And what are the Liberals' election talking points, in this age

Hear now the voice of Neil Macdonald, who with sharp words pierced through the noise of politics: “And what are the Liberals’ election talking points, in this age of environmental insecurity and economic anxiety? That Andrew Scheer is scary.” This saying is not the idle remark of a casual observer; it is a lament over the state of public discourse, a cry against the emptiness of fear when true leadership demands substance. For in times of turmoil, when the earth trembles with storms and the people groan beneath economic burdens, to offer only fear of one man is to betray the gravity of the age.

When Macdonald speaks of environmental insecurity, he evokes the looming shadow that stretches across the modern world: melting glaciers, rising seas, choking wildfires, and the storms that grow more furious with each passing year. Humanity now faces the cost of its long neglect of the earth. The people hunger for solutions—policies bold enough to heal the land and safeguard the future. To reduce such a struggle to mere partisan attack is to turn away from the battlefield while the enemy gathers strength.

Likewise, in the mention of economic anxiety, we hear the cry of millions who labor under uncertainty. Jobs shift and vanish, debts multiply, and the once-stable ground of middle-class life trembles beneath their feet. This is no time for shallow slogans or empty quarrels; it is a time for vision, for leaders who will face hardship with honesty and offer real hope to the weary. Yet what Macdonald reveals is a campaign that substitutes substance with fear, promising nothing but the peril of an opponent.

The phrase “Andrew Scheer is scary” stands as a symbol of how politics may devolve into caricature. History shows us the danger of such simplification. Consider the Roman Republic, when tribunes and senators, facing crisis and corruption, turned from addressing the true needs of the people. Instead, they demonized rivals, fanning flames of fear rather than forging solutions. The republic, weakened by endless personal attacks and avoidance of urgent problems, crumbled into empire. Fear as a weapon may win short victories, but it cannot sustain a people in times of trial.

Macdonald’s words cut deeper still, for they remind us of a sacred truth: a democracy thrives not on fear, but on vision. When leaders offer only the terror of an adversary, they shrink the imagination of the people. They trap citizens in the narrow prison of reaction, rather than lifting them to the wide horizon of possibility. Fear makes the people passive; vision makes them strong. The former divides; the latter unites.

The lesson here is clear: citizens must demand more than shallow talking points. They must hunger for truth, for courage, for policies that confront the storms of their age. Let not the people be distracted by fear alone; let them instead call upon their leaders to speak of renewal, of justice, of solutions worthy of their struggle. For the challenges of climate and economy will not be conquered by pointing at opponents, but by facing reality with bravery.

Children of tomorrow, take these words to heart: do not be swayed by fearmongering, nor lulled into complacency by empty rhetoric. Question what you hear, seek substance in promises, and weigh the worth of leaders by the vision they carry, not the shadows they cast upon others. In your daily lives, practice discernment, seek truth over spectacle, and give your loyalty not to fear, but to wisdom and justice.

And so, let Macdonald’s warning endure: in an age of environmental insecurity and economic anxiety, the people must not settle for fear as politics. They must rise and demand leaders who will meet the challenges with courage, creativity, and truth. For a nation guided by fear stumbles in darkness, but a nation guided by vision may yet find its way to the dawn.