Category: The Conversation – Canada

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Sylvain Amoros, Adjunct Professor, Department of Marketing, HEC Montréal

In early 2025, some of Canada’s largest banks — including those with the highest digital emissions and greatest responsibility — withdrew from the Net Zero Asset Managers Initiative.

These major institutions, with digital carbon footprints that are disproportionately large, cited regulatory complexity and competitive pressures for their departure. This move has intensified questions from investors, policymakers and the public about their commitment to sustainability.

At the same time, Bill C-59, adopted in late 2024, introduced new provisions under the Competition Act to strengthen accountability for greenwashing and misleading environmental claims.

The timing is striking: as Ottawa tightens disclosure rules, the same large banks that dominate digital emissions are stepping away from voluntary climate commitments. This tension between voluntary pledges and federal accountability underscores the growing pressure on financial institutions to prove — rather than simply promote — their environmental performance.

Digital carbon footprint

For decades, banks have presented themselves as leaders in sustainability through renewable energy financing and ambitious environmental, social and governance commitments. Yet their recent departure from climate coalitions — coupled with their outsized digital carbon footprints — represents an alarming reversal.

We recently conducted a study of the environmental impact of nine Canadian banks including the big five: CIBC, TD Bank, Scotiabank, Royal Bank of Canada and BMO. Our recent study sought to quantify banks’ environmental impact through their digital carbon footprint.

Banks are pillars of our economy and society, possessing both the power and responsibility to lead the transition toward a more sustainable economy. However, their recent withdrawal from the Net Zero Asset Managers Initiative, coupled with ongoing concerns about greenwashing, raises legitimate questions about their true commitment to sustainability.

In this context, our goal as researchers is to provide both bank clients and financial institutions with crucial information about their environmental impact. Understanding the environmental footprint of banks’ digital operations is essential, as this often-overlooked aspect constitutes a significant portion of their overall carbon footprint.

We analyzed public data from 2024 to measure the carbon impact of Canadian banks’ digital practices. Our study examined two main dimensions:

1) Website usage (the energy consumed by website loading, data transfers and hosting) and;

2) Traffic acquisition, which includes all marketing activities that bring visitors to these sites, such as email marketing, paid advertising search engine optimization and social media campaigns.

The objective was to compare carbon emissions among different banks, assess their efficiency per visit and provide transparent information to the public. By identifying the most polluting areas in digital operations, we provide recommendations for improvement.

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Read more:
Canadian financial institutions are fuelling the climate change crisis

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Social media activity

Our study uncovered significant findings about Canadian banks’ digital environmental impact. Most strikingly, we found a performance gap where the worst bank emits twice as much carbon per visitor as the best; just three banks account for two-thirds of total emissions.

To clarify, “traffic acquisition” refers to the process of attracting visitors to a website — whether through paid ads, organic search results, or social media content. Organic traffic comes from users who find a bank’s site naturally through search engines, social media or content marketing, while paid traffic is generated through advertising placements.

The data reveals that 77 per cent of digital emissions come from traffic acquisition versus only 23 per cent from website usage. Paid traffic drives 95 per cent of traffic emissions despite being a small fraction of total traffic, while organic traffic accounts for just five per cent of emissions.

Paid social media is particularly problematic — responsible for 58 per cent of emissions while generating only one per cent of total traffic.

In other words, social media ads are highly inefficient from a carbon perspective: a visitor coming from online advertising emits 418 times more carbon dioxide than one coming from organic sources.

These results expose online advertising — especially social media campaigns — as major hidden pollution sources.

A hidden source of pollution

These findings highlight how online advertising — particularly social media campaigns — can become a major source of digital pollution. The reality is clear: every click has a carbon cost.

Banks can improve their inbound marketing, meaning strategies that attract users organically through relevant content, search optimization and user experience improvements rather than through paid ads.

Transparency and sustainable digital practices are essential for greener banking — practices that reduce emissions without sacrificing innovation or competitiveness.

After withdrawing from the Net Zero Asset Managers Initiative and maintaining public net-zero commitments, many banks continue to generate significant emissions through their digital operations.

This raises a critical question for regulators, investors and consumers alike: will banks leverage their considerable resources to lead on sustainability, or continue to delay meaningful action?

Our next study will assess whether these institutions uphold their commitments or persist in their current practices, despite the escalating climate urgency.

Victor Prouteau, who at the time of this study was an M. Sc. student at HEC Montréal, co-authored this article.

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. Major Canadian banks’ digital emissions stay massive while they disclose less and less – https://theconversation.com/major-canadian-banks-digital-emissions-stay-massive-while-they-disclose-less-and-less-260768

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Mira Sucharov, Professor of Political Science, Carleton University

With antisemitism on the rise while Israeli-Palestinian relations remain at an historic low, one question that continues to dog public discourse is whether anti-Zionism is a form of antisemitism.

The stakes within the Jewish community have recently increased, with the issuing of a letter signed by more than 850 American rabbis and cantors opposing New York City mayoral frontrunner Zohran Mamdani due to his opposition to Zionism. The letter argues that anti-Zionism “encourage[s] and exacerbate[s] hostility toward Judaism and Jews.”

Why does the distinction matter?

If anti-Zionism is understood to be antisemitism, then those protesting or otherwise articulating deep opposition to the governing ideology of the state of Israel could find themselves on the receiving end of public opprobrium — harsh criticism and disgrace.

A global debate with deep roots

People in Canada and the United States have lost employment offers and jobs for seeming anti-Zionist.

This debate is not new, however. In 2022, Jonathan Greenblatt, head of the Anti-Defamation League, stated that “anti-Zionism is antisemitism” and that anti-Zionism is “an ideology rooted in rage.” A year later, the U.S. House of Representatives passed a resolution stating that “anti-Zionism is antisemitism.”

In 2017, French President Emmanuel Macron called anti-Zionism a “reinvented form of antisemitism.” And perhaps most importantly, against this backdrop is the definition of antisemitism adopted by many countries, including the U.S. and Canada, which brings the two concepts very close together, if not outright equating them.

Specifically, the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance defines antisemitism, among other things, as “denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination (e.g., by claiming that the existence of a State of Israel is a racist endeavour).”

What data reveals about Zionism

But is anti-Zionism really antisemitism?

To determine whether anti-Zionism is antisemitic, we first need to think about how we define Zionism. As a Canadian Jewish political scientist, my own research has found that the term Zionism is understood in wildly different ways.

In 2022, I surveyed American Jews with a weighted sample to account for various demographics. I found that while 58 per cent identified as Zionist, 70 per cent identified as such when I defined Zionism as “a feeling of attachment to Israel.” When I defined Zionism as a “belief in a Jewish and democratic state,” the number rose slightly, to 72 per cent.

But a very different picture emerged when I presented a vastly alternate definition of Zionism. If Zionism, I offered, “means the belief in privileging Jewish rights over non-Jewish rights in Israel, are you a Zionist?” Here, respondents’ support for the kind of Zionism experienced by Palestinians plummeted: only 10 per cent of respondents said they were “definitely” (three per cent) or “probably” (seven per cent) Zionist, according to this definition, with a full 69 per cent saying they were “probably not” or “definitely not.”

A lifetime of analysis of Zionism, and adopting various labels at different phases of life for myself — I have at times identified as progressive Zionist, liberal Zionist, anti-Zionist, non-Zionist and none of the above — leads me to conclude that anti-Zionism and antisemitism should be considered distinct concepts.

Identity, nationalism and belonging

Those who see anti-Zionism as antisemitic deploy various arguments.

One is that self-determination is a right, and denying that right to Jews — and sometimes seemingly only to Jews — is discriminatory and prejudicial. But while everyone has the right to self-determination, no one has the right to determine themselves by denying the rights of others to do the same.

Another is that given that the majority of Jews by most accounts embrace some form of Zionism, denying a part of their identity is hateful. But unlike most other markers and symbols of ethnic or religious identity, Zionism has historically, and continues to, directly affect another ethnic group: namely, Palestinians.

Contrast this kind of identity with dietary laws, clothing restrictions, modes of prayer and one’s relationship to sacred texts: none of these aspects of identity necessarily affect another group. By contrast, the historical record of how Zionism has affected Palestinians is vast.

A third argument concerns antisemitism in general — that every other group gets to define the terminology around their own oppression, and therefore so should Jews. But again, when a state — which by definition interacts with others within and outside its borders — is brought into the equation, the debate about antisemitism ceases to be about only Jews.

At its core, Zionism is a political ideology. A cornerstone of liberal society is political debate, including subjecting ideologies to the stress test of critique. These ideologies include capitalism, socialism, social democracy, communism, ethno-nationalism, settler colonialism, theocracy, Islamism, Hindu nationalism and so on.

In the right of others to support, oppose, analyze or criticize it, Zionism is — or at least should be — be no different.

The personal and the political

I understand why many Jews feel that anti-Zionist actions or statements are hateful to their identity. Most Jews have grown up believing that to be Jewish is to feel a deep connection to the state of Israel.

I grew up singing Hatikvah, Israel’s national anthem, every evening at Hebrew summer camp in Manitoba as we lowered the two flags hanging from the flagpole: one the flag of Canada, the other, of course, of Israel.

And in many synagogues across Canada, it is typical to hear the Prayer for Israel recited, and it is not uncommon for the Israeli flag to be displayed prominently. At one synagogue I attended last year for a family celebration, there were even depictions of Israel Defense Forces soldiers etched into the stained-glass windows above the sanctuary.

But to feel connected to Israel — the land, the people, the safe refuge it has served for Jews in crisis, especially but not only after the Holocaust — one doesn’t necessarily need to embrace its governing ideology.

One can seek to understand the harm Zionism has caused to Palestinians. One can try to consider alternative framings, ideologies or governing structures that would enable Israelis to thrive along with Palestinians.

As Zionist founder Theodor Herzl famously said, “If you will it, it is no dream.”

Mira Sucharov has received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council. She is on the Advisory Council of New Israel Fund-Canada, sits on the task force of the Nexus Project, and is a founding signatory of the Jerusalem Declaration on Antisemitism.

– ref. The conflation problem: Why anti-Zionism and anti-semitism are not the same – https://theconversation.com/the-conflation-problem-why-anti-zionism-and-anti-semitism-are-not-the-same-267676

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Chantal M. Boucher, Assistant Professor, Clinical Psychologist, University of Windsor

We all want closure. A breakup, a sudden job loss, or the death of someone we love can leave us desperate for answers. Wars, natural disasters and shared tragedies stir the same kind of longing.

Our need for closure runs so deep, it’s echoed everywhere — in movies, novels, songs about heartbreak and loss, even in everyday phrases like “moving on” or “getting over” something.

However, closure is easier said than done. Sometimes it never fully arrives. When it doesn’t, unfinished business can weigh on us, affecting our mood, our health, our identity and our relationships. In a world of growing uncertainties, learning how to cope with what’s “open” or unresolved is essential.

As a psychologist, I am interested in studying why closure matters, why it’s hard to find and how we can begin to heal when life fails to provide clear answers.

What is closure, and why does it matter?

Closure is the psychological sense of resolution felt when a painful or confusing experience is settled enough that it no longer demands constant mental and emotional energy.

It’s a sense that an event is understood, settled and no longer bothersome. Without it, old memories intrude like uninvited guests, resurfacing with regret, anger or confusion, even years later.

Trauma research shows unresolved memories can feel as though they’re happening right now until they’re reframed as part of the distant past. Everyday hurts work the same way.

Resolution frees the mind to focus on what matters now — our goals, our emotional needs and the people around us — with calm and clarity. This is why so many turn to therapy, self-help resources and other tools to make sense of, find peace with or otherwise close open parts of their lives.

Measuring closure: A step forward

Despite its popularity and adaptive value, closure has been hard to study because it has been hard to measure. A new tool colleagues and I have developed, the Closure and Resolution Scale, is changing that.

This self-report measure captures multiple facets of resolution — finality, understanding, distance, emotional relief, mental release, even behavioural shifts — offering a comprehensive picture of what closure looks and feels like for people.

Clinicians and researchers can use the CRS to track progress, test interventions and identify what helps or hinders resolution.

Our preliminary work, aided by research assistant, Meaghan Tome, suggests that beliefs about finding closure are as rich and nuanced as the construct itself.

Some see it as self-driven, others as dependent on someone else. Some treat it as active problem-solving, others as quiet acceptance. Some lean on internal change, others on external action. These personal theories shape how we seek — or avoid — closure in our own lives.

Why we struggle to find closure

Why does closure often feel out of reach? Research suggests several reasons.

Ambiguity: When stories feel unfinished, like when we’re ghosted, the mind scrambles to fill in the blanks. We crave coherent explanations, but life doesn’t always provide them.

Avoidance: Pain hurts. Memories can spark guilt, shame, fear or grief, and our natural inclination is to push these feelings away. Avoidance offers short-term relief but delays real healing. What we resist persists.

Barriers: Open memories are often interpersonal. People who lack closure may feel like they need an apology, explanation or conversation that never comes. Limited time, money or unsupportive environments can make getting closure feel impossible.

Working toward closure

If you or someone in your life is struggling with closure, here are a few things you can try:

Talk it through. Therapy can help name the experience, examine thoughts, manage emotions and identify steps toward resolution.

Write it out. Expressive writing and journaling can ease intrusive memories and facilitate new meaning. Try writing an unsent letter when direct dialogue isn’t possible.

Shift perspective. Reframe the story from an outside view or focus on the broader significance to gain clarity and distance.

Lean on others. Friends, peers or people who’ve “been there” can offer comfort and validation.

Rethink closure. Some endings remain unresolved. For ambiguous losses, rituals, meaning-making and flexibility can help to live with uncertainty.

Act on values. When change is possible, take purposeful steps that align with your values — have the conversation, set boundaries, leave harmful situations. When it isn’t, let go, treat it as a lesson rather than a weight and redirect your energy.

Beware the closure trap

Not every experience is “closable” in the way we might hope. Some losses are ambiguous. Some events remain unclear. And rigid ideas about what closure should look like can keep us stuck.

A healthier aim is to make space for what can’t be answered, create meaning where we can and live our values alongside the unknown — freeing attention and energy, with acceptance and compassion, for what matters now.

Closure isn’t always possible, but new meaning and movement forward always are.

Looking ahead

Closure isn’t about forgetting the past. It’s about learning to live with it, answers or no answers. What we know so far is that closure is deeply personal, impacting our health, our relationships and our views of ourselves and others.

While therapy, writing, social support or values-guided actions can help, the path to resolution is rarely one-size-fits-all. Tools like the Closure and Resolution Scale can help us to better understand the idiosyncrasies of this journey.

In the end, what often hurts most is not an event itself, but the silence and questions it leaves behind. The good news? Closure doesn’t have to be given by others. It can be chosen.

Sometimes the most powerful ending is the one we write ourselves.

Chantal M. Boucher 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. Struggling with closure? Here are some things you can try – https://theconversation.com/struggling-with-closure-here-are-some-things-you-can-try-264856

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Maneesha Deckha, Professor and Lansdowne Chair in law, University of Victoria

Most people think countries like Canada have strong animal protection laws, but it doesn’t. A case in point is the unfolding tragedy-in-the-making at Marineland.

Facing economic ruin amid waning public acceptance of whale captivity, Marineland has threatened it will euthanize its remaining 30 beluga whales unless the government provides emergency funding for their care.

This ultimatum follows the federal government’s recent denial of Marineland’s request for an export permit to ship the belugas to a large theme park in China. Fisheries Minister Joanne Thompson denied the permit due to concerns that the belugas would be used for entertainment — a fate now illegal in Canada since the 2019 ban on capturing cetaceans for display.

The 2019 federal legislation banned bringing new cetaceans into captivity, subject to a few exceptions. Ontario passed a similar law in 2015. However, the cetaceans who were already in captivity were not included, effectively preserving Marineland’s property rights over its remaining animals.

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Read more:
Marineland’s decline raises questions about the future of zoo tourism

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But with changing public attitudes, Marineland now has a deteriorating facility and expensive care on its hands for animals it can no longer use to turn a profit.

The threat to kill the belugas as a solution to its economic woes, while shocking, reflects the ethical emptiness of the Canadian legal system when it comes to animals. Simply put, Canadian law still allows human and corporate owners to kill their animals because animals are legally treated as “property.”

The weakness of Canada’s animal cruelty laws

Marineland can carry out its “euthanasia” so long as it doesn’t run afoul of tepid anti-cruelty laws, which are poorly enforced, as demonstrated by Marineland’s history.

Animal advocates have long argued that captive and socially deprived animals at Marineland have suffered for decades. A 2012 Toronto Star investigation series brought overdue and much-needed public and prosecutorial attention to the park, resulting in more than 200 visits by provincial inspectors since 2000.

Even so, since 2019, 20 whales have died in Marineland’s care. The park has only been charged with animal cruelty a handful of times, and all of those charges were eventually dropped. Other complaints to Animal Welfare Services, the provincial body responsible for the enforcement of anti-cruelty legislation, have largely gone nowhere.

In fact, anti-cruelty charges against Marineland have only gone ahead twice: once in 2021 regarding water quality for the cetaceans and once in relation to its care of black bears in 2024.

The dearth of legal sanctions for Marineland, and its ability to hold the lives of its belugas as a bargaining chip, highlights the need for a legal paradigm shift.

But it’s not just the interests and needs of whales that are at stake here. Other animals matter, too, not least the non-cetaceans still at Marineland and the animals trapped in farms, labs and zoos.

Challenging human exceptionalism

As I’ve written at length in my book Animals as Legal Beings, we need to displace the human exceptionalism that characterizes our laws and shapes our relationships with all animals — even dogs, cats and other companion animals.

This means rejecting the idea that humans are superior and animals are merely “property.” It also means valuing and respecting animals enough to stop their immense suffering in captive industries.

Eliminating human exceptionalism would dramatically reshape society by calling for structural changes to our economy, laws and daily practices. But it would benefit all of us.

Now, more than ever, we need to see the links between the dismal legal treatment of animals and other social issues. As I have also written about, human exceptionalism in the law undermines efforts to surmount sexism and racism because all of these systems depend on devaluing animals.

Human exceptionalism is also incompatible with reconciliation and decolonization, which require respect for Indigenous worldviews and laws. Many Indigenous legal orders view animals as equals, kin and beings with their own intentions, families and life purposes.

Keeping belugas and other animals in captivity disavows animal autonomy and devastates animal families. The suffering of captive animals is part of a broader failure to see animals as fellow beings with their own rights.

Protecting animal lives

Human exceptionalism is at the heart of climate change, biodiversity loss, ocean warming and other planetary health crises. The same extractive logic that drives industrial pollution, deforestation and climate destruction also governs how we treat animals.

While whales in the ocean have it better than the belugas still enduring captivity at Marineland, all animals — no matter where they live — are unjustly harmed by a social and legal system that privileges human and corporate interests and runs roughshod over the interests of non-humans.

The belugas and other animals at Marineland deserve to live. A legal system that allows them to be killed because it is economically convenient is one that needs to change. It’s not the belugas that should be euthanized, but rather the human exceptionalism that continues to drive Canadian law and policy.

We can transition away from this outdated and harmful worldview toward a future that views justice and compassion from an interspecies lens and will uplift us all.

Maneesha Deckha is a monthly supporter of the advocacy group Animal Justice.

– ref. The fate of Marineland’s belugas expose the ethical cracks in Canadian animal law – https://theconversation.com/the-fate-of-marinelands-belugas-expose-the-ethical-cracks-in-canadian-animal-law-267500

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Russell Field, Associate Professor, Sport and Physical Activity, University of Manitoba

Late on an October Monday night, George Springer smashed a three-run homer to send nearly 45,000 fans in Toronto’s Rogers Centre — and a record national television audience — into a frenzy.

Six outs later, the Blue Jays had qualified for the 2025 World Series against the defending champion Los Angeles Dodgers.

It had the feeling of a denouement. Yet, like other famed home runs in Blue Jays history, Springer’s blast was just one step in the long journey through baseball’s three playoff rounds.

Edwin Encarnacion’s extra-inning walk-off homer against the Baltimore Orioles in 2016 only won an elimination wildcard game.

A year earlier, Jose Bautista’s then-audacious bat flip followed a dramatic home run — also like Springer’s hit in the seventh inning — that moved the Blue Jays onto the same championship series round that they had not won since 1993. Until this year.

The enduring legacy of 1993

Invoking 1993 holds special resonance for Blue Jays fans. It’s the last time the team won, let alone reached, the World Series.

That year produced the most dramatic home run in team history. Joe Carter’s Game 6, ninth-inning, three-run blast to left field was only the second time a World Series had ended with a walk-off home run. It clinched the team’s second straight championship.

It is easy to tell the story of the Blue Jays through the lens of dramatic game-winning home runs. However, the context of the team’s championships —and near misses — offers a more nuanced tale.

Building a contending team

Toronto, thanks to funding from Labatt Breweries, was granted an American League expansion franchise in 1977, alongside the Seattle Mariners — the team Toronto just vanquished in the championship series this year. The Mariners remain the only current franchise never to have played in a World Series.

Following a handful of dire losing seasons, Blue Jays management earned a reputation for talent development. The first crop of stars — Dave Stieb, George Bell and Tony Fernandez — won a division championship in the team’s ninth season. They fell one game short of qualifying for the World Series, losing the only seventh game in a post-season series in franchise history prior to this year.

That team played in an open-air, refurbished football stadium. Fans chilled by the cool breezes off Lake Ontario did not enjoy the irony of cheering on their brewery-owned team in a venue where beer sales were prohibited by provincial edict.

Modernity came to Toronto in 1989 when the team moved into SkyDome, a then-state-of the-art domed stadium complete with retractable roof (and by then, beer vendors) that was funded and operated by a public-private partnership.

After playoff disappointments in 1989 and 1991, that generation of Blue Jays stars broke through in 1992 to reach the World Series for the first time. Prior to the second game at Atlanta’s Fulton County Stadium, the U.S. Marine Corps colour guard walked onto the field with the Canadian flag flying upside down.

The controversy was integrated into circulating narratives that Americans did not respect Canadian teams. It is a still-perpetuated trope: the Toronto Star has spent this playoff run reporting on “what the U.S. media said” about Blue Jays’ victories, as though that matters.

The Blue Jays 2025 success — realizing the promise of a new generation of star prospects headlined by Vladimir Guererro Jr. and Bo Bichette — has rekindled memories of these past glories: the first winning teams of the 1980s, the back-to-back champions in 1992-93 and the bravado of the Bautista-Encarnacion-Josh Donaldson teams from a decade ago.

Lost in this pantheon of star players and dramatic moments, however, is the two decades of mediocrity that followed the heights of the Carter home run.

Changes in corporate ownership

The Blue Jays core aged or moved on and Labatt’s was purchased by the Belgian conglomerate, Interbrew SA.

A more dispassionate, bottom-line ownership led to teams that failed to reap the talents of Hall of Famers like Roy Halladay and major stars like Carlos Delgado and Shawn Green.

Rogers Communications purchased 80 per cent of the Blue Jays in 2000, with Interbrew retaining 20 per cent. The on-field performance changed little, but the business model evolved significantly.

Rogers acquired the remaining 20 per cent of the team in July 2004. Before the year was out, it had gained control of SkyDome for $25 million, a fraction of the $600 million that the stadium has cost to build only 15 years earlier. Now fully privately owned, it was renamed the Rogers Centre.

Today, the Blue Jays reflect the vertical integration of modern commercial sports. The team is the primary tenant in a stadium operated by their owners. Their games are broadcast on television channels, radio stations and streaming services owned and operated by Rogers Communications. These channels market other Rogers-owned content during Blue Jays games.

Meanwhile, fans consume this content on cable subscriptions and internet services that are Rogers’ core businesses. The newest extension of this revenue-generation model is the increasing prominence of sports betting, which is integrated fully into broadcasts by on-screen commentators providing odds as though delivering sports “news,” not paid advertising

Canada’s team

The production and circulation of dominant narratives is a consequence of such a structure, what sociologist David Whitson termed “circuits of promotion.”

One of the most powerful is that the support for the Blue Jays is nationwide. They are Canada’s team. There is an element of truth to this. The Blue Jays’ fan base is considerable, particularly when they are winning.

But this is also a marketing construct — one that benefits from the Blue Jays being the only remaining Canadian-based team in a U.S.-operated professional sports league. This would be a much harder narrative to sell if the Montreal Expos were not now the Washington Nationals, and it is not entirely novel.

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Read more:
Toronto Blue Jays: Amid Canada-U.S. tensions, ‘Canada’s team’ is excelling at America’s pastime

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Basketball’s Toronto Raptors, themselves the beneficiaries of the relocation of the Vancouver Grizzlies, capitalized on both the team’s appeal as well as its monopoly on Canadian markets with its wildly popular 2019 marketing campaign, “We The North.”

Come Friday night, when Trey Yesavage throws the first pitch of the 2025 World Series, the absence of other Canadian-based teams and the centralization of media outlets in Toronto will ensure there will be a ready (and passionate) audience across the country all ready to chant: “Let’s go, Blue Jays!”

Russell Field 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. Blue Jays fever sets in as Canada readies for the World Series for the first time in 32 years – https://theconversation.com/blue-jays-fever-sets-in-as-canada-readies-for-the-world-series-for-the-first-time-in-32-years-267943

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Carolyn Yule, Associate Professor of Sociology, University of Guelph

The Liberal government has introduced bail reform legislation to expand “reverse-onus” provisions in the Criminal Code, stipulating that someone accused of a crime, rather than the Crown, must demonstrate why they should be released before trial.

Bill C-14 also proposes tougher sentencing laws for serious and violent crimes.

The goal, according to Prime Minister Mark Carney, is to “keep violent and repeat offenders out of our communities.”

But will these changes effectively address concerns from some politicians, police and the public that bail is too easily granted and contributes to rising crime? Probably not. They are symbolic responses unlikely to satisfy critics or address the root causes of crime.

Bail decisions are challenging

Bail laws are designed to strike a balance between protecting public safety and upholding the rights of people who are supposed to be presumed innocent until proven guilty.

Under the Criminal Code, there is a presumption that an accused person should be released with as few conditions as necessary. But bail can be denied if the person is unlikely to attend trial, poses a threat to public safety or if their release would undermine confidence in the legal system.

The law provides some limited guidance, requiring courts to consider factors such as an accused’s past convictions for violence and the circumstances of Indigenous or otherwise vulnerable or marginalized people. Appellate court decisions provide further direction.

Bail decisions are inherently discretionary. Judges and justices of the peace must already weigh factors like risk, criminal history and the nature of the offence to determine if an accused can be safely released. Given the nature of bail decisions, more reverse-onus provisions are unlikely to substantively change bail outcomes.

A dearth of reliable information

Bail reform should be driven by evidence to ensure policy changes are effective and accountable. Yet the biggest barrier to evaluating the bail system is a lack of reliable information. We know little about:

1. How many people are released;

2. Under what conditions they are released;

3. How often accused who are released on bail reoffend.

The few studies available suggest bail courts are handling more cases and are doing so more slowly, but relatively few people are denied bail.

Little data exists that explain what factors shape bail outcomes. Information that is available suggests those charged with a prior criminal history, and a history of failing to appear in court or comply with release conditions, are more likely to be denied bail.

A review of bail decisions for 2022-23 by the BC Prosecution Service in British Columbia revealed that detention rates were slightly higher than average when there was a violent offence involved (between 10 to 13 per cent) and notably higher where there was a violent offence and breach of conditions (between 17 and 24 per cent).

According to a report from the Toronto Police Service, seven out of the of 44 gun-related homicides in 2022 (16 per cent) were allegedly committed by people on bail. The Alberta government reported that 27.9 per cent of adults under bail supervision between 2021 and 2022 were admitted to remand custody at least once due to violating bail conditions and/or incurring new charges; however, no other contextual data is provided.

A 2013 study prepared for Canada’s justice department found that 51 of 291 people from two locations violated the terms of their bail release — and the vast majority were for breaching conditions or failing to attend court rather than new offences.

Balancing enforcement with support

While the scant data available do not support the belief that the current system releases all offenders who then go on to commit serious crime, it’s also clear that some accused released on bail subsequently do in fact reoffend — a fact acknowledged by bail supervisors.

But Canada cannot arrest its way to safer communities. A recent report, Finding Common Ground, found that police, lawyers and service providers are aligned on the need for both better supervision of high-risk individuals and greater investment in social supports as top priorities for improving bail.

A recent poll also suggests many Canadians are open to balanced, long-term solutions that combine accountability with social investment, recognizing that real safety comes not from quick fixes but from a more responsive and supportive system.

The Liberal government has also acknowledged the need to invest in community-based supports as part of broader bail reform efforts.

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Read more:
Race is closely tied to who gets bail — that’s why we must tread carefully on bail reform

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5 ways to strengthen the bail system

We offer concrete solutions that will enhance fairness, public safety and democratic accountability:

1. A more detailed set of guidelines in the Criminal Code — passed by elected parliamentarians — to make bail determinations. These changes may largely codify existing considerations but could be used to adjust the bail calculus, including de-emphasizing more minor breaches and emphasizing the need to address repeat offending.

2. More social service provisions are needed, particularly in terms of housing. Allowing people to remain in the community and possibly maintain familial and employment connections is more cost-effective and better for public safety than jail time.

3. Better tracking and monitoring of people on bail — including electronic monitoring and improved information processing and communication — can help ensure compliance with conditions and reduce the risk of reoffending.

4. Better data collection on the bail process and outcomes can inform policy reforms and support more effective judicial decisions.

5. Improving bail court efficiency and decision-making through increased resources, information sharing and a shift in courthouse culture can help reduce delays and support more timely and effective hearings.

To build safer communities, the federal government should follow through on its commitment to invest in support services while also helping provinces better monitor and enforce bail conditions. Doing so will ease pressure on the legal system while improving outcomes for people and communities.

Carolyn Yule receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC).

Laura MacDiarmid receives funding from Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC).

Troy Riddell 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. The federal government tables bail reform bill: 5 ways to strengthen Canada’s bail system – https://theconversation.com/the-federal-government-tables-bail-reform-bill-5-ways-to-strengthen-canadas-bail-system-267832

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Julien Bousquet, Full Marketing Professor, Department of Economic and Administrative Sciences, Université du Québec à Chicoutimi (UQAC)

When people travel, they aren’t just looking for historic sights — they’re also looking for new flavours that captivate and connect them to the place they’re visiting.

In Québec, for example, it’s poutine. The comfort food mix of crispy fries, squeaky cheese curds and rich brown gravy was first served in 1950s-era rural snack bars before becoming a national symbol.

In Spain, paella — a saffron-infused rice dish brimming with seafood, chicken and vegetables and born in Valencia’s farmlands as a shared workers’ meal — is a must-have.

In Japan, ramen — steaming bowls of wheat noodles in a fragrant broth layered with soy, miso or pork bones — tells the story of post-Second World War solace and culinary innovation.

But beyond the flavours of food, can gastronomy become a language of identity and cultural diplomacy? That question is at the heart of Canada’s growing culinary movement.

Gastronomy as a form of diplomacy

Across Canada, food is fast becoming a marker of identity and regional pride. From the Okanagan Valley vineyards to Québec’s sugar shacks, cuisine is emerging as a language that defines who Canadians are — and how the world perceives them.

This movement is gaining traction as Kelowna, British Columbia recently accepted the invitation to apply for the designation of UNESCO City of Gastronomy
— a title that celebrates places where food culture drives creativity, sustainability and community.

Created in 2004, UNESCO’s Creative Cities Network recognizes and honours cities where food culture drives innovation and community well-being. Today, 57 cities hold the designation, from Parma, Italy and Chengdu, China, to Tucson, Arizona, in the United States.

Canada has yet to join their ranks, which is why Kelowna’s candidacy matters: it would be the country’s first City of Gastronomy, reflecting its mix of Indigenous heritage, wine culture and farm-to-table creativity.

As tourism continues to recover and regions compete for distinctiveness, gastronomy has become a form of soft power — a country’s ability to influence others through culture, values and attraction rather than force, shaping how nations are perceived and how travellers connect emotionally with a place.

Studies show that food tourism has become a key driver of regional development and destination appeal. The signature dish — an emblematic creation tied to a chef, region or tradition — offers a concrete way to translate culinary creativity into cultural identity.

How food turns travel into brand

Some dishes function like culinary logos, expressing the personality of a place or a chef while creating lasting memories. Research reveals that for travellers, food becomes participation rather than consumption — a way to experience a place rather than just observe it.

A memorable meal merges creativity, heritage and place. In Canada, such dishes also act as experiential anchors that link ingredients, landscapes and emotion — from a buttery Halifax lobster roll that tastes of the Atlantic coast to a sweet, purple Saskatoon berry pie that evokes the Prairie harvest.

Yet some critics warn that the growing wave of gastronomic branding risks slipping into what they call culinary gentrification — when local traditions are polished and packaged for tourists, sometimes at the expense of the communities that created them.

The challenge for cities like Kelowna will be to celebrate their culinary identity without turning authenticity into a marketing slogan.

Canada’s regions tell their stories through food

Research on food, culture and sustainability shows how such connections help regions build distinctive, resilient identities.

In Québec, for example, food is deeply woven with cultural pride. From sugar shacks in the Laurentians and Beauce countryside to Montréal’s multicultural fine dining scene, tradition and innovation intermingle — but Québec is far from the only province where culinary identity thrives.

On Prince Edward Island, the Fall Flavours Food and Drink Festival — running from early September to mid-October — brings together chefs, farmers and fishers to celebrate the island’s harvest. Events take place in small towns and coastal villages, turning the island into one big dining room. The festival strengthens local pride, supports producers and extends the tourist season beyond summer.

In Alberta, Alberta Food Tours invite travellers to discover rural producers, Indigenous culinary traditions and farmers markets across the province, from Calgary to Jasper. These guided experiences highlight the province’s agricultural roots while promoting sustainability and community connection.

In B.C., the Okanagan Valley, where Kelowna is located, has become a leading example of farm-to-table and wine tourism in Canada. Stretching from Vernon to Osoyoos, its vineyards and orchards supply local chefs who turn seasonal produce into creative menus. Culinary trails and wine festivals connect visitors with growers and winemakers, while Kelowna’s bid to become a UNESCO City of Gastronomy reflects the region’s growing reputation for sustainable, community-driven gastronomy.

As food tourism continues to grow, however, authentic experiences become harder to find. In 2024, it was valued at roughly US$1.8 billion globally. By 2033, that figure is expected to reach almost US$8 billion, growing at an average rate of about 18 per cent a year.

Tourists crave “the real deal,” yet their expectations often reshape what’s served. For example, traditional dishes may be simplified, sweetened or made less spicy to suit visitors’ palates. Authenticity, it appears, is less a fixed ideal than a dialogue between chefs, consumers and the media.

Why does the heritage of gastronomy matter?

Signature dishes remind us that identity isn’t inherited — it’s created and shared. Local cuisine connects people to place, turns ingredients into stories and makes culture tangible.

When cities launch food festivals, culinary routes or UNESCO designation bids, they’re not just promoting restaurants, they’re defining who they are as a country.

In a world often divided, food remains a universal language. Local gastronomy reminds us that what’s on our plate is never just about flavour, it’s about belonging.

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

– ref. How gastronomy tourism evolved into international identity and cultural diplomacy – https://theconversation.com/how-gastronomy-tourism-evolved-into-international-identity-and-cultural-diplomacy-267188

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By James Deaville, Professor of Music, Carleton University

This story contains spoilers about the movie ‘Weapons.’

As we approach the scariest time of year, we need to make sure our home screens are in good working order for horror films, in particular the volume control.

It’s true that some effects of the horror genre are based on sounds that are popularly linked to danger — but let’s not forget the contrasting silences that are necessary for jump scares to have their full impact.

It’s not just in feature films where the sonic device of “un-sound” works: horror trailers are filled with unexpected crashes out of stillness and all-too-brief fragments that beg questions.

Skilled directors and sound designers can frighten us in myriad ways, and sometimes through less in this all-too-noisy world.

Space and emptiness

In this year’s contender for best horror picture, Weapons, director Zach Cregger wanted the sound team to adopt an understated approach to express a “sense of space and emptiness” for the movie’s locations.

He nevertheless deploys jump scares of varying intensity in diverse contexts, several of them involving the sudden appearance of the head of the witch Aunt Gladys (Amy Madigan).

Most deliver quick, unexpected frights, but one represents the classic horror slow burn, as teacher Justine Gandy (Julia Garner) walks around a seemingly deserted house to the accompaniment of cicadas.

In the words of Cregger, the cicadas “become the score,” their constant droning calming and unsettling us as we look through the window with Justine. We share her shock when we realize that there are two immobile figures sitting inside. Terror is conjured out of stillness.

‘A Quiet Place’

Weapons and other releases this past year continued the practice of crafting horror scenarios out of silence.

The A Quiet Place franchise, starting with the 2018 film which invoked the terror of alien invasion, helped to put horror silence on the map.

The 2018 film, with little verbal dialogue and a central Deaf character, also challenged the long eugenicist association of disability with monstrosity — often fashioned with what my scholarship has called “the moaning of unlife.”

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Read more:
The uneasy history of horror films and disability

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Horror silences were similarly essential to conjure the strangeness and weirdness of grief and hauntings in another 2018 film, Hereditary. The film’s sound designer, Asbjoern Andersen, has remarked “it’s the quiet ones you have to look out for,” a dictum that he brought to life through long pauses in dialogue, low and brooding music and threatening atmospheres of indistinct sounds.

The same holds true for the sonic environment of the Netflix series The Haunting of Hill House (also 2018), where sound editor Trevor Gates was able to create atmospheres to convey isolation and discover novel ways to “hold a silence.”

In such contexts, absolute silence is not necessary — any kind of low-end drone or soft, repetitive sound like a ticking clock or a babbling brook could lull audiences into a false sense of security.

Crashes out of stillness

Prior to these recent productions, masterful directors and sound designers crafted dread and psychological depth and viscerality partly through silence.

According to film specialists, the first classic jump scare occurred in the 1942 movie Cat People when producer Val Lewton, director Jacques Tourneur and film editor Mark Robson created a scene that involved a woman walking alone to a bus stop, her rising dread of being followed giving way to a sudden, explosive bus entrance.

This type of scene became known as the Lewton Bus: a gradual buildup followed by a sudden shock through misdirection and a sharp sonic jolt. The practice would become a commonplace in the producer’s later work.

Lulled into complicity

This sharp sonic jolt soundtrack device just needed the touch of director Alfred Hitchcock to become iconic in the famous shower scene of Psycho(1960).

Commentators — both academic and popular — frequently reference composer and film scorer Bernard Herrmann’s screeching string sound as the brilliant sonic representation of the stabbing knife.

Yet they typically pass over what makes the scene’s explosive violence so unexpected and visceral: the constant sound of the shower water that — like silence — lulls the audience (and victim) into complacency.

Hitchcock knew how to strategically mobilize stillness to make threats more tangible, like in the drawn out and famous crop-duster scene of North by Northwest (1959).

In Hitchcock’s wake, notable examples occur in Steven Spielberg’s Jaws from 1975 (especially the shark’s first closeup), at key moments in John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978), and — much later — in the notorious diner scene from David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive (2001).

The psychology of fear

These and other directors have understood how to exploit the psychology of fear to evoke startled responses of terror among audiences.

The jump scare and related fright-inducing sonic scenarios would become parodied in Scream and the Scary Movie series (2000-13), for example, where false (“cat”) scares subvert horror/slasher traditions.

This Halloween season, if you watch horror and suspenseful films, I encourage you to pay attention to the silence of the frames.

James Deaville 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. Creepy cicadas, ticking clocks and jump scares: How frightful films conjure terror out of quiet – https://theconversation.com/creepy-cicadas-ticking-clocks-and-jump-scares-how-frightful-films-conjure-terror-out-of-quiet-266750

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Ajay Kumar Shrestha, Professor, Computer Science, Vancouver Island University

Artificial intelligence is now part of everyday life. It’s in our phones, schools and homes. For young people, AI shapes how they learn, connect and express themselves. But it also raises real concerns about privacy, fairness and control.

AI systems often promise personalization and convenience. But behind the scenes, they collect vast amounts of personal data, make predictions and influence behaviour, without clear rules or consent.

This is especially troubling for youth, who are often left out of conversations about how AI systems are built and governed.

Concerns about privacy

My research team conducted national research and heard from youth aged 16 to 19 who use AI daily – on social media, in classrooms and in online games.

They told us they want the benefits of AI, but not at the cost of their privacy. While they value tailored content and smart recommendations, they feel uneasy about what happens to their data.

Many expressed concern about who owns their information, how it is used and whether they can ever take it back. They are frustrated by long privacy policies, hidden settings and the sense that you need to be a tech expert just to protect yourself.

As one participant said:

“I am mainly concerned about what data is being taken and how it is used. We often aren’t informed clearly.”

Uncomfortable sharing their data

Young people were the most uncomfortable group when it came to sharing personal data with AI. Even when they got something in return, like convenience or customization, they didn’t trust what would happen next. Many worried about being watched, tracked or categorized in ways they can’t see.

This goes beyond technical risks. It’s about how it feels to be constantly analyzed and predicted by systems you can’t question or understand.

AI doesn’t just collect data, it draws conclusions, shapes online experiences, and influences choices. That can feel like manipulation.

Parents and teachers are concerned

Adults (educators and parents) in our study shared similar concerns. They want better safeguards and stronger rules.

But many admitted they struggle to keep up with how fast AI is moving. They often don’t feel confident helping youth make smart choices about data and privacy.

Some saw this as a gap in digital education. Others pointed to the need for plain-language explanations and more transparency from the tech companies that build and deploy AI systems.

Professionals focus on tools, not people

The study found AI professionals approach these challenges differently. They think about privacy in technical terms such as encryption, data minimization and compliance.

While these are important, they don’t always align with what youth and educators care about: trust, control and the right to understand what’s going on.

Companies often see privacy as a trade-off for innovation. They value efficiency and performance and tend to trust technical solutions over user input. That can leave out key concerns from the people most affected, especially young users.

Power and control lie elsewhere

AI professionals, parents and educators influence how AI is used. But the biggest decisions happen elsewhere. Powerful tech companies design most digital platforms and decide what data is collected, how systems work and what choices users see.

Even when professional push for safer practices, they work within systems they did not build. Weak privacy laws and limited enforcement mean that control over data and design stays with a few companies.

This makes transparency and holding platforms accountable even more difficult.

What’s missing? A shared understanding

Right now, youth, parents, educators and tech companies are not on the same page. Young people want control, parents want protection and professionals want scalability.

These goals often clash, and without a shared vision, privacy rules are inconsistent, hard to enforce or simply ignored.

Our research shows that ethical AI governance can’t be solved by one group alone. We need to bring youth, families, educators and experts together to shape the future of AI.

The PEA-AI model

To guide this process, we developed a framework called PEA-AI: Privacy–Ethics Alignment in Artificial Intelligence. It helps identify where values collide and how to move forward. The model highlights four key tensions:

1. Control versus trust: Youth want autonomy. Developers want reliability. We need systems that support both.

2. Transparency versus perception: What counts as “clear” to experts often feels confusing to users.

3. Parental oversight versus youth voice: Policies must balance protection with respect for youth agency.

4. Education versus awareness gaps: We can’t expect youth to make informed choices without better tools and support.

What can be done?

Our research points to six practical steps:

1. Simplify consent. Use short, visual, plain-language forms. Let youth update settings regularly.

2. Design for privacy. Minimize data collection. Make dashboards that show users what’s being stored.

3. Explain the systems. Provide clear, non-technical explanations of how AI works, especially when used in schools.

4. Hold systems accountable. Run audits, allow feedback and create ways for users to report harm.

5. Teach privacy. Bring AI literacy into classrooms. Train teachers and involve parents.

6. Share power. Include youth in tech policy decisions. Build systems with them, not just for them.

AI can be a powerful tool for learning and connection, but it must be built with care. Right now, our research suggests young people don’t feel in control of how AI sees them, uses their data or shapes their world.

Ethical AI starts with listening. If we want digital systems to be fair, safe and trusted, we must give youth a seat at the table and treat their voices as essential, not optional.

Ajay Shrestha receives funding from the Office of the Privacy Commissioner of Canada (OPC); the views expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of the OPC.

– ref. How to ensure youth, parents, educators and tech companies are on the same page on AI – https://theconversation.com/how-to-ensure-youth-parents-educators-and-tech-companies-are-on-the-same-page-on-ai-248265

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Kealey Dube, Assistant Professor, The School of Social Work, MacEwan University

When students move from university course work to real-world applications like internships, practicums or clinical placements, it’s not just about what they know, but how they use what they know.

These experiences are often the first time students apply classroom learning in unpredictable, high-stakes environments.

For students with disabilities, that leap can be especially challenging. Structural barriers, inaccessible learning environments and past negative experiences can make these transitions harder.

Something that can help students overcome barriers is simulation-based learning — when, via role playing, students practise key skills, try out strategies and learn from mistakes without the real-world consequences. It’s an approach practised across fields like health care, business as well as social work education.

We decided to explore the use of simulations with students who experience disability-related barriers, drawing on research related to learning through simulations and students with disabilities in practicum learning.

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Read more:
Simulations with actors prepare nurses for the demands of their profession

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From participants to partners

We took a “students as partners” approach, which sees students as active collaborators in designing their own learning experiences.

In this case study, we sought to design simulations that were practical, empowering and suited to a neurodiverse, social work university student. We also wanted simulations that reflected his particular concerns and were grounded in his unique lived experiences.

The student had experienced barriers in a previous work-integrated learning placement. Before starting another, he needed a safer way to build confidence, practise communication and prepare for the professional environment.

A team approach

The project was collaborative. As faculty members, we worked with the social work student involved in the field education course and a theatre student hired as our partner to co-create the simulations. Other participants were from MacEwan’s access and disability resources and the Centre for Teaching and Learning.

Together, the group co-designed two tailored, realistic simulation experiences aimed at helping the social work student prepare for his upcoming practicum.

How it worked

The team met over a summer to co-design the personalized simulations:

• A workplace conversation, where the student practised setting expectations with a supervisor.

• A client-facing scenario, where he responded to a phone inquiry — something he was likely to encounter during his placement.

Each simulation followed a three-part process:

• Briefing: The student reviewed the context and goals.

• Role play: The theatre student played a realistic role based on the scenario.

• Debrief: The student watched a video of the simulation, reflected on what worked, and received supportive feedback.

By repeating the simulations multiple times, the students could build skills gradually, adjust strategies and become more confident with each try.

The theatre student also gained valuable experience learning and practising how to respond authentically and adapt during unscripted moments — skills that carry over to his own performance training.

What changed

When determining learning goals for the simulation, we focused on aligning course learning outcomes with needs specific to the social work student, such as communication skills. With each role play rotation, we captured how long it took for the social work student to clearly communicate his question or reflection to the client (played by the theatre student).

The amount of time decreased each rotation. By the end, the social work student reported he felt more confident moving through the situations. He became quicker, more confident and more comfortable with professional communication.

Most importantly, he reported feeling included and respected throughout the process. He said:

“Being involved in everything helped me feel more prepared. I made mistakes in the simulation and learned from them — so I didn’t have to make those same mistakes in real life.”

The theatre student echoed this:

“I wasn’t just acting — I was helping someone grow. It made me realize how powerful theatre can be beyond performance.”

Beyond skill development, this was capacity-building, confidence-building and community-building — all made possible by student-centred design. A year later, the student with a disability has successfully completed two field practicums and has graduated.

Why it matters

When universities design learning experiences with students, not just for them — especially students who are often left out of the process, like students facing disability-related barriers — opportunties for student engagement and empowerment are strengthened.

Simulations give students a chance to:

• Practise real-world scenarios without real-world risk.

• Learn from feedback in a supportive environment.

• Build self-advocacy and professional communication skills.

• Develop strategies that work for their unique needs.

This kind of tailored preparation can be the difference between just getting through a placement and truly thriving in it.

Looking ahead

This project shows that personalized simulations, grounded in student experiences and supported by interdisciplinary collaboration, can pave the way for more equitable, empowering education.

It suggests how when students are treated as co-creators, not just consumers or recipients of education, the learning becomes deeper, more inclusive and more meaningful. It also points to the relevance of broader use of co-created simulations across disciplines. Future possibilities include:

• Adapting simulations for group settings or online delivery.

• Partnering across departments, like theatre and business or accessibility and STEM.

• Designing for diverse learning needs from the start, using Universal Design for Learning principles.

The approach is flexible, scalable and most importantly, human-centred. Sometimes, the best way to prepare for real life is to practise it.

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. Through role-play learning, a neurodivergent student found work practicum success – https://theconversation.com/through-role-play-learning-a-neurodivergent-student-found-work-practicum-success-258329