Day: April 13, 2025

Why We Need The Banker as PM

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Just read this very interesting piece on Substack that I feel I should share:

Carney’s Checkmate: How Canada’s Quiet Bond Play Forced Trump to Drop Tariffs

Let’s talk about the moment Donald Trump blinked. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a tweetstorm or a rally rant. When the tariff threats that had the world on edge—125% on China, 25% on Canada’s autos, a global trade war in the making—suddenly softened. A “pause,” he called it. A complete turnaround from the chest-thumping of the past week. And the reason? Mark Carney and a slow, deliberate financial maneuver that most people didn’t even notice: the coordinated Treasury bond slow bleed.

This wasn’t about bravado. It was about leverage. Cold, calculated, and devastatingly effective. 

Trump’s pause wasn’t because people were getting yippy…

Turns our PM was at the helm, here! He saw what was coming and did something about it – no fanfare on the campaign trail, no waving flags, no patting himself on the back. He talked to the EU, to Britain, to Japan, others, with a plan – slowly sell their US Treasury Bills and let the market do the talking. They were ready for the tariffs that trump had announced well in advance of “Liberation Day”. When those silly tariffs were announced the selling began. It didn’t take long.

Rewind a bit. While Trump was gearing up his trade war machine, Carney, Canada’s Prime Minister, wasn’t just sitting in Ottawa twiddling his thumbs. He’d been quietly increasing Canada’s holdings of U.S. Treasury bonds—over $350 billion worth by early 2025, part of the $8.53 trillion foreign countries hold in U.S. debt. On the surface, it looked like a safe play, a hedge against economic chaos. But it wasn’t just defense. It was a loaded gun.

Carney didn’t stop there. He took his case to Europe. Not for photo ops, but for closed-door meetings with the EU’s heavy hitters—Germany, France, the Netherlands. Japan was in the room too, listening closely. The pitch was simple: if Trump went too far with tariffs, Canada wouldn’t just retaliate with duties on American cars or steel. It would start offloading those Treasury bonds. Not a fire sale—nothing so crude. A slow, steady bleed. A signal to the markets that the U.S. dollar’s perch wasn’t so secure.

Blundell explains how it all worked. Click on the link, scroll down a bit and you’ll find out how this setup all worked, and why.

That’s the message Carney delivered in his call with Trump last week. No leaks on the exact words, but the outcome speaks volumes. Trump didn’t just pause the tariffs; he backpedaled hard. China’s still in the crosshairs—125% duties are no joke—but Canada? The EU? Japan? They’re off the hit list. For now, at least. Why? Because Carney’s play wasn’t noise. It was power.

Let’s be real: Trump’s spent years calling Canada a freeloader—remember his 2019 NATO jabs?—while ignoring the inconvenient truth. Canada’s $350 billion in U.S. debt isn’t charity. It’s a lifeline. Japan’s trillion-plus? Same deal. The EU’s pile? Ditto. These countries aren’t just buying bonds to be nice; they’re bankrolling the U.S. government. And when they threaten to pull the plug, even slowly, Washington listens.

This was the determining factor in Trump’s surrender. Not the public spats, not the retaliatory tariffs Canada slapped on U.S. autos (though those stung). It was the quiet, coordinated threat of a Treasury bond unwind that bent Trump’s knee. Carney didn’t need to shout. He didn’t need to posture. He lined up the free world—Japan, the EU, Canada in lockstep—and showed Trump the cliff’s edge. Strategic brilliance doesn’t get louder than that.

Carney also issued Canadian Treasury bonds in USD which was another brilliant way to strengthen Canada’s position and financial reputation. Little triggers and strategies you get when the world’s most respected economist is your PM…

You get the drift. Apparently, the instigator of the T-Bill selloff that scared the shit out of trump was Carney. The experienced banker. The person who understands international finance.

Carney made sure to tell the world that despite Trump kissing our northern ring, we’re not negotiating shit until after the election. He also said we’re still moving away from our relationship with the US for greener, saner pastures.

Looks like we have THE man for the job.

We need to make sure we elect enough Liberals for him to continue in the job. PP wouldn’t have had a clue how to do this, or that it could be done. All he knows is how to name call. To act like trump.

It’s clear we need The Banker!

[If you want more information on Carney check out Dear Canada: We’re at the Peak of the Election “Smear Campaign” ]

I Am Canadian!

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I wrote this piece on Oct 19/24 – after reading Lozada’s piece. I thought I’d share it today because the excerpt from Obasan is even more relevant than it was in October!

This is my own my native land.

I wonder whether others are feeling the same ambiguity I am about what being Canadian involves, particularly as election day draws closer and we are facing perhaps a life-shaping decision between the divisive, trumpish, anger of PP and the well informed, experienced, financial expert to lead our government. We don’t vote for a Prime Minister, which makes the decision more complicated but ultimately that’s the decision influencing how I will mark my ballot. As things stand, I can’t vote Conservative no matter how capable my local candidate may be.

An immigrant from Peru, Lozada details the conundrums he faces daily regarding his immigrant identity. I was deeply moved by his writing. Moved enough to write a personal note to him at his email address at the NYT. (I don’t expect him to answer.)

His opinion piece evoked a memory of what Joy Kogawa had to say in Obasan, her novel written in 1981. I felt compelled to find those words again and share them with Lozada.

Here is the letter I wrote him:

Carlos, 

As I was reading your piece, I can’t tell you how it resonated for me.  What’s interesting is I was born here in Canada, my mother was born in Canada, my father was an immigrant as were all my grandparents; I personally feel more “immigrant” these days than at any other time in my life (I’m heading toward 82!). In today’s actively antisemitic world I feel my token “jewishness” separating me from my “christian” friends and neighbours. The conundrums you describe are present in my life in such subtle ways but they are there.

I feel my “immigrantness” weekly when I visit two young Afghan families recently come to Canada. I spend a couple of hours a week with each family chatting in English, reading children’s books in English, to help them learn a language they are working so hard to learn. I visit weekly for these young women to help them overcome the isolation a lack of common language forces upon them. These new permanent residents to Canada have become like grandchildren/great-grandchildren in the almost two years I’ve known them. 

I can’t imagine their decision to leave Afghanistan and their families behind. I know the facts of their escapes through Iran, arriving in Turkey as illegals, the unimaginable luck of making contact with a Canadian citizen sponsorship group who helped bring them to Canada. I’m not an official part of that group (my youngest sister is), but through my investment of time these past two years, I have come to feel a small bit of what my grandparents must have experienced, who knew they would never see those they left behind, many of whom a few decades later would have ended in Nazi crematoria. Both sets of grandparents left Lithuania and Poland/Ukraine respectively and arrived in Canada in the early 1900s. I have no names of those left behind but I am absolutely certain many relatives did not survive WWII.

Canada, like the USA, is a nation of immigrants, yet so many people seem disconnected from that reality. In Canada, we’re a bit more aware of our crimes against the First Nations people – our halting attempts at reconciliation keep reminding us that we displaced them, disenfranchised them, demeaned them and that everybody else has immigrant origins from all over the world. 

We are experiencing in Canada a growing sentiment that we don’t want more immigrants, we need to keep “these people” out – they’re taking “our” jobs (in spite of the fact that Canadians don’t want to do the jobs they are willing to do), making housing impossible to find (that’s really the fault of those of us who made development decisions fifty years ago), overrunning our healthcare system (who actually made the decisions to cut back spending on medicine, education, dentistry, social work, … forty  years ago?). We need these new people for their willingness to work hard, for the cultural diversity they bring to us, for their talents and skills which enrich our community.

Shortly after it was published (1981) I read Joy Kogawa’s novel “Obasan” – there’s a passage in it that has stayed with me these 40+  years – written words of the Aunt (Obasan) who had been born in Canada but sent with her family to a Japanese internment camp during WWII:

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“The entire manuscript was sixty pages long, I skimmed over the pages till I came across a statement underlined and circled in red: I am Canadian. The circle was drawn so hard the paper was torn. Three lines of a poem were at the top of the page.

Breathes there a man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said:
This is my own, my native land!

The tanned brown edges of the page crumbled like autumn leaves as I straightened out the manuscript.

The exact moment when I first felt the stirrings of identification with this country occurred when I was twelve years old, memorizing a Canto of “The Lay of the Last Minstrel.”

So many times after that I repeated the lines: sadly desperately, and bitterly. But at first I was proud, knowing that I belonged.

This is my own, my native land.

Then as I grew older and joined the Nisei group taking a leading part in the struggle for liberty, I waved those lines around like a banner in the wind:

This is my own, my native land.

When war struck this country, when neither pride nor belligerence nor grief had availed us anything, when we were uprooted, and scattered to the four winds, I clung desperately to those immortal lines:

This is my own, my native land.

Later still, after our former homes had been sold over our vigorous protests, after having been re-registered, fingerprinted, card-indexed, roped and restricted, I cry out the question:

Is this my own, my native land?

The answer cannot be changed. Yes. It is. For better or worse, I am Canadian.”

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Securely Canadian having been born here myself, I still feel Obasan’s struggle as somehow my own.

Your NYT piece has evoked all those same feelings about country and belonging that I found those many years ago in Kogawa’s writing,

Thanks for such a passionate piece.

Judith Newman

I finally made it back to my sewing machine. This week I finished a housecoat (no photo since I’m wearing it!) Today I made an iPhone case for a friend – she asked me to make her a new one since her new phone is too large for the old one. I just finished it:

Now to make another for myself.