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Leading
9 min read

Canada’s long hot summer of decline

Courage is needed when a country starts to fall apart.

Emerson Csorba works in deep tech, following experience in geopolitics and energy.

An aerial photography of a huge plume of smoke from a forest fire.
Jasper National Park on fire.
National Parks Canada.

In July 2024, wildfires blazed across large swathes of Alberta, engulfing much of the town of Jasper. As the smoke drifted to the City of Edmonton, air quality worsened considerably, reaching 10+ out of 10, or “very high risk,” on the air quality health index.  

The smoke confined much of the city of one million inhabitants to their homes – keeping stoves, television sets and other electrical appliances off to deal with the mid-thirties Celsius heat. Many wore masks when daring to venture outside. Scenes were, as in the past, apocalyptic – imagine the movie Bladerunner 2049.  

In 2016, the first major fire occurred in Fort McMurray, which led to a successful evacuation of 90,000 residents with photographs depicting what looked like hell on earth. This fire, covered by the international press, was at the time a one-off. It has since become the norm during Canadian summers.  

The fires are emblematic of the state of Canada.  

Now, metaphorical fires of all sorts – breaking of the healthcare system, surging housing costs, immigration without a plan, and decreasing civility in political debate – are spreading across Canada.  

It is noteworthy to witness just how rapidly Canada’s situation has degraded. It is a testament to the quickness – not unlike the spreading of a forest fire, ignited by an errant cigarette – with which a small group of individuals within a government can inflict lasting damage on a country.  

Indeed, the last decade for Canada has represented a backward turn. It is a regression from earlier domestic and international success, in which many across the world looked to Canada as a beacon of hope. Our international standing has diminished noticeably.  

This unexpected looking back to better times is well captured in the song “The Boys of Summer.” I often listened to The Ataris cover of the Don Henley classic when playing travel baseball across Canada and the US in my teens.  

The narrator reflects nostalgically on a summer romance. What was once present is now gone:

“Don’t look back, you can never look back/I thought I knew what love was, what did I know?/ Those days are gone forever/I should just let them go but…”.  

The story is much the same for Canada. What appeared so promising as recently as the early 2010s – the country on the rise economically and with a solid reputation internationally – has given way to decline and crumbling of vital social services. For example, healthcare median appointment waiting times now average 27.7 weeks (about 6 and a half months), though higher in the provinces of the Maritimes and Alberta. 

Internationally, Canada no longer enjoys a privileged relationship with the United States. The relationship will become even more fraught should former President Trump re-assume the role of President while Prime Minister Justin Trudeau is in power.  

Looking to China, Canada suggests the need for “dialogue,” a foreign policy nevertheless ten years out-of-date, and despite Canada serving as China’s international punching-bag.  

We have become afraid to not be invited, rather than to step forward with courage. 

We are, of course, in a darkening period in world history. Evil appears to be more strongly at work in the world now than in recent memory.  

The coronavirus pandemic was a turning-point, in which American and Chinese relations began to fracture. This was followed two years later by the Russian invasion of Ukraine and close to two years after this, the 7 October massacre of Jews by the terrorist group Hamas.  

In the United Kingdom, the murder of three girls in Southport has given way to nationwide riots, spreading through social media and its network effects.   

The dividing lines between identity-based groups domestically, and alliances internationally, are becoming clearer and more rigid. This is the trend since the pandemic crisis. Earlier tolerance of “grey” areas of difference is giving way to “black and white” division between nations and groups within them.  

Canada is therefore no exception to the crises facing democracies in the political West. Yet Canada’s failures are notable, given the shining light of political moderation, of government effectiveness, and of international collaboration that Canada historically is.    

Most notable and concerning within Canada is the lack of courage among political leadership. Canadian leadership fails to speak and act boldly domestically or internationally. Prime Minister Trudeau reportedly avoids cabinet meetings and one-on-one meetings with ministers, hiding whenever problems emerge. This is the opposite of courage.  

Courage, a distinctive Canadian virtue so well proven in WWI Battles of Vimy Ridge, Passchendaele and The Somme, or the Battle of the Atlantic in WWII, is in short supply. Yet, if there was ever a distinctive Canadian quality, it is courage, often in times of crisis.  

In my time abroad, I have been struck by an increasing Canadian refrain on just wanting to “be at the table,” but without considering what our contributions at the table will be. We have become afraid to not be invited, rather than to step forward with courage.  

What are individuals to do when they see their country falling apart? And what are they to do when looking at their country’s regression from some distance, as members of the global Canadian diaspora?  

A compelling example is given by the philosopher Robert Adams in his retelling of the story of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Bonhoeffer, a German theologian, left for New York on 7 July 1939, where he was received by American friends providing safety from Nazism.  

Yet, within days Bonhoeffer found his time in New York “almost unbearable,” noting that “If trouble comes now, I shall go right back to Germany. I cannot stay out here alone; I am quite clear about this, for after all, over there is where I live.”  

Bonhoeffer later reflects “I have made a mistake in coming to America. I must live through this difficult period of our national history with the Christian people of Germany. I will have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people.”  

Adams uses Bonhoeffer as an example of vocation, highlighting belonging, caring and participation in social processes as key elements of a vocation. Returning to Germany was not necessarily what was best for Bonhoeffer (he would later die in the waning period of the war in Germany, while he would have carved out a prestigious academic career in America). But Adams notes that Bonhoeffer would have felt it wrong had he not returned.  

In short, Bonhoeffer belonged with his democratically minded neighbours in Germany. He cared about the restoration of his country. And he knew that he must participate in the fight against evil enveloping Europe.   

It often takes leaving your own country to understand it more clearly. I have learned during my time abroad that Canadians are understated and yet highly competent, open-minded and hopeful. 

Canada has a powerful diaspora, whose global influence is well captured by former Globe & Mail newspaper editor John Stackhouse in his book Planet Canada. Years ago, the “Canadian Mafia” was the tongue-in-cheek name given to Canadians who simultaneously led multiple major British institutions such as the Bank of England, University of Cambridge, Royal Mail, Wimbledon, Associated British Ports, UK National Lottery, Heathrow Airport, and Canary Wharf, not to mention leading the BBC’s International reporting.  

In recent years, many age-mates and friends served in leading roles in top think tanks and UK institutions such as No 10 Downing Street, helping to design and implement UK technology innovation policy, or crafting health and social care policy while helping spearhead the UK vaccination campaign to hard-to-reach minority groups.  

The senior-level of Canadian leadership in the UK was followed by many early or mid-career Canadians serving in influential UK leadership roles. 

But just as Bonhoeffer returned to Germany, or as Israelis returned immediately from jobs in technology, finance, academia and other sectors in America and the UK to serve their country in the fight against terrorism, now is the time for many within the Canadian diaspora to return to Canada.  

Such is the damage that has been inflicted on the country over the last decade, and the future plight, should Canada’s brightest not dedicate themselves fully to the Canadian cause as part of defending the long-term good in the wider world.  

It often takes leaving your own country to understand it more clearly. I have learned during my time abroad that Canadians are understated and yet highly competent, open-minded and hopeful. There is a palpable energy and desire to contribute meaningfully – not apathetically – among Canada’s Gen Zers.  

Canada’s young people balance their own diverse ethnic origins with an abiding love of Canada. They want to make Canada better.

Canadians must not only show up at the table but contribute – with confidence – when at the table. The focus must be to participate, and then win the prize. 

Just as the narrator ends on a high in “The Boys of Summer” – saying “I can tell you, my love for you will still be strong/After the boys of summer have gone” – there remains considerable hope for Canada.  

But this hope must translate into critically minded participation in Canadian life. This critical spirit toward leadership and institutions is one part of courageous, confident and sometimes even assertive action in the world.  

On assertiveness, Canada can learn from its ally Israel. In his recent speech to U.S. Congress, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu spoke boldly on behalf of the rising scourge of antisemitism facing the Jewish people. He highlighted the nefarious influence of totalitarianism.  

Most importantly, he highlighted our shared democratic struggle. Indeed, Israel’s success in the fight against evil in the form of totalitarianism is a precursor to the success of other democracies such as the United States, Canada and the UK in the same fight: “Our enemies are your enemy, our fight is your fight, and our victory will be your victory.”  

Whatever one thinks of Netanyahu, he stood up forcefully for his nation and for the Jewish people in the face of evil seeking to undo the values underpinning our democracies.  

While likely to be more moderate in tone, Canadians must nevertheless participate boldly in the world, regaining our characteristic courage. 

 In reflecting on his tenacious service, St Paul asks “Do you know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it.”  

Canadians must not only show up at the table but contribute – with confidence – when at the table. The focus must be to participate, and then win the prize.  

Canadian renewal is possible, but this demands that Canadians abroad return home – like Bonhoeffer – bringing their experiences, learnings and networks acquired as members of the Canadian diaspora with them. Indeed, these help form the basis for courage.   

This return is one key step in Canadians contributing to victory – along with British, American, French, German, Israeli and other allies – in the fight against darkness. We must light our lamps within the darkness, keeping awake at home in readiness to put out the fires coming our way from over the foothills.  

Review
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Psychology
7 min read

We don’t have an over-diagnosis problem, we have a society problem

Suzanne O’Sullivan's question is timely
A visualised glass head shows a swirl of pink across the face.
Maxim Berg on Unsplash.

Rates of diagnoses for autism and ADHD are at an all-time high, whilst NHS funding remains in a perpetual state of squeeze. In this context, consultant neurologist Suzanne O’Sullivan, in her recent book The Age of Diagnosis, asks a timely question: can getting a diagnosis sometimes do more harm than good? Her concern is that many of these apparent “diagnoses” are not so much wrong as superfluous; in her view, they risk harming a person’s sense of wellbeing by encouraging self-imposed limitations or prompting them to pursue treatments that may not be justified. 

There are elements of O-Sullivan’s argument that I am not qualified to assess. For example, I cannot look at the research into preventative treatments for localised and non-metastatic cancers and tell you what proportion of those treatments is unnecessary. However, even from my lay-person’s perspective, it does seem that if the removal of a tumour brings peace of mind to a patient, however benign that tumour might be, then O’Sullivan may be oversimplifying the situation when she proposes that such surgery is an unnecessary medical intervention.  

But O’Sullivan devotes a large proportion of the book to the topics of autism and ADHD – and on this I am less of a lay person. She is one of many people who are proposing that these are being over diagnosed due to parental pressure and social contagion. Her particular concern is that a diagnosis might become a self-fulfilling prophecy, limiting one’s opportunities in life: “Some will take the diagnosis to mean that they can’t do certain things, so they won’t even try.” Notably, O’Sullivan persists with this argument even though the one autistic person whom she interviewed for the book actually told her the opposite: getting a diagnosis had helped her interviewee, Poppy, to re-frame a number of the difficulties that she was facing in life and realise they were not her fault.  

Poppy’s narrative is one with which we are very familiar at the Centre for Autism and Theology, where our team of neurodiverse researchers have conducted many, many interviews with people of all neurotypes across multiple research projects. Time and time again we hear the same thing: getting a diagnosis is what helps many neurodivergent people make sense of their lives and to ask for the help that they need. As theologian Grant Macaskill said in a recent podcast:  

“A label, potentially, is something that can help you to thrive rather than simply label the fact that you're not thriving in some way.” 

Perhaps it is helpful to remember how these diagnoses come about, because neurodivergence cannot be identified by any objective means such as by a blood test or CT scan. At present the only way to get a diagnosis is to have one’s lifestyle, behaviours and preferences analysed by clinicians during an intrusive and often patronising process of self-disclosure. 

Despite the invidious nature of this diagnostic process, more and more people are willing to subject themselves to it. Philosopher Robert Chapman looks to late-stage capitalism for the explanation. Having a diagnosis means that one can take on what is known as the “sick role” in our societal structures. When one is in the “sick role” in any kind of culture, society, or organisation, one is given social permission to take less personal responsibility for one’s own well-being. For example, if I have the flu at home, then caring family members might bring me hot drinks, chicken soup or whatever else I might need, so that I don’t have to get out of bed. This makes sense when I am sick, but if I expected my family to do things like that for me all the time, then I would be called lazy and demanding! When a person is in the “sick role” to whatever degree (it doesn’t always entail being consigned to one’s bed) then the expectations on that person change accordingly.  

Chapman points out that the dynamics of late-stage capitalism have pushed more and more people into the “sick role” because our lifestyles are bad for our health in ways that are mostly out of our own control. In his 2023 book, Empire of Normality, he observes,  

“In the scientific literature more generally, for instance, modern artificial lighting has been associated with depression and other health conditions; excessive exposure to screen time has been associated with chronic overstimulation, mental health conditions, and cognitive disablement; and noise annoyance has been associated with a twofold increase in depression and anxiety, especially relating to noise pollution from aircraft, traffic, and industrial work.” 

Most of this we cannot escape, and on top of it all we live life at a frenetic pace where workers are expected to function like machines, often subordinating the needs and demands of the body. Thus, more and more people begin to experience disablement, where they simply cannot keep working, and they start to reach for medical diagnoses to explain why they cannot keep pace in an environment that is constantly thwarting their efforts to stay fit and well. From this arises the phenomenon of “shadow diagnoses” – this is where “milder” versions of existing conditions, including autism and ADHD, start to be diagnosed more commonly, because more and more people are feeling that they are unsuited to the cognitive, sensory and emotional demands of daily working life.  

When I read in O’Sullivan’s book that a lot more people are asking for diagnoses, what I hear is that a lot more people are asking for help.

O’Sullivan rightly observes that some real problems arise from this phenomenon of “shadow diagnoses”. It does create a scenario, for example, where autistic people who experience significant disability (e.g., those who have no perception of danger and therefore require 24-hour supervision to keep them safe) are in the same “queue” for support as those from whom being autistic doesn’t preclude living independently. 

But this is not a diagnosis problem so much as a society problem – health and social care resources are never limitless, and a process of prioritisation must always take place. If I cut my hand on a piece of broken glass and need to go to A&E for stiches, I might find myself in the same “queue” as a 7-year-old child who has done exactly the same thing. Like anyone, I would expect the staff to treat the child first, knowing that the same injury is likely to be causing a younger person much more distress. Autistic individuals are just as capable of recognising that others within the autism community may have needs that should take priority over their own.   

What O’Sullivan overlooks is that there are some equally big positives to “shadow diagnoses” – especially as our society runs on such strongly capitalist lines. When a large proportion of the population starts to experience the same disablement, it becomes economically worthwhile for employers or other authorities to address the problem. To put it another way: If we get a rise in “shadow diagnoses” then we also get a rise in “shadow treatments” – accommodations made in the workplace/society that mean everybody can thrive. As Macaskill puts it:  

“Accommodations then are not about accommodating something intrinsically negative; they're about accommodating something intrinsically different so that it doesn't have to be negative.” 

This can be seen already in many primary schools: where once it was the exception (and highly stigmatised) for a child to wear noise cancelling headphones, they are now routinely made available to all students, regardless of neurotype. This means not only that stigma is reduced for the one or two students who may be highly dependent on headphones, but it also means that many more children can benefit from a break from the deleterious effects of constant noise. 

When I read in O’Sullivan’s book that a lot more people are asking for diagnoses, what I hear is that a lot more people are asking for help. I suspect the rise in people identifying as neurodivergent reflects a latent cry of “Stop the world, I want to get off!” This is not to say that those coming forward are not autistic or do not have ADHD (or other neurodivergence) but simply that if our societies were gentler and more cohesive, fewer people with these conditions would need to reach for the “sick role” in order to get by.  

Perhaps counter-intuitively, if we want the number of people asking for the “sick role” to decrease, we actually need to be diagnosing more people! In this way, we push our capitalist society towards adopting “shadow-treatments” – adopting certain accommodations in our schools and workplaces as part of the norm. When this happens, there are benefits not only for neurodivergent people, but for everybody.

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