Field Notes | Building a Nation, Protecting a Future

I have watched many people become angry with Mark Carney in recent weeks. Some feel he has abandoned the promises that led them to support him. Others believe he is moving too quickly on pipelines, mining, defence spending, and major infrastructure projects.

I understand that frustration.

But I also think it is too easy.

Leading Canada at this moment may be one of the most difficult jobs in the world.

We are living beside an increasingly unpredictable United States. Russia’s war in Ukraine has reshaped global security. China’s growing influence is changing the balance of power. Canada’s Arctic has become strategically important. Alberta feels increasingly alienated. Our military needs rebuilding after decades of underinvestment. Our economy must become less dependent on a single trading partner.

I do not envy anyone asked to make those decisions.

I understand why Carney wants to build.

I understand why he wants to strengthen Canada’s sovereignty, diversify our economy, invest in defence, and move major projects forward. I even understand the political calculation behind supporting another pipeline. Canada needs to remain united. Alberta cannot simply be ignored. Economic strength matters.

None of those are unreasonable goals.

But understanding the pressure does not relieve us of the responsibility to ask difficult questions.

Because while Canada accelerates pipelines, ports, mines, military investments, and other nation-building projects, we are also reducing funding in areas that help us understand and protect the very systems those projects will affect.

Environment and Climate Change Canada is planning spending reductions of more than $236 million in 2026–27, rising to more than $282 million by 2028–29, along with a planned reduction of hundreds of positions over that period.

At Fisheries and Oceans Canada, the department continues to identify science and ocean conservation as core priorities. At the same time, the union representing many federal scientists has warned that planned spending reductions could significantly affect marine conservation and Canada’s long-term scientific capacity.

Those numbers matter because they are not simply accounting decisions. They affect the people who quietly spend their careers collecting the evidence that allows Canada to make informed decisions about our oceans, fisheries, wildlife, and climate.

That is where I begin to struggle.

My daughter spends weeks at sea as part of long-term ocean research. She studies sharks, whales, fish populations, and the changing conditions of our oceans. It is painstaking work carried out over many years.

It tells us where species are moving.

It tells us whether fish populations are recovering or declining.

It tells us how warming waters are changing migration, reproduction, food supplies, and entire ecosystems.

It gives us the evidence we need to manage fisheries responsibly, protect endangered species, understand ocean acidification, and recognize damage before it becomes irreversible.

If we reduce that research, the changes do not stop happening.

We simply become less able to see them.

And long-term monitoring cannot simply be restarted years later. When a year of ocean data is not collected, scientists cannot travel backward in time to recover it. A broken research record leaves a permanent gap in our understanding.

Long-term scientific monitoring is not a luxury. It is part of the infrastructure of a thoughtful country. Just as we maintain roads, bridges, weather stations, and defence systems, we also need people who quietly measure the health of our forests, our oceans, our wildlife, and our climate.

This week, the sky over Québec City turned an unnatural yellow.

We could smell smoke drifting hundreds of kilometres from forest fires.

At dinner, one of my daughters asked why Canada was suddenly investing so heavily in Arctic defence.

It was a fair question.

The answer, of course, is that the world has changed. Canada cannot assume others will always protect our interests. We need to be capable of defending our own sovereignty.

But then another thought followed immediately.

The Arctic is becoming strategically important for a reason.

The ice is disappearing.

The very climate changes that are opening new shipping routes and exposing new resources are the same changes transforming one of the most fragile ecosystems on Earth.

The North is opening because the North is losing.

That paradox has stayed with me.

Recently I watched researchers tracking polar bears forced onto land for longer periods because the sea ice they depend upon is disappearing. Some bears remained almost motionless, conserving every ounce of energy. Others swam extraordinary distances searching for food. They are adapting as best they can, but adaptation does not guarantee survival.

These are not abstract warnings about some distant future.

They are observations made by scientists documenting changes that are happening now.

This is not an argument against development.

Canada will continue to mine. We will continue to produce energy. We will build infrastructure. We will strengthen our military. We should.

But stewardship asks something more of us.

It asks whether we are building with a time horizon measured in election cycles…

or generations.

Perhaps the government believes that strengthening Canada’s economy today will give future generations greater capacity to solve tomorrow’s environmental challenges.

I hope that is true.

My concern is that some things cannot simply be repaired later.

An extinct population cannot be restored by a future budget.

A contaminated watershed cannot always be returned to what it once was.

A mature forest cannot be replaced within a human lifetime.

Missing decades of scientific data cannot be recreated.

If we say that climate change is one of the defining challenges of our time, then we also need to ensure we maintain the scientific capacity to understand it.

We cannot accelerate extraction while weakening the institutions responsible for monitoring its consequences.

We cannot claim to be building for the future while treating forests, oceans, wildlife, and climate research as expenses that can be trimmed whenever money is needed elsewhere.

This is what makes leadership so difficult.

Governments must respond to immediate crises. Economic instability. Defence. Trade. National unity.

Those pressures are real.

But climate change does not pause while we deal with other emergencies.

Oceans continue to warm.

Forests continue to burn.

Species continue to adapt—or disappear.

The slow crises continue unfolding whether we are paying attention or not.

Perhaps the greatest challenge of leadership is resisting the temptation to solve today’s crisis by quietly creating tomorrow’s.

I still believe Mark Carney is an intelligent leader capable of long-term thinking.

That is precisely why I expect him—and all of us—to think beyond the next budget, the next construction announcement, or the next election.

Canada does not have to choose between prosperity and stewardship.

We need both.

We need to build.

We need to defend our sovereignty.

We need a stronger economy.

But we also need the wisdom to protect the natural systems that make all of those things possible.

Because the real measure of a nation is not simply what it builds.

It is what it chooses to protect.

The strongest countries are not remembered only for the wealth they created or the infrastructure they built.

They are remembered for the foresight to leave something worth inheriting.

One day, our grandchildren will live with the consequences of the choices we make today.

My hope is that, when they look back, they will not simply say that we were prosperous.

They will say that we were wise.

That we understood that nation-building and stewardship were never opposing ideas.

They were always meant to be built together.

Because the real measure of a nation is not simply what it builds.

It is what it chooses to protect.