October 7th, 2023, was the most defining moment for Israel since the Holocaust. For a generation two or three times removed from the Shoah, the horrors of that day shattered the illusion of safety. It was not just a brutal terrorist attack — it was an existential wake-up call.

For years, many wondered if a new generation raised in a high-tech, Westernized society could withstand a genocidal assault. October 7th gave us the answer. Israelis rose with courage and fury, united by the singular purpose of survival and justice. They did not collapse — they roared back.

In the immediate aftermath, Israelis became an iron wall. They fought back against Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis — and then directly confronted Iran.

This week alone

, seven Israeli soldiers were injured in central Israel with one off-duty soldier killed in Beersheba. Twenty-eight civilians were killed by Iranian missiles that levelled entire apartment blocks. Yet, Israel did not flinch. It struck back with precision, resilience, and resolve.

No other country in the world could have endured what Israel has faced over the past 20 months. No nation could withstand rocket barrages from multiple fronts while keeping daily life functioning. No other society could bury its young soldiers — its brightest minds — with such dignity and determination. No economy could continue to grow under constant attack. And no people could live through the trauma of watching loved ones kidnapped and brutalized — yet continue to fight with moral clarity. But Israel did. And Israel continues to do so.

Let’s be honest — it was Israel that gave America its consequential moment. Israeli intelligence and strategic planning laid the groundwork for strikes on Iran’s nuclear program. While U.S. airpower delivered the final blow, Israel brilliantly paved the way.

October 7th created a new Israeli ethos — just as the Holocaust once did. A new generation has emerged, defined not by memory, but by lived experience. They will never forget the sirens, the bomb shelters, or the atrocities. They will carry the legacy of survival and defence into every sphere of national life.

A post-Netanyahu era will bring new leadership shaped by battle — leaders who understand the cost of freedom and the price of silence. They will protect Israel with a heart of courage, grounded in hard-won experience.

Israel is not only surviving — it is growing. In the coming years, it will see a surge in Aliyah. As antisemitism rises across Europe and North America, and Islamic fundamentalism undermines Western values, more Jews will choose Israel as a safe and sovereign refuge. They will bring with them skills, passion, and purpose, strengthening the nation from within.

And Israel will remember. It will remember who stood with it — and

who did not

. In its darkest hour, countries like Canada, the U.K., France, Australia, and New Zealand chose political expediency over moral clarity. While Israel may renew ties with these allies, it will not forget their silence. Trust, once broken, is not easily repaired.

Even Canada, it seems, is now shifting its tone — perhaps realizing that Israel will not be defeated. At NATO this week, Prime Minister Carney

stated

his vision of a pro “Zionist Palestinian state that recognizes the right of Israel not just to exist, but to prosper and live without fear.” What he meant was clear: any future Palestinian state must first recognize the Jewish people’s right to live — securely and permanently — in their ancestral homeland, the land of Israel.

The war is far from over. The Ayatollah is already

claiming victory

, but he is an emperor without clothes — proven incompetent, deceitful and foolish. Hezbollah and Iran will regroup. Hamas’s ideology won’t vanish overnight. But it is not Israel that should fear what comes next — it is Israel’s enemies who should. The Israel of today is not the Israel of October 6th. It has proven it is not easily defeated. It rises under fire, unites under threat, and fights back with intelligence, courage, and precision.

And while Iran will surely continue its nuclear ambitions, it now knows that the Israel of tomorrow will return — stronger, smarter, and more powerful. Those who threaten it will live in fear.

When the war does finally end — and it must — it will mark the beginning of a stronger, more resilient Israel. One that rebuilds its cities and spirit. One that shines as a beacon of courage, a fortress of democracy, and a warning to all who still wish it harm:

Never again means

never again

.

National Post

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For a guy who likened the 2003 invasion of Iraq to “

throwing a big fat brick into a hornet’s nest

,” U.S. President Donald Trump was surprisingly quick to bomb Iran, targeting the country’s nuclear weapons program for destruction. Then again, he’s just the latest in a long line of presidents who criticize the bellicosity of predecessors before embracing it themselves — usually without seeking congressional permission. It’s too early to know whether the atomic dreams of Iran’s leaders have been laid to rest, but the tentative ceasefire between Iran and Israel, and Trump’s positive reception at the NATO summit, suggest he pulled off a win — for now — and polished his international image.

Strictly speaking, U.S. presidents aren’t supposed to wage war based on nothing but their own imperial whims.

Article I

, Section 8, Clause 11 of the U.S. Constitution reserves to Congress the power “to declare War, grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal, and make Rules concerning Captures on Land and Water.”

 Article 2

 designates the president as “Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States, and of the Militia of the several States, when called into the actual Service of the United States,” but that’s a power to be exercised only after Congress declares war, or in defence of the country.

Don’t tell that to anybody in the White House, though. Presidents have long engaged in military action without a formal state of war — sometimes with nudge-and-wink approval from Congress and sometimes without. In a

2000 article

for the Naval War College Review, Gregory E. Fehlings noted, “the American Indian wars were undeclared, even though the United States often fought them as general wars, without restriction.” Fehlings’ main topic, though, was the 1798-1800

Quasi-War

with France. That conflict was waged by President John Adams, who coaxed his predecessor, George Washington, out of retirement to serve as commander-in-chief. They fought France based on a tepid authorization for the use of force from a Congress that didn’t care to declare a formal war over the seizure of American shipping.

That set a precedent for most conflicts to follow. American troops have done a lot of fighting, killing, and dying at the command of presidents. But Congress has

declared war only 11 times

— six just for World War II and none since 1942. Some of the remaining looks-a-lot-like wars have been loosely authorized by Congress, but others were waged on the power of presidential prerogative, which has a lot of force in an age of missiles, drones, and bombers.

The growing speed with which presidents can commit the country to hostilities spurred Congress to adopt the War Powers Act in 1973. That requires the president to notify Congress of the use of military force within 48 hours and limits deployments to 60 days. But a lot can happen in two days, let alone 60. Besides, successive presidents from both parties have rejected the constitutionality of the

War Powers Act

and ignored its restrictions. And, frankly, most members of Congress don’t want the responsibility.

After the B-2 bomber strikes on Iran’s nuclear facilities, Speaker of the House Mike Johnson dismissed arguments that President Trump needed congressional authorization. He

insisted

“the War Powers Act is itself unconstitutional” and is “a violation of the Article 2 powers of the Commander-in-Chief.”

Not everybody agrees. After the strikes,

63 per cent of respondents

to a CBS News/YouGov poll said the president “does need congressional approval for action against Iran.” Representatives Thomas Massie (R-KY) and Ro Khanna (D-CA) introduced a

resolution to prohibit

“United States Armed Forces from unauthorized hostilities in the Islamic Republic of Iran.” A counterpart was introduced in the Senate.

But that’s after the fact. Bombers move faster than debates, and Trump was discussing the

terms of a ceasefire

between Israel and Iran as pollsters made phone calls and dissident lawmakers tried to rally support. The discussion now has moved on to the extent to which Iran’s nuclear weapons program has been damaged: Trump claims it was “

obliterated

,” Rafael Grossi, Director General of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), says

it was “significantly” set back

, and a preliminary intelligence report says it might only have been

knocked off schedule by a few months

.

Perhaps the only people who really know for sure are the Iranian officials digging through the rubble, gathering up whatever survived, and tallying what might still be hidden.

Which means that, so long as the ceasefire holds — a big “if” given that we’re talking about the Middle East — Trump is looking pretty good at the moment.

On X, UN Secretary General António Guterres

commented

, “I very much welcome President Trump’s announcement of a cease-fire between Israel and Iran. I urge the two countries to respect it fully.”

In a text message to Trump, NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte

gushed

, “Congratulations and thank you for your decisive action in Iran, that was truly extraordinary, and something no one else dared to do. It makes us all safer.” Trump

promptly posted the message to social media

, of course.

Naysayers will object to the way the international community is humouring Trump. But NATO gave the U.S. president another big win on his arrival at the alliance’s summit. Almost all attendees —

even Canada

! —

agreed to Trump’s goal of spending five per cent of GDP on defence by 2035

. Even if they don’t really mean it, that will almost certainly pull the members above the previous two per cent goal that most ignored for years on end. That’s of special importance to members on NATO’s eastern border with Russia.

The various grandees currently heaping praise on the U.S. president may not like or respect Trump. But there’s no doubt that he carries more clout than before, and that he has like-minded allies who see him as the key to a more bare-fisted approach in an increasingly tense time.

“This is the success of President Donald Trump,” Poland’s President Andrzej Duda, head of state of a country that has

shored up its military

to offset the threat from Russia,

commented

. “He was the one who demanded that NATO nations raise their defence spending.”

This is quite a coup for a maverick and mercurial politician who sometimes seems torn between picking a fight with the entire world beyond the U.S. border and ignoring it.

Trump’s image will take a hit if the Israel-Iran ceasefire falls apart amidst renewed fighting, of course. More dangerous for America is that the president’s increased stature comes from the White House, once again, ignoring Congress and acting unilaterally. That’s like a drug for a man, and an office, that look increasingly to be shedding constitutional restraints in favour of something like an

elective monarchy

.

National Post

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Every June, rainbow flags fill our streets, storefronts and social media feeds as the world marks Pride Month. As a gay man who remembers a very different time, I feel a genuine sense of pride and gratitude for how far we’ve come. But I also find myself increasingly uneasy, not about being gay, but about what the LGBTQ movement has become.

You won’t find me dancing shirtless on a float or wrapped in a feather boa. I’m more likely to be found in the suburbs, where many of us now live, raising children, caring for aging parents and commuting to work. That, too, is what being gay looks like today. And it’s a vision of normalcy we fought hard to achieve. Equality, after all, meant being treated like everyone else.

But somewhere along the way, the movement changed. What was once a focused, hard-won campaign for equal rights and recognition has been absorbed into a broader cultural project — one that many of us no longer recognize, and increasingly struggle to defend.

This is especially true when it comes to the current direction of trans activism, which has not only dominated LGBTQ discourse in recent years, but has also sparked sharp political and cultural backlash. Let’s be honest: many in the gay, lesbian and bisexual communities are quietly asking how and why the T became the centrepiece of our shared movement.

The transgender cause, particularly as it relates to children and adolescents, raises medical, ethical and social questions that are far more complex than the fight for same-sex marriage or workplace protections ever was. Puberty blockers, irreversible surgeries, pronoun mandates and policies around sports and shared spaces — these are issues that affect not just trans individuals but families, schools and society at large.

And yet, to even raise a question about any of this is to risk being branded a bigot. That’s not progress. That’s ideological coercion.

For years, the LGBTQ community stood united because we had to. We faced the same threats: violence, discrimination, marginalization. But that solidarity was based on common ground: sexual orientation. Now, gender identity, a fundamentally different concept, is redefining the movement’s priorities, its language and its public image.

Let’s not forget: many moderates in the gay community stepped back from activism once the major battles were won. When same-sex couples could marry and adopt, when we could live and work without fear of legal consequences, many of us moved on. We integrated into the mainstream. We cut our lawns, raised kids, joined school committees. And in doing so, we believed, perhaps naively, that the struggle was over.

But it wasn’t. And now, it’s being led in a direction that many of us never signed up for.

There’s a growing sense that trans-rights activism, particularly when tied to controversial social and medical policies, has become the battleground where the credibility of all LGBTQ people is being wagered. And the stakes are high. We’re already seeing the backlash: laws rolling back rights, school board showdowns and a public that’s increasingly skeptical of what “inclusion” now demands.

The uncomfortable truth is that many ordinary Canadians, gay and straight, understand why there’s a push-back. It’s not rooted in hate, but in discomfort with how rapidly norms are shifting, and how little space there is for discussion or dissent. It’s fair to ask: does every aspect of trans activism belong under the Pride umbrella? Or has the movement lost its original purpose?

It doesn’t help that Pride itself has become a platform for causes that stretch far beyond its original mission. In recent years, we’ve seen Pride parades adopt messaging on everything from defunding police to “Free Palestine.” Important or not, these causes aren’t LGBTQ issues. They dilute the purpose of Pride and turn it into a generalized political rally that alienates many, including those inside the community.

There’s also a generational shift. The generation before mine had to be loud and radical to get noticed. My generation reaped the benefits — we married, settled down and blended in. Today’s younger generation, eager to take up their own cause, often wraps LGBTQ identity in social media outrage and ideological rigidity. But outrage is not a strategy.

If the LGBTQ movement wants to survive in a meaningful, unifying way, it must look to the past. Equal rights under the law. Protection from discrimination. The freedom to live one’s life without coercion or shame. That was the foundation. That’s what earned us respect — and made genuine integration possible.

This Pride Month, I’m still proud to be gay. But I’m no longer certain what I’m supposed to be proud of about today’s movement. And I know I’m not alone. I also know this: I have friends with transgender children who are struggling to find their place in the world. They are outliers, just as we, as gay men and women, were a generation ago.

Asking questions, raising concerns and drawing lines isn’t about shutting anyone out. It’s about helping them find where they belong in a society that’s still learning how to adapt. That’s not intolerance. That’s how real inclusion works.

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Last week, the mayor of Quebec City made a decision that should concern every Canadian who still believes that history matters.

A historic mosaic, installed at city hall, depicting the moment Samuel de Champlain meets a First Nations chief, is being removed. Why? Because, and I quote, it was deemed to be “offensive.” That’s it. That was the only criterion. One of the most important figures in the founding of Quebec — and, by extension, of Canada — is now considered too problematic to be shown to the public.

Dans le dernier film de Denys Arcand, Testament, une scène identique se déroule.

Le wokisme a son pire. Effacer l’histoire, qui nous sommes, au nom de l’inclusion et de la diversité de façade.

Il existe toutes sortes de façons de se réconcilier avec les premières nations.… pic.twitter.com/IVfzjvqoFk

— Eric Duhaime (@E_Duhaime) June 17, 2025

Let’s be honest: the mosaic depicts a painful truth. Yes, the Indigenous chief is shown in a posture of submission. Yes, it reflects the colonial lens through which history was often portrayed. But the role of history is not to make us comfortable. It is to show us what happened. The moment we begin to edit the past to make it easier to look at, we stop telling the truth, and we begin to create fiction.

Seventeen years ago, in 2008, I wrote the speech delivered by Prime Minister Stephen Harper for the 400th anniversary of the founding of Quebec City. It was one of the proudest moments of my life, because it was a moment of unity, between French and English, between past and present, between our country and the city that gave birth to it.

In that speech, Prime Minister Harper honoured our collective memory: “1608 is a historic date for you, for Quebec, and for all of Canada. Because it was beginning on July 3, 1608, exactly 400 years ago today, that we really started becoming what we are today.”

He described Quebec City as “the most beautiful city in Canada, the most enchanting, a city that breathes a real joy.”

And he said something else, something deeply important to remember today: “The seeds planted here 400 years ago today have blossomed into a magnificent city, a strong and proud Quebecois nation and a great Canadian country, strong and free.”

But he didn’t stop there. He also acknowledged the founding role of French in Canada’s identity: “The 400th anniversary of the founding of Quebec City reminds us that French is Canada’s founding language,” he said. “The founding of Quebec City also marks the founding of the Canadian state.”

Let that sink in. The very language, culture and political existence of modern Quebec, and of Canada, can be traced to the moment Champlain arrived and established a settlement on the shores of the St. Lawrence. And today, that very moment is being removed from the walls of the city he founded.

This is not reconciliation. This is revisionism. This is not respect. This is erasure.

We have a duty to teach our full history, including the injustices. Including the imbalances of power. Including the painful truths about colonization and its lasting effects on Indigenous peoples. But we cannot do so by pretending the past did not happen. We cannot do so by tearing down mosaics instead of building understanding.

When we erase history, what comes next? Language? Identity? Memory?

We are a country built on the tension and the union of its founding nations, Indigenous, French and English. We are not perfect. But we are here. And to be here is to remember how we got here.

You cannot teach the truth by hiding the evidence of its existence. You cannot build a stronger country by burning the pages of its past. And you cannot defend your culture, your language or your values by abandoning your history.

History remembered is a foundation. History erased is a warning.

We must choose to remember, not to shame, but to learn. Not to glorify, but to understand. Because if Champlain is too offensive to remain in Quebec City, the rest of our story won’t survive, either.

What does it mean to be Canadian? It means belonging to a country forged between two founding languages, on land first inhabited by Indigenous peoples. A country that stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific to the Arctic, where winter forges our character and distance teaches us humility.

To be Canadian is to live on a land that is vast but never empty. Where cities vibrate with global energy, but where the soul of the country still lies in small towns, in the northern lights, in maple trees and in the quiet pride of neighbours helping one another.

It means carrying the weight of our history, with its triumphs and its faults, and refusing to forget either.

It means standing for the anthem even when no one is watching, and believing, deep down, that peace, order and good government is not just a slogan, it’s who we are.

It means belonging to a country founded in French, built in both French and English, and rooted on Indigenous land. A nation carved from the wilderness into Confederation. A northern country shaped by explorers, settlers and treaties, not by passing trends.

To be Canadian is to carry that legacy, to know where we come from and to never let anyone rewrite it.

Being Canadian must mean something. Otherwise, we are nothing.

Let that be a wake-up call.

National Post

Dimitri Soudas is the former director of communications to Prime Minister Stephen Harper.

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