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, weakening labour protections, and entrenching 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.

American democracy is now a facade, and Canadians should be worried

The gravitational pull of American politics—especially as the US drifts toward oligarchic authoritarianism—has begun reshaping Canada’s political landscape in profound ways. 

By Fareed Khan

A version of this article can be found on Substack.

American democracy, as many scholars and observers argue, no longer functions as a genuine democracy. What remains is a symbolic shell — a façade masking a political infrastructure that has been hollowed out by decades of hyper‑partisanship, corporate capture, institutional decay, and authoritarian drift. The United States today resembles a late‑stage empire coasting on historical momentum, much like Rome after the Crisis of the Third Century, where imperial institutions still existed but meaningful governance of the Empire had collapsed under the combined pressures of political instability, extreme inflation, foreign wars and foreign invasions, and the plague.

The American decline did not begin with the election of Donald Trump to the US presidency. His rise was a symptom of a system already damaged and in freefall. But his open admiration for authoritarian rulers, his willingness to subvert democratic norms, and his consolidation of power among billionaire oligarchs and right wing extremist networks (the MAGA movement) accelerated a process that had been underway for years. And for Canadians, the implications are profound. When the largest democracy in the Western alliance collapses into full‑blown authoritarianism, Canada will not be insulated. It will be engulfed — politically, economically, and culturally.

The long decline of American democracy

Political scientists have documented the erosion of US democratic norms for decades, but particularly in the 21st century. A 2023 study by the Brookings Institution describes the United States as experiencing early‑stage democratic decline, marked by weakened judicial constraints, executive overreach, and partisan sabotage of accountability institutions. This is fuelled by the fact that since 2010, state legislatures instituted laws intended to reduce voters’ access to the ballot, politicize election administration, and foreclose electoral competition via extreme gerrymandering of electoral districts. The United States also saw substantial expansions of executive power and serious efforts to erode the independence of the civil service.

Added to this is the issue of political polarization, which is central to this decline. Pew Research Center reports that partisan animosity in the US has reached historic highs, with majorities in both parties viewing the other as immoral, dishonest, unpatriotic and a threat to the nation. This is not merely cultural hostility—it is structural. When political actors no longer value democracy for its own sake, institutions become weapons to hammer opponents.

The Republican Party’s radicalization is well‑documented. Numerous analyses and studies since the 2020 presidential election have warned that the GOP’s refusal to acknowledge Joe Biden’s legitimate election and its abandonment of peaceful power transfer norms pose an “existential threat” to US democracy.

Democrats, meanwhile, have often failed to defend democratic norms with sufficient force. Their technocratic instincts—described in political‑science literature as “managerial liberalism”—have led them to prioritize bureaucratic stability over structural reform. They have not been the “adults in the room” they claim to be. They have been caretakers of a decaying system.

The American Empire’s unraveling: The Iraq War and beyond

The decline of American democracy is inseparable from the decline of American global hegemony.

The 2003 invasion of Iraq exposed the limits of US military power and shattered international trust. The 2008 financial crisis further undermined global confidence in the American economic model, revealing deep structural vulnerabilities and accelerating domestic polarization. Political economists have shown that when institutions fail to deliver shared prosperity, anti‑pluralist movements gain legitimacy. A 2026 review in the Journal of Economic Literature argues that institutional failure and identity‑driven polarization interact to erode democratic guardrails.

After 2010, the collapse accelerated with extreme partisan gerrymandering entrenching minority rule; Citizens United unleashing unlimited corporate spending in political campaigns; and Congressional gridlock becoming permanent.

Freedom House marks 2016 as the beginning of a measurable decline in US political rights and civil liberties.

The fascist drift: Symbols without substance

Today, the United States still displays the outward symbols of democracy — elections, courts, legislatures, and the ceremonial rituals of democratic governance — yet the substance beneath these institutions has been steadily hollowed out. The country increasingly resembles a political system where democratic forms persist but democratic norms have eroded. This erosion is visible in the conduct of its leadership, its security apparatus, its militaristic posture, and the overwhelming influence of corporate oligarchs—patterns that echo the situation in Nazi Germany in the 1930s.

The most visible and troubling example is the country’s political leadership—Donald Trump.  He has repeatedly expressed admiration for authoritarian rulers, praising figures such as Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping, and Kim Jong Un, and others. This is not a trivial matter of rhetorical excess but a signal that Trump sees democratic constraints as weaknesses rather than safeguards. At the same time, American militarism has become a defining feature of national identity. Since 2001, the United States has engaged in continuous warfare across multiple regions, attacking eight countries in Asia and Africa, projecting force abroad while failing to maintain democratic resilience at home.

Domestically, the internal security apparatus has also drifted toward authoritarian practices. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents (ICE) has been documented committing hundreds of abuses and human rights violations, including: engaging in abusive detention practices, wrongfully detaining US citizens, and deaths of civilians and detainees, including dozens who have died in ICE detention facilities. These are not isolated incidents but symptoms of a system where accountability has weakened and state power is increasingly exercised without restraint.

Overlaying all of this is the immense influence of corporate and billionaire oligarchs. Unlimited campaign spending — enabled by decisions such as Citizens United — has allowed billionaires and corporations to shape political outcomes, policy agendas, and legislative priorities in ways that serve elite interests rather than democratic ones. The result is a political system where wealth, not citizenship, determines access to power. These developments are hallmarks of a state drifting toward authoritarianism, even if the democratic façade remains intact.

Canada’s drift toward authoritarianism and its US roots

Canada is not immune to these trends. In fact, Canada’s democratic erosion is increasingly linked to US oligarchic and political influence. The gravitational pull of American politics—especially as the US drifts toward oligarchic authoritarianism—has begun reshaping Canada’s political landscape in profound ways.

The Canadian Conservative Party has adopted strategies and narratives that closely mirror those of the US Republican Party. Culture‑war rhetoric, attacks on independent media, hostility toward climate science, and alignment with US billionaire‑funded think tanks have become increasingly common. Research shows that Canadian conservative messaging now mirrors US Republican narratives, amplified by cross‑border political networks and shared donors. This is not simply ideological convergence, it is a structural importation of American political tactics into Canada’s political culture.

Yet the Liberals are not innocent in this drift. Under Mark Carney—a former global finance executive deeply embedded in elite economic networks—the party has moved toward a technocratic centrism aligned with corporate and billionaire interests. Canadian political scientists have documented the Liberals’ close ties to Bay Street finance, the influence of multinational corporations on policy formation, and a weakening commitment to climate action and human rights. They also note an increasing reliance on private‑sector advisory groups, which further entrenches elite influence over public policy. A campaign launched by Democracy Watch warns that both major parties are increasingly shaped by elite economic actors whose interests diverge from those of the general population.

This bipartisan drift toward elite capture is reinforced by US oligarchic networks that exert direct influence on Canadian politics. American tech billionaires have shaped Canadian digital policy debates; cross‑border fossil‑fuel lobbying has influenced Canadian climate legislation; American political consultants have advised Canadian political campaigns; and US dark‑money networks have funded Canadian advocacy groups. A 2023 investigation by The Narwhal documented US oil‑industry funding of Canadian political organizations opposing climate regulation. These developments are not accidental. They are structural consequences of Canada’s proximity to a superpower undergoing democratic collapse.

Why Canadians should be alarmed

Canada’s fate is tied to the United States in ways that make American democratic decline a direct threat to Canadian stability. Economically, Canada is deeply integrated with the US, and any authoritarian instability south of the border would produce immediate and severe economic shockwaves in Canada, as we have seen with Trump’s tariff war. Politically, US authoritarian narratives spread easily across the border, influencing Canadian discourse and reshaping partisan identities. Corporate capture is also a shared phenomenon, where US oligarchs influence Canadian policy through cross‑border investments and multinational corporate structures.

Security risks are equally significant. A destabilized United States—politically, socially, or institutionally—poses direct threats to Canadian sovereignty, border stability, and national security. And beyond bilateral concerns, the collapse of the United States would destabilize the entire Western democratic alliance. If the US falls, the democratic world loses its keystone.

Canada is drifting toward authoritarianism not only because of domestic political choices, but because it is tethered to a superpower undergoing democratic collapse. The erosion of democracy in the United States is not a distant problem. It is a direct and immediate threat to Canadian political stability, democratic norms, and national sovereignty.

American democracy is no longer a functioning system. It is a veneer—a symbolic shell covering a political infrastructure that has been rotting for decades. Hyper‑partisanship, corporate capture, institutional decay, and authoritarian drift have transformed the United States into a nation where democratic norms are optional.

Canada is drifting in the same direction albeit at a slower pace—not only because of domestic political failures, but because US oligarchic and political networks exert enormous influence over Canadian politics.

If the largest democratic domino falls, Canada will not remain standing. The veneer is cracking, and Canadians must pay attention and prepare before it shatters.

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

As new Superman film inspires another generation, it begs the question "where are our superheroes when we need them?"

The moral compass that guides the majority of people seems to be absent in many of our political and corporate leaders. In this reality it’s time for us to become the superheroes that we need.

 

By Fareed Khan 

 

Since Superman first soared across the pages of Action Comics #1 in June 1938, superheroes have captured the imagination of generations. Created by American Jerry Siegel and Canadian Joe Shuster, two Jewish sons of immigrants, Superman was a beacon of hope, embodying the triumph of good over evil in a world fraught with injustice.

 

From the 1978 Superman film starring Christopher Reeve to 1989’s Batman with Michael Keaton, and the explosion of superhero films in the 21st century—from the X-Men series, the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s 34 films, recent reboots like Man of Steel (2013) and the films of the DC superhero universe, to the recently released Superman starring David Corenswet—superheroes have become cultural touchstones. These stories resonate because they tap into a primal human desire to see justice prevail, to witness heroes rise against overwhelming odds to protect the innocent and confront the forces of evil.

 

Yet, as we look at the world in 2025, we see a world in desperate need for such heroes more than ever—not in capes or costumes, but in the hearts and actions of ordinary people. Our leaders are failing us, and the moral compass that guides the majority seems absent in many of those who wield political or corporate power. In this reality it’s time for us to become the superheroes that we desire and for whom we have been waiting.

 

The Enduring Appeal of Superheroes

 

Superheroes have long held a special place in the collective psyche. As children, many of us donned imaginary capes, wielded makeshift shields, or shot imaginary webs from out wrists to emulate Superman’s strength, Captain America’s unwavering morality, or Spiderman’s desire to keep his neighbourhood safe. The appeal transcends generations, as adults today—the children of yesteryear—we flock to theatres to watch films where superheroes battle the forces of evil. This fascination isn’t mere escapism. It is rooted in a deep-seated human instinct. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere,” and our love for superheroes reflects a subconscious desire to fight injustice, to witness good triumph over evil—a principle that feels like it is encoded in our DNA.

 

This desire for justice is universal, yet it is increasingly clear that our leaders—politicians, corporate titans, and wealthy elites—often lack the moral clarity that ordinary people hold dear. The late Jewish American historian Howard Zinn, in his book Voices of a People’s History, captured this disconnect when he wrote, “Civil disobedience is not our problem. Our problem is civil obedience. Our problem is that people all over the world have obeyed the dictates of leaders…and millions have been killed because of this obedience…Our problem is that people are obedient all over the world in the face of poverty and starvation and stupidity, and war, and cruelty. Our problem is that people are obedient while the jails are full of petty thieves… (and) the grand thieves are running the country.” Zinn’s words reflect the reality that politicians promise change and more moral governance but often prioritize power, re-election, or corporate interests over human dignity, while corporate elites prioritize profits and shareholder value over all else. Meanwhile, the public craves heroes who embody integrity, who fight for what’s right without compromise.

 

A World in Crisis: The Need for Heroes

 

If ever there was a time crying out for superheroes since the end of World War 2, it is now. The world faces crises that mirror some of the worst fictional calamities to be found in the pages of comic books. Since October 2023, the ongoing genocide in Gaza has claimed over 63,000 lives, with some estimates, like that of Israeli academic Yaakov Garb, putting the Palestinian death toll as high as 377,000. The horrific Israeli violence, live streamed for the world to see, has been met with inaction or denial by the United States and many of its allies.

In China, the Uyghur Muslim minority faces systemic persecution, with reports of forced labour, mass detentions, and cultural erasure—an ongoing genocide that garners insufficient global outrage or action.

 

Climate change, meanwhile, accelerates unchecked, with 2024 and 2025 seeing record-breaking heatwaves, floods, hurricanes, tornadoes, and wildfires. Political and corporate leaders pay lip service to solutions while continuing to prioritize profit over the planet’s survival.

A quote often attributed to 19th Century Irish statesman Edmund Burke ring true today: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” Our leaders, entrusted with the power to act, too often do little—or worse, enable the very injustices they claim to oppose, the way leaders of the Western alliance have enabled the Gaza genocide. The late Canadian professor Robynne Neugebauer said, “We should all want a world where human dignity and justice are priorities”. Yet, the moral compass that guides ordinary people—those who recoil at injustice, persecution and oppression, who feel the weight of suffering—seems absent in the halls of power if we look at the state of the world today. The public yearns for heroes, but sports stars, actors and musical celebrities, while celebrated, rarely fill this void. Their platforms, when used for good, can amplify calls for justice, but true heroism lies elsewhere.

 

The True Heroes Among Us

 

The real heroes of our time are not found on red carpets, on TV, in films, or competing in sports stadiums but in the streets, in protests, in courtrooms fighting for justice, and in communities fighting for change to build a better world. They are the climate activists chaining themselves to pipelines to halt environmental destruction. They are the human rights advocates speaking out or risking their lives to document and call attention to atrocities. They are the Palestinian journalists bringing the truth of Israel's genocide to the world, while targeted for death. They are the individuals combating hate and racism, challenging systemic inequities that persist in societies worldwide. They are the protesters who, since October 2023, have marched in the millions around the world against the Gaza genocide, often facing character assassination, job loss, or sanctions from employers for their courage and principles. These are the people who embody the spirit of superheroes—not through superhuman strength or fantastic powers, but through an unyielding commitment to justice, and we need more of them.

Consider those who use their wealth or platforms to highlight injustice, like philanthropists funding grassroots movements or celebrities amplifying marginalized voices and bringing critical issues to the attention of their followers. Their actions echo the sentiment that society’s conscience and its humanity is measured not through efforts that add to the abundance of those who already live extremely privileged lives but rather through actions that provide for those in the human family who are struggling, suffering and are without. Yet, these figures are the exception. Too often, the rich and powerful hoard their wealth like dragons hoarding gold, indifferent to the suffering they could alleviate. Billionaire oligarchs, much like the royalty of old, wield unimaginable privilege and power, making decisions that ruin lives without accountability. Their influence drowns out the voices of the many, leaving us to wonder, where are the superheroes to challenge them?

The Dream of Superheroes

Imagine a world where Superman’s unwavering moral code, Batman’s relentless pursuit of justice, or Captain America’s stand against tyranny walked among us. These characters, born from the minds of creators like Siegel and Shuster, embody a strict moral compass that feels absent in today’s leaders. Superman would not stand idly by as women and children are slaughtered in Gaza. Batman would expose the corruption of oligarchs hoarding wealth while millions starve. Captain America would rally the disenfranchised to stand up against thoughtless political or corporate leaders, reminding us that if each of us uses just a part of our energy to fight for what’s right and just, our collective ability to achieve positive change would be unstoppable. These heroes, fictional though they are, represent the ideals we crave: integrity, courage, and an unyielding commitment to the greater good.

But we don’t live in a comic book world. No caped crusader will swoop down to save us from danger. As Martin Luther King Jr. warned, “The greatest sin of our time is not the destruction of the good around us by the few but the apathy of the vast majority who sit idly by as it happens.” Apathy is the enemy of efforts to build a better world, and it’s up to us to reject it. The absence of superheroes doesn’t mean the absence of heroism. It means that the responsibility falls on us—ordinary individuals—to embody the principles we admire in our fictional heroes.

Becoming Our Own Heroes

If we want to have an enlightened, caring, and compassionate society, we cannot allow politicians or corporate elites to sacrifice human dignity on the altars of politics or profits. The fight for justice begins with us. The protesters risking their livelihoods to demand an end to violence in Gaza are heroes. The activists battling ecological collapse, chaining themselves to trees or facing arrest to protect our planet, are heroes. Those challenging billionaire oligarchs, exposing their greed and its devastating consequences, are heroes. They remind us that the moment that we stop helping and fighting for each other or caring for the underprivileged, the disadvantaged, the dispossessed, the persecuted and the helpless, that is the moment that we lose our humanity, that is the moment that we can no longer claim to be civilized.

As another superhero movie fills thousands of theatre screens around the world, we need to remind ourselves that each of us has the power to act. We don’t need superpowers to make a difference—just the courage to speak out, to organize, to support those on the front lines. On all issues of social justice and transformational change in society it has been the vocal few who have influenced the actions of the silent many. So, let's be one of the few and make this world a better place. Whether it’s by donating to a cause, amplifying marginalized voices, or joining a protest, every action counts. If we witness words or acts of injustice and refuse to speak out against them then we become an accomplice to those who instigate the injustices and the resulting poison that affects society at large.

The elites—politicians, corporate executives, and billionaires—have failed to uphold the promises of justice and equality. They thrive on our obedience, as Zinn noted, but we can reclaim power by refusing to comply blindly. The heroes we need are already among us: the teachers advocating for their students, nurses exposing healthcare inequities, journalist exposing the truth, the lone voice who speaks truth to power despite the risks, and many others. As we look at what’s happening in the world, and think about what kind of future we want to leave our children and grand children, we have to realize that greater than the death of flesh is the death of hope and the death of dreams. We cannot let hope and dreams die, especially in the hearts of those who are already in despair, because they light the path to a better future.

The world may not have a Superman, an Iron Man or a Wonder Woman, but it has us. We are the ones who must rise, not with capes and super powers, but with conviction and courage. We must support and defend the activists risking everything for justice. Amplify the voices of those fighting climate change, racism, and inequality. Challenge the billionaire oligarchs and their political enablers whose greed damages us all, and demand accountability from out political leaders for their moral failures. The power to change the world lies in our refusal to let evil triumph through inaction. The triumph of evil requires only our silence. Let’s break that silence. Let’s be the heroes we’ve been waiting for, ensuring that human dignity, justice, and compassion prevail in a world that so desperately needs them.

© 2025 The View From Here. © 2025 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.