging to the genre of Canadian literature. And without exception, they agree their perspective has changed.

This marks a point in literary studies where scholars are moving past the traditional paradigm of examining national literature through the lens of national languages.

And the growing literary canon is not only stronger for it, it better reflects the country’s cultural reality.

Regan Lipes 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. What Yiddish literature reveals about Canada’s diverse canon and multilingual identity – https://theconversation.com/what-yiddish-literature-reveals-about-canadas-diverse-canon-and-multilingual-identity-267190