Category: The Conversation – Canada

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Jamaica Cass, Director, Queen’s-Weeneebayko Health Education Partnership, Queen’s University, Ontario

If Canada is serious about reconciliation, it must change how it trains health professionals. Right now, too few Indigenous doctors, nurses and other providers are working in communities that need them most. And too often, students learn about Indigenous health in ways that are optional, inconsistent or not led by Indigenous educators.

That’s where Indigenous-led health education comes in. When Indigenous communities shape how health professionals are trained, it supports a path toward trust, equity and a health system that finally reflects the people it serves.

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Indigenous community research partnerships can help address health inequities

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As an Indigenous physician and medical educator practising in Tyendinaga Mohawk Territory, I know firsthand the challenges and the possibilities of this work. I am the first Indigenous woman in Canada to pursue both medicine and a PhD, a journey shaped as much by systemic barriers as by the support of my family and community.

Today, I practise primary care in my home community while helping to shape health education nationally, including via a new Queen’s University partnership program in Western James Bay, Ontario — the Queen’s–Weeneebayko Health Education Program on the traditional territory of the Moose Cree First Nation (Treaty 9).

Seeing the gaps in care in my own clinic, and working with students eager to change the system, informs my commitment to Indigenous-led education as the most direct path to reconciliation in health.

10 years after the TRC: promises vs. reality

It has been a decade since the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) released its Final Report. The Assembly of First Nations reports that of the 94 Calls to Action, only 14 have been fully implemented.

Two of them, No. 23 and No. 24, speak directly to health care: train and retain more Indigenous health professionals, and make sure all students learn about Indigenous health and the legacy of residential schools.

These aren’t symbolic. They are practical steps that would improve care and save lives. But progress has been slow. Indigenous professionals remain underrepresented, and cultural safety training is too often patchy or optional.

Indigenous-focused health education

A new national report from the Conference Board of Canada confirms what Indigenous leaders have been saying: reconciliation won’t happen unless Indigenous Peoples lead — in education, governance and workforce planning. Token gestures aren’t enough.

The report, Answering the Call: Strategies to Increase the Number of Indigenous Physicians in Canada, notes that “Indigenous students, especially in rural and remote areas, often lack career guidance and a culturally relevant curriculum, leading to lower graduation rates and fewer pathways to medical education.”

While systemic challenges persist, there are powerful examples across Canada that share the common goal of making sure Indigenous students can succeed in health education, and ensuring communities benefit from culturally safe, long-term providers.

The Queen’s–Weeneebayko program I’m directing is building a new health sciences Campus in Moosonee, Ont. Students from the Hudson and James Bay region — including from Moosonee, Fort Albany, Attawapiskat, Moose Factory, Kashechewan and Peawanuck — will be recruited locally, trained in Moosonee and supported to stay serving their home communities.

This partnership, including the Weeneebayko Area Health Authority(WAHA), Queen’s University and the Mastercard Foundation, integrates local Indigenous knowledge and ways of knowing (for example, through Cree language, land-based learning and cultural safety) alongside biomedical science.

Indigenous leadership is embedded at every level — from community knowledge keepers and local education and health-care champions guiding what is taught and how to WAHA operating governance and mentorship frameworks rooted in local culture. I am the inaugural director.

Fostering culturally safe health care

Other programs across the country share the common goal of making sure Indigenous students can succeed in health education, and ensuring communities benefit from culturally safe, long-term providers.

For example:

• At the University of British Columbia, the Northern and Rural MD Pathway is a distinct admissions stream designed to attract applicants with rural, remote northern or Indigenous community connections — or those passionate about serving such communities — by incorporating a rural and remote suitability Score (RRSS) and early rural placements to support rural and remote training and practice.

• The University of Manitoba’s Mahkwa omushki kiim: Pathway to Indigenous Nursing Education (PINE) supports First Nations, Inuit and Métis students from start to finish. By combining academic help with cultural programming and community connection, it has the goal of boosting retention as it prepares more Indigenous nurses for practice.

Programs like these are concerned with helping whole communities gain consistent, trusted health care. And when trust grows, so does the likelihood that people will seek care early — improving outcomes for everyone.

Beyond such programs, system-wide change is needed to ensure Indigenous learners are supported at every stage, and to support viable pathways to medical training in rural and remote areas.

System-wide changes needed

Indigenous students face:

• Financial challenges that place professional programs out of reach.

• A lack of affordable housing when they move to cities for education.

• Underfunded K–12 schools that leave them less prepared for competitive admissions.

• Racism and isolation once they enter professional programs.

Location also matters. Research shows that students trained in rural or remote areas are far more likely to practise there after graduation.

For Indigenous students, viable pathways to practising medicine are even stronger when training is grounded in community values and led by Indigenous educators.

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Read more:
Want to decolonize education? Where classes are held matters

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Why this is reconciliation in action

Reconciliation is not just about apologies or ceremonies. It’s about real, structural change. In health care, that means:

• Who delivers the care: building a stronger Indigenous health workforce.

• Whose knowledge counts: recognizing Indigenous knowledge alongside Western medicine.

• Who makes decisions: ensuring Indigenous voices lead the design and governance of health programs.

Indigenous-led health education tackles all three. It brings reconciliation down from the level of promises and into the day-to-day realities of patients, providers and communities.

The way forward

Ten years after the TRC, Canadians are right to ask whether reconciliation is real. The answer depends on whether we support Indigenous-led programs — not as small pilots, but as long-term, fully resourced commitments.

The initiatives described here show what’s possible. They are different in scope, but each demonstrates that Indigenous self-determination in health education is not only achievable, it’s already happening.

The next step is clear: supporting Indigenous-led education so that reconciliation moves from promise to practice in communities nationwide.

Jamaica Cass works for Queen’s University. She receives funding from the National Circle on Indigenous Medical Education, the CPFC and the CMA. She is a board member of the Indigenous Physicians’ Association of Canada and the Medical Council of Canada.

– ref. How Indigenous-led health education in remote communities can make reconciliation real – https://theconversation.com/how-indigenous-led-health-education-in-remote-communities-can-make-reconciliation-real-264562

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Douglas A. Stuart, Assistant Teaching Professor of Accounting, Gustavson School of Business, University of Victoria

United States President Donald Trump is, once again, suggesting eliminating quarterly reporting for American public companies in favour of just two earnings reports per year. Trump made a similar proposal during his first presidential term in 2018.

Quarterly reporting is the practice by which publicly traded companies provide financial updates every three months. These reports are meant to give investors, regulators and other stakeholders information about a company’s financial performance.

In a social media post, Trump said such a move “will save money and allow managers to focus on properly running their companies.”

The U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) is prioritizing Trump’s proposal. The SEC studied the issue in 2018 and held a roundtable but did not move forward with rule changes.

Canadian public companies also report quarterly, while other markets, including the European Union, have adopted a six-month reporting model.

Researchers have studied reporting frequency for decades, and the scientific evidence shows the thinking behind eliminating quarterly reports is not cut-and-dried.

Quarterly reporting as a monitoring tool

Quarterly reporting is expensive. Employees’ time, executive review, board oversight and investment in reporting systems add up. Cutting external quarterly reporting could free up a company’s internal resources and remove administrative red tape.

Even so, some companies report every three months without being required to. Preparation costs increase, but so does corporate accountability. In terms of agency theory, shareholders (the principals) can more closely monitor the behaviour of executives (the agents).

Executives are expected to represent shareholders, but their priorities do not always align. Corporate executives may, for example, reject profitable investments due to their risk tolerance or overspend on travel and leisure items.

With quarterly reporting gone, the potential for these “agency costs” may increase as misaligned managerial actions go unnoticed. Shareholders use accounting reports to check up on executive decisions and hold them accountable.

Importantly, even if semiannual reporting becomes the baseline for public companies, banks may still ask for more frequent results in loan agreements.

Quarterly reporting for investment decisions

If regulators drop quarterly reporting, investors and the public could lose out.

Many investors have a limited sense of how a business is performing. They may live half a globe away and never set foot in the company’s offices. Because of this, investors generally have access to less information than internal employees, managers and executives do. This is called “information asymmetry.”

Investors, regulators and the public depend on corporate financial reporting to fill in these information gaps. If quarterly reporting mandates were removed, they might be left in the dark. Investment decisions might be less informed, although news releases and disclosures online could still be found. Corporate transparency and accountability might be reduced.

On the other hand, quarterly reporting is not a cure-all. Analysts might under-react to earnings reports, leading to delays. Or they may overreact, causing unwarranted fluctuations in investment prices. Investors are human and are subject to shortcomings like overconfidence and the fear of missing out.

Short-term versus long-term decisions

While quarterly reporting can be seen as a compliance activity, like filing taxes or acquiring a business licence, it can also be framed as a structure for decision-making.

Quarterly reporting incentivizes executives to focus on short-term financial performance, potentially at the expense of long-term results. Researchers call this “short-termism.”

Researchers have found that short-termism is not limited to managers and might stem from investors looking for quick profits. Investors may, directly or indirectly, influence the kinds of projects managers invest in. Managers may get financial bonuses based on quarterly earnings to align their goals with shareholder aims.

Short-term decisions are frequently tactical rather than strategic, meaning they may prioritize current earnings over long-term corporate sustainability and resilience.

For example, managers might invest in carbon-intensive projects that pay back quickly, rejecting more sustainable projects with a longer return horizon, like energy efficiency. For this reason, some sustainability advocates support Trump’s initiative.

While some firms measure their performance along social and environmental lines, in addition to financial earnings, profits are often the focus of quarterly earnings calls.

Not one-size-fits-all

Quarterly reporting may affect small and large firms differently. Smaller firms may take a financial hit: on average, small firms in Singapore experienced a five per cent drop in market value when they were required to report quarterly in 2003.

However, larger firms may find that the benefits of prompt, high-quality information outweigh the costs of frequent reporting. Managers, executives and board members rely on accounting reports to show whether the firm is on track to meet its goals.

Furthermore, larger firms document industry conditions and future risks and opportunities in their accounting reports. Smaller firms in the same industry can look at this information for guidance. These are called “positive information spillovers.” Smaller firms may lose this information if larger firms file reports less often.

Information spillovers, however, can be a double-edged sword. Information may be taken out of context or applied to smaller firms incorrectly. At times, this may lead to temporarily poorly priced investments.

Treading carefully

We don’t know, yet, what the SEC will decide. If changes are to come, they should be made carefully and phased in. Pilot studies would give policymakers and researchers a chance to observe effects in real time.

Quarterly reporting mandates on the Vienna Stock Exchange were phased out between 2015 and 2019. Some companies continued to file quarterly financial results while others stopped. Firms used the increased flexibility to adjust the content of their reports, making them more relevant to their stakeholders.

Research shows corporate reporting frequency is a complicated topic. Switching from quarterly to semiannual reporting may have merit, but as with any decision affecting a wide range of stakeholders, a broader, global perspective highlights what some stand to lose and what others stand to gain.

Douglas A. Stuart 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. Trump renews push to end quarterly reporting — here’s what that would mean – https://theconversation.com/trump-renews-push-to-end-quarterly-reporting-heres-what-that-would-mean-265458

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Kyle Rich, Associate Professor of Sport Management, Brock University

We are at a pivotal time for sport in Canada.

In August, Sport Canada released a National Sport Policy to guide sport in the country for the next decade. Through language such as “barrier-free sport” and recognition of “spaces and places” required to participate, the federal government signalled a broader approach to addressing sport participation that will impact more than just the sport clubs that have traditionally delivered sport programs.

Since 2020, a series of high-profile cases of harassment and abuse in hockey, swimming, gymnastics and other sports raised questions about safety. This was epitomized by Hockey Canada’s sexual assault scandal.

In 2023, advocates called on the federal government to launch a public inquiry into sport. Instead, the government chose to investigate through a Future of Sport in Canada Commission.

That commission recently released preliminary findings and recommendations. Importantly, the commission took a broad scope, considering not only abuse and harassment but also the broader structures and politics that shape the Canadian sport delivery system. Last week, the commission held a summit in Ottawa to discuss its findings and recommendations with survivors and stakeholders from across the country.

The decisions made by policymakers in the coming months and years could change the landscape of sport in important ways. But the sport system is shaped by long-standing rules, traditions and organizations that are deeply entrenched, making meaningful change difficult.

Collectively, our research has examined sport policy and governance in different parts of Canada since the formalization of federal sport policy in 2002. Some of us were also consulted by the Future of Sport Commission and participated in the summit.

In our current work, we are mapping the role of provincial and territorial governments in sport policy. Through this work, we’ve observed changes in sport policy across Canada, and we have thought a lot about what works and what doesn’t in different jurisdictions.

Key challenges in sport

The Future of Sport Commission highlighted some key issues within Canadian sport and made sweeping recommendations. These include a need for a new funding model for sport, alignment of policy across all levels of government, amalgamating sport organizations and the creation of a new centralized sport entity to oversee sport governance.

Many of these, however, have been noted by scholars and advocates for some time. While the goal of changing the sport system for the better is well-intentioned, it will not be an easy task. Here are a few reasons why.

Amateur sport programs and organizations in Canada remain largely volunteer run. These organizations have ingrained social and political practices and low capacity for change. In this context, governments and national and provincial/territorial sport organizations can lay out an amazing suite of policies and programs, but those delivering sport in communities may not take them up.

Simultaneously, public infrastructure for sport is aging, and municipalities and school boards are unable or unwilling to support increased demand. This has a negative impact on sport clubs that rely on this support.

Without meaningful changes to the environments that support clubs, they simply won’t be able to adapt initiatives to create safe environments or more welcoming spaces for new and existing members. In order to improve access to safe and healthy sport participation opportunities, provincial and municipal governments also need to be invested in these policy goals.

A rise of private equity investment is also impacting the Canadian sport landscape. We are in danger of losing youth sport to large commercial conglomerates, which could change how sports are accessed.

While commercial clubs can excel at offering high-performance training experiences, they are costly for participants and can segregate access to training and facilities based on an athlete’s income rather than their talent or potential.

Furthermore, commercial clubs can be unsanctioned and operate outside of established governance systems. If sport continues to be commercialized, it will only be accessible for those who can afford to pay, which will exacerbate existing inequities. And a rise in unsanctioned clubs will prevent attempts to foster safe sport environments through governance reforms from working.

Why change is difficult

As highlighted by the commission, change will be difficult, and requires time, investment and concerted effort. Change is particularly complicated in sport, as organizations at all levels work under the auspices of international organizations that operate with an unusual amount of autonomy.

This means that sport organizations in Canada may be faced with multiple and competing ideas about how they should operate, and what they can afford, now and in the future.

Change will not be easy. It will require buy-in and alignment of policy from all orders of government. Change will be particularly difficult for organizations that are struggling to recruit and retain volunteer coaches and board members. In those cases, it’s easier to focus on the status quo than to change.

Furthermore, public opinion and social norms about sport needs to keep pace with change. Canadians across the country need to think about what they want sport to do for their communities and themselves, and how they want sport to achieve those goals.

The Canadian government has repeatedly used sports imagery like “elbows up” recently in light of tariffs from the United States. Based on the commission’s recommendations, the federal government has an opportunity to show that kind of leadership by investing in change so the sport system works for all Canadians.

Kyle Rich receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

Audrey R. Giles receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

Jonathon Edwards receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

Larena Hoeber receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

– ref. The Canadian government must take action following future of sport commission – https://theconversation.com/the-canadian-government-must-take-action-following-future-of-sport-commission-264103

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Aya Aboelenien, Associate Professor of Marketing, HEC Montréal

When we think about morality, we usually focus on actions: is this act morally right or wrong? But increasingly, these kinds of debates involve the morality of everyday objects, like plastic bottles, smartphones or even the the food on our plates.

Our research shows that objects themselves can not only carry moral weight, but that these judgments can change over time. Take tattoos, for instance. Have you ever considered if having tattoos is considered moral, immoral or simply amoral?

In our recent research, we demonstrate how mainstream societal sentiments for tattoos have changed throughout history. We conducted a meta-synthesis of existing studies to develop a framework for understanding how moral attributions in markets are shaped.

Our findings show that shared moral sentiments toward objects, products or services are neither fixed nor are universally shared. By “objects,” we mean products and services that people might use, consume or embody due to moral associations, like plastic bags, tattoos, fur clothing or diamond jewellery.

The shifting moral landscape of tattoos

In early societies, tattoos were not stigmatized, but they were used to mark identity, social belonging or spiritual protection. This is still an ongoing sentiment in some cultures, including Kurds, Inuit and some Indigenous groups in the Philippines.

In the 19th century, tattoos started to have divergent moral meanings, including negative ones, depending on the context. For sailors, they were a mark of their sea adventures or the lands they conquered. For people in the periphery of the Global North, they were symbols of non-conformity.

Since then, the moral judgments of tattoos have fluctuated between being seen moral or immoral across time and place. Tattoos were seen as signs of bravery and remembrance for Second World War soldiers, yet in other contexts, they were associated with criminality or gang affiliation.

These changes happen through complex social processes that involve social entities with differing capacities: individuals, groups (like unions or consumer collectives) and organizations (like churches or governments). We call this process “marketplace moralization,” which produces what we call “marketplace moral sentiments.”

Not always black-and-white

Marketplace moral sentiments are not always black-and-white, but also can be in-between, debated and negotiated, such as in the case of meat consumption. While vegans consider it immoral to consume meat, other groups might consider it morally neutral or even necessary for cultural or health reasons.

To understand how these moral debates unfold, we used actor-network-theory — which involves the translation stages of problematization, enrolment, interessement and mobilization — to map the stages of marketplace moralization. In plain terms, these stages include raising an issue, persuading others and organizing support.

If successful, a new collective moral sentiment forms. For example, a new consensus about the necessity of eating animal protein can shift nutrition guidelines to advocate for more plant-based protein.

If unsuccessful, however, the old sentiment remains dominant. This means the object’s moral status remains contested and subject to further negotiation.

Outcomes of marketplace moralization

Our research found marketplace moralization can produce one of four outcomes. Sometimes an object can achieve “harmonized moral sentiment,” where nearly everyone agrees it is moral or immoral. Donating to charity, for example, is widely recognized as morally good. It is supported by your social network, and rewarded by government policies such as tax deductions.

Other times, an object can have a “divided moral sentiment,” with different groups holding opposing views. Some Hummer owners, for instance, moralize the purchase of their vehicles by arguing that it is an expression of individual freedom and rights or that it is a necessity for safer trips, while others condemn them as wasteful or environmentally harmful.

In some cases, moral sentiments are dispersed: a few people may challenge a widely held view but lack broad support. Early critics of bullfighting in Spain, for instance, spoke out against a deeply cherished cultural practice.

Finally, organizations can impose moral views on people through regulations or policies. In this case, individuals and groups are forced to conform even if they privately disagree, such as mask and vaccine mandates during COVID-19.

Why does this matter?

Markets are not just settings for economic exchange; they are also about values and moralized emotions. Large-scale issues like climate change, racism, animal rights or gender equality show how morality and markets are tied together.

Brands often leverage existing moral sentiments by supporting social movements or by promoting eco-friendly products. By doing this, they are also inserting themselves into moralized debates and negotiations.

For example, cosmetics retailer Lush closed its United Kingdom stores on Sept. 3, and shops in the Republic of Ireland on Sept. 4, as a gesture of solidarity with Palestine. The company is also selling watermelon-shaped soap to raise money for medical services in Gaza as part of its Giving Products collection.

More recently, concerns about environmental, cognitive and other ethical issues surrounding generative artificial intelligence have prompted criticism of companies seeking to integrate AI into their products or processes.

These examples illustrate why it is crucial to understand the fluidity of moral judgments about objects, rather than assuming objects have inherent or immutable moral value.

For individuals, this understanding can help contextualize moral disputes and allow them to see that disagreements over objects are not always rooted in absolute moral truths, but often in differing cultural, social and historical perspectives.

For managers and business leaders, it allows a more deliberate application of moral claims — like sustainable, green or cruelty-free — to their products or services while contextualizing them.

And lastly, for policymakers, it allows them to create better policies by monitoring public sentiments on complex issues such as gun ownership, food policy and technology.

Aya Aboelenien receives funding from the Social Science and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) of Canada.

Zeynep Arsel receives funding from Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC)

– ref. From tattoos to plastic bottles, here’s how society assigns moral values to everyday things – https://theconversation.com/from-tattoos-to-plastic-bottles-heres-how-society-assigns-moral-values-to-everyday-things-264657

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By David Welch, Professor, Political Science; Research Chair, University of Waterloo

An independent international commission of inquiry appointed by the United Nations Human Rights Council has released a report saying that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza.

Daniel Meron, Israel’s ambassador to the UN in Geneva, immediately dismissed the report for “promot[ing] a narrative serving Hamas and its supporters in attempting to delegitimize and demonize the state of Israel.” The report, he said, “falsely accuses Israel of genocidal intent, an allegation it cannot substantiate.”

Let’s imagine that there was no such thing as the legal definition of the crime of genocide. What would be left of the report? A gruesome, horrifying, utterly damning catalogue of Israeli war crimes and crimes against humanity.

According to the 1948 UN Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide:

“Genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such: (a) Killing members of the group; (b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; (c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part; (d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group; (e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.”

The prohibition of genocide is what is known in public international law as a peremptory (jus cogens) norm, meaning that it allows for no exceptions. It is one of a handful of jus cogens norms that include prohibitions on slavery, torture, war crimes and crimes against humanity. These are the worst of the worst, legally speaking, none lesser or greater than another.

How genocide is distinct

The crime of genocide stands out from other jus cogens violations in two ways, however — one legal and one sociological.

The legal difference is that genocide is the only jus cogens violation that requires proof of intent (mens rea, “guilty mind”). All the rest require nothing more than proof of a deed (actus reus, “guilty act”).

The sociological difference is that public opinion has come to regard genocide as somehow particularly important. If a state commits atrocities, it is for some reason unsatisfying today to call them crimes against humanity. There is seemingly a palpable urge to label it genocide.

In addition, the public understanding of genocide is much less restrictive than the legal one. The public feels that intent can be presumed and need not be proven, and that members of almost any group can qualify as victims. Sexual and gender minorities are not a protected group under the 1948 convention, for example, and yet it is not unusual to hear about the “genocide of gay people.”

Inviting quibbles and deflection

The UN report will be welcomed by all who understand Israel as guilty of the sociological version of the crime of genocide, because it concludes that Israel is also guilty of the legal version.

But a careful reading of the report will show that it often leaps to conclusions about intentions, drawing from statements or actions that might actually have explanations other than genuinely genocidal intent.

Alternative possible explanations the report does not entertain include overly emotional language or rhetorical hyperbole by Israeli leaders in the immediate wake of Hamas’s attack on Oct. 7, 2023; actions undertaken in the fog of war; a misplaced sense of military necessity; or even callous or reckless indifference to Palestinian suffering.

Such explanations, if true, would not be excuses. But they are not the same as an intention to destroy the Palestinian people.

Does this mean that the report is wrong to conclude that Israel is guilty of the legal crime of genocide? Not necessarily. It means only that it left room to quibble and deflect attention from unquestionable crimes.

It also gave Meron an opportunity to try to change the channel and make the conversation about “a narrative serving Hamas” or an attempt to “delegitimize and demonize the state of Israel,” rather than children starving or being shot in the head.

A high bar

None of this would be the case if the crime of genocide had not been defined so narrowly in the first place.

To some extent, its narrowness was the result of its inspiration. The evidence of genocidal intent was clear and overwhelming in Nazi Germany. One reason why there have been so few convictions is that the specific case of the Holocaust both spurred the definition of the crime and set the evidentiary bar so high.

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Read more:
Why have so few atrocities ever been recognised as genocide?

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However, its narrowness is also the result of political manoeuvring during the negotiation of the convention itself.

Was there any good reason why sexual orientation or gender identity were not included as protected categories? None whatsoever, unless you just so happened to be a state that wanted to be left in peace to persecute sexual and gender minorities.

Why was the convention silent on cultural genocide, or on forced relocations of Indigenous Peoples to reservations? Perhaps because certain powerful countries had embarrassing histories that they did not want to see criminalized.

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Read more:
Ignore debaters and denialists, Canada’s treatment of Indigenous Peoples fits the definition of genocide

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Conduct vs. intent

Perhaps the biggest error was insisting upon “intent to destroy.” Why not simply go with targeting, or disproportionately impacting, members of a particular group?

As the UN report demonstrates, it’s easy to show conduct (actus reus), but typically very difficult to prove intent (mens rea). Removing intent would have made genocide a subset of crimes against humanity rather than a separate crime. But so what?

Ultimately, none of this should matter. We should not need the word “genocide” to galvanize action to stop the horrors unfolding in Gaza. They are crimes enough in and of themselves — as were the horrors in Cambodia, Bosnia, Rwanda and so many other places — and they should be the sole focus of our attention.

David Welch 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. Imagine a world without genocide – https://theconversation.com/imagine-a-world-without-genocide-265535

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By David Philpott, Professor, Special Education, Memorial University of Newfoundland

In 2025, the rapid rise of artificial intelligence access for the public at large also means growing concern about the mental health impact of screen time on children and their AI engagement.

Concerns encompass the harvesting of children’s personal data and children’s and teens’ vulnerability in dialogue with AI chatbots — some now in cuddly stuffed animals.

There are also risks that the promise of AI for learning and companionship could deprive children of the essential human relationships and hands-on play experiences that are foundational for their well-being and cognitive development.

AI is entering classrooms quickly, whether through children’s own AI use or lesson plans. The New York Times recently reported on an AI school in Texas that replaced teachers with “guides,” and AI-led lessons. Many apps, meanwhile, promise to diagnose, assess and “optimize” children’s learning.

As a researcher with expertise in how early education shapes children’s learning and developmental trajectories, and a retired practising psychotherapist, I amplify educator calls for caution. We need to regulate technologies and safeguard children’s privacy, especially considering the rapid rate that children adapt to technology.

72 million data points by age 13

In the transition back to fall routines, educators and parents concerned with the benefits of children’s active outdoor play for their well-being struggle to balance such play with the return to more sedentary and online routines.

A recent Organization for Economic Development Report entitled “How’s Life for Children in the Digital Age?” outlines the importance of a “four-pillar” approach to enhancing child well-being that involves parents and guardians, a legal and policy framework, teachers and schools and the voices of children themselves.

Concern over children’s mental health in the digital world is hardly new. Advocacy groups such as FairPlay for Kids and their 5 Rights Foundation have long pushed for stronger monitoring and regulation, urging tech companies to put children’s needs ahead of corporate profit.

They have amassed “overwhelming evidence” that child-targeted marketing, and the excessive screen time it fuels, undermines healthy development. By the time a child turns 13, technology companies may have already amassed up to 72 million data points on them — and there is virtually no regulation governing how that information is used.

OECD data shows that 70 per cent of 10-year-olds in developed countries own a smartphone, and by age 15, at least half of them spend 30 or more hours a week on their devices.

Called “persuasive design,” techniques like infinite scroll, autoplay, intermittent rewards and eye-catching design are used to hook children and keep them glued to screens, reshaping childhood.

From cognitive off-loading to emotional mining

AI, with its growing ability to “think” for us, is accelerating cognitive off-loading, outsourcing mental effort to machines. For young children whose neural pathways for reasoning are still forming, this is especially troubling. If for adults this sounds abstract, ask yourself how many phone numbers you can remember without your device.

What researchers call “emotional AI” goes even further, mining facial expressions, tone of voice, body language, text sentiment and even heart rate to engage children more deeply. The technology is increasingly built into smart toys, wearables and, perhaps most concerning, AI chatbots that children or teens turn to for comfort.

The stakes are high: without deliberate safeguards, we risk not just outsourcing children’s memory and reasoning, but compromising their opportunities to develop empathy and emotional resilience.

Policymakers’ lag on digital regulation

Researchers are increasingly recognizing the risk to student mental health, and there are growing calls for stronger oversight and regulation. In law, and with regulation and guidance in schools and in the home, student mental health and privacy protection should be prioritized.

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Read more:
Youth social media: Why proposed Ontario and federal legislation won’t fix harms related to data exploitation

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But policy experts note regulatory efforts in Canada related to youth and data exploitation are wanting.

The Liberal government’s proposed Bill C-63, the Online Harms Act, died with Parliament’s prorogation in 2025, and with it the promise of a Digital Safety Commission with the power to audit and penalize companies.

Calls have grown for the federal government to revisit the act again.

Privacy commissioner consultations

The Office of the Privacy Commissioner of Canada recently held consultations on the need for Canada to follow international trends in digital regulation, with the consultation window closing in mid-August.

Forty-one leading civil organizations, academic institutions and experts endorsed a joint statement outlining 15 principles for effective oversight, inspired by the United Kingdom’s age-appropriate design code. The top principle: the best interests of the child.

Some voices of children

But never underestimate a child. When social psychologist Jonathan Haidt, author of The Anxious Generation, and a team of researchers collaborated on a Harris Poll of more than 500 children between the ages of eight and 12 in the United States, they found something striking.

While most children said they weren’t allowed out in public alone, and more than half had never walked down a grocery aisle unaccompanied or used a sharp knife, their online use was remarkably unsupervised.

But when asked how they prefer to spend their leisure time, only a quarter mentioned their devices, favouring free play with their friends. Eighty-seven per cent of surveyed children said they wished they could spend more time with their friends in person outside of school.

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Raising independent and resilient children: Lessons from TVO’s ‘Old Enough!’ and the science of love

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Parents and educators are navigating a world where screens, algorithms and AI companions compete for children’s attention and shape their development.

In this context, the humble call from kids for more unstructured play with friends is not nostalgia; it’s a health intervention. Protecting that space may do more to safeguard their cognitive and emotional growth than any app, program or device ever could.

David Philpott 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. Children’s best interests should anchor Canada’s approach to their online privacy – https://theconversation.com/childrens-best-interests-should-anchor-canadas-approach-to-their-online-privacy-264963

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Darby M. Babin, PhD Candidate, L’Université d’Ottawa/University of Ottawa

Were you expecting Fit for TV: The Reality of the Biggest Loser to peel back the curtain and provide hard-hitting truths on what really happened on the show that captivated millions in its heyday?

Well, uh, fat chance.

Instead, the three-part Netflix documentary, released mid-August, seems to traffic in some of the same problematic aspects of the show that spurred the need for an exposé in the first place.

Best of intentions?

This purported tell-all documentary — billed as exposing the truth of The Biggest Loser — is a bit of a nothing burger. There is no groundbreaking admission from the producers of the reality show that it shamelessly exploited fat people.

Instead, viewers are told the show’s creators had only the best of intentions and that it was just an unfortunate accident that things got out of hand when the trainers — Jillian Michaels and Bob Harper — took their roles too seriously.

The focus, for example, shifts to Michaels’ alleged failings, like providing contestants with banned caffeine pills. Michaels has refuted those claims and threatened legal action against Netflix.

Dr. Robert Huizenga, the show’s medical director tasked with overseeing the contestants’ health and well-being, is cast as the embodiment of concern and the voice of reason. Michaels is portrayed as the main villain while Harper gets off relatively scot-free. To elicit sympathy for him, we are reminded of his heart attack — so out of character for such a fit guy, of course.

The fatphobia problem

This is the fatphobic myth: bad health happens only to bad (see: fat) people, like the ones who auditioned to appear on The Biggest Loser. People like Harper should be safe from illness because they have lived lives worshipping at the altar of the fitness goddesses.

All the tropes about fat people lacking will power and being “lazy” (a term loaded with ableism) coalesce in this two-hour watch.

A welcome breath of fresh air is provided by Aubrey Gordon, a razor-sharp fat activist who writes under the moniker, Your Fat Friend. Her thoughtful critique is accessible to viewers who are less familiar with fat studies. And with her first appearance, she reminds us that what the show markets as its inspirational ideology differs in practice both on screen and behind when she remarks: “I’ll tell you what I think the show thinks it’s about…”

Gordon also challenges The Biggest Loser‘s overarching message by highlighting Harper’s heart attack. She says: “It sort of punctures one of the main arguments of the show, ‘If you’re fat, you’re going to die.’ And if you exercise ‘correctly,’ as determined by Bob and Jillian, all of these health outcomes will be warded off.”

Gordon’s observations are as close as the series gets to truly examining the fatphobia at the heart of the reality show.

The racism problem

Joelle Gwynn, who joined the show with friend Carla Triplett in 2009, is the only person in the documentary to openly raise concerns about race. She mulls over feeling as though the producers and fellow contestants were trying to frame her as the “angry Black woman.”

The angry Black woman trope is tied to what race, gender and class scholar Patricia Hill Collins calls “controlling images” of Black women, in particular the Sapphire, the Mammy and the Jezebel. These images are intended to demean, dehumanize and punish Black women in the name of white supremacy. The angry Black woman is the Sapphire’s contemporary, described by The Jim Crow Museum as “rude, loud, malicious, stubborn and overbearing.”

Triplett was perceived as more committed and jovial. When the pair was eliminated, Triplett was offered apologies while Gwynn faced hostility.

Indeed, as the producers confirm on the documentary, they sought out people who were downtrodden. In executive producer JD Roth’s own words: “We were not looking for people who were overweight and happy. There’s a lot of ’em. That’s fine. We were looking for people who were overweight and unhappy.”

Gwynn was too willful, unwilling to accept the treatment that the show seemed to believe she deserved by virtue of her fat, Black body. During one of her interview segments in Fit for TV, Gwynn looks directly into the camera after she shares a difficult memory of Harper berating her and says: “Fuck you, Bob Harper.” Somebody had to say it.

Of course, fatphobia and racism are deeply intertwined. As Sabrina Strings explains in her book Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia, anti-fatness emerged through chattel slavery when colonizers realized they had fat bodies in common with those they enslaved. This similarity was incompatible with their beliefs about superiority, so they mobilized chattel slavery and eugenics to tie anti-fatness to Blackness.

The misogyny problem

Perhaps the most puzzling case is that of Tracey Yukich, who made a dramatic entrance in Season 8 when she collapsed during her first running challenge and was hospitalized and diagnosed with rhabdomyolysis (an injury where muscle tissue breaks down).

Yukich explains that the reason she was willing to push herself so hard was her belief that weight-loss would improve her abusive marriage. She shares that the infidelity and abuse in her relationship felt inseparable from her weight gain and that the show was her opportunity to turn things around.

It is difficult to watch as there is no onscreen evidence to suggest Yukich ever received support from anyone at The Biggest Loser about the abuse in her marriage.

For all the talk about health in the reality show, Yukich’s mental health didn’t seem a priority. Instead, the doctor acts as counsellor and encourages Yukich to use the show as a second chance. Unable to exercise, however, she followed in the footsteps of other contestants who reduced their caloric intake to 800 or less — in other words, starvation.

The individual problem

A hyper-focus on individual responsibility is embodied in the entrepreneurial contestants who jockeyed for a spot on the show. The promise of freedom from fat is intoxicating.

The collective fascination with weight loss under the contradictory “weight” of liberalism, as critical food scholars Julie Guthman and Melanie DuPuis so aptly put it, reminds us that we live in societies that exhort us to consume more and eat less.

This, Guthman and DuPuis argue, “produces contradictory impulses such that the neoliberal subject is emotionally compelled to participate in society as both out-of-control consumer and self-controlled subject.”

The Biggest Loser reflects this neoliberal paradox of consumption and restraint: contestants were berated during exercise and told to try harder, yet given temptation challenges with desirable foods that tested their ability to resist so-called bad eating habits.

Who is the biggest loser?

More than a decade later, viewers are left to wonder, in the age of wall-to-wall weight loss drugs such as Ozempic, have we really moved the needle?

Is it surprising that when we paused viewing, a Dairy Queen ad popped up beside the cover image of the documentary? Like The Biggest Loser, it seems society and entertainment industries, bolstered by advertising, want both our self-control and our consumption.

And if we fail to appreciate that the media spectacle of weight loss is as grotesque as the profits made from weight-loss products, then maybe “the biggest loser” is us.

Darby M. Babin receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada

Michael Orsini receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada

– ref. Is the ‘Biggest Loser’ documentary entangled in its own internalized fatphobia? – https://theconversation.com/is-the-biggest-loser-documentary-entangled-in-its-own-internalized-fatphobia-264752

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Donald Weaver, Professor of Chemistry and Senior Scientist of the Krembil Research Institute, University Health Network, University of Toronto

Alzheimer’s disease (AD) is on track to become one of the defining public health challenges of our time. Every three seconds, somewhere in the world, someone is diagnosed with dementia, and it’s usually Alzheimer’s disease.

Currently, approximately 50 million people worldwide have AD. By 2050, this number will exceed 130 million.

The human health and socioeconomic consequences of this are going to be immense. But perhaps it doesn’t have to be this way.

Preventing Alzheimer’s disease

A 2024 report from the influential Lancet Commission suggests that up to one-third of AD cases could be prevented simply by avoiding certain risk factors. These 14 modifiable risk factors encompass: traumatic brain injury, hypertension, depression, diabetes, smoking, obesity, high cholesterol levels, low physical activity levels, too much alcohol consumption, too little education, vision loss, hearing loss, social isolation and air pollution.

While this comprehensive list is rooted soundly in science, it’s not easy for members of the general public to monitor and manage 14 separate health targets — especially when prevention efforts need to start decades before symptoms appear.

This is a problem that needs addressing. Tackling this problem requires a prevention model that is simple and memorable — something the public can easily embrace, understand and follow.

There are successful examples that can serve as a template. Stroke prevention associations, for instance, have successfully adopted the FAST (Face, Arm, Speech, Time) mnemonic to teach stroke warning signs. AD prevention needs a FAST equivalent.

SHIELD (Sleep, Head Injury prevention, Exercise, Learning and Diet) may fill that role. SHIELD brings together the most significant, overlapping dementia risk factors into five core pillars, offering a clear and effective strategy for prevention.

Sleep

Sleep is a foundational element of SHIELD. Maintaining healthy sleep habits is a key protective factor against dementia. Adequate sleep supports brain function, memory, mood and learning.

Insufficient (less than five hours per night) or poor-quality sleep (frequent awakenings), especially in midlife, increases the risk of cognitive decline and dementia. Chronic poor sleep leads to build-up in the brain of amyloid-beta protein, which is implicated in the development of AD.

Poor sleep also increases the likelihood of obesity, high blood pressure and depression, all risk factors for AD. If you’re currently sleeping four to five hours per night, consider changing this habit to avoid increasing your risk for developing dementia in later life. Sleep is a vital tool for brain protection and AD prevention.

Head injury

Head injury prevention is, rather surprisingly, often overlooked in conversations about dementia. There are strong links between traumatic brain injuries, including concussions, and higher AD risk.

Such head injuries can occur in a wide variety of settings, not just professional sports. Intimate partner violence, for example, is unfortunately common in our society and is a frequent, but neglected, cause of head trauma.

Head injury prevention should start early and continue throughout life, as damage can accumulate over time. Broader safety measures (such as improved helmet designs, stronger concussion protocols in youth and adult sports and efforts to prevent head injuries in all settings) can play a significant role in protecting long-term brain health and avoiding AD.

Exercise

Exercise is perhaps the most powerful lifestyle habit for reducing the risk of AD. Exercise directly addresses multiple major risk factors, including obesity, high blood pressure, high cholesterol and depression. It also supports the growth of brain cells, memory and emotional health.

Despite this, physical inactivity remains common, especially in high-income countries, where it may contribute to as many as one in five AD cases. Exercise is not just “heart medicine,” but “brain medicine” too. Regular movement, even in small amounts, enables better brain aging and can help avoid AD.

Learning

Learning, both in and out of school, remains one of the strongest protective factors against dementia. Lower educational levels, such as not finishing secondary school, are linked to a significantly increased risk for dementia. Learning contributes to the brain’s “cognitive reserve,” which is the brain’s ability to function well despite damage or disease.

Individuals with AD maintained better mental function if they had continued learning throughout life. Public health messaging should promote life-long learning in all forms — from reading and language learning to engaging hobbies that keep the brain active. It’s never too early (or too late) to learn another language or to challenge your brain. Boosting your cognitive reserve boosts your brain against AD.

Diet

Diet also plays a major role in brain health and dementia prevention. No single food prevents dementia. Rather, a combination of nutrient-rich foods supports overall brain health. A healthy diet can lower dementia risk by emphasizing whole foods like fruits, vegetables, whole grains, nuts and fish, while restricting processed foods, red meat and sweets.

Adhering to dietary patterns like the Mediterranean diet has shown promising results in protecting against cognitive decline. The Mediterranean diet is a brain/heart-healthy eating style inspired by the traditional diets of people in countries bordering the Mediterranean Sea. It emphasizes plant-based foods with olive oil as the primary fat source, while limiting red meat, processed foods and added sugars.

What we eat influences brain inflammation and brain vascular health — all of which are increasingly tied to AD. A healthy diet shouldn’t feel restrictive or like a punishment for trying to improve brain health. Instead, it can be framed as a positive investment in long-term independence, clarity and energy.

By simplifying the science, the SHIELD framework offers a realistic and research-backed approach to brain health. Until a cure is discovered, prevention is the strongest tool. Concepts like SHIELD provide a starting point for achievable prevention.

Alzheimer’s disease should not be seen as inevitable. The statistic that there will be more than 130 million people with AD by 2050 must not be accepted as predestined. With the right decisions and actions, we can work towards AD prevention by protecting the minds and memories of millions.

Emma Twiss, a fourth year undergraduate student in Life Sciences at Queen’s University, co-authored this story.

Donald Weaver 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. SHIELD: A simple, memorable model to help prevent Alzheimer’s disease and dementia – https://theconversation.com/shield-a-simple-memorable-model-to-help-prevent-alzheimers-disease-and-dementia-265053

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Chris Arsenault, Chair of the Master of Media in Journalism and Communication Program (MMJC) and assistant professor of journalism, Western University

As climate change intensifies, companies and countries are attempting to build new low-carbon supply chains. From electric vehicles to solar panels and wind turbines, these technologies require vast amounts of critical minerals.

These are commodities such as cobalt, lithium and nickel, and also include a smaller set of 17 rare earth elements like dysprosium, neodymium, praseodymium and terbium.

Canada’s federal government, and provincial officials in Ontario, have pledged some of the biggest public subsidies to private companies in a generation — more than $43 billion — to create this new supply chain.

Plans for new mines in Northern Ontario’s “Ring of Fire” to extract critical minerals parallel billions in production subsidies to EV producers and related manufacturers in the province’s southern manufacturing heartland.

The idea is to supply southern factories with northern minerals. Instead of only exporting unrefined primary commodities like oil, copper or lumber, Canadian industry would also export high-value, renewable technology-related products.

In addition to promises around jobs, innovative industries and fighting climate change, politicians, business executives and military analysts frame the country’s critical minerals strategy around countering China’s dominance.

However, our new study identified several challenges to subsidizing supply chain integration in Canada.

Based on 20 interviews with government officials and industry leaders in Ontario’s critical minerals sector, and a review of existing literature, we identified challenges including: opposition to new mining and infrastructure projects, particularly from some Indigenous communities; some policymakers lacking understanding of the complexity of supply chains; slowing global EV demand and regional trade barriers at a time of uncertainty for the sector.

Processing: The weak link

First, there is a weak link in the planned supply chain: processing. Policymakers and average Canadian can picture a mine or an EV factory, business leaders said.

Understanding how to separate terbium, a rare earth element used to make stronger alloys for EVs, from mined stock is a more difficult process conducted in unassuming industrial parks. It doesn’t necessarily excite the public imagination.

This is not merely complicated chemistry. Processing and refining critical minerals is where China dominates, controlling about 90 per cent of the industry. Under the current plan, even if mines are built in Northern Ontario, the minerals would likely be sent to China to be processed and then shipped back, leaving manufacturers dependent on the Chinese.

As one long-time chemical processing executive said: “Governments have convoluted the resource sector, the stuff in the ground, the product in the end (EVs and related technologies) and forgotten this middle section” before adding “infrastructure isn’t sexy and [processing facilities] are weirdo infrastructure nobody sees.”

Companies in Canada or the United States, the executive said, don’t want to pay a premium for rare earths processed in Canada. China can do the work more cheaply.

Investments suspended and delayed

Second, many high-profile manufacturing projects have been shelved or suspended, despite billions in promised subsidies. Of eight major EV manufacturing plants in Ontario selected to receive a combined $43.6 billion in subsidies, five have suspended or delayed their activities, including the European firm Umicore’s planned $2.7 billion battery plant near Kingston, Stellantis’ EV jeep production in Brampton and GM’s EV van plant in Ingersoll, which halted then reduced production earlier this year.

Subsidies promised to these firms are far higher than what the companies themselves pledged to invest. Our analysis suggests pledged public subsidies for the eight renewable manufacturing projects, including money from the federal government and Ontario, are more than 13 per cent higher than what the companies themselves promised to spend from their own coffers.

This doesn’t seem like a good use of the public purse. Subsidies can certainly help spur growth in new industries if leveraged effectively: South Korea and Taiwan’s development from the 1960s illustrates this. But spending more public money than private companies themselves are willing to invest does not seem wise in the current trade climate, especially considering government deficits and the costs of financing them given high interest rates.

In fairness to provincial and federal officials, much of the pledged money has not left the treasury. A substantial portion of the promised funds are production subsidies for each car or battery produced.

The cancelled projects, and uncertainty over access to U.S. markets and EV sales in North America, are making companies skittish, subsidies be damned. Canada this month suspended its own planned EV mandate which would have required 20 per cent of all new vehicles sold here to be electric by next year.

Subsidies and the new mercantalism

Recent problems in the EV industry notwithstanding, the broader subsidy race to build out renewable energy supply chains, and the geopolitical scramble to control critical minerals, has a distinctly 19th century, neo-mercantalist vibe.

Hearkening back to the days of the British East India Company and gunboat diplomacy, corporations are working arm-in-arm with governments to advance commercial and military objectives. U.S. President Donald Trump has demanded Ukraine give American companies preferential access to the country’s vast critical minerals deposits in exchange for continued military aid amid the war with Russia.

China currently mines roughly 70 per cent of the world’s rare Earth elements, according to Canadian government data. More importantly, it processes nearly 90 per cent of the strategic commodities and also holds near processing monopolies for graphite (95 per cent), manganese (91 per cent), and cobalt (78 per cent).

China is not afraid to weaponize its control of rare earths, limiting access for U.S. companies following Trump’s tariff threats or temporarily cutting them off to Japan following a dispute over fishing and territorial rights in 2010.

“If China embargoed rare earths right now, that would put us out of business,” said one senior Ontario government official we interviewed. “They are a critical part of the supply chain.”

Against that backdrop, and threats against Canada from the Trump government, there is value in building coherent public policy around critical minerals.

However, following billions in pledged subsidies delivering mixed results, federal and provincial governments need to focus their limited financial firepower on what’s actually achievable. Developing the means to refine and process critical minerals extracted here would be a good first step.

Chris Arsenault has received funding from the Michener Awards Foundation under the 2025 Michener-L. Richard O’Hagan Fellowship for Journalism Education. His journalism has also been supported by The Pulitzer Center.

Philippe Le Billon receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

Raphael Deberdt 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 $43-billion subsidy scheme for critical minerals misses supply chain steps – https://theconversation.com/canadas-43-billion-subsidy-scheme-for-critical-minerals-misses-supply-chain-steps-264742

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By James Horncastle, Assistant Professor and Edward and Emily McWhinney Professor in International Relations, Simon Fraser University

Russian drones recently violated Polish and Romanian airspace.

These intrusions, whether intentional or not, caused Poland to shut down airports and both Polish and Romanian officials deployed their air forces. The Polish air force, ultimately, succeeded in downing 19 drones while Romania monitored but did not engage for fear of collateral damage.

The media focus in the aftermath of these incursions is on the political ramifications. Both Poland and Romania are NATO members, and Poland has invoked Article 4 of the NATO treaty. It’s one of only eight times a country has invoked it.

Article 4, the shortest of the NATO treaty’s 14 articles, states that:

“The Parties will consult together whenever, in the opinion of any of them, the territorial integrity, political independence or security of any of the Parties is threatened.”

‘Here we go!’

American President Donald Trump wrote about the incursions on social media: “What’s with Russia violating Poland’s airspace with drones? Here we go!”

This statement stoked hopes among Ukraine’s supporters that Trump would increase either his support for Ukraine or boost sanctions on Russia. Besides stating that he would impose harsh sanctions if NATO countries stop importing Russian oil, Trump has so far done nothing.

The political ramifications are important. Noted war theorist Carl von Clausewitz, after all, defined war as a political act.

What’s missing from recent analyses, however, is how Ukraine’s struggle over the last three years has yielded valuable lessons for Europe’s defence.

An ongoing peace

Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk, in the aftermath of the intrusion, declared in parliament that “this situation brings us the closest we have been to open conflict since World War Two.” Tusk’s statement highlighted the political significance of Russia’s actions and underscored the seriousness of the incident.

It also highlights how many European countries have had little engagement with direct conflict since the Second World War. There are notable exceptions to this point, specifically for the United Kingdom and France, but for many European countries, their engagement with war has been more theoretical and less practical.

Even in the case of the U.K. and France, military operations they’ve engaged in are not similar to those Ukraine faces against Russia. France and Britain have fought either insurgency campaigns or in wars against states that lacked their military capabilities, like Iraq.

These actions, while useful from a military standpoint, could be distorting perceptions about their capabilities when it comes to engaging against a competitor with similar military strength.

Fighting the ‘last war’

Militaries face a constant problem in their preparations as they determine what tools will be needed for the next war. This question is complex.

The interaction between new technologies and human beings can create unique dynamics that can alter the balance of warfare. Germany’s ability to combine radio, mobility and mission tactics in the form of the Panzer tank, for example, initially shifted the balance of the Second World War.

Some technologies, however, can end up being a proverbial dead end and cost a state significantly for no appreciable gain. Admiral John Fisher, the First Sea Lord of the British Royal Navy at the start of the 20th century, believed a vessel known as the battle cruiser would revolutionize warfare. Battle cruisers were ships with the weapons of a battleship and the armour and speed of a cruiser.

The concept of the battle cruiser, one that would outrun a battleship and destroy any lesser ship, was sound. Human nature and a lack of creativity, however, meant that British admirals frequently used them against battleships. Deploying battle cruisers against targets they were not designed to fight ended in tragedy.

The result of such deployments was disaster at the Battle of Jutland off the coast of Denmark in the First World War, and further calamity when the German battleship Bismarck sank the British battle cruiser HMS Hood during the Second World War.

In other words, armed forces can spend large sums of money on technological innovations and end up with no appreciable gain. In fact, a country can place itself at a distinct disadvantage if it invests incorrectly.

Finding the right tools and practices

Russia’s incursion into Polish and Romanian airspace has the potential to expose the vulnerability of both countries, and more broadly NATO as well. Although Poland succeeded in eliminating the drones, it needed to employ aircraft to do so. Ukraine’s experience demonstrates there are much cheaper and more efficient ways of eliminating enemy drones than employing expensive aircraft.

Ukraine continues to develop a multi-layered air defence system to protect its soldiers and civilians from Russia’s nightly drone bombardment.

These methods range from interceptor drones to electronic warfare jammers.

In the aftermath of Russia’s incursion into Poland, in fact, European nations are looking for guidance from Ukraine on practices and technology to combat drone attacks.

Dealing with drones in contemporary warfare is just one facet of what observers can learn from the enduring war in Ukraine. But there are other lessons that could have an even greater impact on what European countries should consider in their defence policies.

Learning from Ukraine

First among them is the importance of mass armies. Western military doctrine seeks to overcome the question of mass through technological innovations that promote manoeuvre on the battlefield to overcome larger armies.

But unfortunately, technological innovations in the war in Ukraine — whether they’ve involved drones or advanced sensors — have reinforced attrition versus the manoeuvre tactics favoured by western countries. In such a war the size of one’s army, and its capacity to produce munitions, are of paramount importance.

Second, the western experience of peace has distorted collective perceptions of war. Ukraine has shown us that disinformation campaigns, often considered a form of warfare by the West, are simply not on par with the destruction and harm a conventional war inflicts on people.

Western countries have spent too much energy preparing for disinformation campaigns and other forms of hybrid warfare versus the traditional-style war Ukraine faces against Russia.

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This distortion has contributed to the West’s slow response time in Ukraine. European states, three years after the current phase of the conflict, are still coming up short. Armaments production in the European Union is not sufficient to support Ukraine, let alone the continent’s needs.

Throughout its war with Russia, Ukraine is providing a formula: large armies and certain new technologies are what European and other states require for a contemporary war. The question remains, however, if these states will heed these lessons.

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 NATO could learn from Ukraine as it navigates Russian threats to European security – https://theconversation.com/what-nato-could-learn-from-ukraine-as-it-navigates-russian-threats-to-european-security-265347