Canadian leaders fail Muslims amid rising Islamophobia as Canada marks fifth anniversary of Afzaal Family murders

Islamophobia in Canada is systemic, persistent, and worsening. Statistics Canada has documented sharp increases in Islamophobic hate crimes in recent years, with one report noting an 1,800% increase year over year.

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

On June 6, 2021, in London, Ontario, a white supremacist deliberately drove his pickup truck into a Muslim family out for an evening walk, killing four members of the Afzaal family: Madiha Salman, Salman Afzaal, Talat Afzaal, and 15‑year‑old Yumnah Afzaal. Nine‑year‑old Fayez survived but was orphaned in an instant. The attack was quickly recognized as an act of Islamophobic terrorism, rooted in a climate of rising anti‑Muslim hatred across Canada and the West. Five years later, as communities gather to honour “Our London Family,” the conditions that enabled this atrocity have not only persisted—they have intensified.

Despite vigils, marches, and public statements, Canadian political leaders continue to offer symbolic gestures while failing to enact the structural changes Muslim communities have long demanded. This failure is especially stark given that Muslims remain the only faith group in Canada to have experienced multiple mass‑casualty hate‑motivated killings in recent memory, including the murder of a Muslim volunteer outside a west end Toronto mosque in September 2020, the 2017 Quebec City mosque massacre along with the 2021 London attack.

A rising tide of Islamophobia

Islamophobia in Canada is not episodic. It is systemic, persistent, and worsening. Statistics Canada has documented sharp increases in police‑reported hate crimes targeting Muslims in recent years, with one report by the National Council of Canadian Muslims marking an 1,800% increase between October 2023 and September 2024. Scholars note that these numbers significantly undercount the true scale of the problem due to chronic underreporting, fear of retaliation, and mistrust of government and policing institutions.

The rise in Islamophobia is part of a broader global trend. Gallup polling shows that anti‑Muslim sentiment remains deeply entrenched across Western societies, shaped by decades of narratives centred around national security, and media portrayals that cast Muslims as threats. Research from the University of Chicago’s Center for Middle Eastern Studies highlights how Western media routinely deploys negative stereotypes, framing Muslims through a lens of violence, extremism, and cultural backwardness.

This pattern has intensified in the wake of global events—the Persian Gulf War, the Iraq War, the Afghanistan War, the Gaza genocide, US and Israeli attacks on Iran. Studies from Georgetown University’s Bridge Initiative show that Western media coverage of pro‑Palestine campus protests has fueled Islamophobic narratives by portraying Muslim, Palestinian and Arab students as dangerous or extremist. Similarly, analyses from The Conversation demonstrate how disinformation ecosystems are responsible for manufacturing Islamophobia and anti‑Palestinian racism, often blurring the line between legitimate political expression and alleged extremism.

These narratives do not remain confined to media—they shape public opinion, public policy, and ultimately contribute to acts of hate motivated violence.

The political retreat from combatting Islamophobia

Consequently, with Islamophobic hate on the rise it came as a shock to Canadian Muslims when in February 2026, the federal government eliminated the Office of the Special Representative on Combatting Islamophobia (as well as the special envoy to combat antisemitism), and created a broader Ministerial Advisory Council on Rights, Equality and Inclusion. This decision was widely criticized by Muslim organizations, including the National Council of Canadian Muslims (NCCM), which argued that dissolving a dedicated office at a time of rising hate against Muslims signaled a dangerous deprioritization of Muslim safety.

The original office had been created in response to the Quebec City mosque attack and the London murders, recognizing that general anti‑hate frameworks had repeatedly failed Muslims. Its elimination represents a retreat from targeted protections precisely when they are most needed, and portrays a government that is less interested in protecting a community that has been the victim of deadly hate-motivated crimes.

Muslim groups have long advocated for the Our London Family Act, which includes measures such as anti‑Islamophobia education, stronger human‑rights protections, and support for victims of hate. Yet political leaders have stalled or diluted these proposals, offering condolences while avoiding substantive action.

This selective listening reflects a broader pattern sending the message that while all communities deserve protection, Muslim concerns are often treated as secondary or subsumed under generic “anti‑hate” initiatives that fail to address the specific dynamics of growing Islamophobia across Canadian society.

Media ecosystems and the normalization of hate

Hate targeting the Muslim community does not emerge in a vacuum. It is produced and amplified through media, rhetoric from right wing political voices, and hate propagated on social media networks. Research from Berkeley’s Center for Race and Gender maps an “Islamophobia industry” in Canada—an ecosystem of think tanks, commentators, and advocacy networks that generate and circulate anti‑Muslim narratives, which often intersect with geopolitical discourses.

Analyses from Mondoweiss and Al Jazeera show how Islamophobia is intertwined with foreign policy debates, particularly around the Middle East, where Muslims are frequently portrayed as threats to Western interests. Studies from the Insan Center and Al Jazeera’s media institute document how Western media coverage of foreign policy issues related to Muslim countries has reinforced ugly stereotypes that cast Muslims as inherently violent or irrational.  This environment shapes public perception. Angus Reid polls show that negative views of Muslims remain widespread across Canada, particularly in Quebec, where debates over secularism and Bill 21 have normalized suspicion toward visibly Muslim individuals. Scholars argue that this “national amnesia” about past anti‑Muslim violence allows prejudice to fester unchecked.

Islamophobia is not only a social phenomenon—it is embedded in public and private Canadian institutions. A Senate Human Rights Committee report exposed systemic Islamophobia within the Canada Revenue Agency, where Muslim charities were disproportionately targeted for audits and sanctions. Muslim communities have also raised concerns about discriminatory practices within CSIS, CBSA, and other security agencies. These institutional biases contribute to a climate where Muslims are automatically viewed through a lens of suspicion, reinforcing the very narratives that fuel hate crimes.

The human cost: Violence, fear, and alienation

The consequences of Islamophobia are devastating. The London attack was not an isolated incident but part of a pattern of escalating violence. The Tyee has documented how Islamophobia in Canada is “deep, deadly, and growing,” with Muslims facing threats ranging from vandalism and harassment to physical assaults and murder. Additionally, Canadian Muslims report daily microaggressions, employment discrimination, and fear for their safety and that of their children. The Walrus has explored how alienation among Canadian Muslims can arise not from inherent cultural differences but from a society that marginalizes and stigmatizes Muslim identities. 

These experiences are compounded by global events. Reports from Al Jazeera and US civil‑rights groups show that Islamophobic rhetoric surges during international crises, leading to spikes in hate crimes and online harassment.

Studies and investigative reports have documented how well-resourced advocacy networks—often aligned with Zionist or Israeli geopolitical interests—have played a significant role in promoting anti-Muslim narratives. These networks have supported and amplified portrayals of Muslims as inherent threats, influenced policy debates, and worked to marginalize Muslim voices in public discourse. Because they typically enjoy far greater access to political decision-makers than Muslim community organizations, their perspectives often carry more weight in shaping government priorities.

This imbalance has been evident in several high-profile campaigns targeting Muslim communities. Two prominent examples of anti-Muslim campaigns include the early 2000s effort in Boston to block construction of the Islamic Society of Boston Cultural Center and the intense opposition to the Cordoba House project (later rebranded as Park51) in lower Manhattan, which critics pejoratively dubbed the “Ground Zero Mosque.”  The same disparity appears in security funding allocations. Muslim communities have repeatedly pointed out that the resources provided to them are not proportionate to the threats and risks they face, especially when compared to the substantially higher funding directed toward Jewish community security.

Why the fifth anniversary matters

The fifth anniversary of the Afzaal family murders is not merely a moment of remembrance—it is a test of political courage. Honouring the victims requires more than vigils and speeches. It demands that Canadian leaders confront uncomfortable truths about how Islamophobia is produced, normalized, and institutionalized in in this country.

To tackle the growing hate that Muslim communities dealing with they are calling for:

• Implementation of the Our London Family Act;
  
• Restoring or strengthening of dedicated anti‑Islamophobia initiatives with appropriate funding;
  
• Comprehensive anti‑hate education in schools;
  
• Proportional security funding for Muslim institutions given the much larger population;
  
• Accountability for those spreading anti-Muslim hate; and
  
• Structural reforms in institutions where systemic Islamophobia has been documented.

These are not radical demands—they are necessary steps to protect a vulnerable community that has already suffered lethal violence, and Canada’s political leaders need to listen to a community whose political and economic clout has increased tenfold 400% since the year 2000.

Canada prides itself on being a pluralistic and multicultural nation. But this ideal is hollow if political leaders fail to protect those most targeted by hate. Islamophobia threatens not only Muslim communities but the integrity of Canada’s social fabric, and when leaders ignore or minimize the concerns of more than 2.2 million Muslims, they signal that some lives matter less than others.

The Afzaal family’s memory demands action. The choice before Canadian leaders is clear: continue offering performative gestures while Islamophobia continues to expand across the country, or commit to meaningful, targeted measures that ensure Muslims can live, worship, and walk down the street without fear.

The future of a truly pluralistic Canada depends on how governments across the country respond.

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

Son of Rohingya genocide survivors puts “never again” into practice with Gaza aid flotilla

Tinmaung’s story exposes the hollowness and selective nature of “Never Again” as practiced by Canada and the West. Rohingya survivors and their descendants recognize the patterns of genocide.  

By Fareed Khan

A version of this can be found on Substack.

Late Wednesday evening, June 3, as Ko Tinmaung (a close friend) stepped off a Virgin Atlantic flight from London at Toronto Pearson International Airport, Canadians across the country should have had reason to reflect on the profound courage of a man—a son whose family survived genocide—propelled him to risk everything for strangers half a world away.

A Rohingya-Canadian human rights activist, Tinmaung was among a dozen Canadians on the Global Sumud Gaza Flotilla—a multinational humanitarian mission attempting to break Israel’s 19-year siege of Gaza. Illegally intercepted by Israeli forces in international waters in mid-May, he, along with 11 other Canadians and hundreds of other flotilla volunteers, was detained and subjected to torture before being deported by Israel.  He finally made his way home via a hospital in Turkey, The Hague—where he met with ICC officials—and the UK where he met with a prominent genocide scholar. His ordeal is not merely the story of one determined activist. It is a searing indictment of Western hypocrisy on violating the sacred pledge of “Never Again” made after the horrors of World War Two and the Holocaust.

Tinmaung’s parents fled the horrors of Myanmar’s genocidal campaign against the Rohingya in the 1990s, part of a decades-long persecution that escalated dramatically in 2017 and 2018, with mass killings, rapes, the wholesale destruction of Rohingya villages, the murder of babies, and the displacement of over 800,000 people to refugee camps in Bangladesh. The United States government formally determined that Myanmar’s military committed genocide and crimes against humanity against the Rohingya, as did Canada. United Nations fact-finding missions and International Court of Justice proceedings have documented the systematic intent to destroy the Rohingya people in whole or in part.

Having survived this nightmare through exile and displacement his parents were accepted for settlement in Canada where they taught their son not to look away when others faced the same types of horrors they did. Tinmaung could have chosen not to heed those lessons or focussed on narrow ethnic advocacy. Instead, he has embodied the universal lesson of his people’s suffering. He joined the Global Sumud Flotilla in May—a multinational civilian mission involving dozens of vessels and over 400 participants from more than 40 countries—carrying humanitarian aid to challenge Israel’s 19-year blockade of Gaza and draw global attention to what multiple respected bodies have identified as an ongoing genocide in the enclave.

In international waters off Cyprus, Israeli forces illegally intercepted the flotilla in what international law experts have called an act of state piracy. Hundreds of activists, including a dozen Canadians, were detained. In a testimony posted by Doctors Against Genocide Tinmaung reported brutal treatment—beatings, repeated tasering, and other forms of torture. Social media posts showing detainees being taunted and threatened by Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir sparked international outrage, leading to Tinmaung’s deportation to Turkey along with the other activists. There, he received hospital treatment for his injuries before travelling to The Hague to testify before International Criminal Court officials, and then meeting with noted genocide scholar Professor Maung Zarni in the UK. His resilience mirrors the idea of “sumud”—steadfastness or perseverance—he sought to support in solidarity with Palestinians in Gaza.

Tinmaung has explicitly drawn parallels between the Rohingya genocide and the situation in Gaza. If one examines the two atrocities, both involve systematic dehumanization, collective punishment, destruction of homes and infrastructure, and the targeting of a people’s ability to survive and reproduce as a group. His participation in the flotilla was a living enactment of “Never Again”—not as a slogan for one tragedy, but as a moral imperative against all peoples who are targets of genocide.

Western politicians, particularly in Canada, have mouthed this phrase for decades at annual genocide commemoration events while failing to apply it consistently. The Holocaust rightly forged a global commitment to prevent future genocides, yet that commitment has proven selective. When the victims are not aligned with geopolitical interests, “Never Again” becomes “Never Again . . . where it’s convenient and politically expedient,” thereby ignoring the core nature of the phrase.

In Gaza, the evidence of genocidal acts is overwhelming. A UN Independent International Commission of Inquiry has concluded that Israel has committed genocide against Palestinians in Gaza, citing acts including killing, causing serious bodily and mental harm, and deliberately inflicting conditions of life calculated to bring about physical destruction. The International Association of Genocide Scholars passed a resolution affirming that Israel’s policies meet the legal definition under the 1948 Genocide Convention. Israeli human rights organizations like B’Tselem and Physicians for Human Rights Israel, Amnesty International, and numerous scholars have reached similar conclusions after meticulous documentation.

These are not fringe voices. They include UN experts, legal bodies, and even Israeli organizations confronting the reality of their government’s criminal actions—mass civilian deaths (with independent organizations conservatively estimating over 80,000 Palestinians killed), widespread destruction of homes, hospitals, schools, and universities, forced displacement of nearly the entire population, and deliberate deprivation of food, water, medicine, and electricity. Children have been disproportionately affected, with reports of entire families erased and a new acronym in medical literature: WCNSF—Wounded Child No Surviving Family.

Canada’s response under Prime Minister Mark Carney has been tepid at best. Following the flotilla interception and the mistreatment of Canadian citizens, the government’s primary action was summoning Israel’s ambassador and issuing statements condemning the “appalling treatment.” No sanctions, no arms embargo, no meaningful diplomatic isolation, no suspension of trade—despite the participation of Canadians in a peaceful humanitarian mission that was met with an act of violent state piracy and terrorism on the high seas.

The Canadian government’s passivity is part of a broader pattern. While Canada has recognized the State of Palestine (conditionally) and called for ceasefires and humanitarian access, it has stopped short of taking the decisive measures required by the Genocide Convention’s obligation to prevent and punish genocide. State parties, including Canada, have a duty not only to refrain from complicity in genocide but to take positive action to halt it. Summoning an ambassador while continuing business as usual—arms exports, trade ties, and diplomatic cover—falls tragically short and makes Canada criminally complicit.

Critics will argue that Israel’s actions are a justifiable response to the October 7, 2023 by Hamas.  And while no one any nation’s right to defend itself under international law self-defence does not justify collective punishment, indiscriminate destruction, or acts prohibited by the Genocide Convention. The scale, the intent inferred from statements by Israeli officials, and the brutal and systematic nature of the campaign in Gaza distinguish it from legitimate warfare. As genocide scholars note, security pretexts have historically masked genocidal campaigns in the past and Israel is doing the same now.

Tinmaung’s story exposes the hollowness and selective nature of “Never Again” as practiced by Canada and the West. Rohingya survivors and their descendants recognize the patterns of genocide—pattern of language dehumanizing the “other,” ghettoization, siege, destruction of cultural and reproductive capacity, and international inaction until it is too late. His decision to sail with the Sumud Flotilla was an act of profound solidarity and courage—putting his money, body, and freedom where his mouth is. The same is the case for the other Canadians, and hundreds of other Flotilla participants from over 40 countries.  He (and they) did what politicians evade—translate historic memory around atrocities into moral courage.

Mark Carney’s and other Western leaders’ reluctance to do what is moral and right stems from various factors—strategic alliances, domestic politics, lobbying, and fears of antisemitism accusations. However, legitimate concern for Jewish safety must not become a shield for impunity. If Carney had courage and demonstrated real leadership he would demand accountability from Israel for its actions which erode its moral standing and long-term security. Complicity in genocide damages everyone, including Jewish communities which face rising antisemitism partly fueled by outrage over what Israel—the supposed embodiment of the Jewish people globally—is doing in Gaza.

Canada’s approach under Carney—words of concern paired with minimal action—exemplifies performative solidarity. The Carney government has acknowledged the humanitarian disaster and supported some international aid efforts, yet it has not imposed targeted sanctions on Israeli political and military leaders responsible for war crimes and crimes against humanity, and genocide, nor meaningfully restricted Canada’s military-related exports to Israel. This is not leadership. It is complicity through omission.

Tinmaung’s arrival in Toronto was met with welcoming cheers from a large group of supporters. But it should also result in a national reckoning. Canadians pride ourselves on what is now a myth, that this country upholds human rights advocacy and protects refugees. In the 1970s we welcomed Vietnamese Boat People. We welcomed Bosnians and Kosovars in the 1990s.  We opened the doors to Syrian refugees in the 2010s.  And we have welcomed small numbers of Rohingya genocide survivors.  Will we now reject the principles that brought these groups here now that the victims are Palestinian?

The Global Sumud Flotilla, despite its interception, succeeded in one vital way it kept the world’s attention on the Gaza genocide when fatigue and other global crises threaten to normalize the horror. Activists like Tinmaung who displayed amazing courage along with the other Canadians who participated in the Flotilla force us to confront what “Never Again” truly requires—economic pressure, diplomatic isolation of perpetrators, support for international justice mechanisms like the International Criminal Court and the International Court of Justice, and unhindered humanitarian aid.

As Tinmaung recovers from his injuries resulting from Israeli torture and shares his testimony, his message will likely echo the one he carried to sea: the struggles against genocide are connected. Silence or weak responses by governments to one emboldens others. The Rohingya waited years for meaningful action, and many still wait for justice. Palestinians cannot afford the same delay.

Canada has to do far better than it has in relation to Israeli atrocities committed in Gaza. It must impose comprehensive sanctions on Israeli political and military officials and entities implicated in grave violations of international law. It must halt all arms-related trade with Israel by closing loopholes in Canadian law. It must lead calls for enforcement of ICJ provisional measures. It must use Canada’s influence in international forums to demand an end to the Israeli blockade of Gaza and accountability. Anything less dishonors not only Tinmaung’s personal sacrifice but also the memory of all genocide victims, including those of the Holocaust whose suffering birthed the “Never Again” pledge.

Ko Tinmaung has put his body and life on the line for a principle Western politicians treat as optional rhetoric. His story demands we choose. Will “Never Again” finally mean something universal, or will it remain a selective eulogy for the politically convenient dead? The answer will define Canada’s moral standing in this century and how it is perceived in the global south for decades to come. 

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

It’s time for Canada to opt for Sweden’s Saab Gripen and cancel the F-35 for Canada’s air force

Saab’s industrial package makes the decision to switch to the Gripen more attractive. It proposes assembly of the aircraft in Canada, technology transfer, and a joint venture with Bombardier.

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

In an era of escalating tensions between Canada and the United States—marked by unjustified US tariffs, trade wars, economic coercion, and outright threats to Canadian sovereignty—Ottawa faces a pivotal decision on the replacement of the Royal Canadian Air Force’s CF-18 fighter jet fleet. The longstanding plan to acquire 88 Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II jets built in the United States has become untenable.

American diplomatic pressure, exemplified by US Ambassador Pete Hoekstra’s explicit threats about altering arrangements under the North American aerospace defence treaty, and increasing incursions into Canadian airspace by the US Air Force unless Canada fully commits to the F-35, underscores a troubling pattern of coercion. Combined with broader US actions with Canada since Donald Trump returned to office in January 2025, including tariffs that have severely impacted major Canadian industries—steel, aluminum, softwood lumber--and inflammatory rhetoric about annexing Canada as the “51st state”, a reliance on the American platform would compromise Canada’s ability to act as a master in its own house. Switching to the Swedish Saab Gripen would offer a compelling alternative with benefits that include: lower purchase and operational costs, genuine sovereignty, industrial benefits including technology transfers, and proven operational effectiveness.

Since the government of Justin Trudeau announced the finalization of the F-35 contract in 2023 the program’s costs have ballooned dramatically. Canada’s Parliamentary Budget Officer (PBO) has reported that the projected life cycle cost of the F-35 purchase has surged from an original estimate of C$19 billion to C$29 billion, reflecting ongoing delays, upgrades, and sustainment overruns.

Recent incidents also highlight persistent reliability issues. Two brand-new British F-35s were stranded in the Azores for over two months due to mechanical problems during delivery flights, while another RAF F-35B was grounded in India for more than a month after a technical snag. These are not isolated anomalies but symptoms of deeper systemic challenges.

The US Government Accountability Office (GAO) reports since 2020 paint an even more concerning picture of chronic program failures. In its September 2025 report the GAO documented that all 110 F-35 aircraft delivered by Lockheed Martin in 2024 were late by an average of 238 days—a sharp deterioration from an already poor average of 61 days late in 2023. Supply chain challenges, parts shortages, and issues with critical hardware and software upgrades were primary drivers.

Additionally, the modernization effort known as “Block 4”—software upgrades which are the foundation of the modernization—is ineffective, has seen costs balloon by more than US$6 billion above original estimates, and is now at least five years behind schedule, with full capabilities potentially not available until 2031 or later. Over 180 airframes produced since mid-2023 have been impacted, with the new software delivering effectively zero new combat capability throughout much of 2025 in related assessments.

Sustainment costs represent another major red flag. The GAO has repeatedly highlighted rising operation and support expenses. Projected fleet sustainment costs, for the US and partner nations, now stand at US$1.58 trillion, pushing the total program life cycle cost (acquisition plus lifetime sustainment) well over US$2 trillion. Mission-capable rates for all F-35 variants have consistently fallen short of targets for years, driven by poor reliability, maintainability shortfalls, engine issues, and the very supply chain problems causing delivery delays. These challenges echo long-standing criticisms that the program continues to “over promise and under deliver” nearly two decades into the program. The Pentagon has faced criticism for downplaying the full scale of these troubles, and as a result Canada risks inheriting an aircraft platform plagued by late deliveries, incomplete capabilities, and dependency on unreliable US supply chains for parts and software updates—a vulnerability Washington would likely exploit amid disputes with Canada.

Even the F-35’s much-vaunted stealth advantage is increasingly questioned with the stealth coating peeling off in supersonic flight. Furthermore, Russia and China have developed low-frequency radars and other systems, such as Very High Frequency radar bands, infrared tracking via satellites/drones, and other developments in detection technology, which claim to detect and track F-35s at ranges that make the aircraft vulnerable. While detection does not equal successful engagement, these advances erode the first-look/first-kill advantage promised by Lockheed in contested environments, especially against peer adversaries.

By contrast, the Saab Gripen delivers superior value. Unit costs for the Gripen E version are competitive, often cited in the C$80–C$100 million range depending on configuration, compared to F-35A flyaway prices that frequently exceed C$100 million when factoring in ancillary expenses. The real savings emerge in operations. F-35 flight-hour costs are reported between C$45,500 and C$69,000, while Gripen figures range from approximately C$6,900 to C$12,400, making the Gripen as much as 4–5 times cheaper to operate on a sustained basis. Over a fleet life cycle, this translates to billions in savings for Canadian taxpayers, enabling a higher total of flight hours and better pilot training.

The Gripen’s design also emphasizes independence and practicality. It is able to operate from short, austere strips (including public highways), requires minimal support infrastructure, and can be turned around rapidly by small teams. This dispersed operations capability is ideal for Canada’s vast geography and Arctic needs, unlike the F-35’s more demanding maintenance footprint which requires longer runways, special heated hangars, and a larger support air crew with specialized training.

Additionally, the F-35 demands roughly up to 13 maintenance man-hours per hour of flight—burdened by its complex stealth coatings, specialized systems, and persistent supply chain issues—while the Saab Gripen achieves far greater efficiency with less than 10 man-hours per flight hour and significantly lower effective demands thanks to its rapid turnaround design, austere-field operability, and minimal support requirements. Crucially, sourcing from Sweden insulates Canada from US leverage over parts, software, or upgrades during political disagreements. Canada would retain full sovereignty over its air force rather than operating under implicit American veto power.

Saab’s industrial package also makes the decision to switch from the F-35 even more attractive and logical. The company has proposed assembly of the aircraft in Canada, technology transfer, and a joint venture potentially partnering with Bombardier in Montreal and Toronto. Public reports indicate this could create up to 12,600 high-skilled jobs in manufacturing, R&D, and related aerospace sectors, with significant GDP contributions and offsets meeting Canada’s 100% industrial benefits requirements. Partnerships with Bombardier, CAE (virtual training simulators), and others would build sovereign aerospace capabilities in Canada that would last decades.

Public sentiment in Canada also strongly supports re-evaluation. A number of polls, including EKOS surveys, show a majority of Canadians favouring the Gripen or a mixed fleet over sole reliance on the F-35, particularly tensions with the US. Many view the Gripen as a path to genuine independence from US control over Canada’s defence. And while critics argue a mixed fleet introduces logistical complexity, this overlooks the F-35’s own sustainment woes documented by the GAO and the Gripen’s interoperability advancements.

What hasn’t been widely reported is that Gripen platform has excelled in exercises against American fighter jets, demonstrating it can hold its own in realistic scenarios while offering far higher operational availability. In an era of drone swarms and contested airspace, quantity and affordability can complement quality. Even Elon Musk and Donald Trump have publicly criticized the F-35’s exorbitant costs, validating concerns about over-reliance on this platform.

We also have to consider the broader geopolitical context which cannot be ignored. American tariffs on Canadian goods, threats tied to border security and trade, and Ambassador Hoekstra’s statements about NORAD adjustments and increased US flights over Canada signal that Washington views allied procurement as a loyalty test rather than a sovereign decision. Continuing with the F-35 under these conditions would reward coercion and effectively make Canadian autonomy subservient to US priorities. By pivoting to the Gripen, Canada would assert control over its defence procurement, diversify suppliers, bolster domestic industry, and save substantial funds for other federal priorities.

The original F-35 commitment was made in a completely different political era—before President Trump’s tariffs, annexation rhetoric, and explicit threats against Canadian sovereignty. That era is gone. Today’s stark realities—ballooning costs confirmed by both Canada’s Parliamentary Budget Officer and the US Government Accountability Office, repeated reliability scandals, chronic delivery delays, endless modernization failures, an eroding stealth advantage, and overt American coercion—cry out for an immediate and decisive reset.

Cancelling the remaining F-35 orders in favour of the Saab Gripen would not be a retreat. It would be a bold, necessary declaration of sovereignty and fiscal responsibility. This strategic pivot would deliver affordability, operational independence, and long-term resilience while restoring Canada’s control over its own air force. It would position Canada as a proud, mature middle power charting its own destiny—capable of fulfilling its NORAD and NATO obligations without kneeling to foreign pressure or compromising its autonomy.

The time for decisive action is now. When it comes to the defence of this nation and the sacred principle of Canadian sovereignty, there can be only one answer—Canada must be the master in its own house.

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

A free and independent nation is the destiny of Palestinians, despite Israel’s brutal oppression

History repeatedly demonstrates that no amount of force or brutal oppression by an occupier can extinguish a people’s desire for freedom and self determination.

 

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

 

For nearly eight decades, Palestinians have lived under a system of occupation, displacement, and structural inequality that countless human‑rights organizations have described as apartheid, and since October 2023 a level of brutality in Gaza that Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, Israeli Holocaust scholars, and the UN have labelled genocide. The world has watched as generations of Palestinians have been born into a reality defined by military checkpoints, land seizures, home demolitions, and the constant threat of violence. Yet despite this relentless pressure, the Palestinian people have not disappeared. They have not surrendered their identity. They have not relinquished their claim to dignity, justice, and nationhood. Instead, the very forces meant to extinguish their aspirations have only strengthened them.

Every life lost—every child, every mother, every family—deepens the collective Palestinian insistence that freedom is not optional but inevitable. When Israeli bullets end young lives or missiles level entire neighbourhoods, the result is not submission. It is resolve. Each tragedy becomes another reminder that a people cannot be erased by force. History shows that oppression does not eliminate national identity—it intensifies it. The Palestinian struggle is no exception.

The last two and a half years in Gaza have been among the darkest chapters in modern history. International bodies, including the United Nations, have warned of the catastrophic humanitarian consequences of the ongoing military campaign.[ Entire districts have been flattened. Entire family lines have been wiped out. More than 1.9 million people have been displaced multiple times within a strip of land barely 40 kilometers long. The scale of destruction has led numerous legal scholars, human‑rights experts, and even sitting judges at the International Court of Justice to warn of genocide.

And yet, even amid this devastation, the Palestinian national consciousness has not fractured. It has hardened. A society that has endured dispossession and ethnic cleansing since 1948—what Palestinians call the Nakba—has learned that survival itself is an act of resistance. When a people are pushed to the brink for nearly 80 years, their demand for freedom becomes not just political but existential.

Israel’s leaders have long believed that overwhelming military power could force Palestinians into submission. But history repeatedly demonstrates that no amount of force can extinguish a people’s desire for self‑determination. The British Empire learned this in India. The French learned it in Algeria. South Africa learned it when its apartheid system collapsed under the weight of its own contradictions. In each case, the oppressed population was portrayed as defeated, fragmented, or incapable of governing themselves—until the moment they proved otherwise.

The same dynamic is unfolding in Palestine.

The more Israel expands settlements in the West Bank—settlements deemed illegal under international law—the more the world recognizes the impossibility of maintaining the status quo. The more Palestinians are displaced from East Jerusalem, the more global civil society acknowledges that the city cannot be claimed exclusively by one state. The more Gaza is devastated, the more undeniable it becomes that millions of people cannot be indefinitely confined, besieged, and bombarded without consequences.

Israel’s policies have not secured its long‑term future. Instead, they have planted the seeds of profound moral, political, and demographic reckoning. A system built on permanent domination cannot endure. It is inherently unstable. It generates resistance by its very nature.

This is not a call for violence but rather an observation about human reality. History has shown that when people are denied basic rights—movement, safety, sovereignty, equality—they do not simply accept their fate. They organize. They resist. They dream of their freedom. And they teach their children to dream. Every attempt to crush those dreams only makes them more determined to throw off the shackles of subjugation.

The international community is beginning to confront this truth, albeit far too slowly. Major human‑rights organizations—including Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and B’Tselem—have concluded that the system governing Palestinians constitutes apartheid. Global public opinion, especially among younger generations—even within the Jewish diaspora—has shifted dramatically toward support for Palestinian rights. Even within Israel, a growing number of voices warn that endless occupation is neither moral nor sustainable.

The future of the region will not be defined by military might but by political reality. And the reality is that millions of Palestinians live between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea. They are not leaving. They are not disappearing. They are not surrendering their identity or their claim to the land where their ancestors lived since before the time of Christ.

The question, then, is not whether Palestinians will achieve freedom. It is when, and at what cost.

An independent Palestinian state in the West Bank, Gaza, and East Jerusalem is not merely a political aspiration. It is the only viable path to lasting peace. It is the only arrangement consistent with international law, demographic reality, and basic human dignity. And it is the only future in which both Palestinians and Israelis can live without perpetual fear, violence, and instability.

The world is slowly recognizing that the current trajectory is untenable. A system that relies on overwhelming and brutal force to maintain control of a people cannot last indefinitely. The more Israel attempts to suppress Palestinian identity and fundamental rights, the more it reinforces the very independence movement it seeks to eliminate. The more it destroys, the more it reveals the moral bankruptcy of permanent occupation. And the more it denies Palestinians their rights, the more the global community acknowledges that those rights must be granted.

Palestinian freedom is not a slogan. It is a destiny shaped by decades of resilience, sacrifice, and unbroken national consciousness. From the refugee camps of Lebanon to the streets of Ramallah, from the rubble of Gaza to the neighbourhoods of East Jerusalem, Palestinians continue to assert their humanity in the face of overwhelming odds and the violence of a brutal oppressor.

Their struggle is not only for land but for recognition—recognition that they are a people deserving of sovereignty, safety, and self‑determination. They seek recognition that their suffering is not collateral damage but a profound injustice, and that recognition that their liberation is essential not only for their own future but for the future of the entire region.

The arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice. And justice demands that Palestinians, after nearly 80 years of dispossession and decades of apartheid conditions, finally achieve the freedom that has been denied to them for far too long. The day will come when the world sees a sovereign Palestinian nation—one that stands not as a symbol of conflict but as a testament to the endurance of a proud and resilient people who refuse to be erased.

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