Ed Sheeran had options to removing Macklemore from his tour, instead he chose cowardice

Had Sheeran refused to censor Macklemore, any venue that retaliated and didn’t fulfill contractual obligations with his tour would have exposed itself to severe legal liability.

 
By Fareed Khan
A version of this article can be found on Substack.

The controversy surrounding Ed Sheeran’s decision to drop Macklemore from his tour under pressure from Robert Kraft and other stadium owners is not just a story about celebrity conflict. It is a story about moral failure, legal cowardice, and the ease with which powerful artists can abandon their principles when confronted by billionaire influence. Entertainment attorneys have now weighed in, and their analysis makes one thing clear: Sheeran had options — legally, ethically, and artistically. He simply chose not to use them.

The public narrative has largely framed Sheeran as a passive participant swept up in a political storm. But this framing is false. Sheeran was not powerless. He was not cornered. He was not forced into submission. He had contractual rights, legal leverage, and a global fan base that would have backed him had he chosen to stand with Macklemore. Instead, he capitulated — and in doing so, he betrayed a friend, undermined artistic freedom, and aligned himself with political forces that demanded silence in the face of genocide.

The legal power Sheeran refused to use

Concert agreements between artists and venues are binding contracts. They are not suggestions, nor are they easily discarded when a stadium owner dislikes an artist’s political stance. If a venue unilaterally cancels a performance without a valid contractual justification, the artist is entitled to damages. Entertainment lawyers have made clear that Sheeran could have refused the demand to drop Macklemore and forced the stadium owners to either honour their contracts or cancel the shows — and if they had cancelled, Sheeran would have had the right to sue for breach of contract.

This is not theoretical. It is grounded in established entertainment law. Venue cancellation liability is well documented, and artists routinely pursue damages when venues break agreements for political or reputational reasons.

Sheeran’s legal leverage didn’t end with breach‑of‑contract claims. Entertainment attorneys have commented that he also had grounds to pursue tortious interference — a doctrine that applies when a third party deliberately disrupts an existing business relationship or contract. In this case, the situation is straightforward. New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft and other stadium executives allegedly used pressure, threats, and coercion to push Sheeran into breaking his professional relationship with Macklemore. By demanding that Sheeran sever ties with his touring partner these stadium owners inserted themselves directly into the business arrangement between the two artists, creating precisely the kind of interference the law is designed to address.

Tortious interference claims are common in the entertainment industry, where reputational pressure is often weaponized to manipulate business relationships. In this instance Sheeran had a powerful legal pathway available to him. So either he received bad advice or he simply chose not to do the right thing.

The political machinery behind the pressure

The pressure campaign against Macklemore did not materialize out of thin air. It was the predictable result of a deeply entrenched anti-Palestinian political ecosystem — one dominated by billionaire stadium owners whose financial interests, ideological commitments, and personal networks intersect with the most hard-line elements of American and Israeli politics. Many of these owners have longstanding relationships with Donald Trump and influential Zionist supporters in his inner circle, individuals who have spent years shaping US political discourse around Israel and aggressively policing public criticism of its actions. Robert Kraft is not merely the owner of the New England Patriots and the stadium where they play, he is a major political actor with a long record of supporting Israeli policies, funding pro‑Israel initiatives, and cultivating ties with political figures who treat any support for Palestine as a threat to be neutralized. In this context, the demand to remove Macklemore was never a neutral business decision, it was a political act — a deliberate attempt to silence an artist who dared to speak openly about Israel’s genocide in Gaza and the decades‑long brutal oppression of Palestinians.

One can hardly say that Sheeran is naive with little understanding about how politics plays out in the entertainment industry. He understood exactly what was happening. He knew the pressure was political, not artistic. He knew that Macklemore was being targeted because he refused to align himself with pro-Zionist narratives around Israel and the Gaza genocide. And yet Sheeran still complied with the demands of stadium owners.

What makes Sheeran’s capitulation even more baffling is that standing firm would have strengthened his legal position, not weakened it. Had Sheeran refused to censor his friend, any stadium or venue that retaliated by refusing to fulfill contractual obligations with his tour would have exposed itself to additional legal claims — including breach‑of‑contract damages and potential tortious‑interference liability. In other words, the law was not only on Sheeran’s side in the present moment, it would have remained on his side in every future instance where a venue attempted to punish him for defending artistic freedom. He had political cover, legal leverage, and moral clarity available to him. He simply chose not to use any of it.

Sheeran’s empty words and hypocrisy

When Sheeran finally addressed the controversy on social media this past Tuesday, his statement was a masterclass in evasion and hypocrisy. He stated that he doesn’t use his professional platform for politics, a line that was meant to portray himself as neutral, apolitical, and above the fray. But this claim collapses under the weight of his own record.

Sheeran did get involved in politics when the victims were white and predominantly Christian in Ukraine. He publicly condemned Russia’s invasion of that country, expressed solidarity with Ukrainians, and used his platform to raise awareness about their suffering. He did not hide behind neutrality then. He did not claim that he doesn’t get involved in politics. He took a side.

But when the victims are brown, Palestinian, and largely Muslim — when the suffering is inflicted by a state allied with Western power — Sheeran suddenly retreats into the safety of apolitical posturing. He suddenly claims neutrality. He suddenly insists that he cannot take sides.

This is not neutrality, it is unmitigated hypocrisy.

His refusal to acknowledge the Gaza genocide — even as he took sides in Ukraine — reveals a pattern that is impossible to ignore. Sheeran seems willing to speak out when the victims fit a Western cultural narrative of innocence, but when the victims are Palestinian, when the oppressor is Israel, when the political cost is higher, he hides behind the crutch of “not getting involved.”

His social media response was not a principled stand. It was a calculated dodge. It was empty words designed to deflect criticism while avoiding moral responsibility. And fans saw through it immediately. The backlash has been intense with the remaining supporting acts and the back up band on his tour quitting over the removal of Macklemore. Supporting acts Aaron Rowe, Lukas Graham, Beoga and Finneas announced that they were withdrawing from Sheeran’s tour to stand in solidarity with Macklemore and with Palestinians — meaning the tour now has no openers or back up band.

The moral failure

Instead of defending artistic freedom, Sheeran chose to silence someone he called a friend who was speaking out against genocide. Macklemore’s statements were not fringe and this was not the first time he had used his performances to speak about Israel’s genocide against Palestinians. They reflected the views of many of his own fans and millions of people around the world who have watched, in horror, as Israel has slaughtered Palestinians in Gaza for three years, and the decades‑long brutal oppression by the Israeli state in the West Bank and East Jerusalem. Macklemore used his platform to call attention to this suffering. Sheeran chose to use his platform to distance himself from that call.

Artists have long been at the forefront of moral resistance — from musicians protesting the Vietnam War in the 1960s to anti‑apartheid performers in the 1980s. Sheeran had the chance to join that lineage by standing with his friend, with many of his fans, and with the oppressed. He had the chance to be remembered as someone who refused to bow to billionaire pressure. Instead, he will be remembered as someone who chose to be complicit with those supporting Israeli atrocities.

The irony is that Sheeran’s fan base — particularly the younger demographic — overwhelmingly supports Palestinian rights and opposes genocide, as was demonstrated by the reactions of fans at the shows where Macklemore made his anti-Israel comments. Had Sheeran stood with Macklemore, he would have been celebrated and seen as a hero. He would have earned goodwill that no marketing campaign could buy. And yes, he would have made money — because fans reward courage.

Instead, he alienated many of those fans. He showed them that when confronted with a moral test, he chose comfort over conscience, billionaire approval over artistic integrity, and apathy over solidarity.

The price of cowardice

Sheeran is not alone in this moral collapse. Pink slammed Macklemore’s on stage anti-genocide advocacy on social media, aligning herself with the same forces that demanded silence. She, along with Sheeran, will pay a price for this. Their reputations have already taken a hit, Sheeran’s tour has imploded, and the backlash will not fade quickly. Fans do not forget when artists betray their own stated values.

They now join a growing list of entertainers without a moral compass who have chosen to defend or excuse Israel’s atrocities in Gaza and have called those protesting the Gaza genocide “antisemitic” — a list that includes actors Debra Messing, Gal Gadot, Jerry Seinfeld, Mayim Bialik, Michael Douglas, and others. These are artists who have used their platforms not to challenge the brutality of power but to reinforce it. They have aligned themselves with state violence rather than human rights, and are reminiscent of those entertainers and artists in 1930s Germany who aligned themselves with the Nazi regime.

Had Sheeran chosen differently, the story today would be radically different. He would be celebrated for standing with Macklemore. He would be praised for defending artistic freedom and admired for refusing to bow to political pressure. He would have strengthened his bond with fans who care deeply about justice, and he would have had strong legal claims that would have protected him financially.

He had every incentive — moral, legal, artistic, and economic — to do the right thing. He simply chose not to.

Ed Sheeran’s decision was a choice where he betrayed a friend, abandoned a righteous and moral cause, and sided with billionaire power brokers who demanded that those who oppose Israel’s genocide be silenced.

He had options. He had leverage. He had the law on his side. He just didn’t have the courage, and he now sees the result of that cowardice.

© 2026 The View From Here. © 2026 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.

Ed Sheeran’s collapse of morality and conscience

Macklemore has shown what moral courage looks like. He used his platform to support justice for Palestinians — at personal cost — while Sheeran chose to side with those supporting genocide.

By Fareed Khan

A version of this article can be found on Substack.

Ed Sheeran’s decision to drop Macklemore from the US leg of his tour is not a minor disagreement between artists, nor is it a simple matter of “political neutrality.” It is a moral failure of historic proportions — the kind of failure that reveals who stands with the oppressed and who stands with the machinery of oppression.

Sheeran has chosen his side, and it is the side of power, silence, and complicity in the most depraved atrocities being committed against an oppressed people. In moments of genocide, neutrality is not a shield; it is an endorsement. And Sheeran has endorsed the persecution of Palestinians by choosing to silence one of the few artists willing to speak openly about their their brutal oppression and suffering.

Media reports have made it clear that Macklemore was removed from Sheeran’s tour because he spoke about the Gaza genocide and shouted “Free Palestine” from the stage during his opening sets at MetLife Stadium on September 4 and 5. Stadium owners — including New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft, who controls Gillette Stadium — threatened to cancel Sheeran’s concerts unless Macklemore was removed. Kraft, a billionaire with a long record of support for Israel’s government, reportedly rallied other stadium owners where Sheeran was scheduled to perform to join the pressure campaign. Faced with this ultimatum, Sheeran folded with little hesitation. He did not resist. He did not defend his friend. He simply surrendered.

This is not neutrality. In the face of mass atrocity, is complicity.

The moral failure of neutrality

South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” Sheeran’s insistence that he is “not political” is not a shield from moral judgment — it is an admission of moral failure. When tens of thousands of Palestinians have been killed, when entire neighborhoods have been flattened, when children are buried under rubble, when famine is used as a weapon, when journalists and aid workers are systematically targeted, neutrality is not an option. It is a choice to look away.

Would Sheeran have been “neutral” during the Holocaust? Would he have insisted that he “doesn’t take sides” while Jews were being rounded up, starved, and murdered? The question is uncomfortable because it exposes the truth. Neutrality in the face of genocide is indistinguishable from endorsement. It is the same moral position that allowed past atrocities to unfold — the same posture that allowed genocidal regimes to operate with impunity while artists, celebrities, and elites looked away.

Sheeran’s decision echoes that history. It is not identical — history never repeats itself perfectly — but it echoes the actions of people who came before him. It echoes the cowardice of those who refused to speak when speaking mattered. It echoes the silence of those who valued comfort over conscience. It echoes the silence of the elites who enabled genocidal regimes by refusing to challenge power.

The immoral billionaire pressure machine

Media reports have made it clear that Sheeran did not act alone. He acted under pressure from a billionaire class that has aligned itself with Israel’s government and its genocide in Gaza. Robert Kraft, who is Jewish, and whose philanthropic and political activities are deeply tied to pro‑Israel advocacy, reportedly told Sheeran that Macklemore would not be allowed onstage at Gillette Stadium. Kraft then rallied other stadium owners to join him, threatening to cancel Sheeran’s concerts if Macklemore remained on the bill.

This is not simply censorship. It is a coordinated effort by powerful elites to silence voices calling attention to a genocide that is still happening in Gaza. It is a pressure campaign designed to protect a racist apartheid government engaged in mass atrocities. And Sheeran, rather than resisting, chose to comply.

The parallels to history are unavoidable. During the Holocaust, German industrialists and wealthy elites supported and enabled the Nazi regime as it committed the Holocaust. They provided resources, political cover, and economic infrastructure. They did not commit the atrocities themselves, but they ensured the machinery of genocide could operate smoothly. Today, American billionaires — through political influence, media pressure, and economic leverage — play a similar role in shielding Israel’s government from accountability. Their actions do not mirror the Holocaust itself, but they mirror the enabling class that made genocide possible.

Unlike Macklemore, Sheeran has aligned himself with that class. He has chosen comfort over conscience, profit over principle, silence over solidarity.

Macklemore’s moral courage

In contrast, Macklemore has shown what moral courage looks like. He has spoken openly about the Gaza genocide, waved a Palestinian flag, and shouted “Free Palestine” from the stage. He used his platform — at personal cost — to call attention to mass suffering. He did what artists with a moral conscience are supposed to do — speak truth, challenge power, and stand with the oppressed.

Macklemore has not attacked Sheeran for cancelling him, nor demanded retribution. Instead he has shown grace. But grace does not erase the moral contrast between the two artists. Macklemore stood up to the rich and powerful. Sheeran bowed to them. Macklemore risked his career. Sheeran protected his. Macklemore chose humanity. Sheeran chose convenience.

As one commentator put it, Sheeran could have told Robert Kraft “to go fuck himself,” along with the other stadium owners who joined the pressure campaign.[8] He could have refused to participate in their censorship. He could have stood on principle. Instead, he caved — and in doing so, he chose a side.

Pink’s reprehensible role

Pink’s involvement is no less disturbing. In the days following Macklemore’s remarks, Pink did not express concern for Palestinians being massacred, starved, or displaced. Instead, she focused her outrage on the presence of Palestinian flags and the slogan “Free Palestine,” claiming that Macklemore’s public commentary scared her, and it scared people she loved. She selfishly framed Macklemore’s act of solidarity as an intrusion into her personal emotional space, as though the mere sight of a flag representing an oppressed people was a greater moral threat than the ongoing destruction of Gaza. Pink’s self-centred priorities reveal a profound moral inversion, one where: symbols of solidarity are treated as dangerous, while mass killing is treated as background noise. Her statements are not neutral. They are part of a broader cultural pattern in which Palestinian identity is pathologized, and expressions of Palestinian humanity are treated as acts of aggression.

Reports about her public reaction shows that Pink went further than simply disagreeing with Macklemore’s choice of words. She implied that his advocacy created “division” and “loneliness,” suggesting that the problem was not the genocide itself but the discomfort caused by acknowledging it. This framing mirrors the logic used by institutions that punish pro‑Palestinian speech: the idea that calling attention to atrocity is somehow more harmful than the atrocity itself. Pink’s stance reinforces the same pressure that led Sheeran to drop Macklemore — a cultural environment where Palestinian suffering is erased, and those who speak about it are punished. Her reaction fits neatly into the machinery of silencing: a celebrity with enormous reach using her platform not to challenge injustice, but to delegitimize those who do.\

Pink’s response also reveals how deeply normalized the erasure of Palestinian life has become in Western entertainment culture. She did not express horror at the images emerging from Gaza. She did not condemn the killing of children or the destruction of hospitals. She did not acknowledge the famine, the displacement, or the mass graves. Instead, she centered her own discomfort, treating Palestinian solidarity as a personal affront.

In this way, Pink’s stance is not merely disappointing; it is actively harmful. It signals to other artists that speaking about genocide will be met with hostility, not support. It tells fans that Palestinian lives matter less than celebrity comfort. And it reinforces the message sent by Sheeran’s decision: that in the entertainment industry, the powerful will punish those who refuse to look away from atrocity. Pink may not have directly pressured Sheeran, but her public reaction contributed to the same climate of fear and suppression — a climate in which Palestinian suffering is minimized, and those who speak about it are cast as troublemakers rather than truth‑tellers.

The price of complicity

Sheeran will pay a price for his decision. It will not come from stadium owners or billionaire patrons. It will come from the public — from fans who refuse to accept his decision and his silence in the face of genocide, from audiences who understand that neutrality is complicity, from people who are sure to disrupt his concerts by shouting “Free Palestine” until he is forced to confront the consequences of his choice. Sheeran’s remaining concerts are sure to be marked by protest, disruption, and moral confrontation as those who bought tickets learn of why Macklemore was removed from the concert schedule, and how Sheeran chose to align himself with wealth and power.

Many of Macklemore’s fans will also not forgive Sheeran. They will not show him the charity Macklemore has shown. They will see his decision for what it is, a betrayal of humanity. Sheeran could have chosen to lose money and risk controversy. Instead, he chose to sacrifice his integrity.

Ed Sheeran has shown that his integrity is worth the price of a tour. He has shown that he will fold under pressure from billionaires who support genocide. He has shown that he values commercial success over human life. He has shown that he will silence voices calling for freedom rather than confront the machinery of brutality and oppression.

History will not remember this as a minor controversy. It will remember it as a moment when an artist with immense influence chose silence over solidarity, comfort over courage, and complicity over conscience.

And history will judge him accordingly.

© 2026 The View From Here. © 2026 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.

Davos on Lake Ontario – Why Canadians need to be worried about the upcoming Canada Investment Summit

The Canada Investment Summit is not a neutral economic event — it is one that risks accelerating privatization of Canadian public assets, weaken labour protections, and entrench corporate power. 

By Fareed Khan

A version of this article is available on Substack.

On Monday the Canada Investment Summit is scheduled to take place in Toronto.  On September 14th and 15th some of the world’s top asset managers are set to arrive in the city in what is being promoted as a landmark moment in Canada’s economic strategy — a chance to attract US$1 trillion in global capital over the next five years and economically reposition the country amid the current trade war with the United States. The government’s messaging frames the summit as a bold, forward‑looking initiative designed to strengthen Canada’s economic resilience and diversify away from over‑reliance on the US. But beneath the polished PR messaging lies a far more troubling reality — the summit represents a deepening entrenchment of global financial and corporate power in Canada’s political and economic life.

The gathering will bring together roughly 250 of the world’s most powerful financial actors, who collectively control an estimated US$120 trillion in assets — nearly the entire annual output of the global economy. Those attending are not philanthropists. They are representatives of institutions whose primary obligation is to maximize returns for investors and shareholders. Their interests do not align with the public good, democratic accountability, or the long‑term well‑being of ordinary Canadians.

This raises a very important question. In holding this summit is Prime Minister Mark Carney looking after the interests of Canadians, or is he acting as an agent of global elites and oligarchs? His government’s policy trajectory since taking office — from corporate‑tilted tariff relief programs to labour code reforms that critics fear will weaken worker protections — suggests a pattern of governance that privileges the wealthy and powerful over the needs of the public.

The summit’s agenda, guest list, and political context reveal a project that is not designed to strengthen public services or expand democratic control. Instead, it appears to be a vehicle for accelerating privatization, expanding corporate influence, and reshaping Canada’s economy in ways that benefit global capital while leaving ordinary Canadians behind.

A summit built for global capital

The summit’s agenda is a showcase of sectors coveted by global investors: critical minerals, uranium, pipelines, reactors, artificial intelligence, quantum computing, defence manufacturing, and advanced industrial production. These sectors are not simply economic opportunities — they are strategic assets that shape national sovereignty, environmental futures, and public safety.

The summit’s agenda reads like a showcase of sectors coveted by global investors — critical minerals, uranium, pipelines, reactors, artificial intelligence, quantum computing, defence manufacturing, and advanced industrial production. These are not merely areas of economic opportunity; they are strategic assets that shape national sovereignty, environmental futures, and public safety. The calibre of attendees underscores this reality. Among those expected in Toronto are Berkshire Hathaway, with a market capitalization exceeding $1 trillion, KKR with $758 billion in assets, Mubadala at $385 billion, and Norges Bank Investment Management, which controls an astonishing $2.3 trillion. They will be joined by Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund, valued at $1.2 trillion, the Abu Dhabi National Oil Company with $477 billion, Australia’s Macquarie Group at $205 billion, and IFM Investors with $201 billion under management.

These institutions do not answer to Canadians. Their accountability lies with global markets, sovereign wealth funds, and private shareholders whose priorities are driven by profit maximization rather than public welfare. Their presence at the summit signals a profound shift in Canada’s economic strategy — a pivot toward deep integration with global capital and away from public ownership, democratic oversight, and the protection of essential public assets.

This shift raises a critical question: if the summit is truly intended to benefit Canada, why is opposition to it rapidly building across so many sectors of Canadian society?

The privatization threat

Reports suggest that the summit may include discussions about privatizing major public assets — airports, ports, toll roads, power grids, and even water systems. Privatization is often presented as a strategy to attract investment, improve efficiency, or modernize infrastructure. Yet the global record tells a very different story. When corporations assume control of essential public assets, the results follow a familiar pattern: user fees rise, accountability diminishes, service quality declines, democratic oversight erodes, and profit is extracted from services that people depend on for daily life. These outcomes are not theoretical. They have been documented across dozens of countries where privatization has led to deteriorating public services and widening inequality.

One example illustrates the stakes with stark clarity. Former Nestlé CEO Peter Brabeck‑Letmathe once argued that the idea of water as a basic human right is “extreme.” His statement reflects a worldview in which fundamental human needs — water, electricity, transportation — are treated as commodities rather than rights. It is a worldview that sees public infrastructure not as a shared foundation for collective well‑being, but as an opportunity for private profit.

If such thinking is allowed to shape Canada’s infrastructure future, the consequences could be severe. Water systems, power grids, and transportation networks are not luxuries, they are the backbone of modern life. Entrenching control of these systems in the hands of global investors who prioritize returns over public welfare would mark a profound and potentially irreversible shift in Canadian society.

Critics warn that if the sale of public assets is on the table, Canadians will be the losers in the long run.

Inequality and the corporate tilt of Carney’s policies

Canada is experiencing a spiralling inequality crisis. Housing costs have soared, wages have stagnated, and the affordability crisis continues to deepen. Yet Carney’s policies have consistently prioritized corporate interests, with only a handful of policies addressing the affordability crisis.

One example is the $7.5 billion Trump tariff relief package, which — as reporting shows — “falls short for small business” because strict eligibility rules block many from accessing aid. Large corporations, however, face few such barriers. This pattern reinforces a central concern: the summit is not designed to help ordinary Canadians. It is designed to help corporations expand their control over Canadian industries and public assets.

Carney’s government has also launched a sweeping review of the Canada Labour Code, prompting fears that worker protections may be weakened. If labour standards are eroded while public assets are privatized, the result will be a Canada in which workers face greater precarity while corporations enjoy greater freedom to extract profit.

This is not a path toward shared prosperity. It is a path toward oligarchy.

Opposition to the summit is intensifying across a wide spectrum of Canadian society — labour unions, Indigenous sovereignty movements, tenant organizations, climate justice groups, anti‑war networks, migrant‑rights advocates, and Palestine‑solidarity coalitions. Many of these groups have begun referring to the event as “Davos on Lake Ontario,” a pointed comparison to the World Economic Forum’s annual gathering of billionaires and corporate executives. The nickname captures their belief that the summit is not a forum for democratic economic planning but rather a meeting designed to consolidate elite power.

Their concerns are grounded in lived experience. Labour organizations warn that the summit’s corporate‑centric agenda could further weaken labour protections and expand employer power. Indigenous land defenders caution that the financing of megaprojects may accelerate resource extraction on unceded territories, deepening conflicts over sovereignty and environmental stewardship. Tenant advocates fear that privatization initiatives will worsen housing affordability by placing essential infrastructure in the hands of profit‑driven actors. Climate activists object to the summit’s emphasis on pipelines, reactors, and fossil‑fuel infrastructure, arguing that it entrenches carbonin-tensive development at a moment when rapid decarbonization is urgently needed. Anti‑war groups raise alarms about the presence of defence manufacturers and military‑industrial firms, whose interests are tied to Israel’s genocide in Gaza. Migrant rights advocates point out that global capital often relies on precarious labour conditions, leaving migrant workers vulnerable to exploitation. And Palestine‑solidarity groups condemn the invitation of BlackRock CEO Larry Fink, whose company profits from weapons manufacturers supplying Israel’s assault on Gaza.

Taken together, these concerns lead to a critical question: why are so many social movements mobilizing against a summit that claims to be for the benefit of Canada? The answer is straightforward. These groups do not believe the summit is designed to serve the public good. They see it instead as a gathering of powerful interests whose priorities are fundamentally misaligned with the needs, rights, and aspirations of ordinary Canadians.

The invitation of Larry Fink, CEO of BlackRock, is particularly controversial. BlackRock is one of the largest asset managers in the world, with deep investments in fossil fuels, defence contractors, surveillance technology, and companies linked to human rights abuses. Fink himself has been a supporter of Donald Trump, and BlackRock has profited from weapons manufacturers whose products have been used in Israel’s assault on Gaza — an assault widely described by human rights organizations as genocidal.

This raises a pointed question. Why did Carney invite Larry Fink — a known Trump ally — to a summit supposedly designed to benefit Canadians?

The answer appears to be that Carney is courting global capital without regard for its ethical implications. This is not the behaviour of a leader prioritizing human rights. It is the behaviour of a leader prioritizing investment flows.

A pro‑corporate, militarist, anti‑environment summit

The summit’s agenda features sessions devoted to pipelines, reactors, defence manufacturing, advanced military technology, critical minerals extraction, and fossil‑fuel infrastructure. This is not the agenda of a government preparing to confront climate change, strengthen public services, or expand social welfare. It is the agenda of a government courting capital, directing attention toward sectors that promise high returns for investors — often at the expense of environmental protection, Indigenous rights, and community well‑being.

This naturally leads to a pressing question: where will the benefit for ordinary Canadians come from? The summit’s official materials offer no meaningful answer, nor do the government’s press releases. Instead, the advantages appear to flow overwhelmingly toward global investors, multinational corporations, sovereign wealth funds, defence manufacturers, fossil‑fuel companies, and private‑equity firms. In this distribution of benefits, ordinary Canadians are conspicuously absent. The structure of the summit makes clear that its priorities lie not with public welfare but with the consolidation of elite financial power.

Carney’s strategy is to present Canada as a hedge against American volatility — a safe alternative for global investors seeking to diversify away from the United States. This is a bold geopolitical move, but it carries risks. The question is not just whether this strategy will provoke Washington. It is whether Canada’s economic future should be shaped in closed‑door meetings with global elites rather than through democratic debate.

The presence of former Conservative prime minister Stephen Harper at the conference to close a summit hosted by a Liberal prime minister underscores the bipartisan nature of Canada’s corporate‑investment consensus. When both major parties align with global capital, it’s a sure bet that democratic accountability will weaken.

Canadians should be wary

The Canada Investment Summit is not a neutral economic event. It is a political project — one that risks accelerating privatization of Canadian public assets, weaken labour protections, and entrench corporate power. If public assets are put on the table, Canadians will be the losers in the long run.

This is not alarmism. It is a sober assessment of what will happen if essential infrastructure is handed over to global investors whose primary obligation is profit maximization.

Canadians should be wary. They should ask hard questions. They should demand transparency. And they should listen to the social movements raising the alarms, because those movements have correctly identified what is at stake — the future of public ownership, democratic governance, and the public good itself.

© 2026 The View From Here. © 2026 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.

25 years after 9/11, we still refuse to confront what was lost

Twenty‑five years after the 9/11 attacks we must confront what was lost—the millions of lives taken afterward, the freedoms eroded, the societies destroyed, and the tens of millions of refugees created. 

By Fareed Khan  
A version of this article can be found on Substack.

Today marks the 25th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, a date impossible to overlook. For days, media outlets have flooded the airwaves with retrospectives, personal testimonies, archival footage, and solemn commentary. And today—on a day seared into our collective memory—the coverage has been relentless, wall‑to‑wall from morning to night. A quarter‑century milestone carries weight, and the attention is understandable. But what is striking—what is damning—is what remains absent. The Western political and media establishment has spent twenty‑five years telling one story about 9/11 while burying another.

Nowhere in the coverage are there adjacent stories about the more than 4.5 to 4.7 million Muslims killed in the US-led “war on terror,” according to Brown University’s Costs of War project. Nowhere is it acknowledged that the West’s military campaigns shattered six Muslim-majority societies—Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Syria, Pakistan, and Yemen—leaving behind destabilized states, mass displacement, and generational trauma. The same research project estimates that 38 million people, overwhelmingly Muslim, were forced from their homes and became refugees or internally displaced persons as a direct consequence of these wars.

These numbers are not footnotes. They are not abstractions. They represent human beings—families, communities, entire societies—destroyed in the name of security, vengeance, and geopolitical dominance. Yet in the commemorations of 9/11, they are treated as if they never existed.

The erasure is not accidental. It is political.

Western governments, including Canada’s, have never reckoned with the scale of destruction they helped unleash. They have never acknowledged their role in killing millions of Muslims or in destabilizing entire regions across the Middle East and North Africa. They have not admitted that their policies helped create the conditions for extremist groups like ISIS to flourish. And they certainly have not confronted the moral catastrophe of a war that has lasted a quarter century and shows no sign of ending.

Instead, the narrative remains frozen in time, one where the West is victim, the West is the defender or peace, the West is the righteous actor. Meanwhile, the millions of Muslim victims of Western military power are rendered invisible.

This erasure has consequences far beyond foreign policy. It has reshaped the political culture of Western democracies and indeed the world, and has vilified the West in most Muslims majority societies.

In the aftermath of 9/11, Canada, the United States, and Europe also embraced sweeping national security laws that expanded surveillance, curtailed civil liberties, and normalized state intrusion into everyday life. Rights once taken for granted were quietly stripped away. Entire communities—Muslim communities—found themselves under suspicion, monitored, and targeted. Mosques were infiltrated, Muslim charities were shut down, and Muslim families were surveilled. People were detained without charge, and in some cases sent overseas to be tortured based on false information.

A generation of Muslims in the West has grown up under this shadow. They live with a constant, gnawing anxiety, a fear that the next terrorist attack committed by extremists who pervert Islam’s teachings, will once again make all two billion Muslims around the world the enemy. They know that after every attack, no matter where it occurs, they will be asked to condemn, explain, apologize, and justify their existence. They know that right wing politicians and pundits will rush to paint them as a threat, as outsiders, as a problem to be managed. This fear is not irrational. It is learned from lived experience.

For twenty‑five years, Western political discourse has treated Muslim lives as expendable abroad and suspect at home. The value of Muslim life seems to evaporate the moment Western interests are invoked. Civilian casualties are dismissed as “collateral damage.” Refugees are framed as burdens. Muslim citizens are treated as potential radicals. And when Muslims in the West do speak out, when they demand justice, accountability, or recognition of their suffering, they are either ignored or vilified.

The result is a perpetual war culture. The “war on terror” did not end. It metastasized into a cancer in the heart of Western geopolitical discourse. It became a permanent feature of Western politics, a justification for endless military action, endless surveillance, endless suspicion. It became a lens through which Muslims are viewed not as neighbours or fellow citizens, but as potential threats.

Yet the truth is clear. The vast majority of Muslims worldwide condemn terrorism and attacks on civilians. They have done so repeatedly, publicly, and unequivocally. And collectively, Muslims have been the primary victims of terrorism committed by extremist groups such as ISIS, Al‑Qaeda, and the Taliban—groups responsible for severe harm, loss of life, and human rights violations. These groups have slaughtered tens of thousands of Muslims—more than 70,000 in Pakistan alone—destroyed Muslim communities, and targeted Muslim religious institutions and governments. Their violence is a betrayal of Islam, not an expression of it.

And yet this goes unmentioned in the West as the lives of those lost on September 11, 2001 are acknowledged and commemorated annually. Instead, the narrative remains locked in a simplistic binary—Western innocence versus Muslim threat. It is a narrative that erases history, absolves Western governments of responsibility for the carnage they have inflicted, and perpetuates Islamophobia at every level of society.

Twenty‑five years after 9/11, we must confront what was lost—not only the lives lost on that day, but the millions of lives taken afterward. We must confront the freedoms eroded, the societies destroyed, the refugees created, and a political culture warped by paranoia and vengeance. We must confront the fact that Western democracies have built a national security state that increasingly resembles the dystopia George Orwell warned about in his novel 1984.

Commemorating 9/11 without acknowledging the full human cost of the response is not remembrance—it is selective amnesia. And selective amnesia is dangerous because it allows injustice to continue, it allows prejudice to deepen, and it allows constant war to become normalized.

If the West truly wants to honour the memory of 9/11, it must finally confront the outcome of the West’s response to the attack. It must acknowledge the millions of Muslim lives lost. It must recognize the suffering of the displaced. It must dismantle the culture of suspicion and surveillance that has defined Muslim existence in the West for a generation.

Only then can we begin to imagine a future not defined by perpetual war, fear, and erasure.

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