Gregg Redner’s letter is careful—almost to a fault. It goes out of its way to emphasize that his decision not to attend Boston 2026 is personal, not organizational; principled, not coercive; reluctant, not punitive. He resigns his presidency to avoid collateral damage. He wishes the exhibit well. He invites disagreement.
And still, it is treated as something else.
That reaction is instructive. It reveals how uncomfortable we have become with the idea that a personal decision, grounded in principle, can also function as a public signal.
Redner understands something that his critics—many of them well-meaning—appear to prefer not to confront: that the conditions under which cross-border participation once felt neutral have changed. Not everywhere, not uniformly, and not for everyone. But materially enough that the decision to attend is no longer just logistical. It is interpretive.
The myth of the apolitical hobby
The most persistent objection is also the most familiar:
Philately and politics should not mix.
This is less a principle than a preference. It reflects a long-standing habit of treating certain domains—culture, hobby, sport—as insulated from the political conditions that make them possible.
But Redner is correct: that insulation has thinned.
Philately depends on open borders, predictable administrative systems and shared norms of cooperation across countries.
When those conditions are strained—by rhetoric, by policy direction, or by the normalization of adversarial postures toward allies—the hobby does not remain untouched. It continues, but it does so on altered ground.
To insist that nothing has changed is not neutrality. It is selective attention.
Who actually controls the experience
There is a second, muted argument often offered as reassurance:
Most Americans welcome Canadians. “You’ll be fine”.
This may be true—but beside the point.
The relevant question is not who welcomes you at a show. It is who exercises discretion at the points of control:
- border officers
- secondary inspection
- identity verification in unfamiliar contexts
These are not social interactions. They are state interactions, governed by rules that are both expansive and unevenly applied.
You do not meet “America” at the exhibit hall. You meet America at the border.
And for Canadians—particularly in a moment where political rhetoric includes annexationist language and economic harm framed as strategy—that distinction matters.
Not because adverse outcomes are a certainty. But because they are no longer unthinkable.
From probability to acceptability
Critics of Redner’s decision will lean on probability:
- the risk is low
- problems are rare
- millions cross without incident
All true.
But individuals do not make decisions based solely on probability. They make them based on personal acceptability of risk.
For some, the current environment remains acceptable. For others, it does not.
Redner—and many like him—is not arguing that something will happen. He is saying:
I am no longer willing to assume that nothing will happen.
That is not alarmism. It is a recalibration.
“It’s temporary” and the problem of permanence
Another common response is temporal:
This administration will pass.
Perhaps. But that is not the whole question.
Political moments reveal underlying conditions. When a set of ideas—however controversial—commands significant support and institutional expression, it tells us something about the range of what is now considered acceptable.
Policies can change quickly. Norms change slowly.
Redner’s decision, and my own to refrain from all lifetime travel to the US albeit at age 75, reflect a judgment not just about one administration, but about what that administration has exposed: that the baseline assumptions governing cross-border trust are less stable than previously believed.
The asymmetry Canadians face
There is also a structural asymmetry that rarely gets acknowledged.
Canadians are asked to continue participating, continue travelling and continue signaling trust in a system where they do not vote, they do not shape policy and cannot meaningfully contest discretionary decisions at the border.
This is not a reciprocal relationship. It is one in which the costs of miscalculation fall entirely on the traveller.
In that context, choosing not to travel is not disengagement. It is risk allocation.
Redner’s resignation: integrity over optics
Perhaps the most revealing part of Redner’s letter is not his refusal to attend, but his resignation as President of the Royal Philatelic Society of Canada.
He does not claim that attendance is required. He simply recognizes that his personal decision could be read as institutional and the institution has different obligations than the individual.
So he separates the two.
This is not grandstanding. It is governance.
It preserves the Society’s ability to participate and his own ability to act according to principle.
In a moment where many blur these lines, Redner draws them carefully.
Does absence harm the hobby?
The strongest argument against Redner’s position is that absence weakens connection:
‘If people like you don’t go, bridges erode’.
This deserves a serious answer.
Individual attendance at a stamp exhibition does not meaningfully alter national policy, border practices or political rhetoric.
It does, however, signal comfort with prevailing conditions.
Absence signals something else – that participation is conditional that norms matter and that trust is not automatic. Neither signal is inherently right or wrong. But both are legible.
Redner has chosen to send one. Others will send another.
A personal decision that others recognize
My own decision—to make this a lifetime choice—pushes the logic one step further.
It acknowledges something uncomfortable but real:
The individuals who shape my experience at the border are not the same ones who welcome us at the show.
That gap—between social goodwill and institutional authority—is where my decision sits.
I am not judging individual Americans. I am assessing systems, incentives and the distribution of risk
And concluding that, for me, the balance no longer holds.
Conclusion: not withdrawal, but conditional participation
Gregg Redner’s letter is not a call to boycott. It is not a directive. It is not even a protest in the conventional sense.
It is a statement of threshold:
Under these conditions, I will not participate.
That statement has been met with discomfort because it challenges a long-standing assumption—that participation is neutral, expected, and insulated from politics.
It is none of those things.
In this moment, choosing to attend is a decision. Choosing not to attend is also a decision.
Redner has made his. I have made mine in regard to all travel to the US..
And the fact that both now require explanation tells us everything we need to know about how much the ground has shifted.