Category: The Conversation

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Stewart Prest, Lecturer, Political Science, University of British Columbia

It was a moment of global clarity. Prime Minister Mark Carney’s speech to the world’s political and economic elite gathered in Davos this week described global realities, past and present, with a candour and nuance rarely heard from a serving politician.

The message was twofold.

First, Carney made clear that the world has changed, and the old comfortable ways of global politics are not coming back. Those who wait for sanity to return are waiting in vain. We are in a world increasingly shaped by the threat and the use of hard power. All states must accept that reality.

Despite this, Carney’s second and more hopeful message was that while the globally powerful may act unilaterally, others — notably “middle powers” like Canada — are not helpless.

By finding ways to co-operate on areas of shared interest, states like Canada can pool their limited resources to build what amounts to a flexible network of co-operative ties. Taken together they can provide an alternative to simply rolling over and taking whatever great powers like the United States dole out.

There’s also little choice in the matter if countries want to remain independent. As he eloquently put it: “If we’re not at the table, we’re on the menu.”

From ‘elbows up’ to capitulation, and back

The speech represented a remarkable departure from Canada’s usual approach to its relationship its neighbour to the south.

For all the talk of “elbows up” during the 2025 federal election campaign, the Carney government has been somewhat ambivalent since then. It’s placed its hopes in achieving a renewed trading relationship and normalized relations with the U.S. through a combination of good faith negotiations and a steady stream of conciliatory gestures on issues that seemed to matter most to U.S. President Donald Trump.

Read more:
Mark Carney’s apology to Donald Trump: Far from ‘elbows up,’ it seems Canada has no elbows at all

That resulted in Canada committing significant funds to combat a largely non-existent fentanyl trafficking problem and to meet American demands for increased military funding. At times the conciliation verged on placation, as when Canada unilaterally ended relatiatory tariffs on American goods to no discernible effect.

This strategy clearly was not working, however, as Carney made clear in Davos.

While neither America, nor Trump, were mentioned by name, there’s no doubt who’s driving the dramatic global changes Carney was describing. At times the veneer became very thin as Carney reiterated Canada’s support for the sovereignty of Greenland as a territory of Denmark.

In fact, the speech was remarkably blunt in its rebuke of America’s foreign policy during Trump’s second term, drawing attention, as others have, to how U.S. actions leave almost everyone, including Americans, worse off.

Trump’s response

That not-so-subtle barb was not lost on the audience, either in the room or across the Atlantic in the White House.

Trump wasted little time in firing back in the manner and style the world has become accustomed to. During his own address to the World Economic Forum the next day, Trump delivered a rambling and at times confusing speech.

He reiterated his intent to annex Greenland while confusing the island multiple times with neighbouring and also sovereign Iceland, and he took time to single out Carney by name.

“Canada lives because of the United States,” he said. “Remember that, Mark, next time you make your statements.”

The comments provided helpful proof of Carney’s argument, demonstrating the naked threat of power by the American president to coerce its neighbour and ostensible ally. It revealed the kind of “gangster” mindset we see often from Trump, as he effectively said: “Nice country, Mark. Be a shame if something happened to it.”

Critique of past

As blunt as Carney’s assessment of the present was — that the rules-based, liberal international order has faded away — in some ways his critique of the past was even more remarkable. The prime minister spoke with a candour one wouldn’t expect to find at the podium at Davos.

Effectively, Carney correctly characterized the old order as one defined as much by its hypocrisy as by its rules. He acknowledged that countries like Canada benefited from a system in which rules are applied unevenly, and superpowers continue to shape outcomes.

This idea, along with the the need to look ahead in order to survive a new order, appeared to underpin Carney’s exhortation not to mourn the rapidly vanishing old order.

Carney clearly hopes a new system may emerge that is not only more resilient to diverse and unpredictable threats, but is more honest and just.

By finding common ground on shared issues, middle powers can act in accordance with their own values and interests, instead of deferring to the proclaimed values of global power that are frequently violated in practice. Power will always matter, but it doesn’t have to be all that matters.

History in the making?

Carney’s Davos remarks were powerful by any measure. But will he back up his words with action in the months and years ahead?

His speech was met with a rousing standing ovation, and has justly received plaudits from around the world for its clear-eyed description of a less forgiving world order and its vision for how states like Canada can continue to thrive within it.

Whether it proves a speech for the ages, however, depends on what happens next. If Canada is serious about charting a new path, distinct from the great powers of the world, it must do more than talk. Acts like deploying symbolic forces to Greenland if necessary will show a seriousness of purpose. Canada cannot expect others to stand with it if it doesn’t stand with them.

Similarly, Canada must reject schemes like Trump’s “board of peace,” a thinly disguised attempt to replace institutions of global governance with a body composed by and serving at the president’s whim.

Carney has captured the world’s attention with this speech. There’s a lot hanging on what he does with that attention.

Stewart Prest 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. Mark Carney’s Davos speech marks a major departure from Canada’s usual approach to the U.S. – https://theconversation.com/mark-carneys-davos-speech-marks-a-major-departure-from-canadas-usual-approach-to-the-u-s-274090

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Saskia Sivananthan, Affiliate Professor, Department of Family Medicine, McGill University

At a recent party, another guest, a nurse, asked what I do for a living. I explained that as a health policy researcher, my work focuses on helping health-care systems co-ordinate care for dementia as effectively as for major conditions like cancer, diabetes or stroke. She stopped me mid-sentence.

“I don’t think you should use cancer as a comparison,” she said. “Cancer doesn’t have the stigma that dementia has. Most cancers can be treated and cured. Dementia can’t. You just can’t compare the two.”

The conversation brought to the forefront that dementia today occupies the same stigmatized, system-neglected space that cancer did half a century ago. And history shows us that stigma, not simply the absence of cures, delays progress.

Dementia taboos mirror cancer

Before the 1970s, a cancer diagnosis was widely considered a death sentence. Most physicians did not disclose the diagnosis, despite surveys showing the majority of patients wanted to know. Doctors said they concealed the truth to avoid “taking away hope” and because families preferred that patients remain unaware.

The word cancer itself was taboo. Euphemisms like “a growth” or “the Big C” were used, if the illness was discussed at all. Cancer carried the stain of shame, seen by some as a sign of personal weakness, and still does, particularly in the case of certain types of cancers like lung or liver cancer. Others viewed it as karma or divine punishment. People with cancer were quietly excluded, so much so that obituaries rarely listed cancer as the cause of death.

Sound familiar? It should.

A 2022 Canadian survey of family physicians found that 75 per cent provided care to a patient with cognitive impairment whom they had not yet informed of a diagnosis. The reasons varied: families or patients preferred not to know; clinicians felt they had no meaningful treatment to offer; or they feared “labelling” patients.

We still use dismissive expressions like “senior moment” in reference to symptoms of dementia. The word dementia itself literally translates to “out of one’s mind.” In many cultures, dementia is considered shameful and thought to be the result of witchcraft or punishment for a previous wrongdoing.

And the social exclusion is real. Dementia advocate Kate Swaffer calls it “prescribed disengagement,” the sense that society quietly ushers people with dementia out of public life.

Cancer did not change its stigma entirely because it became curable. It became curable faster because stigma was specifically being addressed and advocacy co-ordinated to push for funding and system change.

Stigma and system gaps preceded cancer breakthrough era

In fact, the first class of cancer treatments — options like surgery, chemotherapy, radiotherapy and early hormonal therapies — were introduced as far back as the 1940s, but their survival benefits were modest, much like the first generation of Alzheimer’s drugs today.

Because stigma around cancer was so entrenched, people avoided screening, delayed seeking help or refused treatment altogether, reinforcing poor outcomes and deepening the stigma.

Subsequent breakthroughs, like targeted therapies and other transformative drugs of the 1990s and 2010s, did change survival dramatically. But they landed in a landscape that had already been reshaped by something else: system co-ordination, focused, public stigma-reducing campaigns and a dramatic shift in cancer research funding.

Advocacy built the foundation for cancer system change

Starting in the 1970s, through co-ordinated advocacy led by advocates like Mary Lasker, governments began large-scale injections of research funds for cancer, built organized screening programs, launched public awareness campaigns, created standardized care pathways and invested in co-ordinating care infrastructure .

Moving cancer out of silence and into public conversations also altered clinical behaviour. Physicians increasingly disclosed diagnoses and encouraged early diagnosis, enabling earlier intervention. Survivorship became part of the narrative. Anti-discrimination frameworks strengthened. Cancer came to be understood through a public health lens rather than a moral one.

By the time highly effective therapies emerged, the system and society was far more ready for them.

Building conditions for change in dementia care

If we want the same for dementia, we need the same foundations: Co-ordinated care pathways with the infrastructure to support it, disclosure norms, national and provincial leadership bodies and ongoing public education campaigns with government backing.

I am an optimist at heart. The fact that my dinner companion now sees cancer as relatively destigmatized is, paradoxically, a sign of hope. It shows how profoundly public understanding can change within a generation.

To shift the stigma means a shift in access to care and the system itself.
Cancer shows us that stigma reduction isn’t accidental. It is created through leadership, investment and system design. Dementia deserves nothing less.

Saskia Sivananthan is affiliated with the Brainwell Institute, a dementia focused policy think tank

– ref. Ending dementia stigma could change its trajectory: Cancer’s history shows why – https://theconversation.com/ending-dementia-stigma-could-change-its-trajectory-cancers-history-shows-why-273674

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Lianne M Lefsrud, Professor and Risk, Innovation & Sustainability Chair (RISC), University of Alberta

Psychological safety — the belief that it is safe to speak up with concerns, questions or mistakes — is widely recognized as essential for organizational learning, innovation and workplace safety.

Yet its absence — interpersonal fear — is rarely examined in investigations of serious workplace incidents. My new research on workplace fatalities, conducted with several co-researchers, suggests this missing factor may help explain why hazards so often go unidentified or unreported.

We surveyed more than 4,600 workers and analyzed thousands of incident reports across five mine sites and over 100 mining and contractor companies. We asked workers: “Why aren’t hazards identified or reported?”

We found that interpersonal fear — the perception that speaking up or challenging the status quo will lead to humiliation or punishment — was one of the strongest predictors of silence. Workers who were more likely to be fearful were also more likely to withhold information.

A pattern we’ve seen before

Our recent findings echo earlier research I conducted following a fatal mining accident near Fort McMurray, Alta., in 2017, when a Suncor employee fell through ground softened by a leaking tailings pipeline and was unable to free himself.

I led a team analyzing geohazards associated with working around oilsands tailings ponds. During a safety workshop that concluded the two-year investigation, my co-researchers and I asked the attendees to answer the same question — “Why are hazards not identified or reported?”

We expected technical responses, but instead, they focused overwhelmingly on human and organizational factors: lack of training, fear, inappropriate risk tolerances, external pressures, cultural inaction and complacency.

The predominance of fear shocked us. Workers described being more afraid of the social consequences of reporting hazards than of the hazards themselves. As a result, they were putting their own lives at risk.

Our newer, larger study confirms this pattern at scale. Using machine-learning techniques, we were better able to identify where fear was most likely to flourish, its organizational causes and consequences and how it undermines companies.

We found management dismissiveness, a lack of managerial action or follow-up and a lack of training were more likely to cause fear — especially among contractors — and suppress hazard identification and reporting.

Fear isn’t limited to the frontline

Employees lower in company hierarchies tend to experience less psychological safety. But senior leaders are not immune to it either. They can encounter situations where raising concerns feels risky, particularly in executive settings where disagreement can be interpreted as “too political,” disloyal or a sign of weakness.

Leadership scholar Amy Edmondson’s research helps explain this dynamic. Her psychological safety matrix shows that fear flourishes when high performance standards are combined with low psychological safety.

In teams with high levels of psychological safety and highly challenging tasks and standards, she found employees are curious and engaged problem-solvers. However, when the same high standards exist without psychological safety (where people believe that they might be punished or humiliated for speaking up), anxiety prevails.

The goal is to have your team experience the first scenario. Because psychological safety operates at the team level, organizations can have multiple teams doing similar high-risk work with dramatically different outcomes, depending on whether people feel safe enough to speak up.

Creating safer systems starts with leadership

Since interpersonal fear is shaped by perception, it doesn’t matter whether leaders believe they are approachable; what matters is whether their teams think they are. If employees are spending more time worrying about managing impressions than operations, hazards go unreported and people are unknowingly put at risk.

Creating safer workplaces requires cultures where speaking up is not punished, dismissed or discouraged. Leaders can start by asking themselves questions: who is least likely to challenge me at work? What information might I not be hearing as a result?

Read more:
Silence speaks volumes: How mental health influences employee silence at work

Often, the employees with the most job security, such as union reps or those nearing retirement, are the most honest sources of insight. Listening to these voices is often a good place to start.

Research shows that organizations can improve psychological safety through practical leadership changes. Supervisors who listen, seek feedback, share reasoning behind decisions and are team-oriented instead of self-serving are more likely to create and maintain psychological safety.

Leaders should also pay attention to variations across teams. Useful questions to ask include:

• Which teams are feeling fearful?

• Which teams are feeling curious and engaged?

• How can you create more high-performance teams?

Understanding why some teams feel safer than others can reveal opportunities for improvement.

For leaders, the greatest worry should be whether your employees are afraid to speak up. Be suspicious of “good news only” green dashboards, obsequious agreement or stony silences. Do not punish messengers — rather, embrace their candour as a gift and a sign that your organization is preventing harm.

Lianne M Lefsrud receives funding from the Natural Science and Engineering Research Council of Canada (NSERC), Alberta Justice, WorkSafeBC, Mitacs, Alberta Innovates, and the Lynch School of Engineering Safety and Risk Management endowed funds.

– ref. Fear at work is a hidden safety risk — and it helps explain why hazards go unreported – https://theconversation.com/fear-at-work-is-a-hidden-safety-risk-and-it-helps-explain-why-hazards-go-unreported-272886

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Joshua Gonzales, PhD Student in Management at the Lang School of Business and Economics, University of Guelph

It is a stereotype that Canadians apologize for everything. We say sorry when you bump into us. We say sorry for the weather. But as we trudge through the grey days of winter, that national instinct for politeness hits a wall of fatigue.

The temptation is obvious. With a single click, Gmail’s “Help me write” or ChatGPT can draft a polite decline to an invitation or a heartfelt thank you for a holiday sweater you’ll never wear.

It’s efficient. It’s polite. It’s grammatically perfect.

It’s also a trap.

New research suggests that when we outsource our social interactions to AI, we are trading away our reputation. Using AI to manage your social life makes you seem less warm, less moral and significantly less trustworthy.

Learning a language is hard, but even native speakers get confused by pronunciation, connotations, definitions and etymology. The lexicon is constantly evolving, especially in the social media era, where new memes, catchphrases, slang, jargon and idioms are introduced at a rapid clip.
Slanguage, The Conversation Canada’s new series, dives into how language shapes the way we see the world and what it reveals about culture, power and belonging. Welcome to the wild and wonderful world of linguistics.

The trap of efficiency

In our consumer economy, we love automation. When I order a package, I don’t need a human to type the shipping notification; I just want the box on my doorstep. We accept — even demand — efficiency from brands.

But our friends are not brands, and our relationships are not transactions.

The new study published in Computers in Human Behavior — entitled “Negative Perceptions of Outsourcing to Artificial Intelligence” by British academic Scott Claessens and other researchers — suggests that emotional dynamics follow different rules than those shaping more practical situations. The researchers found that, while we tolerate AI assistance for technical tasks like writing code or planning a daily schedule, we punish it severely in social contexts.

When you use AI to write a love letter, an apology or a wedding vow, the recipient sees a lack of effort instead of a well-written text. In relationships, effort is a strong currency of care.

Less warm, less authentic

You might think you can hack this system by being honest. Perhaps you tell your friend: “I used ChatGPT to help me find the right words, but I edited it myself.”

Unfortunately, the data doesn’t indicate this is much of a solution.

Claessens’ work investigated a “best-case” scenario, where a user treated AI as a collaborative tool, employing it for ideas and feedback rather than verbatim copying, and was fully transparent about the process.

The researchers found that the social consequences of this approach are highly task-dependent: for socio-relational tasks like writing love letters, wedding vows or apology notes, participants still rated the sender as significantly less moral, less warm and less authentic than someone who didn’t use AI.

However, for instrumental or non-social tasks like writing computer code or dinner recipes, this collaborative and honest use of AI didn’t lead to negative perceptions of moral character or warmth, even if the user was still perceived as having expended less effort.

This creates a uniquely modern anxiety for the polite Canadian. We apologize to maintain social bonds. But if we use AI to craft that apology, we sever the very bond we are trying to hold onto. An apology generated by an algorithm, no matter how polished, signals that the relationship wasn’t worth the 20 minutes it would have taken to write it yourself.

Authentic inefficiency

This friction isn’t limited to text messages.

I’ve observed a similar pattern in my own preliminary research on consumer behaviour and AI-generated art. This work was conducted with Associate Prof. Ying Zhu at the University of British Columbian, Okanagan and will be presented at the American Marketing Association’s Winter Conference.

Consumers often reject excellent AI creations in creative arts fields because they lack the moral weight of human intent.

I believe we’re entering an era where inefficiency and imperfection will become premium products. Just as a flawed hand-knit scarf means more than a mass-produced, factory-made one, a clunky, typo-ridden text message from a friend is becoming more valuable than a sonnet written by a random internet language model.

The renowned “Canadian Sorry” is only meaningful because it represents a moment of humility, a pang of guilt, the effort used to find the right words. When we outsource this type of labour, we outsource the meaning too.

So as you tackle your inbox this winter, resist the urge to let the robot take the wheel for every case. Your clients might need the perfect email, but your friends and family certainly don’t. They want to know you cared enough to find the words yourself.

Joshua Gonzales 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. Slanguage: How the use of AI for apologies could cause the ‘Canadian Sorry’ to lose its soul – https://theconversation.com/slanguage-how-the-use-of-ai-for-apologies-could-cause-the-canadian-sorry-to-lose-its-soul-273046