192. Immigration Overload – News from Canada

Canada has long prided itself on its multicultural mosaic, but for many Canadians, the pace of immigration—450,000 newcomers annually, with plans to hit 500,000 by 2026—feels like too much, too fast.

The top-down ideas of the UK government and other political parties are all of the same ilk. Top-down. Localism is on the horizon – maybe immigration, internally and externally, should be considered?

In small towns and big cities alike, people are voicing concerns: strained housing markets, overcrowded schools, stretched healthcare systems, and a sense that their communities are changing before they can catch their breath. A 2024 Angus Reid poll found 60% of Canadians believe immigration levels are too high, up from 35% a decade ago.

In places like Brampton or Surrey, where immigrants make up over half the population, locals worry about integration lagging behind arrivals. It’s not about rejecting newcomers; it’s about feeling unheard in a top-down system where Ottawa dictates numbers and policies, often ignoring regional realities.

Take Sarah, a teacher in Regina. Her classroom is bursting with new students, many needing language support her school can’t fully provide. Housing costs in her neighborhood have spiked 30% in five years, pricing out her own kids. She’s not anti-immigrant—she values integration—but feels the federal government’s one-size-fits-all approach disregards her community’s capacity. From Halifax to Kelowna, Canadians are asking: why can’t we have a say in who joins our towns and how many?

The solution lies in flipping the script: transfer immigration control to regional and municipal governments, using Swiss-style direct democracy to let residents decide. This decentralized approach respects local needs, rebuilds trust, and ensures immigration strengthens communities, not strains them.

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The Strain of Centralised Control

Canada’s immigration system is a federal fortress. Ottawa sets annual targets, selects economic migrants, and processes refugees, with provinces getting limited input through programs like the Provincial Nominee Program (PNP). Municipalities? They get no say, despite bearing the brunt of integration—schools, housing, transit, and social services.

Centralized control assumes Ottawa knows best, but Canada’s regions are wildly diverse. Vancouver’s tech-driven economy can absorb skilled migrants differently than Cape Breton’s fishing communities. A top-down system ignores these nuances, fueling resentment. Canadians aren’t saying “no” to immigration—60% in the Angus Reid poll support it in principle—but they want a voice. By handing immigration decisions to regions or municipalities, Canada can ensure newcomers fit local needs and capacities, turning frustration into collaboration.


Swiss-Style Democracy: Power to the People

Switzerland, a nation of 8.7 million with 25% foreign-born residents, thrives on decentralised governance. Its 26 cantons (like provinces) and 2,200 municipalities have significant autonomy over taxes, education, and even immigration policies. Swiss citizens vote in referenda—sometimes multiple times a year—on issues like asylum policies or foreign worker quotas. This hyper-local approach ensures communities aren’t overwhelmed, and newcomers integrate into places ready to welcome them.

Canada could adapt this model. Imagine if Regina residents voted on how many immigrants their city can support, based on housing and school capacity. Or if a rural Nova Scotia municipality, eager for young families, set its own criteria. Municipal councils or regional assemblies could hold referenda to decide numbers, vetting processes, and integration priorities. This isn’t about closing doors—it’s about opening them thoughtfully.

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Co-ops: A Local Integration Engine

Even with local control, integration matters. Newcomers need jobs, community ties, and a sense of belonging. Enter cooperative businesses—worker-owned enterprises that embody the democratic spirit of Swiss-style governance. Co-ops aren’t just economic tools; they’re social ecosystems where immigrants become co-owners, not just employees.

Picture a cleaning co-op in Toronto, where a Nigerian immigrant, Chidi, joins after his community approves a small intake of skilled workers. He’s not just scrubbing floors—he’s voting on contracts, sharing profits, and planning outreach.

“In the co-op, I’m not just cleaning homes—I’m building a home here.” —Chidi, a Nigerian immigrant in a Toronto cleaning co-op, on the power of ownership.

Through daily collaboration, Chidi learns Canadian workplace norms while contributing his own ideas. Language barriers fade as he debates strategies with colleagues, accelerating fluency. Co-ops turn immigrants into stakeholders, fostering pride and connection.


Overcoming the Hurdles

Skeptics might argue decentralization risks chaos or exclusion. Couldn’t some communities reject immigrants outright? Swiss-style democracy guards against this. Referenda are binding but operate within constitutional frameworks ensuring fairness. Canada could require municipalities to align with human rights laws, preventing discrimination while allowing local flexibility.

The goal is to ensure immigration flows where it’s sustainable. If Brampton says “slow down” while Prince George says “bring it on,” the system adjusts to community capacity. Pairing local immigration control with co-op opportunities ensures newcomers integrate into welcoming, prepared communities.


Conclusion: A Canada That Listens

Canadians aren’t anti-immigrant—they’re tired of being sidelined. A centralized system that ignores local realities fuels frustration, but Swiss-style democracy offers a fix. By letting regions and municipalities decide who joins and how many, we empower communities to welcome newcomers on their terms. Co-ops seal the deal, turning immigrants into co-owners who build Canada alongside locals.

It’s time to trust Canadians to shape their future. Support local co-ops, push for decentralized policies, and let’s build a Canada where every community has a say—and every newcomer a stake.


186. Nobody’s in Control – and That’s How Localism Begins

Tim Watkins’ latest piece ends with a truth that most of us have long suspected but never dared to say aloud – nobody is in control. There is no plan, no strategy, no calm hand on the tiller. The people who are meant to be running the show are mostly busy explaining why nothing is their fault, while the rest of us are left to tidy up after them.

At first, that sounds terrifying. The idea that no one’s in charge of the nation’s great machinery, or even understands how the levers work anymore, is enough to make anyone nostalgic for the days when “strong leadership” meant something. But perhaps we should relax. Maybe this is exactly how localism begins.

Because the truth is, real control has always been an illusion. Even in its heyday, the industrial economy was a sprawling collection of improvised fixes that just happened to work for a while. Now that the fixes are breaking down, the system looks lost – but the people aren’t.

When government no longer knows what to do, we quietly start doing things ourselves. We mend the shed roof rather than waiting for an insurance company that never answers the phone. We share food, tools, and gossip. We rediscover what it means to be useful, rather than merely employed.

And while the official world debates growth targets and future technologies, the informal world – our world – gets on with the practical business of living. That’s localism. It doesn’t need permission or policy. It just grows naturally in the cracks of a crumbling system.

So when Tim says nobody’s in control, we might take that not as a warning but as a sign of progress. The old order is stepping back, albeit clumsily, to make room for something smaller, humbler, and far more human.

The lights may flicker in Whitehall, but in the streets and kitchens of ordinary people, a new kind of intelligence is quietly switching on.

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142. Let’s Get Honest About the Human Predicament

We are clinging to a dangerous fantasy – the belief that we can simply replace fossil fuels with something else and carry on as before. That wind, solar, nuclear, or hydrogen will allow us to keep our cars, our flights, our global supply chains, and our high-energy lifestyles. This is not just naïve – it’s reckless.

The hard truth is that there is no substitute for the scale, convenience, and density of energy we once had in oil, coal, and gas. Even nuclear power, often presented as the big solution, cannot sustain our way of life. It is part of the picture – but nowhere near the whole picture.

We must abandon the idea of energy substitution and face what really lies ahead: radical energy descent.

This means reducing our use of all forms of energy – not by a little, but by a lot. It means stepping off the treadmill of endless demand. It means redesigning our lives to need far less.

Not just fewer cars – but fewer journeys.
Not just greener homes – but smaller, simpler ones.
Not just different production – but less production.
Less heating, less cooling, less lighting, less powering.

This is not a message that wins elections or sells products. But it is the message that truth demands. The world is entering a long emergency – of resource limits, climate instability, and economic contraction. More energy won’t save us. Only using less will.

The challenge is no longer technical. It is civilisational.

And so we come to localism – not as a political slogan, but as a survival strategy.

Localism works because it cuts energy demand at the root. It shortens supply chains. It eliminates unnecessary travel. It reduces the need for global logistics, mega infrastructure, and remote bureaucracy. It rebuilds community, relocalises food and work, and makes life slower, simpler, and supportable.

We cannot keep powering the industrial scale of life. But we can power the local.

Localism is not a utopia. It is a pathway through collapse – a way of contracting with dignity. A way of living that fits within the limits of the Earth and the energy it offers.

We don’t need a new fuel. We need a new way of living.
That means less of everything – and closer to home.

Let’s get honest – and start again, locally.

134. Big Numbers

I seem to be in another world from that of the present government. Maybe this will help.

According to the Daily Telegraph:

The Chancellor’s £9.9bn of fiscal headroom left in her Spring Statement will be wiped out if the Bill is defeated in a Commons vote on Tuesday. (today)

The Office for Budget Responsibility estimates that the cumulative saving of the changes to both incapacity benefits and disability benefits will total £13.7bn by 2029-30. Of that, some £9.2bn would stem from cuts to personal independence payments, known as Pip.

According to ChatGPT:

Every year, the UK spends approximately £50 billion on transport: roughly £31 billion subsidising public transport (mostly rail) and another £18–20 billion on maintaining and expanding roads. In contrast, the NHS now costs over £180 billion annually.

What does this say about our priorities? In truth, it reflects an economy still wedded to the idea of long-distance movement – daily commuting, cross-country freight, massive infrastructure projects designed to tie the nation together. But the ground beneath this model is shifting. The shrinking economy, rising energy costs, ageing populations, and the climate crisis all point toward a future where people travel less, and more of life happens locally.

If we break it down, perhaps £35–40 billion of the £50 billion transport budget is allocated to sustaining long-distance networks – including national rail, trunk roads, high-speed projects, and intercity bus corridors. Only about £10–15 billion truly supports local transport: the buses, small roads, footpaths, cycle lanes, and concessionary travel schemes that keep communities connected.

Localism is the practical response to the end of cheap fossil-fuelled mobility. Rather than building trunk and primary roads, funded by the State, and subsidising national rail systems, spending would be focused on neighbourhood bus routes, maintaining village roads, improving walking infrastructure, and ensuring every town has safe paths to schools and shops.

In short, we could spend less on moving people further, and more on making life easier closer to home. The benefits would flow not just to those who travel less, but to society as a whole: more resilient communities, reduced emissions, and stronger local economies.

The challenge now shouldn’t be on building giant rail projects. It’s how to spend that money where it matters – on the doorsteps and streets where real life happens.