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There’s a low-grade feeling in the background of a lot of conversations right now that something isn’t quite working the way it used to.
Not broken. Not collapsing. Just… off.
The rules still exist. The institutions still function. On paper, everything is in place. But the sense that things are moving in the direction they claim to be moving has started to thin, and people tend to notice that long before they can explain it.
It’s difficult to point to a single cause. That’s part of why the feeling lingers. When something breaks, you can name it. When something drifts, you feel it first and only understand it later.
That unease tends to show up when the quiet constraints that keep systems stable begin to weaken.
In law, it looks like uneven enforcement. In politics, it shows up when power stops feeling like something that will eventually change hands. More generally, it appears whenever positions begin to feel fixed rather than contingent.
Most of the time, these constraints operate in the background. They don’t need to be defended constantly because they are demonstrated often enough that people take them for granted. You see rules applied. You see consequences land. You see people leave positions they once held.
That’s usually enough.
When those patterns become less consistent, the system doesn’t collapse. It adjusts. Power becomes a little less exposed, a little more predictable, but not in a reassuring way. Access narrows, not through explicit barriers, but through familiarity and repetition.
You start to see the same outcomes, or at least the same kinds of outcomes, and they become easier to anticipate.
At first, most people adapt without thinking much about it. Systems can absorb a surprising amount of this kind of drift. But the adjustment isn’t free. It changes how people relate to the system itself.
They rely on it less. They work around it more. And eventually, they stop assuming that the rules being stated are the rules that actually matter.
That shift is quiet, but it matters.
This is not an argument that the past was fair, pure, or evenly experienced. Many people never experienced the old constraints as neutral. The point is narrower. When the public no longer believes the operative rules match the stated rules, trust begins to thin.
Analysts of collapse tend to focus on endpoints. Resource exhaustion. Rising complexity. External shock. Those accounts are valuable, and they explain why systems eventually fail.
What they describe less clearly is the phase that comes before that.
The point where the system still functions, but no longer feels like it is working as intended.
That phase is where most people live, and it is where most systems are decided.
Because once a system reaches the point where it requires constant effort to maintain the appearance of fairness, the cost of sustaining it begins to rise. Not just in money, but in attention, coordination, and trust.
More oversight gets added. More process. More intervention. Each change is meant to correct a small imbalance. Taken together, they make the system heavier and harder to move.
At some point, the question shifts. It’s no longer just whether the system is fair or efficient. It becomes whether it is worth maintaining in its current form.
That’s where drift turns into something else.
Not collapse in the dramatic sense, but simplification. People disengage. Participation drops. Compliance becomes selective. The system doesn’t explode. It contracts.
If that is the direction of travel, then the question is not how to prevent collapse entirely. No system avoids change indefinitely.
The question is how to restore the constraints that keep drift from becoming the default condition.
The answer is less dramatic than most people expect.
It doesn’t require perfect leaders, sweeping reform, or a complete redesign of institutions. It requires something more basic, and more difficult to sustain.
The system has to demonstrate, consistently and visibly, that its constraints still hold.
That demonstration has to be more than messaging.
It has to take the form of consequences that land where they should, including on allies, insiders, and institutions themselves. It means oversight with teeth, rules applied even when politically inconvenient, and positions that remain genuinely vulnerable to replacement rather than quietly secured over time.
These are not abstract principles. They are operational ones.
A system that enforces its rules selectively teaches people to look for exceptions. A system that allows power to settle teaches people that outcomes are predetermined. A system that avoids disruption teaches people that disruption is no longer possible.
Reversing that drift doesn’t happen through messaging. It happens through action, repeated often enough that people begin to believe what they are seeing again.
Trust is not restored by argument. It is restored by demonstration.
And that demonstration has to be visible enough that people can recognize it without being told what it means.
That is the path forward.
Not a guarantee of stability. Not a return to some idealized past. But a re-establishment of the conditions under which systems remain both legible and worth participating in.
Because the alternative is not immediate collapse, it is something a little more quieter and under the radar.
A system that continues to function, but no longer convinces.
Suggested Further Reading
If this line of thinking resonates, these works explore different parts of the same problem from complementary angles:
- The Collapse of Complex Societies — Joseph Tainter
A clear account of how increasing complexity yields diminishing returns, and why systems often simplify rather than fail dramatically. - Collapse — Jared Diamond
Examines how societies respond—successfully or not—to environmental, political, and economic pressures over time. - Guns, Germs, and Steel — Jared Diamond
A broader look at how geography and structural conditions shape long-term societal development and stability. - Rivers of Gold, Rivers of Blood — Anthony Quinn
Explores how wealth, empire, and resource flows influence power, expansion, and institutional behavior. - Altered Carbon — created by Laeta Kalogridis (based on the novel by Richard K. Morgan)
A speculative take on what happens when one of society’s most fundamental constraints—biological exit—is removed entirely.
One of the quiet functions of a healthy political system is rotation.
Not because one party is virtuous and the other corrupt, but because time in power changes incentives in ways that are predictable, even if they are not always obvious in the moment. Networks deepen, relationships harden, and what begins as governance slowly shifts toward maintenance—of position, of access, of advantage.
Canada does not impose formal term limits on governments, but it has long relied on something that functions similarly in practice. Parties rise, govern for a period, accumulate political and institutional cost, and are eventually replaced. The pattern is not mechanical, and it is not guaranteed, but it has been consistent enough to act as a kind of informal corrective.
That corrective matters because it interrupts accumulation.
Given enough time, any governing party begins to operate within a system that is increasingly shaped by its own presence. Decision-making becomes more insulated. Access becomes more selective. The line between public purpose and political survival, while never erased, becomes easier to move in small ways that rarely register as decisive in isolation.
Recent Canadian politics illustrates the point without needing to overstate it. Controversies such as the ArriveCAN app controversy and the SNC-Lavalin affair do not require an assumption of uniquely bad actors to be understood. They are better read as symptoms of what tends to happen when a government remains at the centre of power long enough for incentives to drift and institutional friction to thin.
This is not a claim about one party. Given enough time, any governing party will face the same structural pressures. The names change. The pattern does not.
This is not, in the first instance, a question of intent. It is a question of structure. The longer a party governs, the more the system begins to orient toward its continuation. That orientation does not appear all at once. It develops through small accommodations, repeated often enough that they begin to feel normal.
“Given enough time, any governing party begins to operate within a system that is increasingly shaped by its own presence.”
Historically, Canadian politics has corrected for this through turnover. Governments change, and with that change comes a reintroduction of uncertainty. New actors enter. Old networks loosen. Decisions that once passed quietly are re-examined under a different set of incentives. The system does not become pure, but it becomes less settled.
That correction is not without cost. Rotation introduces instability, resets institutional memory, and can produce policy whiplash as new governments relearn old lessons. These are not trivial drawbacks. The question is whether the discipline imposed by credible exit outweighs the friction introduced by change.
That distinction matters.
When the expectation of rotation weakens, the effect is not immediate collapse. What changes first is the texture of the system. Power becomes less contingent, less exposed to disruption, and therefore less disciplined by the possibility of loss. The longer that condition persists, the more governance begins to resemble continuity rather than contest.
A system does not need dramatic failure to drift in this direction. It only needs the mechanisms that interrupt accumulation to operate less reliably than before.
If that is true, then the health of the system depends less on who governs than on whether the expectation of replacement remains credible.
High-trust societies depend, in part, on the belief that power circulates and that no position is permanently secured. That belief does not rest on rhetoric. It rests on repeated demonstration.
When that demonstration becomes less frequent, trust does not vanish overnight. It thins, gradually, as the gap between expectation and experience widens.
And once that gap becomes large enough, the system is no longer experienced as dynamic.
It is experienced as fixed.
We feel safe in places like Alberta for a simple reason. Not because the system is especially gentle, and not because people are unusually kind, but because we believe the rules will be enforced, reliably and without fear or favour.
That belief does most of the work. It sits quietly in the background of daily life, doing its job precisely because it rarely has to announce itself. You don’t need to know the Criminal Code in detail. You only need to trust that when someone breaks it in a serious way, the response will reduce the chance of it happening again.
When that belief weakens, the shift is subtle at first. It doesn’t arrive as a declaration. It shows up in patterns. Arrest, release, reoffend, repeat. People notice, not as legal experts, but as observers of outcomes. The conclusion they draw is not complicated: the system is no longer reliably containing those who break its rules.
That is where trust begins to erode.
In Canada, this question intersects with a specific and sensitive legal reality. Sentencing is not strictly uniform. Courts are required to consider the unique systemic and historical circumstances of Indigenous offenders through what are commonly called Gladue factors, originating in R v Gladue and reaffirmed in R v Ipeelee. These rulings direct judges to account for the effects of residential schools, displacement, and intergenerational trauma when determining an appropriate sentence.
The intent here is not trivial. Indigenous Canadians make up roughly 4 to 5 percent of the population, yet account for over 30 percent of those in custody, with incarceration rates approaching ten times that of non-Indigenous Canadians. A justice system that ignored that disparity entirely would risk perpetuating injustice under the banner of neutrality.
That is the strongest case for Gladue principles, and it deserves to be taken seriously.
“A system that adjusts sentencing to account for historical injustice may be justified in principle. But if those adjustments affect how long repeat offenders are incapacitated, the question is not ideological. It is practical: does the system reduce harm?”
But a justice system is not judged by intent alone. It is judged by outcomes, particularly where public safety is concerned. And those outcomes sit alongside another set of facts that are harder to keep in view.
Indigenous women experience violent victimization at more than double the national rate. They are killed at rates several times higher than non-Indigenous women. Much of this violence occurs within known social networks rather than as random acts, which places the question of repeat offending and system response directly at the centre of the issue.
At the same time, recidivism is not a marginal phenomenon. Data from Correctional Service Canada shows that a significant proportion of offenders reoffend after release, with rates notably higher among Indigenous offenders. That does not make reoffending inevitable. It does establish that risk is real, and that it clusters.
Placed together, these realities create a tension that cannot be resolved by appeal to intent alone. A system that adjusts sentencing to account for historical injustice may be justified in principle. But that same system operates in a world where victimization is not evenly distributed, and where recidivism is not negligible. If those adjustments meaningfully affect how long repeat offenders are incapacitated, then the question is not ideological. It is practical: does the system, in aggregate, reduce harm?
To ask that question is not to deny the moral foundation of the policy. It is to take it seriously enough to test it against reality.
This is where the conversation often breaks down. Raising the issue is treated as a signal of bias rather than a request for evaluation. But a high-trust society cannot function on selective clarity. It has to be able to hold two things in view at once: that historical injustice matters, and that the primary function of a justice system is to protect the public from repeat harm. These aims are not mutually exclusive. But neither are they automatically aligned.
If they come into tension, and in some cases they do, the answer cannot be to ignore the friction because it is uncomfortable. Nor can it be to retreat into abstract claims about equality that bypass real differences in circumstance. The harder task is to examine whether the current balance is working as intended.
None of this implies that Gladue principles should be abandoned, nor that historical context should be ignored. It implies something narrower, and more demanding. Any system that modifies sentencing must also ensure that high-risk, repeat offenders, regardless of background, are reliably identified and contained. If those goals cannot be reconciled in practice, then the framework requires adjustment, not rhetorical defense.
Because the cost of getting this wrong is not abstract. It is paid in the quiet erosion of trust, and in the lived reality of those most exposed to harm.
High-trust societies are not sustained by kindness alone. They are sustained by the belief that rules are enforced, that serious harm is contained, and that the system works in the direction of protection. When that belief weakens through patterns rather than proclamations, trust does not collapse all at once.
It erodes.
And once it erodes far enough, it does not matter how compassionate the system intended to be.
It will no longer be believed.
Glossary
Gladue Factors
Legal considerations requiring Canadian judges to account for the unique systemic and historical circumstances affecting Indigenous offenders when determining a sentence. These can include the legacy of residential schools, intergenerational trauma, and community conditions.
R v Gladue
A Supreme Court of Canada decision establishing that courts must consider the background and systemic factors affecting Indigenous offenders under section 718.2(e) of the Criminal Code.
R v Ipeelee
A follow-up Supreme Court decision reinforcing that Gladue principles must be applied in all cases involving Indigenous offenders and clarifying their importance in sentencing.
Recidivism
The tendency of a convicted individual to reoffend after being released from custody or completing a sentence.
High-Trust Society
A society in which individuals broadly believe that institutions, laws, and fellow citizens operate predictably and fairly, reducing the need for constant vigilance or defensive behavior.
References
Statistics Canada – Indigenous victimization and incarceration data
https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/85-002-x/2023001/article/00006-eng.htm
https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/85-002-x/2023001/article/00004-eng.htm
Correctional Service Canada – Recidivism data
https://www.canada.ca/en/correctional-service/corporate/library/research/emerging-results/19-02.html
Department of Justice Canada – Gladue background and application
https://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/rp-pr/jr/gladue/p2.html
National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls – Final report and findings
https://www.mmiwg-ffada.ca/final-report/
R v Gladue – Full decision (CanLII)
https://www.canlii.org/en/ca/scc/doc/1999/1999canlii679/1999canlii679.html
R v Ipeelee – Full decision (CanLII)
https://www.canlii.org/en/ca/scc/doc/2012/2012scc13/2012scc13.html
The rule of law, a cornerstone of Western civilization, ensures justice and stability through impartiality, accountability, and restraint on power. Marxism, by contrast, subordinates legality to revolutionary goals and class-based conflict, undermining the very structures that support social cohesion. To preserve civilization, we must uphold the rule of law.
1. The Rule of Law: Civilization’s Bedrock
In 1215, the barons at Runnymede compelled King John to sign the Magna Carta, declaring that even monarchs must be subject to law. This revolutionary idea—the rule of law—would become a cornerstone of Western civilization, evolving through England’s Glorious Revolution (1688) and culminating in modern constitutionalism.
The U.S. Constitution (1789) and France’s Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen (1789) enshrined this principle globally. By 2020, 90% of democracies had incorporated judicial independence into their constitutional systems.¹ The rule of law, as theorized by thinkers like A.V. Dicey and later F.A. Hayek, restrains power through legal predictability and universality.²
The practical results are clear. Nations scoring above 0.8 on the World Bank’s Rule of Law Index—such as Denmark, Finland, and Canada—also consistently rank high on human development, prosperity, and civic trust.³ The rule of law provides a common legal language for diverse societies, replacing tribal favoritism with equality before the law. Even where the system has historically failed—colonial abuses, slavery, or gender inequality—it has proven self-correcting through reform.⁴
Some critics claim that the rule of law merely entrenches elite power structures. But this critique misrepresents its essence. Far from preserving privilege, impartial law constrains it. It creates a standard by which even the powerful may be held to account. The abolition of slavery, universal suffrage, civil rights protections—all emerged not in spite of legal order, but through it. Civilization thrives when justice prevails.
2. The Shadow Rises: Marxism’s Assault on Legal Order
The rule of law’s strength lies in its impartiality—its power to unify pluralistic societies under shared norms. Yet Marxism offers a fundamentally different vision: one that subordinates legal stability to revolutionary transformation and class struggle.
In The Communist Manifesto (1848), Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels dismissed law as a mere instrument of the bourgeoisie.⁵ Their goal was not reform but abolition—of private property, class, and the legal structures that supported both. This revolutionary posture bore grim fruit: under Stalin’s Great Terror, over 1 million people were executed in the 1930s as law was repurposed into a tool of terror.⁶ Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution (1966–76) abandoned legal process entirely, leading to the persecution and death of millions in the name of ideological purification.⁷
Contemporary neo-Marxist frameworks, like Critical Legal Theory, question whether law can ever be neutral. While these critiques raise valid concerns about systemic bias, they often collapse into legal nihilism. “Equity” is increasingly invoked not as a means of fair access to justice but as a demand for redistributive outcomes that override due process.⁸
Seattle’s 2020 “defund the police” policy experiment, influenced by such theories, reduced legal enforcement capacity. According to FBI Uniform Crime Reporting, homicides in the city rose 61% that year.⁹ While correlation does not imply causation, many observers linked the spike to policing reductions and the erosion of legal authority. A Rasmussen survey in 2023 found that 68% of Americans believed defunding policies increased crime.¹⁰
Even more moderate Marxist thinkers, like Antonio Gramsci, viewed legal neutrality as a fiction. His theory of “cultural hegemony” suggested that dominant ideologies—including legal norms—function to maintain ruling class power.¹¹ While Gramsci promoted gradual reform over violent revolution, his intellectual legacy has often been absorbed into radical critiques that pit “justice” against legality.
When the law is treated not as a safeguard of liberty but as an obstacle to progress, impartiality is lost. The result is not liberation but fragmentation. Societies governed by fluctuating ideological mandates rather than stable legal norms revert to “might makes right.” History provides ample warning.
3. The Stakes and a Call to Action
When law bends to ideology, chaos follows. The Soviet gulags and Seattle’s crime spikes are not identical in scale, but they both reflect what happens when legal norms are abandoned in the pursuit of revolutionary or moral goals.
Data again reinforces the case for the rule of law. Nations with Rule of Law Index scores above 0.8 also top global rankings in democracy, trust in institutions, and social resilience.³ Law is not merely procedural; it is a moral and civilizational foundation.
That does not mean we defend unjust systems blindly. We must remain vigilant, pushing for principled reforms: transparent policing (such as California’s 2018 body-camera law, AB 748¹²), judicial independence, and accountability for misconduct. But we must reject efforts to replace law with ideological fiat.
Support for organizations promoting constitutional order—like the Federalist Society—can help anchor legal education in foundational principles. Likewise, defending due process in public discourse reaffirms our shared commitment to equal justice.
Marxism’s critiques of inequality are not without merit. But where they abandon legal impartiality in favor of ideological justice, they endanger the very fabric of civilization. To preserve liberty, we must defend the law—not as an artifact of oppression, but as a guarantor of peace.
References
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Constitute Project. World Constitutions Database (2020). https://www.constituteproject.org
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Hayek, F. A. (1960). The Constitution of Liberty. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
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World Bank. Rule of Law Index (2022). https://info.worldbank.org/governance/wgi
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UK Parliament. Slavery Abolition Act (1833); U.S. Congress. 19th Amendment (1920). https://www.parliament.uk | https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/amendments-11-27
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Marx, K., & Engels, F. (1848). The Communist Manifesto. https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1848/communist-manifesto/
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Conquest, R. (1990). The Great Terror. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
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Chang, J., & Halliday, J. (2005). Mao: The Unknown Story. New York: Knopf.
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Delgado, R., & Stefancic, J. (2017). Critical Race Theory: An Introduction (3rd ed.). New York: NYU Press.
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FBI. Uniform Crime Reporting Program (2021). https://ucr.fbi.gov/crime-in-the-u.s/2021
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Rasmussen Reports. Crime Concerns and Defund Police (2023). https://www.rasmussenreports.com
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Gramsci, A. (1971). Selections from the Prison Notebooks. New York: International Publishers.
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California State Legislature. AB 748: Body-Worn Camera Footage Disclosure (2018). https://leginfo.legislature.ca.gov/faces/billTextClient.xhtml?bill_id=201720180AB748
Herbert Marcuse’s 1965 essay *Repressive Tolerance* argues that tolerance in liberal societies isn’t neutral—it props up power while smothering real dissent. He saw it as a rigged game: the system tolerates ideas that fit its frame and represses those that don’t. Marcuse’s fix? “Liberating tolerance”—coddling radical change, even lawbreaking, if it’s “progressive,” while crushing “regressive” resistance. Fast-forward to today: police and courts often give left-leaning lawbreakers a pass when their cause aligns with elite vibes, but hammer right-leaning groups like Canada’s Trucker Convoy. Let’s break this down with real cases through Marcuse’s eyes.
Marcuse’s Core Idea
Marcuse claimed tolerance in capitalist democracies—like free speech or legal fairness—shields the status quo. It’s not about justice; it’s about control. He pushed for intolerance toward oppressive ideas (think war or exploitation) and leniency for acts challenging them, even if illegal. The hitch: who picks the winners? Today’s justice system seems to—favoring leftist breaches while pummeling right-wing ones. Two real examples show it plain.
The Left’s Light Touch
Look at the 2020 Portland protests after George Floyd’s death. Night after night, activists clashed with police, torched a federal courthouse, and smashed storefronts. Over 1,000 arrests happened across months, per Portland Police data, but Multnomah County DA Mike Schmidt dropped charges for most non-violent cases—hundreds walked free. Rioting and property damage? Illegal, sure. But Schmidt called it “proportional” to focus on “serious” crimes, nodding to the protests’ racial justice aim.
Marcuse might nod too. He’d see this as “liberating”—lawbreaking to dismantle systemic racism, a cause he’d back. The state’s leniency fits his playbook: tolerate disruption if it’s “just.” But context matters. Media framed it as moral outrage, and cultural elites cheered. Tolerance here wasn’t blind—it leaned on a narrative Portland’s leaders could stomach.
The Trucker Convoy: Heavy Hand
Now flip to Canada’s 2022 Trucker Convoy. Truckers rolled into Ottawa, protesting vaccine mandates. They parked rigs, honked horns, and gridlocked downtown—illegal blockades, no question. No firebombs, though; it was loud, not violent. Ottawa’s response? A state of emergency. Police arrested 191 people, per the Ottawa Police Service, and the feds invoked the Emergencies Act—first time since 1988. Bank accounts got frozen, crowdfunding cash was seized, and leaders like Tamara Lich faced charges carrying up to 10 years. Courts still grind on some as of 2025.
Marcuse might call this “regressive”—truckers resisting public health for personal freedom, not his revolutionary vibe. His theory would greenlight repression here. But step back: these were blue-collar workers, not suits, pushing against centralized control. The state didn’t just enforce law—it flexed hard, with banks and media tagging them “extremists.” Tolerance? Out the window when the script flipped.
Side by Side
Portland versus Ottawa lays it bare. In Portland, sustained lawbreaking—arson, vandalism—drew arrests, but prosecutors waved off most penalties. The cause? Racial justice, a darling of progressive elites. The truckers broke laws too—blockades, noise—but got hit with emergency powers, asset freezes, and jail time. Their cause? Individual liberty, a sore spot for the same elites. Both disrupted public order. One got a shrug; the other got shackles.
Marcuse’s lens tracks this. He’d argue Portland’s activists deserved slack—their fight aligned with his anti-oppression stance. The truckers? Too “backward” to tolerate. Yet the truckers’ working-class roots and anti-mandate gripes echo his underdog ideal more than Portland’s curated chaos. The difference? Cultural clout. Left-leaning causes get a halo; right-leaning ones get a boot.
Steel-Manning the Divide
To be fair, the state’s not a monolith. Portland’s leniency could reflect local politics—progressive DAs like Schmidt prioritize “equity” over punishment. Ottawa’s crackdown? Public safety after weeks of gridlock, not just ideology. Law’s messy, not a conspiracy. Still, the gap’s real. A 2021 DOJ report showed 93% of Portland riot cases got dismissed or deferred; contrast that with the Convoy’s 70+ convictions by 2023, per Canadian court records. Police logged 1,000+ hours on Portland protests with kid gloves; Ottawa saw 2,000+ officers deployed in days, batons out. Numbers don’t lie—tolerance tilts.
Marcuse didn’t see this coming. He figured the repressed were leftists battling a right-wing Goliath. Now? Power’s cultural, not just economic, and it leans left—media, tech, academia. The truckers, not the rioters, look more like his outcasts. Yet “repressive tolerance” still flows his way—toward causes that sound noble, not ones that clash with the zeitgeist.
The Takeaway
Marcuse’s *Repressive Tolerance* nails today’s double standard. Portland’s rioters broke laws and walked; Ottawa’s truckers did the same and sank. It’s not random—tolerance tracks power’s favorites. Marcuse wanted it for revolution, but it’s become a perk for the loudest voices. Scroll X, pick a protest, and test it: who gets the pass? The answer’s in the outcomes, not the excuses.”
Credit to Grok AI, for the legwork with regards to statistics and editing for clarity.
In recent years, Toronto, Canada, has witnessed a disturbing trend where adherents of the Islamic faith have organized large, unauthorized gatherings—such as the Eid al-Adha prayers in July 2023 near Nathan Phillips Square—that spill onto public streets, shutting them down without permits or regard for the broader community. These events, where hundreds gather and block traffic for hours, are often cloaked as religious expression, but they flout the basic expectation that all Canadians, regardless of faith, must adhere to the same rules governing public spaces. This isn’t just a minor inconvenience; it’s a direct challenge to the Canadian value of order and fairness, where no group gets a free pass to disrupt the lives of others under the guise of cultural practice.
The glaring absence of robust policing and arrests during these incidents is nothing short of a betrayal of Canada’s commitment to the rule of law. Toronto police, present at events like the 2023 Eid gathering, have chosen to stand by and redirect traffic rather than enforce bylaws that would see any other unpermitted group—be it protesters or revelers—swiftly fined or dispersed. This cowardice in the face of religious optics sends a dangerous message: that some communities can act with impunity, while others are held to account. Canadian values demand equality before the law, not selective enforcement that bends to avoid offending specific groups. When police fail to act decisively, they undermine the very principles of justice and accountability that have long defined this nation.
This growing pattern of leniency threatens to unravel the fabric of Canadian society, where respect for shared rules has been a cornerstone of our strength. If authorities continue to prioritize appeasement over impartial governance, they invite chaos—emboldening any group, religious or otherwise, to trample on public order without consequence. Canada’s pride in multiculturalism cannot come at the cost of surrendering our streets to lawlessness. The rule of law isn’t negotiable; it’s the bedrock of our freedom and security. Toronto must reclaim its resolve, enforce its regulations without hesitation, and send a clear signal that Canadian values—order, equality, and accountability—will not be compromised, no matter who tests them. Anything less is a surrender of what makes this country worth defending.
It certainly seems like the religious, libertarian hard right fringe has made its way from the US to Canada. The illegal occupation of Ottawa and border crossings are prime examples of the profoundly undemocratic/reactionary roots of this ‘movement’.
The police are reacting with a glacial slowness that is exacerbating the situation. Much more needs to be done to protect our civil society, public health, and democratic institutions.
bleatmop
Mystro
Dead Wild Roses 
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