New RBC report: between 2015-2024, more than $1 trillion in investment exited Canada—the largest capital exodus in Canadian history.
Six sectors where Canada can attract back investment:
Oil and gas ➡️ $705 billion
Electricity ➡️ $635 billion
Mining ➡️ $200 billion
Agriculture and food processing ➡️ $205 billion
Defence and space ➡️ $30 billion
Read the full report here: https://t.co/cQo5APqQBr
Canadian Space Agency astronaut Jeremy Hansen joined his Artemis II crewmates to address the public: "If you like what you see, then just look a little deeper. This is you."
https://t.co/36KxiWBydN
This is a terrible mistake to do this. Will make it a lot less likely to get the economy back on track. People who can think around corners know exactly how this will be applied. Just look at the UK.
This video should unsettle anyone who takes the United States seriously as a nation.
Because it exposes something dangerous: the trivialization of the world's most consequential office. It shows how carelessly the power, credibility, and accumulated moral authority of a superpower can be squandered for a few seconds of viral attention.
In any other major democracy, this behavior from a head of state would trigger a constitutional crisis. Paris would burn. Berlin would convene emergency sessions. In the Nordic countries, resignation would follow within hours. Across functioning democracies, the public, institutions, and political class would recognize this for what it is: an assault on the dignity of the state itself. Leaders are not free to perform as entertainers without consequence. National honor is not personal property, it's held in trust.
But the United States is not just another country with a provocateur in charge. It is the linchpin of global order. It maintains formal alliances and security guarantees with forty to fifty nations. It underwrites the financial architecture, trade systems, and diplomatic frameworks that billions of people depend on daily. When the American president speaks—or posts—it doesn't land as satire, meme, or personal whim. It reads as a signal about what the country is becoming.
American power has never relied solely on carrier strike groups or economic output. It has rested on something more fragile and more valuable: trust. The belief that beneath domestic turbulence lies institutional seriousness, predictability, and a baseline commitment to dignity. That belief is now disintegrating in real time.
Millions of American companies operate globally. They negotiate multibillion-dollar contracts in environments where reputation is currency. Boardrooms in Frankfurt, Singapore, and Dubai aren't debating whether a post was clever—they're asking whether the United States remains a reliable partner. Whether agreements signed today will be honored tomorrow. Whether American leadership has devolved from institutional to purely theatrical.
Consider tourism, which sustains millions of American jobs—airlines, hotels, restaurants, museums, entire regional economies. Soft power isn't an abstraction. It materializes in flight bookings, conference locations, study-abroad programs, and decades of accumulated goodwill. A quiet, decentralized boycott doesn't require government action—only a collective sense that a nation no longer respects itself.
Now picture this image being studied by foreign ministers, central bank governors, defense strategists, and sovereign wealth fund managers. Picture them asking a coldly rational question: How do we write binding thirty-year agreements with a country whose public face will be this, relentlessly, for years to come? How do we plan for the long term when the tone is impulsive, mocking, and unbound by the gravity of office?
This is where the real calculus begins. Trillions in foreign capital depend on confidence that America is stable, credible, and rule-governed. That confidence is now being traded for what, exactly? Applause from an online mob? A dopamine rush from manufactured outrage? Content designed to dominate the news cycle rather than serve the national interest?
Every serious nation eventually confronts this choice: burn long-term credibility for short-term spectacle, or safeguard the reputation previous generations bled to build. The United States spent eighty years constructing an image of reliability, restraint, and leadership under pressure. That image wasn't born from perfection—it came from a visible commitment to standards that transcended impulse.
This isn't a partisan issue. Europeans who value democratic norms recognize something ominously familiar here. Americans—Democrat and Republican alike—who believe in responsibility and restraint should see it too. Power attracts scrutiny. Leadership demands discipline. A superpower cannot behave like a reality TV contestant without paying a price.
The presidency is not a personal broadcast channel. It's a symbol carried on behalf of 330 million people and countless international partners who never voted but whose lives are shaped by American decisions anyway. Every post either reinforces or erodes the idea that America can be counted on when it matters most.
So the question is no longer whether this is offensive. The question is whether this is who America chooses to be: a nation that trades a century of hard-won reputation for viral moments. A country that replaces statecraft with content creation. A republic governed like a season of reality television.
History offers a harsh lesson here. Great powers don't fall because enemies mock them. They collapse when they begin mocking themselves—publicly, proudly, and without grasping the cost until it's far too late.
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What you are actually doing here is to bribe nokia to put these jobs into Canada by paying hundreds of thousands of dollars per job from taxpayer money. What this does is to lower the cost basis of nokia per employee. This has been going on for decades, called FDI which all civil servants think is a good thing. I spent a lot of time explaining to civil servants in ottawa that its not good for our economy that American and Oversees branch offices can employ Canadians at half the cost to all the canadian companies around them due to these subsidies. We should not do them at all, they are toxic, at least in the tech sector.
It's never meat to be this way, but the situation that very often arises is: It's strictly worse inside of Canada to be a Canadian company compared to a company headquartered everywhere else.
This is a bad situation, because the fruits of the subsidized labor will accrue to the wealth of other countries and not Canada. It's tax payer money invested into locking up scarce high tech talent in jobs where they no longer contribute to the Canadian economy directly. Why
Opinion piece by Tesla owner Michele Miller in the Boston Globe:
"I didn’t buy my Tesla in 2020 to make a political statement. I bought it to stop burning gas; And I’m not going to undo that choice just because the narrative around it has changed. What’s unfolding now is a case study in how some progressive movements have become more invested in symbols than systems; Years ago, when I bought my first Tesla, it was the political right that mocked the car. My father — a lifelong Republican — urged me to get rid of it. He saw it as a symbol of elitism: impractical, smug, unnecessary.
I bought my second Tesla in 2024 for the same reason as the first: to continue reducing my reliance on fossil fuels.
Now, that same father has warmed to it. Tesla is often praised in conservative circles, while many progressives are actively protesting against the company. What changed? Not the car, but the story we tell about it.
If the political pendulum can swing that easily, maybe the car isn’t the problem. Maybe we’ve just gotten too comfortable treating every purchase as a declaration of identity, rather than asking: What does this tool actually do?
What troubles me is the selective outrage. It’s easy to denounce a choice you didn’t make. It’s even easier to suggest someone sell an expensive, low-emission vehicle without acknowledging the real trade-offs involved.
Progress, after all, isn’t just about individual choices, it’s also about building systems that make better choices possible. Tesla’s EV charging network, once exclusive to its own customers, is now opening to other electric vehicles, creating critical infrastructure for broader clean transportation. That’s a tangible environmental good that extends far beyond any single company or CEO.
So no, I’m not selling my Tesla. Not because I’m ignoring the conversation — but because I’m engaged in it. Because I believe evolution doesn’t come from symbolic purging. It comes from working — however imperfectly — toward progress."
Full piece: https://t.co/zLSrMcO54r