Connect with us

Business

Green Energy or Green Grift? SDTC at the Center of a $38 Million Scandal

Published

24 minute read

The Opposition with Dan Knight

The Auditor General’s report reveals millions in taxpayer funds funneled to insiders, with government officials shrugging off responsibility. Andrew Noseworthy’s testimony in PCAP

Conflicts of Interest, Negligence, and Liberal Mismanagement Unveiled

In yet another stunning display of Liberal mismanagement, Sustainable Development Technology Canada (SDTC) has found itself at the center of a growing scandal. The Auditor General’s recent report revealed systemic conflicts of interest and gross negligence in handling taxpayer money—conflicts that funneled millions of dollars to companies connected to SDTC board members.

The controversy reached new heights during a heated Public Accounts Committee meeting, where Andrew Noseworthy, a former assistant deputy minister, was grilled over his role as the government’s “eyes and ears” on the SDTC board. His testimony wasn’t just underwhelming—it was a masterclass in buck-passing.

Here’s Andrew Noseworthy’s opening statement, boiled down: “I was there, but I wasn’t responsible. I saw things, but I didn’t do anything about them. It wasn’t my job to actually oversee anything, and even though I was supposed to be the government’s eyes and ears, somehow, I missed all the obvious corruption right in front of me.”

Are you kidding me? This guy sat in board meetings where millions of dollars—your tax dollars—were being funneled to companies with clear, blatant conflicts of interest. He says, “I wasn’t a decision-maker, I was just an observer.” Observer of what? A train wreck of mismanagement? The deputy minister calls him the “eyes and ears” on the board, and yet he’s playing dumb when asked about conflicts of interest that were declared, minuted, and repeatedly ignored.

But wait—it gets better. When pressed about COVID-19 relief payments—$38 million handed out like party favors—he just shrugs and says there was “urgency.” Urgency to do what? Bail out friends and allies under the guise of saving the clean tech sector? No proper due diligence, no accountability. Just money flying out the door to keep the Trudeau administration’s cronies happy.

And this guy wants us to believe he wasn’t complicit? That he had no responsibility? The buck stops nowhere, apparently—not with Noseworthy, not with SDTC, not with the Liberal government that created this green slush fund in the first place.

This is exactly what you get with Trudeau’s “green energy” initiatives. It’s not about the environment; it’s about lining the pockets of insiders and calling it progress. Canadians deserve better. But under Trudeau, this is just another day in the swamp.

Now let’s get into the Public Accounts Committee’s Meeting 145, starting with Rick Perkins and his fiery takedown of this shameless display of negligence. Buckle up, folks, because it only gets worse from here.

Rick Perkins Exposes Liberal Rot

 

Here’s the scene: Conservative MP Rick Perkins goes on the offensive, trying to get a straight answer out of Andrew Noseworthy. And what does he find? A human shrug emoji. Noseworthy, the so-called “eyes and ears” of the Deputy Minister at SDTC, claims he sat in meetings, watched directors funnel taxpayer money into their own companies, and thought, “Not my problem!”

Perkins doesn’t let up. He reads the SDTC Act aloud: “No director shall profit or gain any income.” It’s not rocket science, folks. It’s the law. But Noseworthy’s excuse? He didn’t have an “independent way” of assessing conflicts of interest. What?! The conflicts were declared in the meetings! The minutes even said, “Here’s who’s conflicted. Here’s who’s getting millions of dollars.” Yet Noseworthy insists he couldn’t connect the dots.

Then Perkins drops the hammer. He points to André-Lise Mato, a Liberal insider who raked in $10.4 million for companies she’s connected to—all in direct violation of the SDTC Act. And what does Noseworthy say? He assumed recusal was enough. Recusal! As if stepping out of the room while your cronies vote to line your pockets somehow makes it okay.

But the pièce de résistance is when Perkins asks Noseworthy the million-dollar question: “Who are you covering up for?” And what does Noseworthy do? He throws up his hands and says he didn’t know it was his job to report conflicts. His job was apparently to sit there and watch taxpayer dollars burn while doing nothing.

Here’s the bottom line: This isn’t oversight—it’s willful negligence. Noseworthy didn’t miss the corruption; he just didn’t care.

Liberal Damage Control: Valarie Bradford Plays Defense

After Rick Perkins rips Andrew Noseworthy apart for his role in enabling millions of taxpayer dollars to be funneled into the pockets of Liberal insiders, here comes Valarie Bradford—stepping in with a velvet glove to do damage control. And folks, it’s laughable.

Instead of holding Noseworthy accountable, Bradford throws him a lifeline. She asks him to—what?—clarify his role again? As if we haven’t heard it already. Noseworthy, ever the bureaucrat, drones on about “policy coordination” and how he wasn’t there to actually do anything, just to… exist, apparently.

And then Bradford takes it a step further. She asks him about the conflict of interest process. Noseworthy assures her, “Oh, don’t worry, board members declared their conflicts and left the room.” Oh, really? They declared their conflicts before approving millions of dollars for their own companies? And that’s fine because they recused themselves? What kind of clown world are we living in where this is acceptable?

But Bradford doesn’t press him. Nope, instead, she shifts the focus to COVID-19. According to Noseworthy, the clean tech sector was in a “state of crisis.” Markets collapsing, capital drying up, supply chains falling apart—it’s the same sob story they always trot out to justify throwing taxpayer money out the window. What he doesn’t mention? That $38 million in COVID-19 funds went out with no proper oversight or accountability. Were they saving the sector or just padding their friends’ pockets?

And then, the cherry on top: Bradford asks Noseworthy to wax poetic about Canada’s “potential” in the clean tech sector. Of course, Noseworthy obliges, talking about how promising the industry is and how Canada can be a global leader. Sure, it’s easy to sound optimistic when you’ve just described how billions of dollars are wasted propping up a system riddled with corruption.

Here’s the truth: This wasn’t a real line of questioning. It was a performance—an attempt to clean up the mess Perkins just exposed. Bradford wasn’t there to get answers. She was there to protect the Liberals’ green slush fund and keep the gravy train running. It’s not accountability; it’s theater.

Bloc Asks the $38 Million dollar question

 

Bloc MP Nathalie Sinclair-Desgagné took Noseworthy to task, and folks, it wasn’t pretty. She grilled him on the $38 million in COVID-19 payments that SDTC threw around like Monopoly money, completely outside the rules of their contribution agreements. And Noseworthy? He admitted he knew these payments didn’t comply. But don’t worry, he flagged it to the Deputy Minister. And then what? Nothing. Just more hand-wringing about how it wasn’t his job to actually enforce the rules.

But Sinclair-Desgagné didn’t let him off the hook. She drove home the point that Noseworthy’s entire salary—paid for by taxpayers—was supposed to fund oversight and accountability. Instead, we got a guy sitting in meetings, nodding along, and then shrugging when asked about the massive breaches happening under his nose.

And let’s talk about that bioreactor project she brought up. A piece of equipment worth $6.2 million somehow ended up costing over $8 million—an extra couple million dollars that just poof! disappeared into the ether. When pressed, Noseworthy said, “Oh, I didn’t know the financing details.” Of course not. That would require actually doing his job.

Here’s the kicker: Sinclair-Desgagné asked the hard question everyone’s thinking—“How could you, as a public servant, let taxpayers get ripped off like this?” And Noseworthy’s answer was the same tired song and dance: “It wasn’t my responsibility.”

Let’s be honest. This guy wasn’t a watchdog. He was a lapdog, sitting there to give the appearance of oversight while turning a blind eye to corruption. Taxpayer dollars were wasted, contribution agreements were ignored, and Noseworthy’s excuse? “Not my job.”

Sinclair-Desgagné nailed it: Canadians pay public servants like Noseworthy to protect their interests, not to act as human rubber stamps for Trudeau’s green slush fund. But instead, we’re left with millions of dollars missing, projects overinflated, and a government official who thinks shrugging is a valid defense.

NDP’s Missed Opportunity: Softball Questions Fall Short

Richard Cannings, the NDP’s mild-mannered investigator, gently tiptoeing around the real issues. Instead of holding Andrew Noseworthy’s feet to the fire, Cannings basically hands him a pillow. “Could you kindly explain your role again?” Really? How many times does Noseworthy have to repeat the same nonsense before people realize it’s a dodge?

Noseworthy again plays the broken record: “I wasn’t responsible. I didn’t have oversight. I was just there for policy coordination.” Sure, because policy coordination is what taxpayers are worried about when $38 million is being funneled into friends’ pockets during the COVID-19 “crisis.”

And then Cannings digs into conflicts of interest, asking if board members who declared conflicts actually stayed for discussions or left the room. Noseworthy assures him, “Oh, they usually recused themselves.” Usually? That’s reassuring! But the real kicker? Noseworthy claims he never witnessed violations. Never. Despite the Auditor General uncovering 186 conflicts, Noseworthy saw nothing. Blind? Or just complicit?

But wait—it gets better. Cannings asks about the process for approving projects. Noseworthy proudly describes a system where the Project Review Committee does all the heavy lifting and the board just rubber-stamps their work. Cannings doesn’t even challenge him on the obvious: if this committee is the gatekeeper, where’s the oversight? Who’s accountable? Clearly not Noseworthy.

And then we get to the $38 million in COVID-19 payments, the scandal at the heart of all this. Does Cannings press Noseworthy on the illegality of handing out taxpayer money without following contribution agreements? Nope. Instead, he lets Noseworthy ramble on about the “urgency” of the pandemic as if that justifies blatant mismanagement.

Here’s the truth: Cannings had a chance to demand answers, but instead, he gave Noseworthy the opportunity to spin the same excuses we’ve heard for 30 minutes. “I didn’t know.” “It wasn’t my job.” Give me a break. This isn’t accountability; it’s a softball game.

Taxpayers deserve better. They deserve someone who will actually stand up and say, “This is corruption, plain and simple.” But instead, we get Cannings politely nodding along while the Liberals laugh all the way to the bank. This is why Canadians are so frustrated with government—it’s all talk, no action.

Conservative Michael Cooper Turns Up the Heat

 

Michael Cooper didn’t just ask Andrew Noseworthy questions—he eviscerated him. If Rick Perkins set the tone, Cooper turned the heat all the way up. And the question at the heart of this whole fiasco? “How could you sit through board meetings where directors blatantly violated the SDTC Act and say nothing?”

Cooper pulled no punches. He read section 12 of the SDTC Act aloud: “No director shall profit or gain any income.” It’s crystal clear, right? But then there’s André-Lise Mato—an SDTC board member—walking away with $10.4 million for her companies. That’s not a conflict of interest, folks. That’s a crime.

And what does Noseworthy say? Oh, “I assumed recusals were enough.” Really? Since when does stepping out of the room magically erase the fact that you’re breaking the law? Cooper wasn’t buying it, and neither should Canadians.

But wait—it gets worse. Noseworthy claims it wasn’t his job to report these violations, even though he was literally the Deputy Minister’s “eyes and ears” at SDTC. What was his job, then? Warming a chair? Collecting a paycheck? Because it sure wasn’t holding anyone accountable.

Here’s the truth: Noseworthy wasn’t just complicit; he was an enabler. He sat there, meeting after meeting, watching millions of taxpayer dollars flow into the hands of Liberal insiders. And when pressed on why he didn’t do anything, his defense is essentially, “It wasn’t my problem.”

Cooper nailed it. This isn’t just bureaucratic incompetence; it’s systemic corruption. The SDTC Act was broken. Taxpayer money was stolen. And Noseworthy sat there, twiddling his thumbs, while the Liberals ran their green energy slush fund like a cash cow for their friends.

Kelly McCauley’s Exposé: The Buck Stops Nowhere

Kelly McCauley followed up with Cooper and he wasn’t there to play games, folks. He walked in with the facts, and he left no room for excuses. For six straight minutes, McCauley dismantled Andrew Noseworthy’s entire defense, piece by piece, and what did we learn? That the buck doesn’t stop anywhere in Trudeau’s government.

First, McCauley establishes the obvious: Noseworthy worked closely with the Deputy Minister for years. They had meetings, they had conversations, but somehow, Noseworthy never thought to mention the glaring conflicts of interest happening right in front of him. Why? Because he “didn’t think it was his job.” Of course not! Why do your job when you can just collect a paycheck and look the other way?

Then McCauley goes for the jugular. He asks why Noseworthy didn’t report these conflicts to the Minister, as required by Article 20.03 of the contribution agreement. And what does Noseworthy say? “Oh, I assumed the board was handling it.” Right. The same board handing out millions of dollars to its own members was “handling” the conflicts. That’s like letting the fox guard the henhouse and then acting surprised when feathers are flying.

And let’s not forget the whistleblower. A lower-level public servant had the courage to come forward and expose the rot at SDTC. But Noseworthy? The Deputy Minister’s “eyes and ears”? He sat in the room, watched the corruption unfold, and did absolutely nothing. McCauley makes it clear: this isn’t just incompetence—it’s a complete failure of accountability.

But here’s the real kicker: Noseworthy keeps saying, “It wasn’t my role.” Not his role to oversee conflicts. Not his role to report violations. Not his role to ensure taxpayers’ money wasn’t being flushed down the drain. So, what was his role? To show up and nod along while Trudeau’s Liberal insiders cashed in?

McCauley’s cross-examination exposes the truth about this government: no one takes responsibility because the system is designed to protect the corrupt. Millions of dollars, your dollars, are gone. And Noseworthy? He’s not apologizing. He’s not taking ownership. He’s passing the buck like it’s an Olympic sport.

This is Trudeau’s Canada, folks. A government where “accountability” is a dirty word, and taxpayer money is a slush fund for insiders. McCauley pulled back the curtain, but unless people like Noseworthy are held accountable, the swamp isn’t draining anytime soon.

Final Verdict: A Government Designed to Protect Corruption

What was this guy’s job? I’ll tell you what his job was: to be a useful idiot for the board. That’s it. A rubber-stamp figurehead who sat in the room to give the illusion of oversight. “Look, we have checks and balances!” they’d say. But in reality, Noseworthy’s only responsibility was to collect his taxpayer-funded paycheck and look the other way while corruption ran wild.

Let’s be clear: It doesn’t take a Ph.D., a law degree, or even a high school diploma to know that when taxpayer dollars are being funneled into board members’ pockets, you REPORT IT. You stand up and say, “This is wrong!” But not Noseworthy. Nope, he just shrugged, collected his salary, and moved on. Why? Because that’s the system—designed by Trudeau’s Liberals to enable the swamp to thrive.

This guy sat through meetings where conflicts of interest were openly discussed. He saw money being handed out like candy to insiders, and his excuse is, “Well, I didn’t think it was my job.” Really? Then why were you there? Why did Canadians pay for your salary, your benefits, your pension, if you weren’t going to do the bare minimum and speak up?

Let me say it plainly: This guy needs to be charged. The SDTC Act was broken—repeatedly—and he was complicit. He may not have pocketed the money himself, but he enabled the system that let it happen. And as a taxpayer, I want every single dollar that went to him reimbursed.

Because here’s the reality: This isn’t just about Andrew Noseworthy. This is about a government that has normalized corruption, where accountability is dead, and where public servants think their only job is to protect the Liberal swamp. Canadians deserve better. And it starts by holding people like Noseworthy accountable—because if we don’t, the message is clear: corruption pays.

Todayville is a digital media and technology company. We profile unique stories and events in our community. Register and promote your community event for free.

Follow Author

Business

Canada’s attack on religious charities makes no fiscal sense

Published on

This article supplied by Troy Media.

Troy MediaBy Lee Harding

Ottawa is targeting the charitable tax status of faith-based groups. The fallout could hit every Canadian community

The possibility that Canadian religious organizations will lose their charitable status has never been more real.

On Jan. 6, Parliament’s Standing Committee on Finance recommended numerous changes, including Recommendation 430: “Amend the Income Tax Act to define a charity, which would remove the privileged status of ‘advancement of religion’ as a
charitable purpose, meaning faith-based organizations could lose access to tax benefits.”

The B.C. Humanist Association, a secular advocacy group, has long advocated for removing religion as a stand-alone charitable purpose. That idea is reflected in Recommendation 430. Before adopting such a proposal, the finance committee should have reviewed a study published last November by Cardus, a Canadian think tank focused on faith, civil society and public policy.

The Cardus study examined 64 Christian congregations in various provinces to assess the socio-economic value of their impact. It suggested that congregations make an $18.2-billion socioeconomic contribution to Canadian society, well in excess of tax exemptions and rebates equal to $1.7 billion. The net positive result of $16.5 billion—a “halo effect”—is more than 10
times the value of the tax exemptions.

The implications are clear: society will be worse off if the loss of religious charitable status leads to a drop of more than 10 per cent in donations to affected charities. Why risk it?

When congregations unravel, society follows in ways that go beyond mere economics. As Cardus explains, churches often provide space, often at no cost or below-market rates, for cultural and artistic events, recreation and sports, education, social services and other community activities. They also deliver addiction recovery, counselling and mental-health support, child care, refugee sponsorship and settlement services for newcomers, education and food banks.

Whether institutionally or personally, helping people is often an integral extension of religious belief. A 2012 Statistics Canada study found that the 14 per cent of Canadians who attend church weekly offer 29 per cent of the nation’s volunteer hours and provide 45 per cent of all charitable donations.

No party has explicitly endorsed removing charitable status for religion. But the Bloc Québécois, NDP and Liberals dominated the committee recommendation to remove religion as a charitable purpose. The Conservative Party, which held a minority on the committee, was alone in opposing it outright.

Randy Crosson, executive director of Freedoms Advocate, is organizing a national pushback. In a speech given Oct. 1 to the Regina Civic Awareness and Action Network, he said the recommendation was a “shot across the bow” to gauge public reaction.

“This isn’t just about donors losing tax receipts. It’s about churches losing buildings, staff losing jobs, and ministries being forced to shut down due to reduced donations. This is a direct threat to the future of faith in Canada, and it’s happening fast,” Crosson explained in an online video.

Crosson said religion enjoys less participation and more opposition than in previous decades. Church attendance has slumped since the pandemic, and some Canadians continue to criticize churches for their historical involvement in residential schools.

The Quebec government has also pursued a strongly secular approach to public policy. In 2019, Quebec’s Bill 21 used the notwithstanding clause of the Constitution to ban public servants from wearing religious symbols, such as hijabs, turbans or crucifixes. In August, Quebec’s secularism minister, Jean François Roberge, said that the “proliferation of street prayer is a serious and sensitive issue” and promised to bring legislation to ban it.

That’s why Crosson is urging religious leaders to launch a three-part campaign.

“First, an open letter drafted with legal and faith leaders to show government and the media the real value of the church in Canadian society. Second, mass signatures. We need churches, leaders and individuals to sign the letter,” Crosson says in a video appeal. “And third, a national documentary based on the open letter. This will be released publicly and spread through churches, media and social platforms.”

The Frontier Centre for Public Policy has also come out publicly against the proposed change. A report by Senior Fellow Pierre Gilbert entitled Revoking the Charitable Status for the Advancement of Religion: A Critical Assessment makes a case for the status quo, pointing to benefits such as those mentioned above.

For now, at least, the idea is on hold. A published email response by Liberal MP Karina Gould, the chair of the House of Commons’ Standing Committee on Finance, said the charitable status of faith-driven non-profits will not be revoked in the Nov. 4 budget.

That’s good news. Faith is a big motivator of charity, and it’s hard to see how a less charitable society is a better one. If governments want to balance the books, they should rein in spending, not put faith-based charities at risk.

Lee Harding is a research fellow for the Frontier Centre for Public Policy. 

Troy Media empowers Canadian community news outlets by providing independent, insightful analysis and commentary. Our mission is to support local media in helping Canadians stay informed and engaged by delivering reliable content that  strengthens community connections and deepens understanding across the country

Continue Reading

Business

When Words Cook the Books: The Politics of ‘Investment-Speak’

Published on

Haultain’s Substack is a reader-supported publication.
To receive new posts and support our work, please Subscribe to Haultain Research

The trick lies in the word “investment.” By separating “operational spending” from “capital investment,” Ottawa can now reclassify expenditures, moving them from one column to another without changing the underlying reality. A deficit remains a deficit.

Next week, Ottawa will table its first budget in nearly two years. The government has already told us what to expect. In October, the Department of Finance announced a new “Capital Budgeting Framework” that would allow Canada to “spend less so it can invest more.” The phrasing sounds prudent. It is not. It is a linguistic sleight of hand designed to obscure what the government is actually doing: spending more while pretending to exercise restraint.

The older meanings of the two words reveal the moral inversion. To spend, from the Latin dispendere, meant to weigh out and let go. It implied the careful release of what one possessed, whether money, time, or energy. In Old English and Middle English, to “spend” one’s life or strength was to pour it out, knowingly and finitely. There was gravity to the act; what was spent was gone. To invest, by contrast, came from the Latin investīre: to clothe or cover. Before it became a financial term, it referred to the ceremonial act of placing robes upon a monarch or knight, endowing them with office or honour. In its financial sense, to invest was to “clothe money” in a venture, expecting return. The first word carried finality; the second, expectancy. Spending ended a possession; investing disguised it in the promise of future gain.

From these roots, the moral difference is clear. Spending belongs to the household, measured, finite, and real. Investing belongs to the court, symbolic, ceremonial, and often self-flattering. When a government calls its spending “investment,” it does not change the transaction; it changes the costume.

The gradual adoption of this vocabulary by governments is an old habit dressed as innovation. For two decades, Ottawa has been learning to speak the language of investment as disguise. Budgets that once tabulated “program spending” now announce “investments in Canadians.” Under the Trudeau governments, tax credits and subsidies were cast as “investments in innovation.” The Canada Infrastructure Bank was sold as “leveraging private investment” rather than public debt. Even emergency COVID programs were justified as “investing in recovery.” The word became a universal solvent, dissolving distinctions between cost, borrowing, and speculation.

This year’s government has merely made the trend official. In October, the Department of Finance released Modernizing Canada’s Budgeting Approach, explaining that the new Capital Budgeting Framework would “distinguish day-to-day operational spending from capital investment.” The document asserts that this will “guide decisions and help prioritize. The trick lies in the word “investment.” By separating “operational spending” from “capital investment,” Ottawa can now reclassify expenditures, moving them from one column to another without changing the underlying reality. A deficit remains a deficit. Borrowed money is still borrowed. But call it investment, and suddenly it carries the glow of foresight and responsibility. The government plans to balance its operating budget while continuing to borrow for capital projects. The ledger will grow, but the language will comfort.

This is not merely bad accounting. It is a deliberate corruption of language in service of political evasion. And it reveals something deeper about how modern governments govern: not through honest argument but through the manipulation of words.

Ottawa has been perfecting this costume for two decades. Budgets that once listed “program spending” now announce “investments in Canadians.” Tax credits became “investments in innovation.” The Canada Infrastructure Bank was sold as “leveraging private investment,” not public debt. COVID emergency programs were justified as “investing in recovery.” The word became a universal solvent, dissolving the distinction between cost, borrowing, and speculation.

This year’s framework makes the habit official. The October document from Finance Canada promises that the new approach will “guide decisions and help prioritize investments that generate long-term benefits for Canadians, such as major projects, housing, clean energy, and infrastructure.” The tone is managerial and assured. The assumption goes unexamined: that one can divide the public purse into virtuous investment and wasteful spending, and that the government possesses the wisdom to know the difference.

Haultain Research is a reader-supported publication.

To receive new posts and support our work, consider becoming a donor or a paid subscriber.

The Prime Minister echoed the line in his own announcement: “Budget 2025 will set out our plan to spend less so we can invest more in Canada’s long-term growth.” Read carefully, the statement reveals its own dishonesty. To “spend less” no longer means reducing outlays. It means shifting expenditures into a different category where they escape the stigma of cost. The government intends to continue borrowing, but it will refer to that borrowing by a supposedly more respectable name.

The definition of capital investment is conveniently broad. It includes tax credits, corporate subsidies, and nearly any policy “that contributes to capital formation.” The Fraser Institute and others have warned that this expansiveness allows Ottawa to reclassify politically favored programs as investment, inflating the appearance of fiscal discipline while reducing transparency. A deficit becomes a “generational investment.” A subsidy becomes a “partnership.” Waste is rebranded as “capacity-building.” The language does the work that policy cannot.

Recent history exposes the fraud. Consider the electric vehicle battery subsidies, heralded as “historic investments” in the green economy. Tens of billions were promised. Projects have stalled, been postponed, or quietly abandoned. The so-called green slush fund, officially presented as an investment vehicle for sustainable innovation, turned out to be a network of cronyism and waste. These, too, were dressed as investments. When their failures emerged, the language remained untouched, as though incompetence and corruption could not breach the sanctity of the term.

The alchemy works because language shapes perception faster than arithmetic. “Investment” suggests prudence and reward. “Spending” suggests indulgence and loss. Citizens hear that the government is “investing in Canadians” and imagine return, not depletion. The moral weight of the word does the political work. Accountability fades behind aspiration.

There is a deeper danger here. Words like spend and cost belong to the vocabulary of limits. They remind us that government operates with other people’s money. Invest, as politicians now use it, belongs to the vocabulary of boundless promise. It implies benevolence without constraint, as though the state were a benefactor rather than a borrower. When the government claims to “invest in Canadians,” it implies ownership of the very people whose money it spends. The inversion of subject and object is telling. It reveals the paternalism at the heart of modern technocracy.

George Orwell wrote that political language “is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable.” He understood that the corruption of speech precedes the corruption of thought. When a government renames its spending as investment, it is not simply misdescribing an accounting category. It is reshaping the citizen’s perception of what government may do. If all spending is investment, then any limit on it seems stingy, even immoral. The citizen becomes debtor to a future defined by the state.

The deceit is subtle. No one disputes that bridges or power grids can be sound investments. The deceit lies in the implication that all government activity now yields return, that every expense is productive, every grant visionary. By this logic, no spending is considered waste and no deficit is deemed reckless, as long as it is labelled as an investment. The language abolishes the distinction between consumption and creation, between present sacrifice and future gain. In doing so, it abolishes prudence itself.

Prudence, in the older sense, is not caution for its own sake. It is moral realism: the recognition that resources are finite and choices have costs. The new investment rhetoric invites the opposite illusion. Money, once moralized as investment, appears to carry no weight of trade-off. Ottawa can clothe profligacy in the robes of responsibility. The government that promises to “spend less and invest more” is like a man claiming to drink less whiskey by pouring it into crystal.

The cost of this linguistic vanity is not only fiscal. It corrodes public trust. Citizens sense the dissonance. Deficits widen, taxes climb, promises multiply. When language becomes a substitute for honesty, cynicism follows. A people that cannot trust its government’s words cannot trust its numbers.

The remedy is simple, though seldom easy: call things by their names. Spending is spending, whether on roads, welfare, or research. Some are wise, some are foolish. But none becomes virtuous by relabeling. The duty of government is not to invent euphemisms but to justify expenditures plainly and bear the consequences. That is what accountability means.

Roger Scruton observed that conservatism, properly understood, is “the politics of the tried and tested against the politics of experiment.” In fiscal speech, that means preferring accuracy to allure. A government confident in its stewardship would not fear plain-spoken spending. Only one uneasy with its own excess needs the comfort of investment.

Ottawa’s linguistic reform is therefore not a matter of diction. It is an attempt to alter reality through language, to convert liability into virtue by decree. The danger is that citizens, lulled by investment-speak, will cease to notice the arithmetic beneath. The numbers will grow; the language will glow. By the time the robe is lifted, the treasury will be bare.

That is not a forecast. It is a warning. When governments clothe waste in the garments of investment, they are not modernizing accounting. They are modernizing deceit.

Share

We are grateful that you’re reading an article from Haultain Research.

For the full experience, and to help us bring you more quality research and commentary,

please Subscribe to Haultain Research

Continue Reading

Trending

X