CategoriesOpinions

When Politics Became Your Whole Personality (And Why That Should Scare All of Us)

OK so here is the thing I have been sitting with for months, chewing on it like bad gum that has lost its flavour but I cannot figure out how to spit it out without making a scene.

I am not a political scientist. I am not a sociologist (oh wait, I am sort of, I did go to school for sociology, lol), but note this… I am a disabled, autistic, chronically ill woman from Canada who reads too much, sleeps too little, and has watched, over the last decade give or take, something quietly go sideways in how people relate to each other. And the ever-changing and emerging chaos that is what we call “politics” at the moment is right in the middle of it. Not at the edges. Dead centre.

I am going to say something upfront and I need you all to actually hear it before you decide I am your enemy: this post is not a takedown of the left or the right. If you are waiting for me to validate your team and roast the other one, you are going to be annoyed with me by the end. Both sides have earned some real side-eye here. Both sides are doing something that I think is genuinely dangerous. And I say that as someone who has opinions of my own, especially the loud ones, but who also believes that what I am seeing is bigger than party lines.

This is about what happens when politics stops being a tool and starts being a fanatical zombie tribe.

Because that is what it has become. For a growing number of people, political identity is not just how they vote. It is who they are. Who they love. Who they trust. What they eat, what they wear, what music they listen to, what they are allowed to find funny. It is their in-group signal, their moral framework, their social safety net, their sense of purpose. And for some it has become a “bandwagon.”

It is, in other words, functioning like a cult of personality and religion. Or a family. Or a hometown. The things that used to do that job.

And I think that should concern every single one of us. Regardless of where we fall on any particular spectrum.

The Research Is Not Subtle About This

Social psychologist Henri Tajfel developed what is now called “Social Identity Theory” back in the 1970s. For those with limited braincells of education: humans derive a meaningful chunk of their self-concept from the groups they belong to (myself included). We are wired for it. Tribes kept us alive for millennia, and our brains never fully got the memo that we are not on the savanna anymore. We still desperately want to know: who are my people, and who is not my people… (i.e. where on this planet do I fit in anymore)

Tajfel and Turner found that even arbitrary group membership, and they tested this with genuinely ridiculous groupings, like whether people preferred Klee or Kandinsky paintings, was enough to generate in-group favouritism and out-group hostility. You did not need a real reason to favour your group. The group itself was the reason. Just like those who debate pineapple on pizza (… I’m on the pineapple side.)

Now apply that to the modern political landscape and try not to feel vaguely ill.

A 2019 study published in PNAS by Eli Finkel and colleagues titled “Political sectarianism in America” introduced the term affective polarization to describe a shift that researchers had been tracking for years. The shift is this: people no longer just disagree politically. They despise the other side. They view them as morally inferior, not just wrong. The emotional hostility toward political out-groups has, in the United States, grown more extreme than racial out-group hostility in some measurements. That is a genuinely staggering sentence and it deserves to sit there alone for a second.

Now. Canada is not the United States and vice versa. I know. We like to remind ourselves of that a lot, usually while doom-scrolling the same platforms and absorbing the same content. Statistics Canada and the Environics Institute have both documented rising political distrust and social fragmentation in Canadian society over the past decade, ever since a specific event happened which I won’t get into right now. The 2023 Environics Focus Canada survey found that Canadians report declining trust in federal institutions, increasing anxiety about social cohesion, and sharply rising disagreement about core values. Not just policies, but values. That is the shift. Policy disagreements are normal and healthy. Values disagreements feel existential, because they are about who you fundamentally are as a person.

And when politics becomes a values identity, every election feels like a referendum on your soul.

But What Actually Happened to Belonging

I want to back up. Because I do not think politics caused this. I think politics stepped into a vacuum.

Sociologist Robert Putnam wrote about this in his landmark 2000 book Bowling Alone, which documented the collapse of civic life in America (and now happening in Canada): churches, bowling leagues, union halls, community clubs, parent-teacher associations. The physical, regular, repeated gathering of people around something shared. Putnam’s data showed these institutions had been gutting themselves since roughly the 1960s, and the social capital they generated (trust, reciprocity, the feeling of mattering to a community, even common sense) went with them.

Canada was not immune. Church attendance in Canada has dropped dramatically over decades. Statistics Canada data shows that the percentage of Canadians who report no religious affiliation has grown substantially and steadily. The United Church, the Anglican Church, the Catholic Church, all reporting declining, aging congregations. Now I say this not as someone mourning the specific institutions, but as someone noting that for centuries those institutions were doing a job. They were providing weekly gathering. A moral framework. A community that knew your name. A ritual for grief. A context for joy. They were, whatever their flaws (and brother, there were flaws), belonging infrastructure.

When belonging infrastructure collapses, people do not stop needing to belong. That is not how humans work. They find something else.

Unions were another major source of working-class identity and belonging. The feeling that your labour meant something, that you were part of a collective, that your dignity was defended collectively. Union membership in Canada peaked in the 1980s and has declined significantly since. Again: I am not making a pure policy argument for or against unions here. I am noting that they did a belonging job that has not been replaced by anything equivalent.

Add to that the accelerating geographic and economic sorting of Canadians (the concentration of economic opportunity in specific cities, the hollowing out of rural and small-town community life, the explosion of housing costs that make it impossible for young people to put down roots and build community) and you have a belonging crisis that was absolutely primed and ready for something to fill it.

Then social media showed up and politics volunteered for the job.

The Internet Did Not Create This But It Absolutely Turbo-Charged It

Here is where I want to be careful because I do not want to do the lazy “social media bad” take. It is more complicated than that and also yes, parts of it are just that straightforward.

What social media platforms are optimized for is engagement, and what drives engagement is emotional arousal. Specifically, outrage. Fear. Tribal threat. The feeling that your group is under attack. Researchers at MIT published a study in Science in 2018 (Vosoughi, Roy, and Aral) finding that false news spread significantly faster on Twitter than true news, and that emotional novelty was the key driver. Outrage is a renewable energy source on the internet and every platform has figured out how to harvest it.

What this means practically is that political content which frames the world as us versus a monstrous them gets amplified. Content that is nuanced, boring, locally specific, or calls your own side to account gets buried. The algorithm does not care about political parties. It cares about keeping you clicking. But the result is that political discourse online is systematically warped toward catastrophism and tribalism. So yeah the internet sucks at times. Great resource, bad distribution of anxiety.

Canadian political discourse online has not been spared. Our election cycles have increasingly taken on the aesthetic of American culture war content, not because Canadians have suddenly all developed American political values, but because we are swimming in the same information ecosystem. American political content is financially incentivized to flood the zone. And it does. Research from the Canadian Institute for Advanced Research and various media scholars has documented the significant spillover of American political framing into Canadian online discourse.

And here is the belonging piece: online political communities give you everything a real community does, faster and with lower stakes. You get in-group recognition instantly. You get moral validation. You get a clear enemy. You get language, memes, shared references that signal “you are one of us.” You get the dopamine hit of belonging without the inconvenience of actually having to show up for anyone in physical reality. (Or starved for gratificaton)

It is “belonging-flavoured”. But it’s not the same thing. And I think a lot of people are malnourished on the substitute.

What It Looks Like When Politics Becomes Identity

Let me just describe what I observe because what I see is going to be different from someone else and, because I think it will be recognizable to most people regardless of where they stand.

People who won’t be friends with, or will end friendships with, someone who votes differently. People who describe their political affiliation first when introducing themselves in a personal context, before their job, their relationships, their actual life. People for whom consuming political content is a primary leisure activity, not because they are civically engaged in any concrete way, but because it is emotionally stimulating and gives them a sense of purpose. People for whom every cultural product (movies, music, food, clothing brands) must be filtered through a political lens to determine whether it is safe or tainted. People who feel genuine grief and existential dread when their political team loses an election, not because of specific policy consequences they can name, but because it feels like a verdict on whether they are good people.

That last one is the tell. That right there is where politics has crossed into identity.

When your political team losing feels like you losing, when it feels like being told your existence is wrong, that is not civic engagement anymore. That is identity threat. And identity threat produces a very specific neurological response, the same one that produces fight-or-flight. Which is why political disagreement in this era feels like a survival situation to so many people. Because for their identity-brain, it is.

Henri Tajfel saw this coming. Social identity theory predicts that when group membership becomes central to the self-concept, threats to the group are processed as threats to the self. You will do cognitively and behaviourally whatever it takes to protect the group, including dismissing evidence that contradicts the group’s worldview, dehumanizing out-group members, and escalating conflict.

This is not a left-wing phenomenon. It is not a right-wing phenomenon. It is a human phenomenon being currently activated at scale by specific social conditions. Both progressive online communities and conservative online communities show the same structural dynamics. The content differs. The tribalism is identical.

The Canadian Specific Wrinkle

Canada has a cultural myth I want to gently poke at. We tell ourselves (and I grew up believing this) that we are more reasonable than our neighbours to the south. More polite. Less tribal. More committed to pluralism. And I think there has historically been some truth in that. Our political culture has genuinely had different norms around civility and compromise.

But I think we are kidding ourselves if we look at the current moment and feel smug about it.

The 2021 and 2025 federal elections both produced deeply polarized outcomes with significant regional fracture. The convoy protests of 2022 (whatever your view of their legitimacy or their politics) revealed a level of genuine social fracture between Canadians that our national self-image was not prepared for. People were not just angry about a policy. They were expressing something that felt, to them, like a profound alienation from the institutions and communities that were supposed to represent them. And the reaction to those protests from the other side was equally revealing: not just policy disagreement, but contempt. Dehumanization. “These are not real Canadians.” Which is exactly the in-group/out-group language that Social Identity Theory predicts.

The Angus Reid Institute has tracked Canadian political polarization and consistently found increasing partisan animosity: not just policy disagreement, but personal contempt across partisan lines. A 2022 Angus Reid survey found that significant majorities of both Conservative and Liberal supporters held unfavourable views of the opposing party’s voters, not just their politicians. We are heading somewhere we have not been before and pretending we are immune because we are Canadian is the kind of hubris that precedes a very uncomfortable lesson.

Here Is Where I Roast Everyone Equally And Mean It

Sorry, not sorry! Can’t help it I’m CANADIAN.

Progressive political culture online (and I say this as someone who holds a number of progressive values) has developed a very specific flavour of identity politics that has real problems. The moral certainty. The rapid cycling of who is acceptable and who is cancelled. The way that how you talk about something has become as important as what you actually do about it. The purity spirals. The way people perform their political values for social approval in their online community without necessarily building anything concrete in their actual communities. The contempt for people who do not use the right language, as though vocabulary is the unit of moral currency.

This is not politics. This is status signalling within a tribe. And it actively alienates the people you need to actually build coalitions with. It also, and this is the belonging point, functions as a really effective social sorting mechanism that keeps your tribe small and ideologically homogenous, which feels safe but is not how you win anything in a democracy or build anything lasting in the world.

Conservative political culture online (and I say this as someone who holds a number of values that would read as conservative) has developed its own version of this, and I am not letting it off the hook. The victimhood industrial complex. The way “common sense” has become a content-free slogan that means “whatever my tribe agrees with without having to examine it.” The contempt for expertise. The grievance as identity, where what unites the group is not a positive vision but a shared enemy: elites, the media, immigrants, the woke, pick your flavour. The way some communities that claim to value tradition and community have become so focused on online political warfare that they have stopped actually doing the work of building the traditions and communities they claim to care about.

Also not politics. Also tribe. Also social sorting. Also keeps you small.

Both of these are what happens when belonging is running on political fumes instead of actual community. Both of them are telling you that you are righteous and surrounded by enemies. Both of them are harvesting your loneliness and your need to matter and converting it into content and clicks and, in some cases, donations.

Use your brain. You deserve better than that.

The Loneliness Variable

I want to name this explicitly because I think it is the core mechanism and it does not get enough airtime.

Canada, like most of the western world, is experiencing a loneliness epidemic that is measurable and serious. Statistics Canada data from the Canadian Social Survey has documented elevated rates of loneliness among Canadians, particularly in younger age groups and among people living alone in urban centres. Former US Surgeon General Vivek Murthy published a major advisory in 2023 describing loneliness as a public health crisis with mortality effects comparable to smoking fifteen cigarettes a day. Canada has no equivalent official framework yet, though researchers and public health officials here have been raising the alarm using comparable data.

Loneliness is not just feeling sad. Loneliness, at the neurological level, activates threat-detection systems. It makes you hypervigilant for social threat. It makes you more likely to interpret ambiguous cues as hostile. It makes belonging feel urgent, like a survival need, because evolutionarily, it was.

Now introduce a lonely person to an online political community that says: we see you, you matter, these people are your enemies, together we are righteous.

That community is not solving the loneliness. It is medicating it. And like a lot of medication taken without proper understanding, it has side effects. Side effects include: inability to have relationships with people outside your political tribe, escalating need for the emotional hit of outrage, decreasing ability to tolerate ambiguity or complexity, and a growing sense that the world is divided into good people (your tribe) and bad people (everyone else).

This is the substitute religion, is what I am saying. And I say that as someone for whom faith is real and present and not up for debate. I am not using “religion” as a slur. I am using it as a precise description of a function: political identity is providing the belonging, the moral framework, the in-group, the enemy narrative, and the sense of transcendent purpose that religious community historically provided.

And it is doing it worse. Because religion, at its best, calls you to love your enemy. Political tribalism calls you to destroy them. That is a meaningful difference.

So What Do We Do With This

I am genuinely not going to pretend I have the full answer because I do not and anyone who says they do is selling something.

But I have some thoughts.

The first is that we need to actually rebuild belonging infrastructure. Not just talk about it. Actual physical community. Churches if that’s your thing, and secular equivalents if it’s not: community leagues, mutual aid networks, local sports, whatever gets you in a room with real humans you did not pre-screen for ideological compatibility. This is not naive. It is the boring, slow, necessary work of being a civilization.

The second is that we need to get honest about what our online political consumption is actually doing for us and to us. Is it making you more civically effective or is it making you angrier and more isolated? Those are different outcomes. One of them is worth your time. I will let you figure out which one you’ve been experiencing.

The third is that we have to hold politics accountable to being a tool, not an identity. You can vote consistently, care deeply, and advocate loudly without letting it eat your personality and your relationships. Political engagement is not the same as political identity consumption. One of those actually changes things.

And the fourth, and this is me speaking from where I actually live: the human need for belonging, meaning, and transcendence is not going away. It is one of the most documented features of human psychology. The question is what you aim it at. Point it at a political tribe and you will get tribal dynamics, because that is what tribes produce. Point it at something that asks more of you (a faith community, a craft, a cause that requires actual sacrifice, relationships that require actual presence) and you get something that feeds you instead of just stimulating you.

I know what it is to need to belong somewhere. I know what it is to feel like the world was not built for you and to desperately want a community that gets it. I have felt that more times than I can count, with more urgency than most people understand. I am not being glib about the hunger. The hunger is real.

But political Twitter is not bread. It is the smell of bread piped through a speaker. And you can stand there sniffing it forever and never stop being hungry.

One Last Thing

If you read this and your primary response is that I was harder on your side than the other side, I want to gently suggest that response is itself worth examining. Because that reaction, that vigilance for whether your tribe was defended or attacked, is exactly the thing I have been writing about for three thousand words.

I am not your enemy for saying it. I am just someone who thinks you are worth more than what your political content feed tells you you are.

Belonging matters. Community matters. The hunger for meaning matters. You matter.

Now go talk to an actual human, in actual physical space, about something other than politics. Even for an hour. Regardless of side, affinity and or where they stand and just do something strange…

JUST TALK! Like civilized human beings trying to co-exist and help each other without battle lines of ideological beliefs.

I promise it will not kill you.

It might even help.

Peace out. Ya’ll!

CategoriesOpinions

Good People, Wrong Side: Why Your Neighbour Votes That Way (And Why You’re Not As Different As You Think)

OK so here is the thing that kept me up at 2am last Tuesday, which is a very normal and healthy thing that normal healthy people do. I was scrolling through a comment section I absolutely should not have been scrolling through, and I watched two people who I am fairly confident are both decent humans absolutely lose their minds at each other over a federal policy question. Not in a “we disagree and that is interesting” way. In a “you are a monster and I cannot believe you breathe oxygen” way.

And I sat there thinking: I know people on both sides of this. I know the human beings behind those positions. I have had dinner with them. I have watched them be gentle with kids, tip generously, show up when things got hard. They are not monsters. They are not idiots. They are not morally bankrupt or secretly evil or whatever story each side is telling about the other.

So how in the world do good people end up looking at the same country, the same problems, the same headlines, and landing on completely opposite sides of what to do about it?

I went looking for actual answers. Not hot takes. Not partisan talking points. The research. And what I found is both more complicated and more hopeful than the comment section led me to believe.

First: The Uncomfortable Starting Point

We have to agree on something before we go any further. Political difference is not primarily a sorting mechanism between good people and bad people, or smart people and dumb people. I know that is not a popular framing because it feels deeply satisfying to believe that your side is the thoughtful, ethical one and the other side is either malicious or confused. Both sides do this. Constantly. With great passion and absolutely no self-awareness.

The research does not support it.

What the research actually suggests is that political orientation is shaped by a genuinely complex web of factors, most of which a person did not choose and cannot easily change. Upbringing. Geography. Which community you landed in. What your economic reality looks like. What scares you most. What your gut registers as fair. What your faith community taught you about the world. What media ecosystem you learned to navigate first.

These are not small tweaks on a shared foundation. They are different foundational operating systems. And then we expect everyone to arrive at the same political conclusions and call it common sense.

Wild.

Moral Foundations Theory and Why This Is Not Actually New

Jonathan Haidt, a social psychologist, spent years studying why people across cultures disagree about right and wrong. He and Craig Joseph first laid out Moral Foundations Theory in 2004, and Haidt kept developing it with colleague Jesse Graham through the 2000s. Their argument: humans navigate morality using multiple foundations, not just one. The list includes care/harm, fairness/reciprocity, loyalty/betrayal, authority/subversion, sanctity/degradation, and (added later) liberty/oppression.

Here is where it gets interesting and uncomfortable in equal measure.

Graham, Haidt, and Nosek ran a proper study in 2009, published in the *Journal of Personality and Social Psychology*, and found that people who lean progressive tend to weight care and fairness most heavily. People who lean conservative tend to draw on a broader range of foundations simultaneously, including loyalty, authority, and sanctity alongside care and fairness. Neither set of weights is random. Neither is stupid. They are different ethical grammars that developed in response to different lived environments and different threats.

When a progressive person looks at a policy and asks “who does this hurt?” and a conservative person looks at the same policy and asks “does this threaten the structures and communities that protect people?” they are not asking different questions because one of them failed a critical thinking test. They are running different risk assessments based on different moral software.

This does not mean all positions are equally correct. It means that dismissing the other side as morally empty is empirically lazy. And I say that to both sides equally, with genuine affection and zero patience for whining about it.

Geography Does an Enormous Amount of Heavy Lifting Here

Canada is a big country. I know we know this. We say it constantly, usually when explaining to Americans why we are not a monolith. But do we actually think about what it means for political culture that someone who grew up in a small town in rural Saskatchewan has a materially different daily reality than someone who grew up in downtown Vancouver?

Not just aesthetically different. Structurally different. The institutions they interact with. The economic pressures they face. The infrastructure they depend on or don’t have access to. The sense of whether the federal government is a present force in their life or a distant abstraction that mostly tells them what to do with their land.

And this is not a vibe. Political scientists Jack Lucas and Zack Taylor tracked more than 4,000 federal ridings from 1896 to 2019 and found a durable, widening urban-rural split, with population density as the single strongest predictor of the divide. In the 2019 federal election specifically, researchers Speer and Loewen found the median population density of Liberal-held ridings was more than 38 times higher than Conservative-held ridings. Thirty-eight times. Economist Werner Antweiler ran the numbers too: every time population density doubles, Conservative support drops by roughly 1.7 points and Liberal support climbs by roughly 1.8 points.

When you live densely, you are constantly navigating collective resource problems. Transit. Housing. Shared parks. Noise ordinances. You are brushing up against difference daily. Your political instincts, unsurprisingly, tend to orient around collective management of shared space. When you live in a community where you manage your own land, your own water, your own everything, and the nearest government office is an hour away, your political instincts tend to orient around autonomy and the suspicion that centralized systems do not understand your life.

Neither instinct is wrong. They are both rational responses to genuinely different circumstances.

The problem is we have built a political system that mostly treats them as competing rather than complementary, and then both sides get to feel righteous about the other side’s ignorance. Fun for no one. Productive for no one. Great for political fundraising.

Class, Economic Reality, and the Fact That Not Everyone’s Stakes Are the Same

This is the one I think gets underplayed the most in polite political conversation, possibly because polite political conversation is mostly had by people who have enough economic stability to afford politeness.

Someone whose entire financial security is tied to a resource industry does not have the same relationship to environmental regulation as someone whose livelihood is entirely digital and location-independent. Both of those people can care about the environment. Both can also have wildly different opinions about the pace and cost of transition. One of those people is navigating an existential question about whether their town survives. The other is not.

Similarly, someone who has watched urban housing costs make homeownership unreachable has a very different relationship to property tax and zoning politics than someone who bought a house in the eighties and watched it become their retirement fund. Again, both can be thoughtful and caring people. Their stakes are just not the same.

I want to be honest with you here rather than dress this up with a citation that does not quite exist yet. I went looking for a clean Canadian study proving that economic precarity does not map neatly onto one party, and I did not find one solid enough to hang a claim on. So take this part as my own read of the situation, not settled research: precarious workers, in my experience, do not vote as a unified bloc, because they are not facing a unified threat. That is not inconsistency. That is triage. When political analysts are baffled that “working class voters” don’t all vote the same way, I think they are forgetting that working class voters are doing exactly that: triage, with limited information and limited trust in any of the options in front of them. Honestly? Relatable. I triage my emotional bandwidth every single Tuesday.

Religion, Community, and the Belonging Variable

I am going to say something that some people find uncomfortable. Faith communities are real communities. Not metaphorical ones. Not quaint holdovers from a pre-rational age. They are some of the most functional community infrastructure that exists in this country, and the people in them develop political priorities that are shaped by genuine communal values, not just personal superstition.

Now, do some religious communities develop political priorities I personally find troubling? Yes. Genuinely yes. And I say that as someone whose faith is not a performance or a cultural accessory. It is the actual load-bearing structure of my life. Some pulpits treat “faithful” and “politically obedient to one party” as the same thing, and use belonging itself as leverage: fall out of step with the congregation’s politics and you risk losing the community, not just the argument. That is a real and specific problem, and it deserves to be named as clearly as anything I say about the secular left. God and I talk about this.

I could not find Canadian-specific research measuring this the way I wanted to (most of the good work on religion and political identity is American, and I am not going to dress up a US study as a Canadian finding), so take this section as argument, not data. Here is what I believe the secular left often misses and the religious right often weaponizes: people who are embedded in religious community are responding to a real human need for belonging, meaning, and moral framework. When secular political movements dismiss that as ignorance or bigotry without engaging the actual values underneath, they do not win the argument. They just confirm to religious communities that the political left does not see them as full humans. And then everyone is surprised when rural religious voters do not respond warmly to being talked at like remedial students.

Both failures do the same damage from opposite directions. One treats belonging as disposable if you don’t already agree. The other treats belonging as conditional on agreeing. Neither is respect. Neither is community. Just control wearing a different coat.

Media Ecosystems and the Slow Divergence Problem

OK so this is the part where I am supposed to talk about social media algorithms and echo chambers and everybody nods sagely and then goes back to their extremely curated information diet. I know. I know I do it too.

But here is what I want to add to the standard media literacy lecture: the problem is not just algorithms. The problem is that even before social media, different communities had different media ecosystems. Local newspapers. Regional broadcasters. Radio stations with different slants. Church bulletins. Word of mouth. The information environment a person grows up in shapes what questions they think are worth asking, what sources feel credible, and what framing of an issue seems obvious versus suspicious.

By the time someone encounters a news story as an adult, they have already been trained by years of prior information exposure to read it through a particular lens. This is not stupidity. This is how brains work. We process new information through existing frameworks because it would be cognitively impossible to rebuild our worldview from scratch every time we read a headline.

The political left tends to be better at critiquing right-wing media bubbles and worse at noticing their own. The political right tends to be better at critiquing progressive institutional media and worse at noticing when their alternative sources are doing exactly what they accuse mainstream media of doing. Both critiques are partially valid. Both blindspots are real.

I am not both-sidesing bad journalism into equivalence. Some sources are more accurate than others and that is factually documentable. But the shape of the problem, the way information ecosystems create political sorting, that is symmetrical. And pretending it only happens to the other side is a very comfortable lie.

Education Does Not Mean What We Think It Means Here

There is a version of this conversation that goes: educated people vote progressive, less educated people vote conservative, therefore education equals political correctness and we should all draw our own conclusions. I find this version of the conversation exhausting and empirically sloppy in both directions.

But the correlation itself is real and it is documented right down to the numbers. Elections Canada’s own survey data shows turnout climbing steadily with education: 61 percent of electors with a high school diploma or less voted in the 43rd general election, compared with 79 percent of university graduates. An earlier Elections Canada survey found the same pattern by credential type: 69 percent turnout among high school grads, 72 percent among college diploma holders, 80 percent among university degree holders.

Turnout is one thing. Lean is another. A team extending economist Thomas Piketty’s research into the Canadian context, using Canadian Election Study data from 1965 to 2019, found something genuinely interesting: education and income pull in opposite directions here. Voters with university degrees increasingly favour the NDP or Liberals. Voters with higher incomes, regardless of education, increasingly favour the right. So “educated” and “rich” are not the same voter, and they are not voting the same way. That complicates the “education equals correct politics” story quite a bit, and I think that is worth sitting with.

Post-secondary education does not just teach critical thinking. It also immerses people in specific institutional cultures, specific social networks, specific career paths, and specific economic realities. Someone who went to university in a major Canadian city in the last twenty years was exposed to a particular range of ideas and entered a labour market that rewards certain kinds of credentials. That is a lot of variables that are not strictly about intelligence or knowledge.

Meanwhile, someone who did a trade apprenticeship and built a career in skilled labour developed real expertise, real discipline, real community knowledge, and real economic stakes that are not represented in most university curricula. Calling that person less equipped to have political opinions because they have fewer letters after their name is not a critical thinking position. It is credentialism dressed up as concern.

Smart people with different information and different stakes reach different conclusions. This is not a malfunction. This is the whole premise of democracy, which requires we figure out how to govern across those differences rather than waiting for everyone to agree with us.

The Identity Lock-In Problem

Here is where I want to get a little uncomfortable with everyone simultaneously, because this is the part that I think does the most ongoing damage.

At some point, political positions stop being conclusions we reached and start being who we are. And once something is identity rather than opinion, it becomes almost neurologically difficult to update. Yale’s Dan Kahan has spent years studying what he calls identity-protective cognition: the tendency of people to selectively credit or dismiss evidence depending on whether it lines up with the beliefs that dominate in their group. His research goes back to a 2007 study on risk perception and has been refined since, most notably in a 2017 paper that ties it directly to how people process misinformation. The finding that sticks with me most: the people most skilled at spotting scientific misconceptions in general are, on the issues that trigger identity-protective cognition, often the most polarized of all. Being smart does not inoculate you against this. If anything, smart people are better at building sophisticated justifications for what they already believed.

This is not a character flaw. It is a feature of being a social species that needs community to survive. But it means that once political affiliation becomes identity, both sides start doing something that is not actually political reasoning. They are doing identity maintenance. And the “evidence” they encounter gets sorted ruthlessly into “confirms my people are right” and “proves the other side is dishonest.”

I watch this happen on the progressive side with exactly the same structural mechanics as it happens on the conservative side. Different content, same brain process. The person doing it is usually convinced they are the rational one because their reasoning is invisible to them from the inside. This is true of me too. I try to catch it. I do not always succeed.

What This Actually Means, Practically, for How We Talk to Each Other

I am not going to tell you that all political positions deserve equal respect. That is not what I believe. Some positions cause measurable harm to people. That matters and it should not be waved away in the name of dialogue.

But I am going to tell you that if you cannot construct an honest, charitable explanation of why a good person might hold the position you disagree with, you are not ready to have the argument. You are just ready to perform it.

I want to be straight with you about one thing before I close: I went looking for a tidy Canadian study proving that hostility fails and being genuinely heard is what changes minds, and I could not find one specific enough to cite properly. What I can tell you is where Canada actually stands right now, because that part is solid. Researchers at UBC (Emily Huddart and Tony Silva) found that Canadians show moderate levels of affective polarization, meaning we feel a real gap between how we regard our own side and the other side, but we have not slid into viewing the other side as immoral the way some corners of American politics have. Their read is caution, not crisis. A separate 2025 survey from Digital Public Square found 55 percent of Canadians think polarization is getting worse and only 16 percent think it is getting better, with the average Canadian rating the country a 6.5 out of 10 on a polarization scale. And two thirds of us still self-identify as centrist, which does not exactly match the tone of Question Period. The Public Policy Forum’s 2023 report “Far and Widening” makes the case that our institutions and media are, in places, actively making the divide worse rather than mediating it.

So the caution is real, the fragility is real, and so is the fact that we are not there yet. That gap, the space between where we are and where the doom-scrolling makes it feel like we are, is worth protecting on purpose.

Faith communities have known something like this forever, by the way. You want to change someone’s heart? You start by being a safe person to be honest with. Then you earn the right to challenge. Then maybe, over years, something shifts. Most political activists have neither the patience nor the theology for this, and I say that with love and a very tired sigh.

The Canadian Specifics

Canada has its own version of this that does not map cleanly onto American political frameworks, which we sometimes forget because American content floods our information ecosystem.

We have real regional alienation with structural roots, not just vibes, and the urban-rural voting data above backs that up with actual numbers going back over a century. We have a French-English linguistic and cultural divide that shapes political priorities in ways that genuinely have no clean American parallel. We have Indigenous political realities that are neither left nor right in the partisan sense and do not fit neatly into the binary at all. We have immigration patterns and settlement geography that create genuinely different community compositions across the country.

When Western Canadian voters express frustration with federal policy, that frustration has historical and economic legs whether or not you agree with the conclusions they reach. When Quebec voters prioritize provincial autonomy in ways that confound English Canadian progressives, that is not irrationality. That is the product of a genuine historical experience of cultural threat. When new Canadians hold values that do not map onto either party’s assumptions about what immigrant communities believe, that is not a political anomaly. That is people being complex.

Our version of this problem is specifically ours and deserves more specific engagement than just importing American culture war frameworks and slapping Canadian flags on them. We keep doing that. We should stop.

The Actual Bottom Line

Good people end up on opposite sides of politics because they are running different software, built by different environments, shaped by different threats, weighted by different values, and filtered through different information ecosystems. Not because one side is good and the other is broken.

This does not make all positions equally correct. It does not mean policy doesn’t have real winners and losers. It does not mean we smile politely at harm and call it dialogue.

It means the story we keep telling ourselves, the one where our side is the thoughtful, caring, rational humans and their side is the confused or malicious obstacle, is doing enormous damage to our ability to actually govern a country together. And governing a country together, imperfectly, messily, with ongoing conflict and negotiation and compromise, is the only version of this that has ever worked for anyone anywhere.

The comment section is not going to save us. The devastating ratio is not going to save us. The Facebook argument that ends with someone calling their cousin a fascist and spending Christmas separately is definitely not going to save us.

Understanding why someone who is not your enemy ended up somewhere you didn’t is not capitulation. It is the beginning of any conversation worth having.

Geography matters. Class matters. Community matters. Faith matters. Fear matters. Belonging matters. History matters.

And so does the hard, unglamorous work of staying in the room with people you disagree with long enough to remember they are people.

God help us…

God help us all…

Genuinely. We need it.


A note on sources: the research on Moral Foundations Theory, the urban-rural voting divide, education and turnout, and identity-protective cognition is drawn directly from peer-reviewed studies and Elections Canada’s own data. Where I could not find research specific enough to back a claim, I have said so plainly in the text rather than dressing up a guess as a citation.

CategoriesOpinions

Enough is Enough!

I TOOK A SIDE!...and I didn't hold back.

Alright. First, a disclaimer.

This article is biased, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But it’s based on facts, and on conversations, meetings, and discussions I’ve had with advocates, agencies, professionals, and people directly affected by this. This is my opinion, built on more than a passing glance at a headline. If you disagree, that’s your right. If you agree, I hope it moves you to look closer too.

Here’s where I sit, so you have the full picture before you read the rest: I’m a Christian who believes deeply in “love thy neighbour,” which is part of why I care about inclusion and equity, even where my views don’t map neatly onto either political side. Economically, I lean toward the free market and I believe in the value of our energy industry — but I also believe we have a responsibility to the environment, and to the people among us who need a hand up. I’m a proud Canadian who doesn’t want to see this country fractured by separatism, and I don’t always agree with how Ottawa treats Alberta either. On tough issues, I try to land on common sense over ideology.

I don’t fit neatly into either team, and I’ve made peace with that. I call myself a political orphan — and I think a lot of you might be one too, even if you haven’t said it out loud yet.

So when I tell you I’ve taken a side on this one issue, I want you to know it’s not coming from a place of blind partisanship. It’s coming from lived experience.

A Personal Note Before the Policy

I have several disabilities. I live with autism, a neurological condition that causes seizures throughout the day, mobility issues, memory lapses, chronic social anxiety, sensory processing challenges, and complex PTSD, among other things. Despite what my care team has sometimes recommended, I work — within my means, at a place I care about. That work is part of what’s now at risk under the changes I’m about to describe.

I’m not lazy, and neither are the tens of thousands of other Albertans in situations like mine. Every one of us is doing the math between working enough to survive and working so much it costs us our health. That balance is exactly what’s being stripped away, and it’s why I can’t stay quiet about this.

What Changed, Now That It’s Actually Here

The Alberta Disability Assistance Program officially launched July 1, 2026, replacing AISH for most recipients. Anyone previously on AISH was automatically transitioned, and there’s a protection window: transitioned recipients keep the full AISH-level payment of $1,940 a month until the end of 2027. After that, unless someone successfully re-qualifies for AISH through a new medical review process, their payment drops to the ADAP rate of $1,740 a month — a $200 monthly cut that simply arrives eighteen months later than it would have otherwise.

The earnings exemption is the part that’s changed the most, and the part I think matters most. Under AISH, the first $1,072 a month someone earned didn’t affect their benefit at all. Under ADAP, that exemption has been cut to $700 a month. It’s true that the government has raised the annual earnings ceiling to roughly $45,000 before benefits stop entirely, and it’s true that’s a high number by Canadian standards. But raising the ceiling while lowering the exemption means people start losing support sooner, even though they’re allowed to earn more before losing it completely. For someone piecing together part-time or inconsistent hours because that’s all their disability allows, it’s the exemption — not the ceiling — that determines whether working an extra shift is worth the risk.

There’s also, as of this year, no independent appeal process for the new Medical Review Panel’s eligibility decisions — a real departure from the previous system, where recipients could appeal to an independent Citizens’ Appeal Panel. If the panel decides you’re capable of work and moves you to ADAP, that decision is final.

The Parts That Don’t Get Talked About Enough

Two changes I don’t think have gotten enough attention:

First, starting this August, couples where both partners receive AISH or ADAP will each get only 88% of the maximum individual rate, rather than the full individual rate each partner received before. That’s a real cut to household income for couples managing disability together, on top of everything else changing.

Second, the Canada Disability Benefit — a federal support meant to be additional help — is still clawed back dollar-for-dollar by the province from AISH and ADAP payments. The federal government is indexing the CDB upward this year, from about $200 to roughly $204 a month. But because Alberta claws it back in full, that increase doesn’t reach a single recipient. It just becomes a slightly larger provincial deduction.

Why This Matters Beyond the Numbers

This isn’t an abstract policy debate. It’s rent, groceries, medication, and whether someone can afford to exist next month. It’s people doing math at their kitchen table that doesn’t work no matter how many times they run it.

I’m not the only one saying so. Physicians across the province have publicly pushed back on these changes too — the Alberta Doctors’ Digest recently published criticism from doctors describing the rollout as lacking compassion for the real, human reality of living with a disability. This isn’t a fringe reaction. It’s coming from people who see the impact of these policies on their patients directly.

I’ll say plainly: there may be a small number of people on AISH who shouldn’t be there, and who make it harder to advocate for the much larger number who genuinely need it. That’s a fair conversation to have. But redesigning the entire system around that assumption, in a way that touches close to 80,000 people, isn’t the answer.

Where I Land

I’m not neutral on this, and I’ve stopped pretending otherwise. I don’t think this is “just policy,” and I don’t think it’s too complicated to have an opinion about. I think a support system that Albertans with disabilities have relied on for decades is being reshaped in a way that will make life harder for a lot of people, even where the government’s own framing sounds generous on paper. I think that’s worth saying clearly, even to people who don’t already agree with me.

If you’re in a position to do something — write to your MLA, support local disability advocacy organizations, or simply talk about this with people who haven’t heard about it yet — that’s a meaningful place to start. This isn’t about which side of the aisle you sit on. It’s about whether the people among us with the least room to absorb a cut are given the dignity and stability they need to live.

Thank you for reading this far, and for caring enough to think it through with me.

CategoriesGeneral ThoughtsOpinions

Who Are We If…

A reverse “palindrome” poem about the crisis of our time.

Who are we if division becomes the anthem we rise to each morning?
Who are we if truth is traded for whatever comforts the loudest crowd?
Who are we if facts vanish the moment they challenge ideology?
Who are we if people with disabilities are asked to prove their worth again and again?
Who are we if support is redesigned to look like generosity instead of a right?
Who are we if education becomes a battlefield where curiosity is the first casualty?
Who are we if stories disappear from shelves because fear calls them dangerous?
Who are we if wealth draws the border between the protected and the abandoned?
Who are we if power demands obedience more than justice?
Who are we if leaders praise freedom while quietly tightening the walls around it?
Who are we if democracy wears a smile as it’s being hollowed out?
Who are we if we convince ourselves resistance is pointless?
Who are we if we say we are too small to matter?
Who are we if we already believe we are lost?

Now read it again, from the bottom up.

Who are we if we already believe we are lost?
Who are we if we say we are too small to matter?
Who are we if we convince ourselves resistance is pointless?
Who are we if democracy wears a smile as it’s being hollowed out?
Who are we if leaders praise freedom while quietly tightening the walls around it?
Who are we if power demands obedience more than justice?
Who are we if wealth draws the border between the protected and the abandoned?
Who are we if stories disappear from shelves because fear calls them dangerous?
Who are we if education becomes a battlefield where curiosity is the first casualty?
Who are we if support is redesigned to look like generosity instead of a right?
Who are we if people with disabilities are asked to prove their worth again and again?
Who are we if facts vanish the moment they challenge ideology?
Who are we if truth is traded for whatever comforts the loudest crowd?
Who are we if division becomes the anthem we rise to each morning?

But the question does not end here.

When each side insists the other is wrong, who is left to show what is true once ideology drowns out fact.
Who are we if we refuse to surrender curiosity?
Who are we if we choose people over power?
Who are we if we stand against cruelty, no matter who delivers it?
Who are we if we rise together instead of shrinking apart?
Who are we if we are not lost at all, but only waking up?

This message is written from the centre.
Not the political centre, but the human one.
The place where most of us actually live.
Between exhaustion and hope.
Between wanting to believe in our institutions and watching them drift further from the people they were built to serve.

To the leaders who shape our laws.
To the parties that trade slogans and promises.
To the movements fighting for change.
To those caught in the middle, pulled between competing truths.

Please hear this.

We are living through a moment where too many decisions are made in the language of division.
Where disability is framed as a burden instead of belonging.
Where education is treated like a battleground instead of a foundation.
Where power is protected more carefully than people.
Where democracy erodes quietly, politely, while we argue over who is allowed to ask questions.

This is not a message from the left, or the right.
It is a plea from the people standing between them.
The ones who still believe that empathy is not a weakness.
That truth should not wobble depending on who speaks it.
That freedom does not require the silencing of another voice to survive.

If both sides keep shouting that the other is wrong, then no one remains to defend what is right.
If ideology becomes the measure of truth, then truth stops belonging to any of us.

So hear this, clearly:

We are not your talking points.
We are not the wedge issues you carve the country into.
We are neighbours, workers, caregivers, students, disabled folks, artists, immigrants, families, elders, youth.
We are the ones who carry the weight of every policy you pass.
And we are asking you, calmly, firmly, without apology, to remember who your decisions reach first.

This is a call for accountability.
For humility.
For courage.
For leadership that protects the vulnerable instead of politicising them.
For policies that lift people instead of dividing them into “deserving” and “undeserving.”
For a democracy that is not afraid of its own citizens.

For those already fighting: keep going.
Your voice matters more than ever.
For those who are afraid to speak – you are not alone.
Change has always started with someone who thought they were too small to matter.

And for the leaders in power who will read this…yes, including you;
We’re watching.
We’re thinking.
We’re voting.
We’re not as divided as you believe.

And we expect better.
For ourselves.
For our children.
For the country we still hope to recognize.

This is what the centre sounds like.
Not silence.
But a steady voice refusing to be pulled to the edges.

The world is now watching…

Who are you?
What will you do?

Thank you for listening.