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In a revealing glimpse behind the curtain, commentator Andrew Doyle recently highlighted how certain narratives are tightly controlled within major media organizations. According to Doyle, the BBC has an “LGBT desk” that effectively acts as a gatekeeper, making sure all stories related to sexuality or gender must align with a particular viewpoint before they get the green light.
This revelation sheds light on how media outlets can become ideologically captured, turning into echo chambers rather than platforms for open dialogue. While there are undoubtedly excellent journalists at the BBC, Doyle’s insight reveals a systemic issue: when certain desks have the power of veto over stories, it raises questions about whose voices are being heard and whose are being filtered out.
In a time when free speech and diverse perspectives are more important than ever, understanding how these behind-the-scenes dynamics work is crucial. After all, a truly free press should aim to present a range of viewpoints rather than enforcing a single narrative.
In recent years, Venezuela was often held up as a shining example by some Western socialists as the ultimate proof that their economic model could create a fairer society. Big names on the left, from Jeremy Corbyn to Bernie Sanders, once praised Venezuela as a socialist success story.
But when the country’s economy collapsed, when its people faced hunger, and when millions fled, those same voices grew notably quiet. Today, the narrative has shifted. Supporters who once looked to Venezuela now point to Nordic countries, distancing themselves from what they once endorsed.
The reality is that Venezuela’s tragic decline serves as a cautionary tale. It shows that simply promising “free stuff” and wealth redistribution doesn’t automatically lead to prosperity. Instead, it can lead to economic dysfunction and suffering.
In this post, we’ve unpacked how the once-celebrated Venezuelan model has become an uncomfortable silence among its former admirers. We’ve seen how the economic realities and human suffering in Venezuela stand in stark contrast to the optimistic promises of socialism. And as we look at these lessons, it’s clear that Western societies need to reevaluate the ideologies we champion. Ultimately, if we want to build fairer and more prosperous societies, we need to be honest about what works and what doesn’t, and not shy away from these tough conversations.
First, from the Manhattan Institute, there’s an analysis by Daniel Di Martino arguing that Venezuela’s crisis was primarily caused by socialist policies like nationalizations and price controls.
Second, the Fraser Institute provides a historical perspective from Fred McMahon, who notes that Venezuela’s decline started with economic mismanagement even before the full rise of socialist policies.
On January 3, 2026, the United States carried out a large-scale operation in Venezuela that resulted in the capture of Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, and their transfer into U.S. custody. [1] Within hours, the story stopped being only about Maduro. It became a stress test of the West’s default assumptions about how global order actually works.
The reaction split fast and predictably: condemnation framed in the language of sovereignty and the UN Charter; applause framed in the language of liberation and justice; and, underneath both, a quieter argument about whether “international law” is a meaningful constraint—or primarily a vocabulary used to legitimize outcomes power already permits.
Two languages for one event
When a great power uses force to remove a sitting head of state and relocate him for prosecution, states and commentators typically reach for one of two languages.
The first is legal-institutional: Was this lawful? Was it authorized? What does the UN Charter permit? What precedent does it set?
The second is strategic-realist: What will it cost? Who can impose consequences? What does it deter? What does it invite?
These languages often coexist, but Venezuela forced a choice because it exposed the tension between *the claim* of a rules-governed international order and *the mechanism* by which order actually persists.
The enforceability problem
The measured point is not that international law is “fake” in every domain. A great deal of international life runs on rules that are real in practice: treaties, trade arrangements, financial compliance, aviation coordination, maritime norms, and sanctions enforcement. In those domains, rules can be highly consequential because they are tied to access, markets, and institutional membership.
But in the domain that states care about most—hard security and regime survival—international law runs into a structural limitation: there is no global sovereign with a monopoly on force. The question is not whether rules exist, but whether they bind the actors most able to ignore them.
That isn’t a rhetorical flourish. It’s the structural fact everything else sits on.
The UN can convene, condemn, and deliberate. But it cannot consistently coerce major powers into compliance. In the wake of the Maduro operation, the UN Security Council moved to meet and the UN Secretary-General warned the action set a “dangerous precedent.” [2] That may shape legitimacy and alliances. It may raise political costs. But it does not function like law inside a state, because law inside a state ultimately rests on enforceable authority.
This is why the phrase “international law” so often behaves less like binding law and more like legitimacy currency—something states spend, something rivals contest, and something that matters most when it is backed by power.
The reaction spectrum makes more sense as philosophy, not partisanship
The political reactions were not merely partisan reflexes; they were expressions of competing world-models.
Institutionalists treated the precedent as the core danger: once unilateral force becomes normalized, the world becomes easier for worse actors to imitate.
Sovereignty-first critics (especially in regions with long memories of intervention) treated it as a return to imperial patterns—regardless of Maduro’s character.
Results-first supporters treated it as overdue action against an entrenched authoritarian regime and criminal networks.
Realists treated it as a reminder that rules do not restrain actors who cannot be credibly punished.
It is possible to disagree with the operation and still accept the realist diagnosis. “This was reckless” and “this reveals how order works” are not contradictions—they’re often the same conclusion stated in different registers.
A small but telling detail: systems moved, not just speeches
One detail worth noting is that the event had immediate operational spillover beyond diplomacy: temporary Caribbean airspace restrictions and widespread flight cancellations followed, with U.S. authorities later lifting curbs. [3] That’s not a moral argument either way. It’s simply a reminder that great-power action produces real-world system effects instantly—while multilateral processes operate on a different clock.
Meanwhile, Venezuela’s internal institutions scrambled to project continuity. On January 4, 2026, reporting described Venezuela’s Supreme Court ordering Vice President Delcy Rodríguez to assume the interim presidency following Maduro’s detention. [4] Again, one can read this in legal terms or strategic terms. But it underscores the same point: the decisive moves were being made through power, institutional control, and logistics—not through international adjudication.
What Venezuela is really teaching
The strongest measured conclusion is this:
1. International law can matter as coordination and legitimacy.
2. But in hard-security conflicts, it does not function like ordinary law because enforcement is selective, especially against great powers.
3. Therefore, when Western leaders speak as though “international law” itself will constrain outcomes, they are often describing the world they want—or the world they remember—more than the world that exists.
This is the wake-up Venezuela delivers: not that rules are worthless, but that rules don’t become rules until they are paired with credible consequences. If the West wants a world that is safer for liberal societies, it must stop mistaking procedural vocabulary for strategic capacity.
What Western leaders should do differently
If “international law” is often a language of legitimacy rather than a source of enforcement, then the task for Western leaders is not to abandon norms—but to rebuild the conditions under which norms can actually hold. That requires a change in posture that is both external and internal.
First: speak honestly about interests and tradeoffs.
A rules vocabulary can be morally sincere and still strategically evasive. Western publics deserve leaders who can say, without euphemism, what outcomes matter, why they matter, and what costs we are willing to pay to secure them.
Second: re-embody Western values in our institutions, not merely our slogans.
The West is not “a place that sometimes gets things right.” It is the most successful civilizational experiment yet produced: freedom under law, pluralism, scientific dynamism, broad prosperity, and the moral insight that the individual matters. If leaders treat this as an embarrassment rather than an inheritance, they will govern as caretakers of decline.
Third: restore civic confidence by repairing the narrative infrastructure.
A civilization that teaches its own children that it is uniquely evil will not defend itself—or even understand why it should. The “mono-focused West-is-bad” story has become a kind of institutional reflex across parts of education, culture, and bureaucracy. You can reject naïve triumphalism while still insisting on civilizational honesty: that the West has flaws, committed crimes, and still produced the best lived human outcomes at scale to date.
Fourth: build capacity again—material, strategic, and moral.
Norms without capacity do not preserve peace; they invite tests. This means defense industrial readiness, energy resilience, border and migration competence, counterintelligence seriousness, and the willingness to impose costs where deterrence requires it.
Finally: treat multilateralism as a tool, not a substitute for power.
Institutions can amplify strength; they cannot conjure it. A West that wants a stable order must stop acting as though process is the engine. Process is the dashboard.
Afterword: the more polemical take
Western elites keep reaching for “international law” the way a sleepwalker reaches for the bedside table—by habit, not by sight. They speak as if naming the norm substitutes for enforcing it. But there is no authority behind it for the actors that matter most.
So the scandal isn’t disagreement about Venezuela. The scandal is that so many of our leadership classes still talk like we live in a world where legitimacy language can replace power, unity, and competence. That was a comfortable posture in a more unipolar era. It is a dangerous posture now.
In a multipolar environment, moral declarations without strength don’t preserve order. They advertise weakness. And weakness is not neutral: it invites tests.
Footnotes
[1] Reuters (Jan 3–4, 2026): reporting on the U.S. operation capturing Nicolás Maduro and Cilia Flores and transferring them to U.S. custody.
[2] Reuters (Jan 3, 2026): UN Security Council to meet over U.S. action; UN Secretary-General calls it a “dangerous precedent”; meeting requested with backing from Russia/China.
[3] Reuters (Jan 3, 2026): Caribbean airspace restrictions and flight cancellations following the operation; later lifted.
[4] Reuters (Jan 4, 2026): Venezuela’s Supreme Court orders Delcy Rodríguez to assume interim presidency after Maduro’s detention.
Direct Reference Links
[1] Reuters — “Mock house, CIA source and Special Forces: The US operation to capture Maduro”
https://www.reuters.com/business/aerospace-defense/mock-house-cia-source-special-forces-us-operation-capture-maduro-2026-01-03/
[2] Reuters — “UN Security Council to meet Monday over US action in Venezuela”
https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/un-chief-venezuela-us-action-sets-dangerous-precedent-2026-01-03/
[3] Reuters — “US lifts Caribbean airspace curbs after attack on Venezuela”
https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/us-airlines-cancel-flights-after-caribbean-airspace-closure-2026-01-03/
[4] Reuters — “Venezuela’s Supreme Court orders Delcy Rodriguez become interim president”
https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/venezuelas-supreme-court-orders-delcy-rodriguez-become-interim-president-2026-01-04/
For most of my adult life, I identified as left-of-centre. I supported progressive policies on social issues, the environment, and equality. But over the past few years—especially now, at 51—I’ve found myself increasingly out of step with parts of the contemporary left. Not because my values changed, but because many of the policies being pushed today feel more disruptive than constructive. They often reshape core institutions, family structures, or economic systems without clear evidence that the changes will work long-term.
This isn’t a turn toward extremism. I still care deeply about compassion, fairness, and progress. What has changed is my tolerance for sweeping experimentation without rigorous testing. I want policy that is incremental, evidence-based, and willing to adjust when data shows something isn’t working. That’s not ideology—it’s responsibility.Seeking evidence-driven solutions isn’t inherently “right-wing.” Both sides claim to follow the data, but in practice, good policy should transcend labels. Historically, Canadian conservatism has often embodied this approach: balanced budgets, stable institutions, and pragmatic reforms that build on what already works rather than tearing systems down in pursuit of unproven theories.
Yet critics are quick to slap on labels like “Maple MAGA”—a term meant to equate any Canadian centre-right view with the most polarizing elements of U.S. Trumpism. It’s a lazy shortcut, designed to shut down conversation rather than understand it. Not every conservative is a populist firebrand. Many people—myself included—are simply tired of rapid, ideologically driven changes that risk destabilizing society without demonstrating clear benefits.
I’m not closed off. If strong evidence emerges showing that bold progressive policies genuinely improve stability, opportunity, and quality of life, I’m willing to reconsider. But right now, I see more promise in cautious, proven approaches that respect the complexity of the systems we’re trying to improve.
What about you? Have your views shifted as you’ve gained more life experience? I’m interested in real dialogue: no smears, no lazy labels, and no assumptions that a shift in perspective means abandoning core values.
In recent years, Canadian public schools have increasingly incorporated political themes into extracurricular events, including winter concerts. A widely discussed example occurred at Karen Kain School of the Arts in Toronto, where Grade 8 students performed a skit during a December “winter concert” featuring protest‑style signs such as “Give Back Stolen Land” and “Land Back.” The performance replaced traditional seasonal programming with messaging aligned with the contemporary “Land Back” movement. While the intent may have been to highlight Indigenous history, the choice of format and venue raises important questions about the appropriate boundaries between education and activism in publicly funded schools.
To evaluate this incident fairly, it is essential to distinguish between curricular education—which is mandated, necessary, and valuable—and extracurricular political advocacy, which carries different expectations and responsibilities.
Ontario’s curriculum explicitly requires students to learn about Indigenous histories, treaties, residential schools, and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s Calls to Action. These topics are not optional; they are embedded in the Social Studies and History curriculum for Grades 1–8. Teaching them is not activism—it is education grounded in historical fact and national responsibility. When taught in the classroom, these subjects can be explored with nuance, context, and opportunities for critical thinking.
The issue at Karen Kain is not the subject matter itself, but the format and framing. A winter concert is traditionally a community‑building event: inclusive, celebratory, and accessible to families of all backgrounds. Parents attend expecting music, dance, or drama that reflects seasonal themes or showcases student creativity. Transforming such an event into a protest‑style performance shifts the purpose from celebration to advocacy. It also removes the pedagogical safeguards—balanced discussion, guided inquiry, and contextual explanation—that exist in the classroom.
The “Land Back” movement, while rooted in legitimate discussions about Indigenous rights and historical treaties, is also a politically contested movement with a wide range of interpretations and significant implications for land ownership, governance, and public policy. Presenting it through slogans and protest imagery, without space for analysis or alternative perspectives, risks conveying a single ideological stance rather than fostering informed understanding. For 13‑ and 14‑year‑old students, who are still developing the ability to evaluate complex political claims, this can blur the line between learning about a movement and being encouraged to endorse it.
This concern is not hypothetical. Surveys consistently show that many Canadian parents prefer schools to avoid pushing students toward political activism, even on causes they personally support. Parents generally want schools to prioritize academic learning, critical thinking, and balanced instruction rather than advocacy. When extracurricular events adopt activist framing, it can erode trust by making families feel blindsided or excluded from decisions about what messages their children are asked to perform publicly.
None of this means schools should avoid difficult topics or silence discussions of Indigenous rights. On the contrary, these subjects deserve thoughtful, rigorous treatment. But context matters. A winter concert is not the venue for dramatizing contested political movements. Doing so risks reducing complex issues to slogans, bypassing critical engagement, and placing students in the role of political actors rather than learners.
A healthier approach would preserve the distinction between education and advocacy. Teach Indigenous history thoroughly in the classroom, as the curriculum requires. Encourage students to analyze movements like Land Back with intellectual seriousness. But keep extracurricular performances focused on inclusive, community‑oriented themes that unite rather than divide.
By maintaining this boundary, schools can honour both their educational mission and their responsibility to provide neutral, welcoming environments for all families—ensuring that learning remains grounded in inquiry, not activism, and that public events remain spaces of shared celebration rather than ideological theatre.
References
Original Incident and Reporting
Pfahl, Chanel (@ChanLPfa). “A parent at the Toronto District School Board sent me these pictures from the ‘Winter Concert’…” X (formerly Twitter), 18 Dec. 2025. https://x.com/ChanLPfa/status/2001719861723173203
“Toronto Grade 8 students stage ‘Land Back’ protest at school ‘winter concert’.” Juno News, 19 Dec. 2025. https://www.junonews.com/p/toronto-grade-8-students-stage-land
Ontario Curriculum Requirements
Ontario Ministry of Education. “Indigenous Education in Ontario.” Government of Ontario, updated 2 Sept. 2025. https://www.ontario.ca/page/indigenous-education-ontario
“Indigenous history, culture now mandatory part of Ontario curriculum.” CBC News, 8 Nov. 2017. https://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/indigenous-history-culture-mandatory-ontario-curriculum-1.4393527
Context on the “Land Back” Movement
“The Indigenous ‘Land Back’ Movement: A Land Mine for Canadians.” C2C Journal, 28 Oct. 2024. https://c2cjournal.ca/2024/10/the-indigenous-land-back-movement-a-land-mine-for-canadians/
Parental Attitudes Toward Activism in Schools
Zwaagstra, Michael, and Alex MacPherson. “Canadian parents don’t want schools to push students into political activism.” Fraser Institute, 2024. https://www.fraserinstitute.org/commentary/canadian-parents-dont-want-schools-to-push-students-into-political-activism
To speak publicly about politics is to shape how people understand the world. That power is a privilege—and a civic responsibility. A public voice can clarify or distort, empower or demoralize, elevate or degrade. Too many voices in today’s public square choose the latter, trading integrity for attention or tribal loyalty. The only antidote is a higher standard: one demanded by audiences and upheld by those who choose to speak.Anyone who steps into the political arena owes their audience five core duties.
- Truth
The first duty is truth—plain, direct, and unvarnished. Truth requires more than avoiding lies; it demands clarity. Deliberate vagueness, selective omission, and euphemistic fog are forms of manipulation. They create suspicion without resolution and leave audiences less informed than before.
A responsible speaker illuminates. They do not hide the ball, blur the edges, or gesture toward implications they refuse to own. Truth is the foundation on which every other duty rests. - Principle Over Personal Feeling
Public speech must be anchored in principle, not personal loyalty or emotional comfort. Friendship with a public figure who behaves badly is not a shield against accountability. Silence in the name of loyalty is complicity.
This duty is difficult—because it asks us to prioritize values over relationships, and integrity over tribe. But politics is not a social club. It is the arena where ideas shape real lives. If we sacrifice principle for personal feeling, we betray the very people we claim to serve. - Responsibility for the Platform
A platform is not a megaphone; it is an editorial choice. Anyone who invites a guest, amplifies a voice, or endorses a narrative is responsible for that decision.
This means asking real, truth-seeking questions, being transparent about agreement or disagreement, acknowledging when a promoted voice proves flawed, and refusing to hide behind “I’m just giving them a platform.”
Public speakers are not neutral conduits. They are curators. And curation carries moral weight. - Evidence
Claims require evidence. Not vibes, not insinuation, not “just asking questions.” Evidence.
In a fragmented information landscape, audiences are already overwhelmed by speculation and outrage. A responsible speaker cuts through the noise by grounding arguments in verifiable facts. Evidence-based inquiry is not the enemy of passion—it is what gives passion legitimacy.
Without evidence, rhetoric becomes manipulation. With evidence, it becomes persuasion. - Solutions and Agency
The final duty is to offer solutions—real ones, grounded in reality. Telling people that everything is rigged or hopeless may generate clicks, but it destroys agency. A population convinced that nothing is within their control will stop trying to improve anything at all.
Responsible voices do the opposite. They show paths forward. They encourage personal responsibility. They foster hope rooted in action, not fantasy. They remind people that while the world is imperfect, it is not immovable.
Solutions are not about optimism; they are about empowerment.
The Standard We Should Demand
These duties are not optional. They are the price of admission for anyone who chooses to influence public understanding. Frauds and opportunists thrive by exploiting fear, tribalism, and cynicism. They will continue to do so until audiences refuse to reward them—and until speakers commit to something better.
When we insist on truth, principle, responsibility, evidence, and agency, we build a healthier public square. Not a perfect one, but a stronger one—one capable of sustaining a free society.
For Canadians observing American politics from across the border, the U.S. conservative movement can look unusually volatile—especially after Donald Trump’s 2024 victory reinforced his influence over the Republican Party. If the Canadian Conservative Party is a “big tent,” the GOP is a sprawling, louder, and more internally divided version of the same idea. Its factions share broad goals but clash over identity, strategy, and the future of the movement.
In a recent public commentary, writer James Lindsay outlined five distinct factions competing for influence on the American right. His taxonomy is one interpretation among many, but it captures real ideological and generational tensions. For Canadians trying to understand how these divisions might shape U.S. policy, it’s a useful map.
1. Establishment Republicans: The Institutional Conservatives
These are the traditional, business-oriented conservatives—what Lindsay calls the “stodgy suit-wearing” wing. They emphasize:
• limited government
• free trade
• predictable governance
• strong national defense
For Canadians, this group resembles the Mulroney-era blue Tories: polished, institutionally minded, and cautious about populist disruption.
2. “RINO” Moderates: The Centrist Republicans
“RINO” (Republican In Name Only) is a pejorative label used by hardliners to describe moderates they see as too conciliatory or ideologically soft. Think of figures who prioritize bipartisan cooperation or resist populist rhetoric.
The Canadian parallel would be how some conservatives dismiss “Red Tories” as insufficiently committed to conservative principles. The term reflects internal policing rather than a neutral category, but it marks a real divide between ideological purists and pragmatic centrists.
3. Middle MAGA: The Populist-Pragmatic Core
Lindsay identifies Middle MAGA as the current center of gravity within the GOP. This faction emphasizes:
• patriotism
• common-sense governance
• America First policies
• civic engagement
• skepticism of foreign wars
It is largely Gen X–led and blends populist energy with practical governance. For Canadians, the closest analogue is Pierre Poilievre’s populist-but-practical conservatism: anti-elite, affordability-focused, and oriented toward achievable reforms rather than sweeping ideological overhauls.
4. The Woke Right / Post-Liberal Radicals
This faction—also described as post-liberal, paleoconservative, or national conservative—rejects classical liberalism’s emphasis on individual rights and free markets. Instead, they advocate:
• a more interventionist state
• protectionist economics
• government enforcement of cultural or religious norms
• a strong national identity
Lindsay criticizes this group for adopting tactics he associates with left-wing activism, such as purity tests and identity-based rhetoric. For Canadians, this resembles fringe nationalist or sovereigntist currents—loud, ideological, and disruptive, but not representative of mainstream conservative policy.
5. Pragmatic Neo-Establishment Republicans (e.g., DeSantis-aligned)
This faction overlaps with Middle MAGA but is distinct in its technocratic, results-oriented approach. These conservatives:
• embrace populist themes
• maintain classical liberal commitments
• prioritize policy execution and administrative competence
Lindsay uses Ron DeSantis as an example of this style: populist in tone, managerial in practice. For Canadians, this resembles the Harper-era blend of populist messaging with disciplined governance.
Where the Movement Is Heading
Lindsay predicts that the most likely future for the American right is a fusion between Middle MAGA (3) and the pragmatic neo-establishment (5). This coalition would combine populist energy with administrative competence, pulling many traditional establishment conservatives (1) along with it.
By contrast, he expects the RINO moderates (2) and the Woke Right/post-liberal radicals (4) to resist this consolidation—“kicking and screaming,” as he puts it—and potentially causing disruption from the fringes.
Why This Matters for Canada
These internal American debates have direct implications for Canadians. U.S. conservative politics influence:
• trade policy and tariffs
• energy infrastructure, including pipelines and cross-border projects
• border security and immigration coordination
• NATO and continental defense
As Trump’s second term unfolds, the balance of power among these five factions could shape everything from tariff structures to foreign aid priorities. For Canada, understanding these divisions is essential. Our closest ally and largest trading partner is navigating a period of ideological realignment—one that echoes our own debates, but on a larger, louder, and more consequential scale.
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