While millions of Canadians remained indoors during COVID-19 shutdowns, our public spaces and how we use them began to subtly shift. In order to meet new physical distancing rules, we’ve also altered nearly everything about how we move through the city, how we work, and how we spend our leisure time. But this moment of restructuring could also be an opportunity, and by pushing these changes just a little bit further we could use COVID-19 as the catalyst to make our public spaces healthier and more inclusive long into the future.
Public transportation was one of the first public spaces to see a sharp decline in use during the pandemic as millions of Canadians stayed home and forwent their typical daily commute to instead work from home. Ridership on Toronto’s TTC was down a staggering 80 per cent in April, although it’s expected to rise to 50 per cent of normal numbers by October. To combat the risks of crowding, city governments will need to invest in their transit systems by adding more terminals, altering seating arrangements, and making other adjustments. To push these changes even further cities could begin providing free fare to all riders — something that an estimated 100 cities in the world have already done — to ensure that transportation is accessible to lower-income riders and to incentivize transit use over car ownership, curbing greenhouse gas emissions and making our cities healthier and safer.
At the same time that some spaces have been seeing declines in use, others have been seeing significant boosts. A Park People survey of over 1,600 Canadians found that 55 per cent of respondents said that their park use had increased during COVID-19 and 82 per cent said that parks had become important to their mental health. Bike lanes have been expanded in cities across Canada in an effort to reduce crowding on public transit and reduce potential congestion on roads as well. Increased usage of greenspaces and more cyclists on the road are both examples of positive shifts in lifestyle that improve the physical and mental health of residents; and with the right policies, these changes could stick.
The 2020 Declaration for Resilience in Canadian Cities, written by urban planner Jennifer Keesmaat, argues that COVID-19 and it’s recovery period represents “a window to act” and implement changes in Canada that could “kickstart our journey toward more accessible, equitable, sustainable, and resilient cities.” The plan takes a holistic view at how cities function, looking to ensure that the most vulnerable — who have been hardest hit by the pandemic — are being well-served by city planning.
People with disabilities, those who are immunocompromised, and the elderly are too often overlooked when it comes to thoughtful city design, which means that countless Canadians are excluded from participating in society because their needs are not being accommodated. With an increasingly aging population (by 2036 seniors are projected to comprise about 25 per cent of the Canadian population) we’ll need to consider how people who have different abilities and needs can be best served by public services, infrastructure, and policies.
People with disabilities have been advocating for many of the methods that have now become much more widespread during the pandemic, including telecommuting and flexible schedules. Before COVID-19, employers were slow to make accessibility a priority, but because of the pandemic, we’re seeing just how possible these changes are.
At the same time that we’re advocating for changes like these, we also need to stay attuned to the complex ways that policies fit together and who they impact. Jay Pitter, an urbanist and placemaker, has urged us not to overlook those living in “forgotten densities” like homeless shelters, senior care homes, or public housing — all of whom are struggling during the pandemic due to inadequate and unsafe infrastructure that puts them in close proximity to other people. As calls for physical distancing increase and density is seen as a risk to disease prevention, it’s important to consider the needs of the many Canadians who, through a variety of circumstances, are not able to inhabit their living spaces or local communities safely.
“Instead of being fearful of increased anti-density bias,” writes Pitter in an April article for Azure magazine, “we need to apply what we know toward a good urban density framework. This framework should be evidence-based and overlap with social determinants of health, such as food security, race, gender and poverty, while being anchored in a strong equity-based placemaking paradigm.” Not only that, but policymakers need to consult meaningfully with both experts and community members in order to make these changes, Pitter states. “Fully undertaking this scope of work is not possible during a pandemic. But we can certainly advance the process instead of diminishing the suffering of those experiencing density-related health challenges,” she writes.
Despite the limitations we’re currently experiencing, there are still plenty of reasons for optimism. Changes that once seemed impossible before the pandemic are already beginning now, and by applying the knowledge we have and truly listening to the needs of the most marginalized, we could take advantage of the momentum created so far and transform our cities, green areas, and workplaces so they are more inclusive for all.
When the novel coronavirus pandemic took hold in Canada and shutdowns began — closing businesses, leaving hourly workers hanging, and forcing many of those laid off to apply for unemployment — millions of Canadians worried how they would make ends meet.
In late March, the Trudeau government released a statement announcing the Canada Emergency Response Benefit, which allowed many of the Canadians affected by the pandemic to collect $2,000 per month. “No Canadian should have to choose between protecting their health, putting food on the table, paying for their medication or caring for a family member,” read the Department of Finance press release on March 25.
The move was heralded by many for providing essential financial support during a difficult time. But, some advocates have asked, what happens once the pandemic is over? Even before the pandemic, countless Canadians were forced to choose between essentials, like food or medication, due to a lack of economic resources. And after the pandemic, the number of Canadians experiencing hardships is likely to be much greater. Addressing these needs long-term will require a more comprehensive approach.
The concept of Universal Basic Income (UBI) — a policy where governments provide a basic economic safety net through recurring payments paid out to all citizens — has been around for a long time, and UBI programs have been attempted around the world with notably positive effects. A study from the Stanford University Basic Income Lab found that in low and middle-income countries, UBI policies led to poverty reduction and, across all of the countries studied, improvements to health and well-being were observed.
Canada has flirted with the idea of UBI twice in the past: first during a study based in Manitoba in the 1970s, and another in Ontario between 2017 and 2018. Unfortunately, both were stopped before a proper wide-scale analysis could be completed.
However, a 2011 review of the Manitoba study found a number of positive outcomes for the more than 2,000 households who received support, including a decline in hospitalizations, reduced doctor visits, as well as improvements to mental health. Results in Ontario — though limited due to the study’s premature cancellation — were also positive, with respondents improving their diets, smoking and drinking less, and reporting lower levels of anxiety.
One of the main arguments in opposition to UBI as a policy is that many believe it would discourage people from working, since they could simply stay home and collect benefits instead. However, the evidence found in Canada doesn’t seem to support that concern — in both the Manitoba and the Ontario studies, participants continued working despite receiving benefits.
Predictably, programs like this can be expensive, but the Ontario study suggests the savings to health-care services could at least partially offset the costs of the program itself. And overall, economists that have modeled the effect of UBI show that the net economic effect would be beneficial. A U.S. study conducted by the Roosevelt Institute found that a UBI that paid each American $1,000 per month would grow the economy by about 12 to 13 per cent.
UBI Works, a Canadian organization comprised of supporters from the business community, researchers, and economists, has made the business case for why a basic income plan should be introduced in Canada. On their website, they state that “UBI is an economic need that puts markets in service to humanity, installing the plumbing into capitalism that adds resilience and robustness to the economy, ensuring everyone can fully participate to their potential.” Though many tend to focus on the economic costs of UBI, there are also considerable economic benefits as well.
UBI addresses the material conditions of citizens directly by giving them the financial resources to meet their needs. In this way, it can help improve the persistent inequalities in health, education, and economic security that disproportionately affect BIPOC citizens. A basic income is also a way to address the sizable wealth gap between white and BIPOC citizens: data from 2016 found that the average white household in America had ten times the wealth of the average Black household, and around eight times the wealth of a Latinx household. Though UBI wouldn’t necessarily fix this wealth gap, it would be a great place to start.
The way that CERB was implemented widely and quickly in the weeks following the start of the pandemic shows that, if given the incentive, the government could implement a universal basic income program across the country. And in the same way that CERB has helped millions of Canadians stay afloat (and, in some cases, earn more than they were earning in their previous positions), the same benefits could be seen if UBI was implemented permanently.
Most of all, UBI transforms the relationship between individuals and their labour and helps us envision a different way of living that is not centered on gruelling work, exploitation by employers, and various kinds of discrimination. With so many jobs being lost due to automation in recent years; the gap between rich and poor growing ever-wider; and the economic impact of COVID-19, maybe it’s time to consider some of the ways that having a basic financial safety net could have a positive effect on the lives of Canadians.
The COVID-19 pandemic has created an environment where misinformation and conspiracy theories can seep into government decision-making and has shown how social media can spread incorrect information that is a danger to public health. The United States has been the prime example of this, with COVID-19 cases growing at a staggering rate while President Donald Trump continues to share information that contradicts the advice of scientists and experts. By comparison, Canada’s response has been more or less in line with public health recommendations and cases in Canada have been much lower — about 120,000 cases total across the country compared to more than five million in the US.
However, Canada’s success can also present a challenge when it comes to convincing some people about the severity and seriousness of the virus. With the worst-case outcomes avoided so far and the curve successfully flattened, the measures that Canadians have been asked to follow can seem like an overreaction. This has created what some have called a “paradox of prevention,” where the more successfully we prevent the spread of the virus, the more we might begin to believe it’s not really a threat.
Convincing others of the effectiveness of prevention, even when the benefits have proven themselves, can be difficult. A 2013 study in the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA) found that among the obstacles to implementing prevention strategies is the fact that “the success of prevention is invisible, lacks drama, often requires persistent behavior change, and may be long delayed.” Prevention requires group effort, individual accountability, and long-term thinking, with the rewards being far off and hard to measure.
In the case of Canada, however, our neighbours to the south can act as a direct point of comparison, making the benefits of prevention and following public health advice demonstrably clear. But even so, conspiracy groups in Canada have continued to gain followers while spreading inaccurate information, including instances of racism and scapegoating of people based on their ethnic origin, as well as misleading claims about the spread, severity, and dangers of COVID-19.
One group, calling themselves “Hugs Over Masks,” circulated pamphlets in downtown Toronto and on social media spreading the false claim that mask-wearing was dangerous to the health of wearers. Anti-mask demonstrations have appeared in Montreal, Winnipeg, and other cities across Canada. Now, as vaccine production moves forward, skepticism and misinformation about the safety and effectiveness of vaccines has also begun to grow.
The reasons behind the popularity of conspiracy theories is complex, but one important element is an acute mistrust of politicians and government institutions, sometimes veering into paranoia. And with the pandemic disrupting so much about our day to day lives, necessitating somewhat drastic government policies like physical distancing and lockdown measures, mistrust is further amplified.
University of Guelph professor Maya Goldenberg told the CBC that conspiracy theories around both mask-wearing and vaccines are linked to feelings of public confidence. “When you don’t trust the sort of basic infrastructure that’s supposed to support public well being, you’re going to come up with all kinds of tactics to try to resist it,” said Goldenberg.
To help counteract conspiracy beliefs, doctors and other experts need to be patient and respectful when addressing misinformed people. “If there’s one way to get people defensive, it is to disparage them and not to take them seriously,” said Goldenberg. Creating and building trust is a long and difficult process but individual interactions can have an impact.
If friends or loved ones begin to show interest in conspiracy theories, it’s also helpful to remember that their response could be related to fear and unease; anxiety in response to existential threats is commonly associated with conspiracy beliefs. Talking to loved ones in a calm way, rooted in facts, and asking about the source of their information can also be helpful.
Misinformation has become a huge obstacle to combating the COVID-19 pandemic, and it’s important that we continue to have difficult conversations about the accuracy and reliability of the news we consume. Recently, Theresa Tam, the country’s chief public health officer, stated that physical distancing and mask-wearing measures could continue for the next two to three years. To move forward, knowing how to communicate accurate information will be essential for our long-term success.
Misinformation about the origin, spread, and treatment of the novel coronavirus has proliferated online ever since the first days of the pandemic, spreading widely on social media. An April survey of more than 2,000 people found that one in five Canadians believed that the Chinese government engineered the novel coronavirus in a lab, and nearly one in ten believed that the pandemic is a way for Bill Gates to implant people with microchips. Of course, neither of these claims has any basis in fact, but their popularity has nonetheless exploded online, with social media posts in support of these ideas racking up countless likes and shares.
In the beginning of the pandemic, before we had an abundance of reliable, well-communicated research on the virus, the spread of misinformation online could be considered somewhat understandable. But as the months have passed and data and public health recommendations have become more clear, misinformation has nonetheless continued to thrive. This begs the question: Why are conspiracy theories still so popular?
Conducted by researchers with the Vox Pop Labs COVID-19 Monitor, the April survey found that certain characteristics seemed to be linked to a belief in conspiracy theories, including, significantly, where respondents got their news. Canadians who got their COVID-19 news from social media sites like Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and Reddit were more likely to believe in conspiracies than those who had never visited these sites for news content. Unlike reputable news publications, the information being shared on social media is not necessarily reliable or fact-checked, leading to confusion for readers and a higher risk of believing misinformation.
A study published in Psychological Science highlighted the ways that social media can shape our beliefs by creating an online environment where the number of likes and shares a post has can distract us from considering the accuracy of a particular source. When a post receives attention online, readers might be more inclined to assume that the post is true, despite it containing inaccurate information.
How our social media feeds are set up could also be working against us. The way that social media feeds tend to mix information that requires us to think critically about accuracy (like COVID-19-related theories) with content that does not require much critical thinking (like vacation photos shared by friends) may lead users to “habituate to a lower level of accuracy consideration” while online, the study says.
Tied to the issue of social media is the way that politicians like Donald Trump have been able to use digital platforms to pursue dangerous political goals. Trump has used Twitter to spread racist ideas surrounding the virus, referring to it as the “Chinese virus” even as Asian Americans were targeted by discrimination — especially in the early days of the pandemic. When Black Lives Matter protests sprang up across the country, the president used his platform to target and demonize protestors. And, more recently, Trump tweeted out a video that supported the disproven idea that hydroxychloroquine could be used to cure COVID-19.
These tweets have a direct effect on the president’s supporters. A study from the Harvard Kennedy School Misinformation Review found that Trump supporters were taking the president’s lead when it came to facts surrounding the virus in a kind of “top-down” model of information spread. “As Trump initially trivialized COVID-19, individuals who looked to him for guidance followed suit to a greater extent than those who did not,” the study stated.
The politicization of public health recommendations, like mask-wearing, has served to radically increase misinformation in the U.S. and, to a lesser extent, in Canada. An apparent disagreement between two competing authorities — what the president and his allies have claimed and what public health experts across the world have claimed — makes distinguishing between accurate and inaccurate information all the more difficult. The US — currently home to more cases of coronavirus than any other country in the world — has become an example of what happens when conspiracy theories are left unchecked and allowed to infect policy decisions on a national level.
Still, not all hope is lost. There are numerous organizations that are working to combat COVID-19 misinformation online through fact-checking initiatives, including Snopes, Politifact, the New York Times, the Washington Post, and The Walrus. And experts say that there are strategies social media companies can use to help reduce the spread of misinformation online, such as “nudging” users to consider the accuracy of the sources they’re reading before sharing.
Some social media sites, like Facebook and Twitter, have been experimenting with adding accuracy warnings on certain posts related to the pandemic. However, critics argue much of their efforts have been inadequate as misinformation remains on the platforms, sometimes even after being debunked by fact-checkers.
The short-term outlook for mitigating misinformation online unfortunately does not look promising. With the U.S. president himself being flagged by Twitter for sharing inaccurate information to his over 84 million followers, the real solutions to combating misinformation will need to be much larger and wide-ranging than what we’ve seen so far. With the number of cases of COVID-19 continuing to increase worldwide, figuring out how to address this problem is quite literally a matter of life and death.
The COVID-19 pandemic has forced many Canadians to take a deeper look at some of the things they may take for granted, such as having a safe place to find shelter, having access to healthcare services, and — after reports of empty shelves due to panic-buying at the start of the pandemic — even the availability of healthy food to eat.
Though food supply chains have remained steady so far and shelves are now restocked, for some Canadians, accessing food for themselves and their families will nonetheless become an issue as food insecurity increases, according to recent reports. Though there have always been Canadians who have gone hungry at home, that number has noticeably grown during COVID-19.
In a study conducted in May, Statistics Canada found that almost one in seven Canadians reported having some degree of food insecurity at home — an increase from around one in eight before the pandemic between 2017 and 2018. Food insecurity is defined by Health Canada as the inability to consume a diet of sufficient quality or quantity, “or the uncertainty that one will be able to do so,” and is typically linked to a lack of income available to spend on food.
COVID-19-related food insecurity may continue to rise; experts report that the price of food could further increase as pandemic-related costs (like PPE and physical distancing) cause food suppliers to charge more.
Like so many aspects of the pandemic, racialized groups and low-income households will be among the hardest hit when it comes to food insecurity. Black households in Canada are over three times as likely to be food insecure as white households. And according to the 2019 First Nations Food, Nutrition and Environment Study, almost half of First Nations households in Canada experience food insecurity in some way.
Newcomers to Canada are also vulnerable. A 2019 study of food insecurity among new immigrant and refugee children in Saskatchewan found that half of the households studied experienced food insecurity. The reasons that some newcomer families struggled included overall low-income levels, prescription drug and hygiene product spending that cut into their food budget, and the need to repay transportation loans from the government that bring refugees to Canada.
Now, the economic impact of COVID-19 — which has had an effect on all Canadians — could have disastrous implications for food security across the country. Statistics Canada data shows that Canadians affected by business closures and layoffs have higher rates of food insecurity than Canadians who are currently working. In June, the unemployment rate reached 12.7 percent in the country, decreasing just slightly after a record high of 13.7 percent the month prior.
A TD Bank survey released in July found that BIPOC communities were among the most likely to be impacted financially by COVID-19. In 2019, the unemployment rate for immigrants who had lived in Canada for less than five years was 4 percent higher than the unemployment rate for those born in Canada, suggesting that new immigrants could also face additional hardships when it comes to finding work during the pandemic.
Though Canadian Emergency Response Benefit (CERB) payments have helped alleviate some of the economic pressure on families in Canada, not everyone is able to claim them. An analysis done by the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives found that more than 800,000 unemployed people in Canada would not be eligible for either CERB or EI benefits. And as the CERB program begins to be phased out in the fall, even more families could be at risk of food insecurity.
Early on in the pandemic, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau promised $100 million worth of funding for food banks across Canada in an effort to address food insecurity in Canada. In 2019, food banks had more than a million visits from people across Canada. About 13 percent of all food bank users are immigrants or refugees, according to a 2016 HungerCount report.
However, food banks are only a short-term solution. In fact, experts argue, the idea that they are the final solution to the problem of hunger in Canada is actually not supported by data. Valerie Tarasuk and Lynn McIntyre, researchers at the food security research program PROOF, argue that providing basic income directly to individuals — not relying on food banks — is the best way of addressing the issue.
By choosing not to confront the full picture of food insecurity in Canada, governments are putting the health and welfare of Canadians at risk — particularly vulnerable BIPOC communities and new immigrants. Food insecurity has serious impacts on health, including higher rates of iron deficiency anemia, hypertension, and diabetes among those affected. It’s also linked to higher healthcare costs and, in the most severe cases, can reduce life expectancy by nine years.
The solution, say Tarasuk and McIntyre, is to address the root cause of the issue by providing further financial support directly to Canadians. And, as the pandemic continues to drag on, to do so quickly. “Without effective responses to the additional hardships brought on by COVID-19, the number of people affected by food insecurity and the levels of deprivation they face are going to get a whole lot worse,” they write in an article for Policy Options. “So, mounting an effective response now is critical.”
In a recent poll conducted by ICC and Leger, respondents were asked the following question: “Compared to before COVID-19 began, do you feel more or less connected with your family, friends, colleagues, neighbours, community, city, province, country?” Responses were mixed. Overall, 29 per cent of Canadians said they felt more connected to their family, but they also felt less connected to friends and their broader community since COVID-19 began.
These results make sense as more people remain indoors, many with their families, and engage less often with those outside their home. But they also seem to suggest that the COVID-19 pandemic has weakened the social bonds that connect Canadians to one another, which could have a lasting impact not only on individuals but on society as a whole.
In his book Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, Harvard political scientist Robert D. Putnam uses the term “social capital” to describe the process by which networks of people work together to accomplish shared goals or pursue shared interests. Putnam argues that our ability and willingness to gather in groups can have an effect on things like civic engagement and democratic participation. Coming together is a way to build trust, strengthen social ties, and advance community needs, and could include group participation in anything from parent teacher organizations to churches to Scout troops.
By some measures, Canada fares relatively well in this area. Before the pandemic began, a 2019 report from the World Bank found that Canada ranked high in terms of social capital compared to other countries. And 2013 data from Statistics Canada found that social capital had stayed relatively stable over the 10-year period between 2003 and 2013, with 65 per cent of Canadians participating as members of a group, organization, or association, and nearly half participating in group activities at least once a month.
At the same time, other research has shown that loneliness has been on the rise in Canada and voter turnout has also declined since the 1970s, suggesting that social ties and civic engagement are not quite as strong as they could be.
When it comes to COVID-19, existing social capital can be an important asset to individuals and communities. Research has found that it is especially beneficial during disasters, since social networks become more important when our lives are strained by economic hardship, illness, or widespread disruptions.
Recent protests may point to a positive shift when it comes to social capital in Canada, as thousands of people gathered all over the country to work toward the shared goal of combating racism, systemic discrimination, and police violence. Despite the risks involved in congregating in large groups during a pandemic, the World Health Organization has come out in support of the protests. Many public health officials have acknowledged that the protests represent an “essential” form of public gathering; they are directly related to the structural racism putting Black, Indigenous, and racialized groups at greater risk during the pandemic, resulting in significantly higher rates of COVID-19 related infection and deaths in these communities.
In this way, social capital is at once strained and more focused in this particular moment as people are forced to watch the inequalities already present in their country continue to widen. Frank Roberts, an NYU professor and expert on U.S. social movements like Black Lives Matter told the BBC: “You have a situation where the entire country is on lockdown, and more people are inside watching TV…more people are being forced to pay attention — they’re less able to look away, less distracted.” In a sense, this is exactly what social capital is about: turning attention away from individuals and toward social systems and group needs.
Another question asked in the ICC/Leger poll was whether Canadians believed that the COVID-19 crisis would “bring diverse communities in Canada closer together.” The poll found that more Canadians felt that the crisis would bring together diverse communities (43 per cent) than those who did not (32 per cent), with the remainder stating that they were unsure. Canadians of colour agreed more frequently with this statement than white Canadians, and younger Canadians were more hopeful than older Canadians.
The widespread protests from St. John’s to Vancouver in support of anti-racism action can be considered a positive indication that the desire to come together to pursue shared goals remains strong among Canadians. Meanwhile, thanks to physical distancing measures and high adherence to shutdown rules, Canadians have managed to flatten the curve of COVID-19 infections and new cases across the country remain relatively low.
In the coming months — and, perhaps, years — communities will likely face even greater challenges as the economic fallout and disruptions to our day-to-day lives continue. But if the past few months are any indication, we have plenty to be hopeful for when it comes to the state of social capital in Canada.
COVID-19 has had a disproportionate effect on racialized communities, especially Black and Indigenous people in Canada. In the United States, overwhelming data has shown how BIPOC communities have had higher rates of COVID-19 infection and deaths. But the real extent of these effects in Canada isn’t yet known, due to governments’ persistent decision to not collect data that distinguishes between racial groups.
Recently, more and more advocates have been emphasizing the need for race-based data in health care. In an April letter addressed to Premier Doug Ford, Deputy Premier Christine Elliot, and Chief Medical Officer David Williams, 192 organizations called on the Ontario government to begin collecting race and socio-demographic data during the pandemic. “We cannot address what we cannot measure,” the letter states. “We will not address population health inequities and effectively contain COVID-19 without data that illuminates gaps to care in our system.”
Since then, the Ontario government has added questions related to race and ethnicity to the list of questions asked of COVID-19 patients. Other provinces, like Quebec and Manitoba, have announced similar changes.
But why wasn’t this data being collected in the first place? After being asked about race-based data collection in April, Ontario’s chief medical officer of health suggested that the province’s approach to the crisis would be colour blind. “Regardless of race, ethnic or other backgrounds, they’re all equally important to us,” Williams said.
Though such an approach may give the semblance of equal treatment, colour-blind policies can actually keep us from tackling important problems by shielding us from the disparities that exist between racial groups. Without race-based data, systemic changes that address inequality and discriminatory policies will be more difficult to accomplish.
According to the Ontario Human Rights Commission (OHRC), race-based data could play an important role in implementing the province’s human rights code. The OHRC’s data collection fact sheet states that “in the context of racial discrimination, data collection and analysis can be a necessary or even an essential tool for assessing whether rights under the Code are being or may be infringed and for taking corrective action.”
If there are no real procedural reasons for why governments in Canada haven’t been collecting information on race, citizens may conclude that having the data necessary to better combat racism is simply not a priority. “Discrimination is not necessarily about what you do. It’s often about what you don’t do,” Dr. Kwame McKenzie, CEO of the Wellesley Institute and a professor of psychiatry at the University of Toronto, told the CBC. “And the fact that we haven’t collected this data seems neglectful, because everybody really knew we should be collecting these data but it was never at the top of anybody’s list of things to do.”
Data on race is especially important in Canada in order to debunk the persistent myth that racism isn’t a problem in the country. A 2019 Global News poll found that nearly half of respondents felt that racism was either a “minor problem” or “not really a problem” in Canada. Strikingly, the same poll seemed to reveal Canadian’s deep-seated racist biases, finding that nearly half of respondents either “strongly agreed” or “somewhat agreed” with the statement that: “While I sometimes think racist thoughts, I wouldn’t talk about them in public.”
[icc_block_quote quote=”This pandemic has demonstrated, once again, that Canada doesn’t care about Indigenous peoples.” author=”Courtney Skye, policy analyst, Yellowhead Institute” border_colour=”#000000″]
By collecting race-based data on COVID-19 and other issues, it will be harder for Canadians to ignore — or plead ignorance — when it comes to discussing the disparities that exist between different racial groups. The data on race that we have already shows significant disparities in terms of income, higher rates of incarceration and school expulsions, as well as higher rates of food insecurity and homelessness among BIPOC versus white Canadians.
The quality of race-based information, how it’s collected, and how it’s used is also important to consider. Though data about Indigenous communities, for example, has been collected to an extent, the reliability of that data has been put into question. Research from the Yellowhead Institute found discrepancies between the number of cases of COVID-19 calculated by Indigenous Services Canada (ISC) and cases reported by the communities themselves. In early May, ISC reported 175 cases of COVID-19 among Indigenous communities, while community-sourced data found that there were nearly three times that amount, with 465 cases reported.
These discrepancies exemplify how Canada has continued to fail these communities by not providing disaggregated data based on race, not providing accurate data collection coordination between provincial and federal governments, and not taking into account the many Indigenous people in Canada who do not live on reserves.
“This pandemic has demonstrated, once again, that Canada doesn’t care about Indigenous peoples,” writes Courtney Skye, a policy analyst at the Yellowhead Institute, in a recent article. “While long asserted by our communities, we have the data — or rather, the lack of data, to prove it.”
The COVID-19 pandemic has marked a turning point in the data collection discussion and — along with the momentum created by recent police violence and anti-racism protests — advocates are now also calling for race-based data to be collected on other issues. So far, they have seen some notable success: in Ontario, the province’s police watchdog organization will begin collecting data on race for the first time, and Statistics Canada will begin to collect race-based data on how employment rates have been affected by COVID-19, among other developments.
However, governments still need to go further. In countries like the United States, where thorough data on racial disparities in health and other issues is widely collected and generally available, BIPOC communities nonetheless continue to live with significant inequalities. And even when data is collected, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s widely shared. Recently, federal data on the racial breakdown of COVID-19 infections was only made available after the New York Times sued the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, forcing them to make the data available.
What we do know about the challenges facing BIPOC communities in Canada shows that inadequate housing and dangerous working conditions as essential workers, means that these communities are being especially hard hit by COVID-19. With the stakes being life or death, real change is urgently needed — and accurate data is the first step.
During COVID-19 shutdowns, Canadians were told that they needed to stay at home in order to reduce infection rates. In late March, as the pandemic first began to take hold in the country, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau told Canadians in a televised address to “go home and stay home.”
But for many, these public health guidelines proved to be more difficult to follow. Countless Canadians continue to struggle to access safe and affordable housing, putting them at even greater risk during the pandemic.
A lack of affordable housing and low wages have been at the core of Canada’s housing problems. Nearly one in five Canadians are spending more than 50 per cent of their income on rent and 53 per cent of Canadians live paycheque to paycheque.
Though rental prices are dropping in certain cities during the pandemic, they remain high overall — especially in major urban centres like Toronto and Vancouver. This reality, combined with mass layoffs related to COVID-19, puts Canadians at risk of housing instability.
Income support through the Canada Emergency Response Benefit (CERB) and rental subsidies have been implemented in some provinces in an attempt to ease the pressure on tenants, but some Canadians are still falling through the cracks. A study conducted in April by the community organization ACORN found that out of the more than 1,000 people they polled, 42 percent did not qualify for CERB or Employment Insurance (EI) during the pandemic, and that more than a third of people said they wouldn’t have enough money to pay rent on May 1.
In particular, COVID-19 has affected Indigenous communities where crowded and inadequate housing remains a long-standing issue. A report from the Canadian Urban Institute found that, compared to white Canadians, a greater number of First Nations, Métis, and Inuit in Canada reported that COVID-19 has had a major impact on their lives.
This is unsurprising considering the conditions in many Indigenous communities. According to the 2016 census, about 23 per cent of First Nations people were living in crowded housing. For Inuit living in Inuit Nunangat (the four regions that make up the homeland of majority Inuit in Canada), that number was just over 40 per cent. Many communities also lack access to reliable sources of clean water.
Without their essential needs being met, Indigenous communities are not equipped to protect themselves against COVID-19 outbreaks. A report by the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives on housing conditions for Indigenous people during COVID-19 concluded that “asking people to wash their hands and isolate in overcrowded homes without running water is like asking people, unable to afford bread, to eat cake.”
The COVID-19 pandemic is revealing the interconnectedness of housing and health, and how having a safe place to call home can protect individuals and communities during health crises. Though we tend to think about housing and health as two separate issues, there is significant data that disputes this belief. Researchers have found that inadequate housing has been linked to everything from asthma to depression to mortality rates among seniors.
“Housing first” policies, where adequate housing is made available without qualifications, acknowledges the links between housing and health and has been widely shown to be effective at reducing, and in some cases — like in the city of Medicine Hat, Alta. — essentially eliminating homelessness when implemented thoroughly.
For Indigenous communities, the definition of housing first is expanded even further to include connections to community and the land. In a report by the University of Winnipeg and the Institute for Urban Studies, researchers looked at how to adapt housing first strategies in Indigenous communities. The report focused on Winnipeg, where an estimated 66 per cent of the homeless population is Indigenous, and made recommendations based on consultations with local Elders and community leaders.
One example of what these changes might look like was at the intake stage: the report recommended that typical intake and assessment tools may not be appropriate in Indigenous contexts and that overly clinical and invasive intake processes could risk retraumatizing individuals. Overall, the report recommended taking a more holistic view when addressing homelessness and, unlike the individualism supported by typical housing first strategies, emphasized the interdependence of communities.
The connection between health and housing was also made clear in the report. “For Indigenous peoples experiencing homelessness,” the report stated, “having access to culturally relevant, suitable, and affordable housing contributes directly to improved health, wellness, and stability.”
Though most responses to Canada’s housing and health crises have been inadequate overall, the COVID-19 pandemic has presented some positive examples of how homelessness can be addressed when governments do choose to prioritize housing issues. In Toronto, the city made around 1,200 hotel rooms available for those in the shelter system and, in some limited cases, the pandemic has made the process of finding shelter faster and safer.
A similar sense of urgency could be applied to the post-COVID-19 world, advocates argue. Naheed Dosani, a physician who works with homeless populations, argued in Policy Options that the pandemic has shown that new and transformative policies are possible when it comes to homelessness.
“When we have come through this crisis, are we prepared to push people back out to where they were, on the streets and in shelters?” writes Dosani. “Or are we ready to accept that we have the solution to homelessness in our hands? We just need the moral and political will to make it happen.”
On April 1, the Migrant Rights Network, a group of organizations from across Canada working to promote conditions for foreign workers, wrote a letter to public officials urging them to implement guidelines to ensure the health and safety of vulnerable workers. “Failure to implement these changes will lead to devastating public health consequences…and a human rights catastrophe,” the letter states.
The Migrant Rights Network sent several letters to federal and provincial authorities that outlined the concerns of vulnerable workers, according to a recent report from the Migrant Workers Alliance for Change (MWAC). None of the letters received replies. Since then, three workers on farms in Ontario—Bonifacio Eugenio Romero, Rogelio Muñoz Santos and Juan López Chaparro—have died after contracting the virus.
Temporary foreign workers have been reporting mistreatment and low pay for years, but as COVID-19 shutdowns began, advocates knew that conditions would become even more treacherous. So far, there have been at least 17 outbreaks at farms across the country and at least 600 workers have tested positive.
Though we may not associate Canada’s workforce with foreign workers, they in fact make up around 40 per cent of agricultural workers in Ontario and nearly a third of agricultural workers in Quebec, British Columbia, and Nova Scotia, according to 2017 figures. Migrant workers are an important part of the Canadian economy, and have been essential to keeping our food supply chain functioning during the pandemic.
Despite this, they have not been adequately protected. Between mid-March and mid-May, MWAC received more than a thousand complaints on behalf of workers from across the country about loss of income, poor housing conditions, and intimidation from employers, among other issues.
The MWAC report describes the ways that exploitative employers and poor government oversight have allowed migrant workers to fall through the cracks. After first arriving in Canada, new regulations required workers to remain quarantined for 14 days in the employer-provided housing in which they live while receiving the equivalent of 30-hours per week in pay.
However, many workers complained of crowded living conditions, a lack of access to proper sanitation, and that the amount of food provided by employers was inadequate to feed all inhabitants. Hundreds of workers also reported that they were not paid according to government guidelines during their mandatory quarantine. Then, once work resumed, crowded conditions at work, combined with difficulty accessing health-care services, made workers even more vulnerable to contracting COVID-19.
But while workers feared getting sick, they also feared reprisals from their employers — placing them in a particularly precarious position. “Migrant farm workers have work permits that tie them to their employers — this means that workers who speak out or complain can easily be terminated, deported, and banned from returning to work in Canada in future,” the MWAC report states. “This makes it impossible, in practice, for workers to be able to complain about their working and living conditions.”
Perhaps the most widely-reported example of these inequities occurred at the Cargill meat processing plant in High River, Alberta. The plant became the site of one of the largest outbreaks of COVID-19 in North America with over 1,500 cases being linked to the plant, which included about 900 workers.
Most workers at the plant are immigrants or temporary foreign workers whose status in Canada — like the migrant workers in Canada’s fields, vineyards, and greenhouses — is dependent on their employment.
This precarity, combined with economic pressures, makes workers especially vulnerable to exploitative policies from their employer. A CBC investigation showed that Cargill plant workers were made to work in cramped and sometimes dangerous conditions, and that some were pressured to return to work even after contracting COVID-19.
In fact, two weeks and a day after the death of Cargill employee Hiep Bui, who had worked at the plant for 23 years, the plant reopened and resumed production despite concerns from workers and union representatives who feared another outbreak unless working conditions were addressed.
As news of the outbreak at Cargill spread, Fillipino workers, who make up about 70 per cent of the plant’s workers, reported being targeted online by residents who accused them of bringing the virus to Alberta. Some reported being turned away from banks and grocery stores because they worked at the plant.
Fears about food supply disruption from outbreaks in Canada’s meatpacking plants and farms tend to focus on the effects on Canadian consumers and less on the workers who help ensure that the grocery stores themselves are stocked with food. And despite being deemed “essential workers,” low-income new immigrants and migrant workers are often treated as disposable and do not have the same access to services as others in Canada.
Without putting strict protections in place, these workers will remain vulnerable to mistreatment from employers who push them to work in hazardous conditions. Said one seasonal worker from Jamaica featured in the MWAC report: “We’re treated like machines. We just want them to recognize that we’re still human.”
COVID-19 has prompted wide-ranging physical distancing ticketing measures across the country, with over $5.8 million in coronavirus-related fines reported by May of this year. Some fines, like those in Saskatchewan, are as high as $2,000, while in other provinces, like Newfoundland and Labrador, violations can even result in jail time.
Advocates rang alarm bells early, warning that physical distancing enforcement could have a negative impact on marginalized groups, including low-income people or those experiencing homelessness who are unable to pay fines, new Canadians with language barriers, or members of Black communities, who are disproportionately affected by police violence.
In Ottawa, a 21-year-old refugee from Syria with limited English language skills was fined $880 for allowing his younger sibling to climb on playground equipment in a park while otherwise observing physical distancing rules. In Hamilton, a man experiencing homelessness was fined the same amount for sitting near a group of people outside a health centre.
Evidence suggests that fines have not been meted out equally. In late May, a large crowd of thousands of people, most of whom appeared to be white, gathered at Trinity Bellwoods Park in Toronto. Despite thousands of park-goers being in close proximity to each other, Toronto police issued only four tickets that day.
Disparities in how physical distancing fines are enforced are even more clear in the United States, where race-specific data related to policing is more robust. In New York City, about 80 per cent of fines were handed out to Black or Latino New Yorkers. According to a ProPublica study of three court districts in Ohio, Black residents were “at least four times as likely to be charged with violating the stay-at-home order as white people.”
In Canada, over-policing and discriminatory practices against Black Canadians have also been a long-standing problem. One recent example is the discriminatory “carding” policies used by law enforcement in Toronto which unfairly targeted Black residents.
Carding, which has since been banned, allowed law enforcement to stop and confront any resident and collect their information, and resulted in the racist mistreatment of Black Torontonians. A 2014 analysis by the Toronto Star found that — despite only being about 8 percent of the city’s population — approximately 27 percent of all carding incidents in Toronto after July 2013 involved Black people.
Carding is just one of the many ways Black Canadians have been targeted by police. A 2018 report from the Ontario Human Rights Commission found that “between 2013 and 2017, a Black person in Toronto was nearly 20 times more likely than a white person to be involved in a fatal shooting by the Toronto Police Service.” The report also showed that “Black people were over-represented in use of force cases (28.8%), shootings (36%), deadly encounters (61.5%) and fatal shootings (70%).”
The Ontario government’s recent physical distancing enforcement measures allow police to stop anyone they perceive to be in violation of the COVID-19 emergency orders, which the Canadian Civil Liberties Association directly compares to carding. “At best, this new Order is reckless and dangerous. At worst, it could be seen as a bald attempt to re-animate carding and re-populate a database with information about the residents of this city, and in particular, individuals who are racialized, Indigenous, homeless, have mental-health issues, or are otherwise marginalized,” wrote Noa Mendelsohn Aviv, the organization’s director of equality.
While Black communities tend to be over-policed, they also tend to be under-resourced and lower-income, with many people working in low-wage jobs (many of which are now deemed “essential”). This makes it more likely they will be outside of their home where they are vulnerable to encounters with law enforcement.
Any interaction with police can be risky, but a pandemic adds an additional layer of risk because it puts individuals in close contact with potentially infected officers. Police in Toronto and across Canada have reported positive cases of COVID-19 among officers. In New York City, that number has reached more than 1,400 cases among NYPD employees.
Not only are measures like these dangerous and racially biased, criminologists have cast doubt on the effectiveness of fines when it comes to enforcing physical distancing, arguing that they rely too much on blaming individuals in order to change widespread behaviour. But what experts can agree on is that widespread testing and contact tracing — rather than unfairly targeting marginalized groups — is the key to curbing the spread of COVID-19.
