Author’s Note:
This article is part of an ongoing series excerpted and adapted from my upcoming book, The Illiberal Turn, which examines the quiet erosion of the Rule of Law, the rise of state indifference, and the normalization of coercive tactics within modern liberal democracies.
Alok Mukherjee
I am writing this because I need to tell you a story—not as a researcher, a retired professional, or a former chair of a police board, but as a person who was, for a few hours on a quiet holiday, completely stripped of his agency.
Victoria Day, May 23, 2022. It was a beautiful afternoon. My wife, Arun, and I were at home. I was engaged in the “epistemic commons”—the simple, democratic act of seeking information. I was looking into weather patterns in eastern Ontario, clicking through local community papers. Then, the silence of our living room was shattered. My computer screen turned blood-red, and a siren-like alarm erupted from the speakers. A message flashed: “TROJAN VIRUS DETECTED. DO NOT SHUT DOWN.” Along with it, a phone number flashed with a message to call immediately. My computer had frozen completely. I executed a force quit, but when I restarted after 30 seconds, the message was still flashing with the same piercing sound and glaring color. I panicked; I took the “alert” seriously.
The Architecture of Isolation: Olivia and the Security Gambit
In that moment of sensory overload and mental paralysis, I called the number for “Microsoft Security” on the screen. Despite years at the helm of Canada’s largest municipal police service’s governing body, the sensory invasion had overwhelmed me completely. “Olivia” answered my call. She was calm and terrifying. She claimed my entire identity was being “leaked” to hackers in real-time.
Then came the first act of isolation. Olivia told us that the hackers were eavesdropping through our cell phones, cordless phones, and smart TV. “For your safety,” she said, “you must turn them all off immediately.” We obeyed. In that instant, our home became a silent island. Once the isolation was complete, Olivia “transferred” me via a “secure line” to the Fraud Department at my bank to intercept an unauthorized wire transfer.
The Puppeteer: Catherine and the Loss of Agency
That was when I met “Catherine.” She stayed on an open line with me for several hours, a constant voice in my ear. She told me $10,000 was being funneled to a “Chinese porn site” and that we had a three-hour window to “intercept” it.
The solution she offered was a bizarre ritual of “encrypted duplicate charges.” She directed me to drive to multiple stores to buy thousands of dollars in gift cards. At the time, with Catherine’s solicitous voice—asking if I was hydrated, expressing concern because I “sounded tired”—it felt like a rescue mission. I was no longer an actor in my own life; I had been converted into a “tool” of the defrauding entity. My arm, holding the credit card, was merely an extension of Catherine’s will.
My faculties of reason and judgment deactivated, I was an automaton, doing Catherine’s bidding mutely. I went from store to store, with her on an open line instructing me, charging thousands of dollars worth of gift cards from Google and Microsoft to my credit card, determined to beat the clock. At the end of the day, I had managed to buy cards worth $6,000. Out of mock concern for my age and my demonstration of “good faith,” Catherine, in consultation with her supervisor, relented. I could go home now and take care of the remaining $4,000 first thing the next morning. What we had already provided, she assured me, was sufficient for the bank to delay clearing the charge from the Chinese porn site.
I bought it totally. The task now was to go home and fax Catherine the hundreds of cards in batches. To this day, I have copies of the gift cards and the fax numbers on my system like a permanent wound. We didn’t “wake up” until the silence finally returned that evening after the whole process was over. The next morning, when Catherine called back seeking the remaining $4,000, the “victim” died and the “researcher” returned. I didn’t take the calls. I called the police.
The Wall of Indifference: A Systemic Failure
While Google eventually canceled its cards, Microsoft—whose name was the bait—remained an unreachable ghost. Then there was American Express. I fought them through three grueling stages of appeals. Each time, the rejection was identical: “You tapped the card. You authorized the charge.”
I do not blame AMEX for guarding its interests. The problem is the law. Our framework has no understanding of “disabling effects.” It fails to recognize that psychological control is just as coercive as a physical threat. This is precisely where these cybercriminals launch their attack. They gain control over the mind and body of their targets by disabling the rational, logical faculties. Yet, the law treats these targets as fully autonomous, rational beings. Financial institutions like AMEX and my bank make their decisions entirely in the shadow of this flawed law.
The Global Shadow Industry & The Cost of Inaction
This is not a story about a single victim in Toronto. It is a story about a global growth industry that is looting the “epistemic commons.” In 2025 alone, Canadians lost over $700 million to these predators—a figure that represents only 5-10% of the true harm, as most victims remain silent out of embarrassment.
As someone who spent over a decade in police governance, the response from the Toronto Police was the most galling. I was told that because the theft exceeded $5,000, it fell into a “jurisdictional black hole.” Contrast this with the millions invested in technical resources to monitor “national security” or political dissent.
A police sergeant did visit our home, heard me out, and completely understood what had happened. Clearly, this was familiar to him. He gave me a complaint file number and asked me to go to our neighborhood police station to file a report, promising that the Fraud Squad would take over.
Well, it didn’t happen. The officer at the front office of my local police division knew who I was but refused to take a report. He claimed that was the job of another officer who was unavailable. He then proceeded to tell me that nothing would actually happen, and no one will come to speak to me. Why? Because the police agency only investigates frauds over $50,000. I protested, noting that being over $5,000, our loss meets the legal definition of an indictable offense. He agreed but callously told me I should be “thankful” to have gotten away with losing only a few thousand dollars.
This was shocking and sickening. During my tenure as Chair of the Toronto Police Services Board and President of the Canadian Association for Police Governance, I had consistently advocated for the dedication of police resources to cybercrime as a predatory “growth industry.” And now, here I was.
The Philosophy of the Jungle vs. The Garden
This institutional retreat is often justified by a pervasive and troubling metaphor currently circulating in Western foreign policy circles—the trope of the “Garden and the Jungle.” Promoted by figures like Robert Kagan, one of the gurus of neo-conservatism in the US, and Josep Borrell, the former head of foreign affairs for the European Union, this view suggests that the “Rule of Law” is a fragile garden that must be protected from an encroaching, chaotic “jungle” through any means necessary.
The irony is that when I sought protection, I found that the State had essentially abandoned its gardening duties for the elderly and the vulnerable. By treating digital fraud as an inevitable, unmanageable part of the “jungle,” the State justifies its own inertia. It allows the digital public square to remain a wilderness where predators roam free, while it meticulously “gardens” and polices the political activities and dissent of its own citizens. Where is the police for those of us living within the supposed safety of the garden?
The Legislative Pivot: Bill C-15 and What Remains
Since my experience, the landscape in Canada has begun to shift somewhat. In March 2026, Bill C-15 received Royal Assent, bringing the first significant amendments to Canada’s Bank Act in years. The government has finally admitted that the old system was indefensible.
These changes are a hard-won victory for consumer advocacy, but they still contain a dangerous lacuna. While the new legislation strengthens protections against “unauthorized access” (hacking), it remains murky on “coerced authorization” (scams) such as what I experienced. Does the law recognize the “Puppeteer Effect”? Or does it still allow financial institutions to wash their hands of a client even when they were psychologically manipulated into “tapping the card”?
Conclusion: Reclaiming the Social Contract
We are living through an “Illiberal Turn” where the state possesses the power to surveil us but lacks the will to protect us from digital looting. If “authorization” can be manufactured by a voice on a “secure line,” then our current definition of consent is a lie. It is time we stop blaming the “scammed” and start demanding a social contract that protects the security of the person as fiercely as it protects the security of the transaction. We must demand that the “garden” of our laws actually covers the people living within its walls.
I have narrated a story from Canada. I have no doubt that similar home and psychological invasions are being perpetrated by multinational cybercriminals all over the world. They pose a challenge that calls for a coordinated, dedicated global response by states, police agencies, and financial institutions. We have “Interpol”; why not a “Cyberpol”?
The Lingering Aftermath
Four years after it happened, the incident has left a permanent impact on our reaction to calls on our cell phones and landlines, as well as text messages and emails from anonymous or unknown sources. These are a daily occurrence. We are constantly targeted by entities masquerading as “FedEx” or various banks. We no longer answer our phones if the number is unknown to us or not displayed. These numbers are blocked; suspicious-looking text and email messages are marked as junk.
But this is a highly unsatisfactory response. As our family is scattered across the globe, we must answer calls when the area code matches countries where we have loved ones. Every time we do so, our heart rate goes up. As for the calls that go unanswered, it means we are paying for services that we can now use only partially. Thus, despite all the vaunted 5G connectivity, we are far less connected than we used to be when communication technology was less advanced.
Clearly, those who maintain this “garden” – the government, the communications and cyber behemoths, the regulators, and the enforcement agencies – have a lot of work to do to deserve this pastoral nomenclature.
Join the Conversation
The nervousness and vulnerability many of us feel in the digital public square often go unspoken out of embarrassment or a sense of helplessness. If you or a loved one have experienced a similar digital invasion, or if you have found yourself trapped in the jurisdictional gaps of our legal and policing systems, please share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. By breaking the silence, we can begin to collectively demand the protection we deserve.
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Alok Mukherjee, The Way I See It 
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