COLUMN: 12.4 billion to calm the storm or feed the illusion

12 Million Canadians Await Relief

The current GST credit is paid quarterly to low- and moderate-income families. With this increase, more than 12 million Canadians are expected to be eligible—people who are seeing their grocery bills skyrocket, cutting back on essentials, and juggling between paying rent and filling the fridge. The one-time spring payment will provide temporary relief. A few hundred dollars for some, perhaps a thousand for others. After that, the 25% increase in the quarterly credit will provide recurring—albeit modest—relief. For an eligible family, we’re talking about a few dozen extra dollars per quarter. Not enough to revolutionize a budget, but enough to buy a few more meals, so they don’t have to choose between meat and vegetables.

I think of those 12 million people. I think of their invisible faces, their sleepless nights spent calculating, recalculating, hoping there’s enough left to make it through the month. This measure, as imperfect as it may be, will give them a little breathing room. Just a tiny bit. And for that, yes, it deserves to exist. But don’t ask me to celebrate. Don’t ask me to pretend that it’s enough. Because it isn’t. It never will be until we tackle the root causes of the problem.

The Conservative Party’s Tug-of-War Between Tactical Support and Strategic Criticism

Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre stated that his MPs would support the measure. A surprising stance for a fierce opponent of the Carney administration. But Poilievre immediately qualified his support by calling the enhanced credit a “temporary solution.” The message is clear: yes, we’re voting in favor, because refusing would be political suicide in the face of millions of voters in need. But no, we don’t believe this solves anything. The Conservatives have been hammering home their own vision for months: cut taxes, slash government spending, and free up the market. For them, handing out money only fuels inflation and widens the deficit. It’s an economic logic that has its merits, but it ignores a brutal reality: people are hungry now, not in five years when the economy may have recovered.

Poilievre is playing a dangerous game. He supports a measure he despises, because he knows that rejecting it would make him look like a heartless monster. But he criticizes it strongly enough to keep his electoral base satisfied. That’s politics at its purest. And I can’t completely blame him, because that’s exactly what Carney is doing on the other side: handing out money to buy time, to quell discontent, to win votes. Both are playing the same game, just with different pawns.

When Doing Nothing Becomes More Expensive Than Taking Action

Let’s imagine for a moment that the government had done nothing. That Carney had opted for austerity, fiscal prudence, and the status quo. What would have become of those 12 million Canadians? Some would have fallen into debt. Others would have cut back on healthcare, their children’s education, and their own food. Food banks, already overwhelmed, would have seen their lines grow even longer. Hospital emergency rooms would have treated more people suffering from malnutrition, stress, and despair. The social cost of inaction would have been astronomical—not in billions of dollars, but in shattered lives, lost dignity, and extinguished hope. So yes, 12.4 billion is expensive. But the price of doing nothing would have been infinitely higher.

People will tell me I’m naive. That I’m justifying irresponsible spending. That I’m contributing to the national debt. Maybe. But I’ve seen too many people suffer to believe we can afford to do nothing. I’ve seen mothers crying at grocery checkout counters because they didn’t have enough to pay. I’ve seen fathers work two jobs and come home with empty pockets. So yes, let’s spend those 12.4 billion. And if that’s not enough, let’s spend more. Because the alternative is to watch our society fall apart right before our eyes.

The debate rages on between Keynesians and monetarists

Economists are divided on the effectiveness of this measure. Keynesians applaud it: injecting money into the economy stimulates demand, supports consumption, and prevents a recession. For them, the government has a role to play in times of crisis, and that role involves direct transfers to the most vulnerable households. Monetarists, on the other hand, are cringing: distributing money fuels inflation, widens the deficit, and delays necessary market adjustments. For them, the solution lies in reducing public spending, cutting taxes, and liberalizing the economy. Two clashing worldviews, two irreconcilable economic philosophies. And while the experts debate in their ivory towers, Canadians are just waiting to be able to eat their fill.

I’m not an economist. I don’t claim to have all the answers. But I know one thing: when economic theories clash with human reality, reality must take precedence. It doesn’t matter to me whether Keynes or Friedman is right. What matters is that people are suffering right now, and we must act now. Structural adjustments, far-reaching reforms, major systemic changes—all of that can wait. But hunger won’t wait.

When Emergency Aid Becomes the Norm

There is a real danger in this approach. By increasing direct payments, expanding tax credits, and distributing one-time payments, the government is creating dependency. Canadians are getting used to receiving money rather than earning decent wages. Employers are getting used to paying poverty-level wages, knowing that the government will make up the difference. Landlords are raising rents, knowing that tenants will receive assistance. It’s a vicious cycle in which government intervention, rather than solving problems, perpetuates them. The enhanced GST credit is just one example among many. It comes on top of family allowances, solidarity tax credits, housing subsidies, and food assistance. A complex web of measures that masks the fundamental failure of our economic system to ensure a decent standard of living for all.

I’m torn. On the one hand, I see the urgency, the need to act quickly to alleviate immediate suffering. On the other, I see the trap slowly closing in. We’re creating a society where more and more people depend on the government to survive. And that terrifies me. Because that dependence isn’t dignity. It’s assisted survival. What people want isn’t government checks. It’s a job that pays a decent wage. It’s affordable housing. It’s a grocery store where they can buy food without breaking the bank. But as long as we don’t tackle these structural problems, we’ll keep handing out money the same way we hand out aspirin to a cancer patient.

While the government pays, profiteers get richer

Who really benefits from this measure? Not just the 12 million eligible Canadians. The big grocery chains, which are raising their prices knowing that consumers will have a little more money in their pockets. Landlords, who are adjusting their rents based on government assistance. Businesses that keep wages low because the government makes up the difference. The enhanced GST credit, like all measures of this kind, ultimately enriches those who are already wealthy. It is an indirect transfer of public money into the pockets of corporations. And meanwhile, those truly responsible for the crisis—real estate speculators, food monopolies, exploitative employers—continue business as usual. No additional regulations. No tax on excessive profits. No penalties for those who profit from the misery of others.

It makes me sick. We’re spending 12.4 billion to help the poor, but we refuse to touch the rich who are impoverishing them. We’re handing out crumbs while the feasts go on. And the worst part is that they’re trying to make us believe this is social justice. That it’s compassion. No. It’s political cowardice. It’s easier to hand out money than to take on the powerful. Easier to quell discontent than to change the system. Carney knows it. Poilievre knows it. All politicians know it. But none of them has the courage to say it.

The Paradox of a Policy That Saves and Fails at the Same Time

So, what should we make of this measure? Rejecting it would be cruel. Applauding it would be naive. The truth lies somewhere in between. The enhanced GST credit is necessary because millions of Canadians are suffering right now and need immediate help. It is insufficient because it does not solve any of the structural problems that created this crisis. It is an emergency measure in an emergency situation. Nothing more, nothing less. The Carney administration deserves credit for acting quickly. But it also deserves criticism for not going further—for failing to address the root causes—and for lacking the courage to reform an economic system that produces ever-increasing poverty despite growing national wealth. The 12.4 billion over six years is not a solution. It’s a reprieve. A temporary respite before the next crisis, the next price hike, the next cycle of suffering.

I’d like to be able to end this section on an optimistic note—to say that this measure is a first step toward something greater. But I can’t. Because I don’t believe it. I’ve seen too many “first steps” that led nowhere. Too many promises that evaporated after the elections. Too many emergency measures that became permanent without ever resolving the emergency. So yes, let’s take these 12.4 billion. Let’s use them to help those who need it. But let’s not kid ourselves. This isn’t a victory. It’s just a slightly less bitter defeat.

The Cost of Our Collective Inaction

The Office of the Parliamentary Budget Officer has done its job by publishing these figures: $12.4 billion over six years to increase the GST credit. This colossal sum reflects the scale of the crisis we are facing. More than 12 million Canadians will need this assistance—not because they are lazy or irresponsible, but because our economic system has failed to guarantee them a decent standard of living. The Carney administration has chosen to act, and for that, it deserves recognition. But this measure is merely a band-aid on a bleeding wound. As long as we don’t tackle monopolies, speculation, poverty wages, and obscene profits, we’ll keep handing out money without ever solving the problem. And one day, perhaps, we’ll wake up in a country where the majority depends on the government to survive, where the dignity of work has vanished, and where hope has died.

I end this column with a strange feeling—a mix of relief and anger. Relief because people will receive help. Anger because this help shouldn’t be necessary. We live in one of the richest countries in the world. We have the resources, the knowledge, and the means to guarantee everyone a dignified life. But we choose not to do so. We’d rather hand out crumbs than share the cake. We’d rather treat the symptoms than cure the disease. And in the meantime, the 12.4 billion keeps piling up, year after year, measure after measure, without anything really changing. Maybe one day, we’ll have the courage to do things differently. But that day isn’t today. Today, we’re content just to survive. And that’s something, at least.

Signed, Jacques Provost