Trying to post about current issues often feels like a exercise in futility—things simply change too fast. I no sooner get an idea to write about the failed negotiations with an unhinged pedophile, than we get swept up with the ridiculous attempt to rename Lake Ontario.
It makes you step back and look at the broader picture. To find some grounding, I turned to Phil Ochs’s 1964 protest classic, “Days Of Decision”:
Oh, the shadows of doubt are in many a mind
Lookin’ for an answer they’re never gonna find
But they’d better decide ’cause they’re runnin’ out of time
For these are the days of decision
Oh, the games of stalling you cannot afford
Dark is the danger that’s knocking on the door
And the far-reaching rockets say you can’t wait anymore
For these are the days of decision
In the face of the people who know they’re gonna win
There’s a strength that’s greater than the power of the wind
And you can’t stand around when the ice is growing thin
For these are the days of decision
I’ve seen your heads hinding ‘neath the blankets of fear
When the paths they are plain and the choices are clear
But with each passing day, folks, the cost is more dear
For these are the days of decision
There’s many a cross that burns in the night
And the fingers of the fire are pointing as they bite
Oh you can’t let the smoke keep on blinding all your sight
For these are the days of decision
Now the mobs of anger are roamin’ the street
From the rooftops they are aimin’ at the police on the beat
And in city after city you know they will repeat
For these are the days of decision
There’s been warnin’s of fire, warnin’s of flood
Now there’s the warnin’ of the bullet and the blood
From the three bodies buried in the Mississippi mud
Sayin’ these are the days of decision
There’s a change in the wind, and a split in the road
You can do what’s right or you can do what you are told
And the prize of the victory will belong to the bold
Yes, these are the days of decision
It is telling that a song written over six decades ago still speaks so directly to our present moment. The rapid churn of headlines might be new, but the underlying rot and hesitation are not.
Responding to our recent post, “Choosing a Path in a Noisy World one reader captured how the mindset driving today’s chaos was cultivated over generations:
“They have been brought up on Hollywood movies where they have been brainwashed that white Americans are always the heroes that saved the world. From schoolchildren, they learned nothing about the world and that they are, of course, the best that ever lived and everyone else was beneath them. They have ignored the decay and rot for over a decade, have worn Canadian flags when travelling abroad to limit the spit in their soup by the lowly peasants that serve them and endure their arrogance and entitlement. They fool no one.
For decades now, their morally and criminally corrupt society has built over a hundred million Trumps, yet they blame all their ills on one man, disregarding the fact there are millions waiting to move into his place.
“We the People” has been replaced with “I didn’t vote for him.” And “Give me liberty or give me death” now is “What do you want me to do,” “It is a big country,” “I can’t afford to lose my job.””
When distraction becomes the primary tool of power and compliance becomes the default setting, Ochs’s ultimatum holds truer than ever. The news cycle will keep spinning, but the fundamental choice remains: you can do what’s right, or you can do what you are told.
Another response to our post sparked an equally vital question: So what do we, as Canadians, do?
Canada’s history is defined by a consistent, quiet resolve to stand up against tyranny, defend national sovereignty, and safeguard human rights—both on home soil and around the globe. We saw it throughout the First and Second World Wars, and in our refusal to back down against apartheid in South Africa, alongside decades of diplomatic and peacekeeping efforts.
It is interesting to note that terms like “antifa,” “socialist” and “communist” are tossed around as the primary enemies of today’s authoritarian movements in the US. Yet historically, it was Canadian anti-fascists (including Communists) who played significant roles in international anti-fascist resistance, labour movements, and front-line conflicts—often operating completely outside, or in direct opposition to, official Canadian government policy.
Take the Spanish Civil War, for instance. Over 1,500 Canadians travelled to Spain to defend the democratic Second Spanish Republic against General Francisco Franco’s fascist forces. Roughly three-quarters of these volunteers were members of the Communist Party of Canada or the Young Communist League.
When Prime Minister Mackenzie King’s government passed the Foreign Enlistment Act—making it illegal to fight in Spain—the Communist Party secretly organized the recruitment and transport network anyway. Volunteers funnelled through Toronto, Montreal, and New York to reach Europe. Over 400 Canadians lost their lives in that conflict. Upon returning home, far from being welcomed as heroes, they were monitored by the RCMP as political subversives and were denied official veteran recognition for decades.
However, in 1998, The Spanish Civil War Memorial was erected to honour the British Columbians and Canadians who volunteered in the Mackenzie-Papineau Battalion to help defend the Spanish Republic against fascist attack during the 1930s.
Dr. Norman Bethune, famous Canadian communist, joined the anti-fascist effort in 1936 in Spain and pioneered the world’s first mobile blood transfusion unit, bringing preserved blood directly to soldiers on the front lines.
(note: The Bethune Memorial House National Historic Site in Gravenhurst, Ontario honours his role as a battlefront surgeon, medical pioneer and advocate for Canada’s universal health care.)
It leaves us with a question worth asking: if the ideologies that fought fascism first are the very ones vilified by today’s corrupt political class, isn’t it time we reconsider who actually holds our best interests at heart?
Whether we look to the urgent warnings of a 1964 folk song, the paralyzing noise of modern American political decay, or the quietly buried history of Canadians who risked everything to fight fascism on foreign soil and at home, the message remains the same: democracy has never been preserved by standing idly by. We cannot afford to let daily distractions blind us, nor can we allow fear to dictate our choices while the ice grows thin. As the old song remind us, the split in the road is already here—and these, truly, are the days of decision.
On another note: Please feel free to continue to send comments, questions — even criticisms or disagreements. Although we don’t have a huge number of readers, I find your comments very interesting and surely gives me food for thought.