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Censorship Industrial Complex

The Authoritarian Legacy of Justin Trudeau

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Freedom in the Rearview Mirror

After nearly a decade in office, after attempts at photogenic diplomacy and tearful apologies, Justin Trudeau is stepping down as Canada’s Prime Minister, leaving behind a legacy as divisive as it is dramatic. To some, he was the poster child for progressive leadership, a leader who championed climate action and diversity while bringing Canada into the global spotlight.

To others, he was an over-polished politician whose tenure was defined by censorship, economic mismanagement, and the weaponization of state power against his own citizens. His resignation marks the end of an era—one defined as much by lofty rhetoric as by policies that left a deep mark on civil liberties and public trust.

So, what’s Trudeau’s Canada after nearly ten years? A land of progressive aspirations or a dystopian Pinterest board?

Censorship: The Friendly Autocrat Edition

Few things capture Trudeau’s tenure better than his government’s legislative war on free speech. Let’s start with the dynamic duo of digital overreach:

Bill C-10: “Regulating the Unregulatable”

The saga of Bill C-10 began innocently enough. Trudeau’s government framed the bill as a noble effort to modernize the Broadcasting Act. After all, the law hadn’t been updated since 1991, back when Blockbuster was thriving and the internet was just a nerd’s dream. The goal, they said, was to “level the playing field” between traditional broadcasters and streaming giants like Netflix and YouTube.

Sounds fair, right? Not so fast.

The devil was in the details—or the lack thereof. The bill gave Canada’s broadcast regulator, the Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission (CRTC), sweeping authority to police online content. Originally, user-generated content like vlogs, TikTok dances, or indie films were supposed to be exempt. However, midway through the legislative process, Trudeau’s government quietly removed those exemptions. Suddenly, your cat video could be classified as “broadcast content,” giving bureaucrats the power to decide whether it met Canadian cultural standards.

Critics, including legal scholars and digital rights groups, raised the alarm. They argued that the bill’s language was so vague it could allow the government to dictate what Canadians saw, shared, or created online. The specter of state-controlled algorithms choosing what gets promoted on platforms was too close to censorship for comfort.

But the government dismissed the concerns, painting critics as alarmists. In Trudeau’s Canada, wanting clear limits on government power apparently made you a conspiracy theorist.

Bill C-36: Hate Speech or Debate Killer?

Not content to merely oversee what Canadians could create, Trudeau’s administration went a step further with Bill C-36, a supposed weapon against online hate speech. If Bill C-10 was about controlling the medium, this bill was about controlling the message.
What Did It Do?

  • Reintroduced a controversial section of Canada’s Human Rights Act, allowing people to file complaints over online hate speech.
  • Allowed courts to impose hefty fines and even jail time for offenders.
  • Gave the government the power to preemptively penalize individuals suspected of potentially committing hate speech—a sort of Minority Report approach to thought crime.

The problem? The bill’s definition of “hate” was so expansive that it could potentially criminalize unpopular or offensive opinions. The bill didn’t just target clear-cut incitements to violence; it targeted anything deemed likely to expose individuals to “hatred or contempt.” Critics feared that “hatred or contempt” could mean anything from political dissent to sharp critiques of government policies.

Even more alarming was the prospect of a “snitch culture.” The bill encouraged private citizens to report each other for suspected hate speech, potentially turning disagreements into legal battles.

David Lametti, Trudeau’s Justice Minister, defended the bill, claiming it struck the right balance between free expression and protection from harm. But when legal experts and civil liberties groups united in opposition, it became clear that balance was not the government’s strong suit.

The Financial Freeze Heard ‘Round the World
The Freedom Convoy protest of 2022.
The Freedom Convoy—the moment when Canada went from polite protests and Tim Hortons to frozen bank accounts and police crackdowns.

In 2022, when truckers and their supporters descended on Ottawa to protest COVID-19 mandates, Trudeau didn’t meet them with dialogue or even his trademark smile-and-wave. Instead, he dusted off the Emergencies Act, something no prime minister had dared touch before. Overnight, financial institutions became Trudeau’s personal enforcers, freezing accounts of protesters and anyone who dared to support them.

Deputy Prime Minister Chrystia Freeland, Trudeau’s second-in-command at the time and a walking, talking LinkedIn connection to global elites, eagerly played bad cop. Under her direction, the financial clampdown turned Canada’s banking system into a political weapon. It wasn’t lost on critics that Freeland’s cozy ties to global financiers made the whole thing look like an international crackdown on dissent.

Then-Finance Minister and Deputy PM Chrystia Freeland.
And what of the precedent? Trudeau’s message was clear: disagree with the government, and you might lose access to your life savings. It was a masterclass in how to turn financial systems into handcuffs, leaving civil liberties in tatters.

The Media Muzzle: Subsidizing Obedience

Also on the chopping block was journalistic independence. Trudeau’s government rolled out legislation forcing media outlets to register with a government body to qualify for funding. On the surface, this was marketed as a lifeline for struggling journalism. Because nothing says “press freedom” like reporters dependent on government handouts, right? It’s a classic move: offer financial aid with one hand and hold the leash with the other.

Critics were quick to point out the slippery slope. When the same entity paying the bills also sets the rules, the line between journalism and government PR gets blurry fast. Trudeau, of course, framed this as support for democracy, but the result was a media landscape nervously eyeing its next paycheck while tiptoeing around criticism of its benefactor.

Big Brother Gets a Twitter Account

Then came the surveillance. Under Trudeau’s watch, Canadian intelligence agencies dramatically expanded their social media monitoring. Initially, this was framed as a necessary tool against extremism. But “extremism,” much like “disinformation,” is a flexible term in the hands of those in power. Activists and protest groups—voices traditionally central to democratic discourse—suddenly found themselves under the microscope.

Imagine logging onto X to vent about a new housing policy, only to realize your tweet has been flagged by a government algorithm. The message was clear: dissent might not be illegal, but it was certainly inconvenient.

Disinformation: The Government’s New Buzzword

Trudeau’s pièce de résistance was his crusade against “disinformation.” This word became the Swiss Army knife of excuses, used to delegitimize critics and corral public opinion. Do you have a bone to pick with government policies? Disinformation. Questioning pandemic mandates? Disinformation. Unimpressed with Trudeau’s latest photo op? You guessed it—disinformation.

To hammer the point home, his administration launched a series of public awareness campaigns, ostensibly to educate Canadians about the perils of online misinformation. These campaigns, dripping with paternalistic condescension, often blurred the line between fact-checking and outright propaganda. The subtext was unmistakable: dissent, even if rooted in genuine concerns, was a threat to national cohesion.

Canada’s New Normal: The Fear of Speaking Freely

The cumulative effect of these policies wasn’t subtle. Everyday Canadians began censoring themselves, not out of respect for others but out of fear of stepping on the wrong bureaucratic toes. Content creators hesitated to tackle divisive topics. Activists wondered whether their next rally would land them on a government watchlist. What was once a robust marketplace of ideas began to resemble a sparsely stocked shelf.

And yet, Trudeau’s defenders remain loyal, arguing that his policies were noble attempts to safeguard society. However, as history has repeatedly shown, the road to censorship is paved with the promise of safety, but its destination is a society too scared to speak.

The Legacy of Controlled Speech

So what’s the verdict? Is Trudeau a misunderstood guardian of democracy, or is he the wolf who prowled under the guise of a shepherd? It’s hard to champion inclusivity and diversity when fewer voices are allowed to join the conversation. Canada may someday reckon with the full implications of these policies, but the damage is already visible.

And as Canadians tiptoe around their digital platforms, one question remains: how free is a democracy where everyone whispers?

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Business

Apple removes security feature in UK after gov’t demands access to user data worldwide

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From LifeSiteNews

By Emily Mangiaracina

The decision was otherwise roundly condemned on X as “horrific,” “horrendous,” the hallmark of a “dictatorship,” and even “the biggest breach of privacy Western civilization has ever seen.”

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Censorship Industrial Complex

Bipartisan US Coalition Finally Tells Europe, and the FBI, to Shove It

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FLICKER OF HOPE? Left, Senator Ron Wyden. Middle, Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard. Right, Rep. Andy Biggs

Racket News  By Matt Taibbi

While J.D. Vance was speaking in Munich, the U.K. was demanding encrypted data from Apple. For the first time in nine years, America may fight back

Last Friday, while leaders around the Western world were up in arms about J.D. Vance’s confrontational address to the Munich Security Council, the Washington Post published a good old-fashioned piece of journalism. From “U.K. orders Apple to let it spy on users’ encrypted accounts”:

Security officials in the United Kingdom have demanded that Apple create a back door allowing them to retrieve all the content any Apple user worldwide has uploaded to the cloud, people familiar with the matter told The Washington Post.…

[The] Home Secretary has served Apple with… a technical capability notice, ordering it to provide access under the sweeping U.K. Investigatory Powers Act of 2016, which authorizes law enforcement to compel assistance from companies… The law, known by critics as the Snoopers’ Charter, makes it a criminal offense to reveal that the government has even made such a demand.

This rare example of genuine bipartisan cooperation is fascinating for several reasons. Oregon’s Ron Wyden teamed up with Arizona Republican Congressman Andy Biggs to ask new Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard for help in beating back the British. While other Democrats like Michael Bennet and Mark Warner were smearing Gabbard as a Russian proxy in confirmation hearings, Wyden performed an homage to old-school liberalism and asked a few constructive questions, including a request that Gabbard recommit to her stance against government snatching of encrypted data. Weeks later, the issue is back on the table, for real.

The original UK demand is apparently nearly a year old, and Apple has reportedly been resisting internally. But this show of political opposition is new. There has been no real pushback on foreign demands for data (encrypted or otherwise) for almost nine years, for an obvious reason. Europe, the FBI, and the rest of the American national security apparatus have until now mostly presented a unified front on this issue. In the Trump era especially, there has not been much political room to take a stand like the one Wyden, Biggs, and perhaps Gabbard will be making.

The encryption saga goes back at least ten years. On December 2, 2015, two men opened fire at the Inland Center in San Bernardino, killing 14 and injuring 22. About two months later, word got out that the FBI was trying to force Apple to undo its encryption safeguards, ostensibly to unlock the iPhone of accused San Bernardino shooter Syed Rizwan Farook. The FBI’s legal battle was led by its General Counsel Jim Baker, who later went to work at Twitter.

One flank of FBI strategy involved overhauling Rule 41 of the Rules of Criminal Procedure. The FBI’s idea was that if it received a legal search warrant, it should be granted power to use hacking techniques, if the target is “concealed through technological means.” The Department of Justice by way of the Supreme Court a decade ago issued this recommendation to Congress, which under a law called the Rules Enabling Act would go into force automatically if legislation was not passed to stop it. In 2016, Wyden joined up with Republican congressman Ted Poe to oppose the change, via a bill called the Stopping Mass Hacking Act.

Two factors conspired to kill the effort. First, the FBI had already won its confrontation with Apple, obtaining an order requiring the firm (which said it had no way to break encryption) to write software allowing the Bureau to use “brute force” methods to crack the suspect’s password. While Apple was contesting, the FBI busted the iPhone anyway by hiring a “publicity-shy” Australian firm called Azimuth, which hacked the phone a few months after the attack. The Post, citing another set of “people familiar with the matter,” outed the company’s name years later, in 2021.

The broader issue of whether government should be allowed to use such authority in all cases was at stake with the “Stopping Mass Hacking” bill. It was a problem for the members that the FBI called its own shot in the San Bernardino case, but the fatal blow came on November 29, 2016, when the UK passed the bill invoked last week, called the Investigatory Powers Act. This legal cheat code gave agencies like Britain’s GHCQ power to use hacking techniques (called “equipment interference”) and to employ “bulk” searches using “general” warrants. Instead of concrete individuals, the UK can target a location or a group of people who “share a common purpose”:

THE IPA: Bulk warrants, warrants by location, warrants on groups with “common purpose”

The law was and is broad in a darkly humorous way. It mandates that companies turn over even encrypted data for any of three reasons: to protect national security, to protect the “economic well-being of the UK,” and for the “prevention or detection of serious crime.”

Once the Act passed, American opposition turtled. How to make a stand against FBI hacking when the Bureau’s close partners in England could now make such requests legally and without restriction? The Wyden-Poe gambits were wiped out, and just two days after the IPA went into effect, changes to Rule 41 in America did as well. These granted American authorities wide latitude to break into anything they wanted, provided they had a warrant. As one Senate aide told me this week, “That was a game-over moment.”

Once the British got their shiny new tool, they weren’t shy about using it. The Twitter Files were full of loony “IPA” dramas that underscored just how terrifying these laws can be. In one bizarre episode in August of 2021, Twitter was asked to turn over data on soccer fans to a collection of alphabet soup agencies, including the Home Office and the “Football Policing Unit.” The Football Police informed Twitter that “in the UK… using the ‘N word’ is a criminal offence — not a freedom of speech issue.”

Twitter executives scrambled to explain to football’s cyber-bobbies that many of their suspects were black themselves, and tweets like “RAHEEM STERLING IS DAT NIGGA” were not, in fact, “hateful conduct.” (The idea that British police needed American executives to interpret sports slang is a horror movie in itself.) Accounts like @Itsknockzz and @Wavyboomin never knew how close they came to arrest:

N**** PLEASE: British police invoked the Investigatory Powers Act to get user information about nonwhite football fans

British overuse was obvious, but Twitter elected not to complain. They also kept quiet when American authorities began pushing for the same power. Though the Apple standoff aroused controversy, 50% of Americans still supported the FBI’s original stance against encryption, which seemed to embolden the Bureau. Senior officials began asking for the same virtually unlimited authority their friends in the UK (and soon after, Australia) were asserting. Donald Trump’s Attorney General, William Barr, seethed about encryption in a keynote speech at an International Cybersecurity Conference on July 23rd, 2019. The Justice Department was tiring of negotiations with tech companies on the issue, Barr said:

While we remain open to a cooperative approach, the time to achieve that may be limited. Key countries, including important allies, have been moving toward legislative and regulatory solutions. I think it is prudent to anticipate that a major incident may well occur at any time that will galvanize public opinion on these issues.

God knows what he meant about a “major incident” that “may well occur at any time,” but Barr was referring to the Investigatory Powers Act and imitator bills that by 2019 were being drafted by most U.S. intelligence partners.

Even without a central “incident,” European officials have been pursuing the dream of full “transparency” into user data ever since, often with support from American politicians and pundits. It was not long ago that Taylor Lorenz was writing outrage porn in the New York Times about the “unconstrained” and “unfettered conversations” on the Clubhouse App. As Lorenz noted, Clubhouse simply by being hard to track aroused the hostility of German authorities, who wrote to remind the firm about European citizens’ “right to erasure” and “transparent information”:

Providers offering services to European users must respect their rights to transparent information, the right of access, the right to erasure and the right to object.

Eventually, the EU tried to submarine end-to-end encryption through dystopian bills like “Chat Control,” which would have required platforms to actively scan user activity for prohibited behavior. This concept was widely criticized even in Europe, and in the States, which was mostly still in the grip of “freedom causes Trump” mania, TechCrunch called it “Hella Scary.”

Chat Control just barely stalled out in October, thanks to the Dutch, but Europe’s feelings about encryption were still more than made clear with this past summer’s arrest of Telegram founder Pavel Durov. That event was largely cheered in the U.S. press, where Durov was accused of actively “hiding illegal behavior,” and turning his platform into a “misinformation hot spot” used by “far right groups,” “neo-Nazis,” and “Proud Boys and QAnon conspiracy theorists.” The consensus was Durov himself was helping sink the concept of encryption.

“If we assume this becomes a fight about encryption, it is kind of bad to have a defendant who looks irresponsible,” was how Stanford Cyber Policy Analyst Daphne Keller described Durov to the New York Times after his arrest.

The Durov arrest may have marked the moment of peak influence for the cyber-spook movement. Though the Investigatory Powers Act was a major political surveillance tool, it was far from the only important law of its type, or the most powerful. The IPA was in fact just one of a long list of acronyms mostly unfamiliar to American news consumers, from France’s LCEN to Germany’s NetzDG to the EU’s TERREG as well as its Code of Practice on Disinformation and Code of Conduct on Countering Illegal Hate Speech Online, among many others. American authorities usually followed the pattern in the case of encryption and the IPA, doing informally what European counterparts were able to effect openly and with the force of law.

Now however it looks like efforts by government officials to completely wipe out encryption have failed, and events have taken a new turn. “Wild,” is how the Senate aide characterized the Wyden-Biggs letter, resuming another bipartisan fight put on hold nine years ago. “I’d forgotten what this looks like.”

IRONY ALERT: Germans protesting FBI efforts to break iPhone encryption, 2016

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