Business
Government laws designed to rescue Canadian media have done the opposite

From the MacDonald-Laurier Institute
This article first appeared as the cover story to our September 2023 issue of Inside Policy. You can download the full issue here.
By Peter Menzies, October 4, 2023
The federal government has made a regulatory mess with wrongheaded legislation targeting digital media content.
Few things are more fundamental to a nation’s economic prosperity and social cohesion than a robust communications framework.
Canada has its challenges in terms of rural and northern internet and mobile connectivity, but the nation’s overall communications mainframe is, by most international measures, in good shape. The rest of the story involving what gets carried on the mainframe (i.e., the actual content) isn’t as pretty. In fact, two recent communications policy initiatives proposed by the federal government have put tens of thousands of jobs at risk in the creative and news industries.
Money goes where it is likely to generate profit, and if some key arteries aren’t unclogged quickly, the flow of communications investment dollars in Canada could seize up. Worse, the future of what has been a thriving creative economy, driven by independent content creators, is now uncertain.
Meanwhile, the news industry is on the cusp of becoming permanently reliant on government subsidies – a dependency that’s certain to undermine the public’s already wavering trust in its independence.
But first, the good news. While measures vary by source and date, Canada consistently ranks among the world’s top 20 nations when it comes to fixed broadband connectivity, and as high as No. 1 in the world when it comes to mobile internet capacity. Given that most of nations in the top ten for broadband connectivity are smaller in landmass than Prince Edward Island, this is a considerable achievement for a country the size of Canada. This connectivity, however, has come at a premium – consumer in this country are historically among those paying the highest rates anywhere in the world, particularly when it comes to mobile plans. Costs to consumers remain high but have been trending downward in recent years as carriers shift strategic priorities from acquiring new consumers to retaining existing ones.
Far more challenging is a regulatory environment that is less than friendly when it comes to attracting private investment. The Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission (CRTC) has been risk-averse in its dealings with Mobile Virtual Network Operators (MVNOs) and smaller Internet Service Providers (ISPs) looking for competitive access rates to incumbent networks. Still, competition is one area that appears to be a priority for the CRTC. The regulator’s new chair, Vicky Eatrides, has a background in competition policy; a new vice chair, Adam Scott, is thoroughly familiar with the Telecom industrial framework; and the new Ontario Regional Commissioner, Bram Abramson, has experience as a regulatory officer for a smaller telco. (Abramson’s former employer, TekSavvy Solutions, recently waved the white flag in its efforts to compete in the Canadian market and put itself up for sale.)
Now the bad news – and, fair warning, there’s a lot of it.
Canada is aggressively regulating the internet – not in priority areas such as privacy, algorithms and data collection, but in terms of its content and its users’ freedom of navigation. The Online Streaming Act (Bill C-11) came into force in the spring, amending the Broadcasting Act to define the internet’s audio and video content as “broadcasting” and, as such, placing all this content under the authority of the CRTC. The goals remain the same as they did during the broadcast radio and cable television world of the early 1990s: the funding of certified TV and film properties, ensuring Canadian content (CanCon) gets priority over foreign programming and ensuring designated groups – BIPOC and LGBTQ2S, among other acronyms – and official language minorities are represented. How exactly the CRTC intends to achieve this without disrupting what has been a booming decade for film and television production in a freewheeling global market remains to be seen. As does how it will give its supply-managed content priority without imposing economic harm on the 100,000 Canadians who earn a living in the unlicensed, uncertified world of YouTube and other major streaming platforms.
While the CRTC has promised to provide at least preliminary answers to these questions by the end of next year, years of regulatory haggling and court challenges await and the regulator’s reputation for the timely resolution of matters is spotty at best. As of September 22, for instance, it still hadn’t dealt with a cabinet order to review its CBC licensing decision; a decision which, itself, which took 18 months for the regulator to reach (following a January 2021 hearing that was held three years after the term of the CBC’s previous license had expired). Regulatory sloth of this nature on a routine matter does not inspire much optimism for the expedient handling of the far more complex issue of online streaming.
Indeed, the burden of the Online Streaming Act has already overwhelmed the CRTC’s administrative capacities. In August, it autorenewed the licenses of 343 television channels, discretionary services, and cable and satellite services for two to three years each. It subsequently announced it wouldn’t be dealing with any radio matters at all for “at least” two years. It even nervously punted a demand for the cancellation of Fox News’ Canadian carriage into the future by declaring it necessary to re-do the entire framework involving cable carriage of foreign television channels. It has clearly signaled that it plans to manage nothing other than telecom and Online Streaming Act issues for years to come. Everything else is on hold until such time comes to initiate a catch-up process that, in turn, will itself take years to clear the logjam. All this at a time of significant disruption that demands corporate and regulatory nimbleness.
But even what appears to be catastrophic regulatory arrest pales in comparison to the impact of the federal government’s second significant piece of new internet legislation: the Online News Act. Rarely has legislation designed to assist a sector – news production – been so poorly constructed that it has managed to make everything worse for everyone involved.
Based on the unproven premise that Big Tech companies were profiting from “stealing” content from news organizations, the Act was designed to force Meta (Facebook’s parent company) and Google to redistribute their considerable advertising revenue to those who used to receive the lion’s share of this revenue – newspapers and broadcasters. From the beginning, Meta indicated that the premise and the cost of the legislation, unless amended, would force it to cease the carriage of links to news stories and suspend its existing support programs for Canadian journalism.
The government and the news industry lobbyists who backed the bill grossly overestimated their economic value to Meta and insisted the tech giant was bluffing. Last week, however, Brian Myles, Director of Le Devoir, told an online panel hosted by the Canadian Journalism Foundation that it was clear Meta wasn’t bluffing and, going forward, news organizations would have to adapt to its exit from the market and the considerable financial impact it will have on their industry. He nevertheless held out hope that a rapprochement of some kind might still be possible with Google.
Like Meta, Google has indicated that it, too, will suspend both news linkage and its current partnerships with Canadian news organizations, unless the federal government can provide more economically acceptable options than what it has heretofore offered. As much financial harm as Meta’s departure will cause, there is consensus that Google’s departure – if it occurs – would be a disaster on a nuclear scale.
Even if a deal is reached, the best the news industry can hope for is that Google’s financial concessions will offset a portion of the losses suffered from losing access to Facebook, Instagram and Threads (among other Meta properties). Any money that can be squeezed out of an agreement with Google would be meaningful but a far cry from the hundreds of millions the industry was dreaming of a year ago. The largest recipients of any such windfall, of course, will be those who least need it – namely CBC and Bellmedia.
The bottom line is that, following passage the Online News Act, there will be less revenue for Canadian news organizations than there was just a few months ago. As a result, publishers are pleading for “temporary” measures such as the Journalism Labour Tax Credit and Local Journalism Initiative to be not just extended but enhanced. Up to 35 percent of legacy newsrooms costs would be covered by the federal government while, without Facebook, it will be near impossible for local news innovators outside of the legacy bubble to build audiences.
Next up is an anticipated Online Harms Act, designed to control “lawful but awful” speech through a government-appointed Digital Safety Commissioner. Expect more policy mayhem in the months to come.
Peter Menzies is a senior fellow at MLI and a former vice-chair of the CRTC.
Automotive
$15 Billion, Zero Assurances: Stellantis Abandons Brampton as Trudeau-Era Green Deal Collapses

Carney issues memos, Joly writes letters, and Freeland hides abroad—while 3,000 Canadian workers pay the price for a green gamble built on denial and delusion.
Stellantis has announced they’re leaving Brampton. That’s it. End of story.
Three thousand workers. Gone. A manufacturing base gutted. A city thrown into economic chaos. And a federal government left holding a $15 billion bag it handed over like a drunk tourist at a rigged poker table.
The Jeep Compass—the very vehicle they promised would anchor Ontario’s role in the so-called “EV transition”—will no longer be built in Canada. Production is moving to Belvidere, Illinois. The same company that cashed billions of your tax dollars under the banner of “green jobs” and “economic transformation” has slammed the door and walked out. And no, this isn’t a surprise. This was baked into the cake from day one.
Let’s rewind.
In April 2023, under Justin Trudeau’s government, Chrystia Freeland—then Finance Minister—and François-Philippe Champagne, the Industry Minister, announced what they called a “historic” agreement: a multi-billion-dollar subsidy package to Stellantis and LG Energy Solution to build an EV battery plant in Windsor, Ontario.
It was sold as a turning point. The future. A Green Revolution. Thousands of jobs. A new industrial strategy for Canada. But in reality? It was a Hail Mary pass by a government that had already crippled Canada’s energy sector and needed a shiny new narrative heading into an election cycle.
And here’s what they didn’t tell you: the deal had no enforceable commitment to keep auto production in Brampton. There were performance-based incentives—yes—but only for the battery plant. Not for the Brampton assembly line. Not for the existing workforce. And certainly not for ensuring the long-term health of Canada’s domestic auto industry.
They tied this country’s future to a globalist fantasy. A fantasy that assumed the United States would remain under the control of climate-obsessed technocrats like Joe Biden. A fantasy that required a compliant America pushing carbon neutrality, electric vehicle mandates, and billions in matching subsidies for green infrastructure.
But in November 2024, Americans said no.
Donald Trump was elected president. And just as he promised, he tore Biden’s green agenda to shreds. He pulled out of the Paris Climate Accord—again. He dismantled the EV mandates. He unleashed American oil and gas. But he didn’t stop there. Trump imposed a sweeping America First manufacturing policy, pairing 25% tariffs on imported goods with aggressive incentives to bring factories, jobs, and supply chains back onto U.S. soil.
And it’s working—because the United States doesn’t strangle its industries with the kind of red tape, carbon taxes, and bureaucratic self-sabotage that Canada does. Energy is cheaper, regulations are lighter, and capital actually wants to stay. So when companies like Stellantis look at the map, it’s no contest.
Now Stellantis, like any rational corporation, is doing what any business does under pressure: protecting its bottom line. They’re shifting production to a country that rewards investment instead of punishing it, a country that actually wants to build things again. That’s Trump’s America—competitive, unapologetic, and open for business—while Canada clings to a collapsing green fantasy and wonders why the factories keep leaving.

So what does Canada do in response? Our Prime Minister, Mark Carney, issues a carefully scripted memo on social media—not action, not legislation, not binding commitments—just a memo—reassuring workers he “stands by” the auto sector while offering vague promises about future budgets and long-term resilience. Lets be clear Carney isn’t saving jobs; he’s eulogizing them. Those 3,000 positions aren’t “paused” or “in transition.” They’re gone. Finished. Packed up and heading south. No memo, no committee, no press conference is bringing them back.
Chrystia Freeland, the architect of this mess, isn’t around to answer for any of it. She’s been conveniently shipped off to Kyiv, far from the consequences of the green boondoggles she helped engineer

And Industry Minister Mélanie Joly? She’s doing what this government does best: issuing strongly worded letters, drafted by lawyers, polished by comms teams, and lobbed into the void like they carry any real weight. She’s threatening legal action against Stellantis—vague, undefined, and almost certainly toothless. As if a global automaker backed by EU investors and billions in international capital is going to flinch because Ottawa wrote them a nasty note.
But let’s be absolutely clear here—what legal action? What’s the actual mechanism Ottawa is threatening to use? This wasn’t a blank cheque handed to Stellantis. According to public records, The $15 billion deal was built around performance-based incentives, structured to release funding only if Stellantis delivered on agreed milestones: production output, sales volume, battery module manufacturing at the Windsor facility. If they didn’t meet those metrics, they wouldn’t get paid. That’s the public line. That’s the defense.
Opposition Calls for Accountability
Conservatives, led by Raquel Dancho, are demanding real accountability, a formal investigation, a full reopening of the House of Commons Standing Committee on Industry and Technology (INDU) under Standing Order 106(4).
This isn’t a symbolic gesture. It’s a procedural weapon. When invoked, 106(4) forces Parliament to reconvene the committee, even if the government doesn’t want to, and compels ministers and officials to testify under oath. That’s what Dancho and her colleagues, Ted Falk, Michael Guglielmin, and Kathy Borrelli, have done. Their letter, dated October 15, 2025, demands that INDU immediately examine the Stellantis debacle — the $15 billion taxpayer-funded subsidy that failed to secure a single guarantee for Canadian auto jobs.
The letter is explicit. It references Stellantis’ decision to move Jeep Compass production from Brampton, Ontario to Illinois, a move that puts 3,000 Canadian jobs at risk despite the billions handed to the automaker under the Trudeau-Freeland-Carney green industrial strategy. It details how the federal and Ontario governments offered over $15 billion to secure battery plant investments, but with no enforceable job protection clauses to safeguard workers at Stellantis’s Canadian operations.
It doesn’t stop there. The letter points directly at Mark Carney, accusing him of breaking his promise to “put elbows up” and negotiate a fair deal with President Trump. It notes that Carney’s October 7th White House visit yielded nothing but new U.S. tariffs on Canadian autos and lumber, while Stellantis and GM expanded their operations south of the border. “Mark Carney broke his promise,” the MPs write, “and his weakness abroad is costing Canadian jobs at home.”

Dancho’s accompanying tweet lays out the message clearly and without spin:
“Stellantis received up to $15 billion in taxpayer subsidies—with no assurances of job retention in Canada. Yesterday, Stellantis announced that they were moving production to the U.S. and investing $13 billion in their economy. Conservatives are calling to reconvene the Industry Committee to study this decision and learn how such a failure happened. While the Liberals pat themselves on the back for announcements and rhetoric, auto workers are being told that their jobs are on the chopping block. They deserve clarity.”
Dancho’s move changes the game. With the NDP gutted and no longer shielding the government in committee, the opposition finally has the numbers and the mandate to dig. Ministers like Mélanie Joly and François-Philippe Champagne will now have to answer, under oath, for the deals they signed. Officials from Innovation, Finance, and Employment Canada will be subpoenaed to explain what oversight, if any, was built into the Stellantis agreements.
Final thoughts
I wrote about this when the deal was signed, and I wasn’t guessing. I said it plainly: this $15 billion green industrial experiment was a reckless, ideological bet that depended entirely on Donald Trump not winning the presidency.
Now here we are. Trump’s back in office — and he’s gone even further than I predicted. He didn’t just rip up Biden’s climate agenda; he imposed broad “America First” tariffs across the board to drag manufacturing back onto U.S. soil. Twenty-five percent duties on Canadian and Mexican goods, combined with tax breaks and energy policies that make it cheaper to produce in America than anywhere else. That single move detonated the fragile logic behind Trudeau and Freeland’s so-called industrial strategy.
So Stellantis did what any corporation would do when faced with a government that punishes production and a neighbour that rewards it: it packed up and left. The company took billions in Canadian subsidies, thanked Ottawa for the free money, then announced a $13 billion expansion in the United States—under Trump’s protectionist umbrella.
Let’s be clear: when I bet, I bet smart. I hedge. I read the table. I make damn sure I’m holding something real. These people—the Liberal government—went all in with a high card and a hollow narrative, betting your tax dollars on a political fantasy. They thought they could bluff their way into an industrial renaissance while ignoring the shift happening just across the border.
And you want final thoughts? Here they are: I am absolutely sickened by the people responsible for this disaster and you know exactly who I mean. Chrystia Freeland, who vanished from Cabinet and failed up into some made up ambassador’s post, her entire political career a string of bailouts, virtue signals, and globalist pageantry. And François-Philippe Champagne, the man who handed out our tax dollars like Monopoly money and couldn’t negotiate a cup of coffee without being outplayed.
They won an election based on this. Based on lies. Based on phony climate promises and fake job projections and polls manipulated by the same Mainstream Media that cashes federal subsidy cheques while calling themselves journalists. Do you think they’re going to hold Champagne accountable? Do you think they’re going to track Freeland down between photo ops in Kyiv and ask how 3,000 Canadian families are supposed to pay their mortgage now?
Of course not. They’re all on the same payroll.
Well guess what, I’m not. I don’t take their money. I don’t need their approval. And I am not shutting up. Not now. Not until that committee gets answers. Not until those ministers are dragged before Parliament. And not until Chrystia Freeland and François-Philippe Champagne are fired for the betrayal they’ve inflicted on Canadian workers.
This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. I’m going to bang this drum until it splits. And every time they try to bury this story, I’ll be there digging it back up. You’ve been lied to. Robbed. Betrayed. And someone is finally going to answer for it.
So stay tuned. Stay loud. And for God’s sake, stay angry.
Business
Ford’s Whisky War

Marco Navarro-Génie
One could do a whole series of opinion and research pieces on how poorly educated Canadian politicians are about economic and trade principles. Below is my latest on the topic, focusing on Doug Ford’s latest philistine tantrum. My next piece will be on Wab Kinew. Writing on their lack of discipline and poor habits can be a cottage industry for commentators.
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When a politician pours whisky on the ground, it usually means she has run out of ideas.
A few weeks ago, in September, Ontario Premier Doug Ford staged a protest worthy of a talk-show segment. Before a union crowd in Brampton, he emptied a bottle of Crown Royal onto the stage and vowed its maker, Diageo, would “pay dearly.” He threatened to pull Crown Royal (and several ither brands) from LCBO shelves, declaring Ontario would use its market power to punish the distiller for closing its Amherstburg bottling plant.
It was a vivid scene, part theatre, part tantrum, and entirely revealing.
Diageo is one of the world’s largest producers of spirits and beer, headquartered in London, England. It owns more than two hundred brands, including Johnnie Walker, Guinness, Tanqueray, and Baileys, and sells in over 180 countries. The company was formed in 1997 through the merger of Guinness and Grand Metropolitan, and it inherited Crown Royal from the old Seagram portfolio. Diageo’s Canadian operations remain significant, with the Gimli, Manitoba distillery producing every drop of Crown Royal whisky sold worldwide. It’s a Canadian product.
Diageo’s decision was not an act of treachery but arithmetic. The company plans to close its Amherstburg facility by 2026, shifting bottling to Quebec and parts of the United States. Roughly two hundred jobs will vanish. For a town of twenty-three thousand, that is a deep cut. Yet Ford’s reaction transforms an industrial decision into a political drama. He recasts an economic adjustment as a moral betrayal, as if loyalty to Ontario were a debt every business must pay in perpetuity.
That sentiment plays well at partisan rallies. But in practice, it blurs the boundary between government and market. When politicians confuse the two, policy becomes a tool of temper rather than governance.
Once a premier signals that he will use public institutions like the LCBO as weapons, investors take note. And they should. They infer that Ontario’s business climate can change with the premier’s mood. Capital, unlike politicians, is dispassionate. It goes where rules are predictable and contracts honoured, not where leaders lecture firms for disobedience.
Markets, as Adam Smith observed, are a network of trust. Replace trust with coercion or shaming, and investment flows away as surely as whisky poured on the pavement.
Ford casts himself as the friend of “working people.” Yet his fury threatens workers far from Ontario. The whisky he attacked onstage is distilled and aged in Gimli, Manitoba, from prairie grain and Canadian labour. Eighty people work at that distillery. Thousands of farmers supply its rye and corn. If Diageo decides Canada has become a political hazard, those Manitoban jobs will be among the first casualties. A tantrum in Brampton can send a chill all the way to Lake Winnipeg.
This is the irony of populist economic nationalism: in defending a few hundred local jobs, it imperils thousands more across the whole federation. It’s thoughtless.
Ford’s rhetoric also clashes with his own record. When electric-vehicle battery ventures trimmed their job projections despite billions in subsidies, the premier offered understanding, not outrage. When Brookfield shifted parts of its business operations abroad, there was no rally, no public denunciation, no bottle hitting the floor. Evidently, corporate disloyalty is tolerable, until it involves whisky.
Such inconsistency is not a principle but an impulse. Governments that choose favourites create uncertainty for everyone. When rules bend to political sentiment, each firm wonders whether it will be next in line for punishment. And so the province that once competed for investment becomes a place investors compete to avoid.
If Ford truly wished to defend Ontario’s workers, he would ask why bottling in his province became uneconomic in the first place. The answer is not a mystery. Ontario carries high energy costs, heavy regulation, and steep land prices. Every company weighs those burdens. Threatening one firm for noticing them will not persuade others to stay.
Political anger cannot repeal common sense arithmetic.
The irony deepens because Crown Royal remains Canadian in every essential sense. Its grains, water, and labour are Canadian. Its distilling craft and heritage are Canadian. Ownership by a British firm changes the shareholder, not the spirit. Punishing that success because it offends provincial pride reduces patriotism to parochialism. The brand’s global reach is a quiet advertisement for Canadian skill, and it is an achievement to be respected, not vandalized.
The premier’s defenders will say he is merely standing up for Ontario workers. But bluster is not courage. Proper defence of working people lies in creating the conditions that let enterprise and local ingenuity flourish. When government swaps policy for theatre, it only feeds resentment and starves opportunity.
Economic freedom depends on restraint. Governments must regulate and tax modestly, but they must also know when not to act. Every unnecessary intervention signals risk. The LCBO should be a neutral marketplace, not a political cudgel. Once it becomes a stage for senseless retribution, the line between free commerce and state coercion dissolves.
Ontario’s grievance is understandable; its method is reckless. A government may lament job losses, negotiate incentives, or compete for reinvestment. It may not commandeer a marketplace to punish a decision it dislikes. In a constitutional order, power is exercised through law, not vendetta.
Amherstburg deserves sympathy. No question. Two hundred jobs lost in a small town is no abstraction. Yet the premier’s faux fury will not restore them. Instead, it risks ensuring that the next investor leaves quietly rather than risk the wrath of the premier and public humiliation. Markets remember humiliation longer than speeches.
Crown Royal will survive this episode. The whisky made in Gimli will continue to be sold worldwide, enjoyed by people who have never heard, and will likely never hear, of Ontario’s premier. But the image of a provincial leader pouring it out onstage will endure too. It is an emblem of how quickly cheap populism can trade reason for spectacle.
Ontario must decide what kind of province it wishes to be: a jurisdiction that welcomes enterprise, or one that punishes it when it moves. If every business is expected to pledge fealty to the premier’s emotions, the province will learn how swiftly loyalty evaporates.
When politics meddles in markets, both lose dignity. The government becomes a performer; the market, its prop. The result is neither freedom nor prosperity, only theatre.
Doug can pour out all whisky in Ontario, if he likes. The rest of the world will raise a glass to markets that keep their cool.
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