The situation we find ourselves in—a country entangled in its own corrupt dealings, where power serves itself rather than the people—renders our leaders ineffective on the global stage. It’s not just about internal dysfunction; it projects an image to the world that undermines any credibility we might have had to address corruption elsewhere. When other countries, especially those grappling with their own corrupt regimes, look at us and see our leaders bogged down in scandal and cowardice, they see hypocrisy, not strength. We become lame duck leaders, offering lectures on democracy or justice with one hand while shielding our own corrupt systems with the other. This is not just embarrassing; it’s dangerous.

Infiltration of Civil Society and Institutions

We are witnessing something deeper than garden-variety political scandal

Kind of makes a nice stamp am I right?

This perhaps would be a fun post modern way to keepsake this infiltration of civil society and the subversion of its very intent.

These institutions—designed to uphold the public good, to serve as checks on power—are now tools in the hands of the very elites they were meant to regulate.

This is a form of institutional warfare.

When civil service, once considered a bedrock of neutrality and public interest, is captured by private interests, the balance of power shifts irreversibly. We see the erosion of trust in government, as decision-making is not only clouded by corruption but also driven by forces invisible to the public.

The Hollowing of Power

Historically, this isn’t new. Take, for example, Weimar Germany in the 1920s. The collapse of democratic institutions under the weight of corrupt political actors and outside pressures made it ripe for exploitation. Hitler’s rise was, in many ways, a direct result of the public’s perception that their leaders were weak and compromised, unable to stem the tide of economic collapse or address the country’s real needs. People stopped believing in the institutions because those in power had subverted them—whether through incompetence, greed, or outright betrayal.

Similarly, post-Soviet Russia saw a rapid deterioration in civil society when oligarchs captured the state. Putin’s rise was not just about consolidating power; it was about using corrupted institutions as weapons, ensuring that those who challenged the state’s power were marginalized or silenced. When Canadian leaders are seen in this same light—as compromised, as cowards who cannot stand up to corrupt interests—they cannot effectively challenge corruption abroad. Our soft power is eviscerated

Let’s borrow from Machiavelli, who warned that the worst thing a prince can do is appear weak. He wrote in The Prince, “It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both.” Machiavelli understood that weakness—especially perceived weakness—invites challenges, both from within and outside. For Canadian leaders, perceived weakness doesn’t just hurt us domestically; it signals to corrupt regimes abroad that we are ineffective, that our criticisms are hollow.

Hannah Arendt, in The Origins of Totalitarianism, explored how power corrupts when institutions that are meant to hold leaders accountable become co-opted. She wrote about how civil service—designed to act as a buffer between the people and political whims—becomes a tool for power when infiltrated. Arendt’s observation applies directly to our context: when civil society is captured by private interests, the state becomes not an arbiter of justice but an enforcer of corruption.

Hypocrisy and the Global Stage

On the global stage, we become the laughingstock. How can we criticize authoritarian regimes in places like Venezuela or Myanmar when we have SNC-Lavalin and WE Charity scandals? Our leaders shield themselves behind carefully worded denials and bureaucratic opacity, but the truth is clear: we are losing our moral high ground. It’s the same logic that George Orwell outlined in Animal Farm: the pigs, who were once revolutionary and committed to equality, slowly become indistinguishable from the humans they overthrew. The message to the rest of the world is this: we are just as compromised, just as self-serving as the very countries we critique. This hypocrisy not only emboldens other corrupt leaders but also destroys our credibility to speak on the values of democracy and accountability.

The Consequences of Institutional Warfare

The subversion of institutions isn’t just an internal problem; it is a strategic vulnerability. In warfare, controlling your opponent’s critical infrastructure is the first step to victory. Here, the “infrastructure” being controlled is our institutions of governance, our civil service, and our legal frameworks. When these are captured, the country becomes a puppet state, dancing to the tune of private interests rather than the public good.

This is how it plays out: the judiciary becomes neutered, protecting the powerful rather than holding them accountable. The media—once a watchdog—becomes a mouthpiece for elites, pushing narratives that serve the interests of those at the top while ignoring the systemic failures underneath. The education system shifts its focus, teaching compliance and conformity rather than critical thinking and challenging the status quo. This isn’t just theoretical. We’ve seen it happen in places like Brazil, where Bolsonaro’s government subverted environmental institutions, or in Hungary, where Orbán’s regime has effectively taken over the judiciary and civil service.

The Need for Reckoning

The only way out of this institutional warfare is through a reckoning. There must be a reclaiming of civil society—a return to institutions that are transparent, accountable, and serve the people, not private interests. This requires bravery, a quality sorely lacking in our current leadership. Voltaire, in Candide, famously wrote, “It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere.” Our leaders revere the chains of corporate influence, of political patronage, of maintaining power at any cost. The reckoning will only come when these chains are broken—when leaders are forced to account for the systems they’ve allowed to be corrupted.

To do this, we need to rebuild trust in institutions, starting with transparency. The public must be able to see how decisions are made, how influence is wielded, and who is really pulling the strings. But transparency alone won’t fix it. We need consequences for corruption, real consequences—not just resignations or scapegoating, but prosecutions, structural reforms, and the dismantling of the networks that have embedded themselves in our civil society.

Defensive Stance on the World Stage?

In the end, if Canada wants to reclaim its place as a leader in global democracy and human rights, we must first clean house. Our leaders are lame ducks because they cannot fight corruption abroad when they are compromised at home. The logic is clear, whether from Machiavelli’s ruthless pragmatism, Arendt’s insights on the fragility of institutions, or Voltaire’s biting critiques of hypocrisy: without a reckoning, without confronting the institutional warfare within our own borders, Canada will continue to falter. We can’t export democracy when our own is in shambles. Other nations will see us not as champions of freedom, but as cowards hiding behind the façade of democratic rhetoric, weakened by the very corruption we claim to fight.