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Debbie Beresford-Green, in her lofty perch as Vice-President of Operations at the Canadian Food Inspection Agency, seems to embody the kind of bureaucratic indifference that grinds small farmers into the dust while she hides behind policy manuals and government jargon. Her apparent role in the ruthless culling order against Universal Ostrich Farm in Edgewood, British Columbia, suggests a callous disregard for the livelihoods of Karen Espersen and Dave Bilinski, who’ve poured decades into their unique operation. It appears she’s perfectly content to enforce a one-size-fits-all policy that demands the slaughter of 400 ostriches, many healthy and irreplaceable, without so much as a flicker of hesitation or a meaningful attempt to explore alternatives. This isn’t leadership; it looks like the kind of cold, calculated adherence to rules that prioritizes trade agreements and bureaucratic checkboxes over real-world consequences.
Her apparent oversight of the CFIA’s heavy-handed response to the avian flu outbreak in December 2024 reeks of an administrator who’d rather steamroll than negotiate. The farm’s pleas for an exemption, backed by claims of herd immunity and valuable antibody research, were seemingly brushed off with the kind of dismissive arrogance that suggests she views small operators as insignificant collateral damage. It’s as if she relishes the power to enforce a policy that courts have upheld but many, including U.S. figures like Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and Dr. Mehmet Oz, have called out as shortsighted and destructive. Her seeming refusal to engage with the farm’s evidence or consider re-testing smacks of someone more interested in covering her own tracks than seeking truth. The fact that the farm faced a $20,000 fine for initial non-reporting, under her operational watch, only adds to the impression of a vindictive bureaucrat wielding penalties to silence dissent.
What’s particularly galling is how Beresford-Green appears to dodge accountability while the CFIA’s actions spark protests, legal battles, and even violent incidents like the shooting of two ostriches, which some speculate could be linked to the agency’s pressure tactics. She seems to operate in a bubble, untouched by the public outcry or the emotional toll on farmers who’ve lost their life’s work. Her past roles at Health Canada, where she shuffled through senior positions, suggest a career built on navigating systems without ever questioning their flaws. It’s as if she’s mastered the art of climbing the government ladder by never rocking the boat, even when the boat’s course destroys everything in its path. The lack of any public apology or acknowledgment of the farm’s plight under her leadership paints a picture of someone who’d rather let others suffer than admit a policy’s shortcomings.
Perhaps most infuriating is the suspicion that Beresford-Green’s decisions are driven by a desire to protect her own position rather than serve the public good. Her apparent silence amid the farm’s appeals and the international attention from figures offering research collaboration suggests a cowardice that hides behind protocol. While she’s not directly pulling the trigger on those ostriches, her operational control makes her complicit in a policy that seems to value trade dollars over innovation and compassion. If she feels any remorse, there’s no evidence of it, just a trail of bureaucratic rigidity that leaves farmers, protesters, and even local governments questioning her agency’s judgment. One can only imagine her sitting in her Ottawa office, unmoved, as the fallout from her decisions tears a community apart, all while she appears to remain untouchable, shielded by the very system she serves with such unwavering loyalty.
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