Business
Auditor General: $3.5 Billion in CEBA Loans Went to Ineligible Businesses, Recovery Efforts Lacking.
A $3.5 Billion Disaster Exposes Government Negligence, Corporate Greed, and a Total Lack of Accountability
Welcome to the latest edition of “What the Government Doesn’t Want You to Know.” Tonight, we’re talking about Canada’s Canada Emergency Business Account (CEBA) program—a pandemic-era scheme that was supposed to help struggling businesses. Instead, it’s a case study in waste, corruption, and outright negligence.
Here’s what we learned during a bombshell hearing of the Standing Committee on Public Accounts (PACP) Wednesday: $3.5 billion in taxpayer money was handed out to ineligible businesses, 92% of the contracts went to one company, Accenture, without any competitive bidding, and there’s virtually no accountability for any of it.
Let’s break it down.
$3.5 Billion Vanishes, and No One Cares
Here’s what we learned from the Auditor General: The Canada Emergency Business Account program—$49 billion handed out to almost a million small businesses during the pandemic—was a mixed bag. On the one hand, they moved fast. Great. But on the other hand, it was a fiscal train wreck in terms of accountability. And let’s be clear: “accountability” is supposed to be their job.
Now, here’s the kicker. We find out that $3.5 billion—yes, billion with a “B”—went to businesses that didn’t even qualify. That’s our money, taxpayer money, handed over to ineligible recipients. What’s their excuse? Well, they were in a rush, they say. Of course, they were. Crises always become the justification for sloppy governance and waste.
Then there’s Export Development Canada—the folks running this show. They outsourced 92% of their contracts for this program to one company, Accenture. No competitive bidding, no oversight, just one big fat sweetheart deal. And get this: Accenture essentially got to write its own terms. They gave themselves the keys to the vault. They even built systems that made EDC dependent on them until 2028. That’s right—they locked themselves in for years, turning a pandemic emergency into a lucrative, long-term cash cow.
What about the Department of Finance and Global Affairs Canada? Were they stepping in, asking tough questions, setting clear limits? Nope. They were nowhere to be found. Total accountability vacuum. And by the way, administrative costs for this program? Over $850 million. Think about that. You can’t make this stuff up.
And when the Auditor General says, “Hey, maybe you should track down that $3.5 billion and recover it,” EDC just shrugs. They “partially agree.” Partially? Imagine if you told the CRA you “partially agree” with paying your taxes. See how that goes.
Here’s the reality: This is what happens when a government prioritizes speed over basic responsibility. They let the fox guard the henhouse, and now they want us to move on and forget about it. But we shouldn’t. This isn’t just bad management—it’s a betrayal of public trust. It’s our money, and they treated it like Monopoly cash.
So, who’s going to be held accountable? Who’s going to pay the price for this colossal mess? The answer, as usual, is probably no one.
Accenture’s Sweetheart Deal
Here’s the part that should really make your blood boil: $342 million worth of CEBA contracts went to consulting giant Accenture. No competitive bidding. No oversight. Nothing. Just a blank check from EDC with your money.
And it gets worse. Accenture didn’t just get the money—they subcontracted work to themselves. That’s right, they paid themselves with your money. And here’s the kicker: EDC is locked into contracts with Accenture until 2028. So, for the next four years, taxpayers will keep paying this consulting giant, all because EDC couldn’t be bothered to shop around or demand accountability.
Lavery’s excuse? “We needed speed and expertise during the pandemic.” Speed doesn’t justify corruption. It doesn’t justify giving one private company complete control over a multi-billion-dollar program. This isn’t just incompetence; it’s a rigged system designed to enrich consultants at the expense of taxpayers.
$853 Million in Administrative Costs
Let’s talk about efficiency—or the lack thereof. The CEBA program cost $853 million to administer. That’s $300 per loan, according to EDC. Lavery called that “reasonable.” Reasonable? For what? Businesses reported that the call center EDC spent $27 million on barely worked. Think about that: $27 million for a call center where you can’t even get someone to pick up the phone.
Conservative MP Brad Vis summed it up perfectly: “For $27 million, you’d expect a call center that actually answers calls.” But instead, Canadians got more of the same—an expensive, inefficient system that’s great for consultants and terrible for everyone else.
Conservatives Demand Accountability for CEBA Mismanagement: ‘A Blank Check for Consultants’
The Conservatives didn’t hold back in yesterday’s hearing, demanding accountability for what they called a blatant misuse of taxpayer dollars. Conservative MP Brad Vis led the charge, grilling EDC President Mairead Lavery on the $3.5 billion in loans that went to ineligible businesses. He didn’t mince words, calling out the government’s failure to put basic safeguards in place. “How did this happen, and what’s being done to recover this money?” Vis asked repeatedly, only to be met with vague assurances that EDC was “working with Finance Canada” on the issue. Translation: Nothing is actually happening.
MP Kelly McCauley took aim at the $342 million handed to Accenture without a single competitive bid. “How can you justify giving 92% of CEBA contracts to one company without opening it up to competition?” he asked, pointing out that Accenture even subcontracted work to itself, effectively turning the program into a taxpayer-funded cash cow for consultants. McCauley wasn’t buying Lavery’s excuses about pandemic urgency, pointing out that this kind of procurement failure wasn’t just a one-time mistake—it was a systemic problem.
John Nater, another Conservative MP, zeroed in on the long-term fallout. He expressed outrage that EDC is locked into a contract with Accenture until 2028, ensuring that taxpayers will continue funding this flawed system for years to come. Nater demanded to know why no one at EDC or in government thought it necessary to implement oversight mechanisms once the initial rollout phase had passed. “This isn’t just about speed. It’s about accountability. Where was the oversight? Where was the plan to safeguard public money?” Nater asked.
The Conservatives’ message was clear: this wasn’t just a case of pandemic-related haste—it was a failure of leadership, oversight, and governance. They demanded consequences for those responsible and reforms to prevent similar disasters in the future. As McCauley aptly put it, “This wasn’t an emergency response. It was a blank check for consultants, and taxpayers are the ones paying the price.”
Liberals Spin CEBA Disaster as a Success: ‘Sweeping It Under the Rug
The Liberal response to this mess was as predictable as it was infuriating: deny, deflect, and downplay. Instead of addressing the core issues—like the $3.5 billion in loans to ineligible businesses or the sweetheart contracts handed to Accenture—Liberal MPs spent their time patting themselves on the back for the program’s “success” and running interference for Export Development Canada (EDC).
Take Francis Drouin, for example. He spent his time emphasizing how quickly the CEBA program got money into the hands of struggling businesses. Sure, the program distributed $49.1 billion, but at what cost? When confronted with the Auditor General’s findings about fraud, waste, and mismanagement, Drouin brushed past the hard questions and pivoted back to the pandemic. It was a textbook move: ignore the billions lost and focus on how hard the government worked. Typical.
Then there was Valerie Bradford, who followed the same script. Instead of demanding answers about why 92% of contracts went to one consulting firm without competitive bidding, she lobbed softball questions that gave EDC President Mairead Lavery the chance to repeat her excuses about “urgency” and “unprecedented circumstances.” Bradford didn’t challenge the inflated administrative costs, the useless $27 million call center, or the lack of oversight. Instead, she chose to frame the discussion as if this was all just the price of doing business in a crisis.
This wasn’t accountability. This was damage control. The Liberals weren’t there to ask hard questions—they were there to protect their narrative. To them, it doesn’t matter that taxpayers got fleeced. It doesn’t matter that consultants got rich while businesses were left waiting for answers. All that matters is spinning this disaster into a success story, no matter how far from the truth that is.
What’s most galling is the arrogance. The Liberals seem to think Canadians should be grateful for a program that wasted billions, enriched corporations, and locked taxpayers into a disastrous contract until 2028. It’s as if they expect a thank-you card for their incompetence.
Here’s the reality: the Liberal response wasn’t about addressing the scandal. It was about sweeping it under the rug. And unless Canadians demand better, this is the kind of governance they’ll keep getting: one where failure is rebranded as success, and no one ever takes responsibility for the consequences.
Final Thoughts
So, what did we learn from this so-called committee meeting? We learned that billions of taxpayer dollars can be wasted, handed out to ineligible businesses, and funneled into the pockets of consultants without anyone in government blinking an eye. We learned that accountability is a foreign concept in Ottawa, where “working on it” is the go-to excuse for incompetence and outright negligence.
Export Development Canada failed. The Department of Finance failed. The Liberals in charge failed. But here’s the kicker—no one will pay for it. Not the bureaucrats who bungled the program, not the consultants who profited from it, and certainly not the politicians who allowed this circus to happen.
Instead, we got a performance. A parade of excuses, vague promises, and shameless spin. The Conservatives tried to hold the government’s feet to the fire, but the Liberals spent their time running cover for the mess they created. And the Bloc and NDP, while occasionally landing a punch, ultimately let the bureaucrats wiggle off the hook. This wasn’t accountability; it was theater.
The CEBA program wasn’t just a failure—it was a lesson in how the system really works. When there’s no oversight, no consequences, and no urgency to fix anything, corruption and incompetence become the norm. Consultants get rich, bureaucrats get a pass, and taxpayers get the bill.
And the people running this committee? They’re part of the problem. They don’t want to fix the system because the system works perfectly for them. It rewards their friends, protects their power, and keeps them unaccountable. This wasn’t a hearing; it was a farce. And unless Canadians demand real change, this won’t be the last time their government lets them down.
So, ask yourself this: How much more are you willing to let them get away with? Because as long as you stay quiet, they’ll keep doing exactly what they did here—wasting your money, spinning their failures, and walking away without a scratch.
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Business
Canada invests $34 million in Chinese drones now considered to be ‘high security risks’
From LifeSiteNews
Of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s fleet of 1,200 drones, 79% pose national security risks due to them being made in China
Canada’s top police force spent millions on now near-useless and compromised security drones, all because they were made in China, a nation firmly controlled by the Communist Chinese Party (CCP) government.
An internal report by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) to Canada’s Senate national security committee revealed that $34 million in taxpayer money was spent on a fleet of 973 Chinese-made drones.
Replacement drones are more than twice the cost of the Chinese-made ones between $31,000 and $35,000 per unit. In total, the RCMP has about 1,228 drones, meaning that 79 percent of its drone fleet poses national security risks due to them being made in China.
The RCMP said that Chinese suppliers are “currently identified as high security risks primarily due to their country of origin, data handling practices, supply chain integrity and potential vulnerability.”
In 2023, the RCMP put out a directive that restricted the use of the made-in-China drones, putting them on duty for “non-sensitive operations” only, however, with added extra steps for “offline data storage and processing.”
The report noted that the “Drones identified as having a high security risk are prohibited from use in emergency response team activities involving sensitive tactics or protected locations, VIP protective policing operations, or border integrity operations or investigations conducted in collaboration with U.S. federal agencies.”
The RCMP earlier this year said it was increasing its use of drones for border security.
Senator Claude Carignan had questioned the RCMP about what kind of precautions it uses in contract procurement.
“Can you reassure us about how national security considerations are taken into account in procurement, especially since tens of billions of dollars have been announced for procurement?” he asked.
“I want to make sure national security considerations are taken into account.”
The use of the drones by Canada’s top police force is puzzling, considering it has previously raised awareness of Communist Chinese interference in Canada.
Indeed, as reported by LifeSiteNews, earlier in the year, an RCMP internal briefing note warned that agents of the CCP are targeting Canadian universities to intimidate them and, in some instances, challenge them on their “political positions.”
The final report from the Foreign Interference Commission concluded that operatives from China may have helped elect a handful of MPs in both the 2019 and 2021 Canadian federal elections. It also concluded that China was the primary foreign interference threat to Canada.
Chinese influence in Canadian politics is unsurprising for many, especially given former Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s past admiration for China’s “basic dictatorship.”
As reported by LifeSiteNews, a Canadian senator appointed by Trudeau told Chinese officials directly that their nation is a “partner, not a rival.”
China has been accused of direct election meddling in Canada, as reported by LifeSiteNews.
As reported by LifeSiteNews, an exposé by investigative journalist Sam Cooper claims there is compelling evidence that Carney and Trudeau are strongly influenced by an “elite network” of foreign actors, including those with ties to China and the World Economic Forum. Despite Carney’s later claims that China poses a threat to Canada, he said in 2016 the Communist Chinese regime’s “perspective” on things is “one of its many strengths.”
Business
The EU Insists Its X Fine Isn’t About Censorship. Here’s Why It Is.
Europe calls it transparency, but it looks a lot like teaching the internet who’s allowed to speak.
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When the European Commission fined X €120 million on December 5, officials could not have been clearer. This, they said, was not about censorship. It was just about “transparency.”
They repeat it so often you start to wonder why.
The fine marks the first major enforcement of the Digital Services Act, Europe’s new censorship-driven internet rulebook.
It was sold as a consumer protection measure, designed to make online platforms safer and more accountable, and included a whole list of censorship requirements, fining platforms that don’t comply.
The Commission charged X with three violations: the paid blue checkmark system, the lack of advertising data, and restricted data access for researchers.
None of these touches direct content censorship. But all of them shape visibility, credibility, and surveillance, just in more polite language.
Musk’s decision to turn blue checks into a subscription feature ended the old system where establishment figures, journalists, politicians, and legacy celebrities got verification.
The EU called Musk’s decision “deceptive design.” The old version, apparently, was honesty itself. Before, a blue badge meant you were important. After, it meant you paid. Brussels prefers the former, where approved institutions get algorithmic priority, and the rest of the population stays in the queue.
The new system threatened that hierarchy. Now, anyone could buy verification, diluting the aura of authority once reserved for anointed voices.
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However, that’s not the full story. Under the old Twitter system, verification was sold as a public service, but in reality it worked more like a back-room favor and a status purchase.
The main application process was shut down in 2010, so unless you were already famous, the only way to get a blue check was to spend enough money on advertising or to be important enough to trigger impersonation problems.
Ad Age reported that advertisers who spent at least fifteen thousand dollars over three months could get verified, and Twitter sales reps told clients the same thing. That meant verification was effectively a perk reserved for major media brands, public figures, and anyone willing to pay. It was a symbol of influence rationed through informal criteria and private deals, creating a hierarchy shaped by cronyism rather than transparency.
Under the new X rules, everyone is on a level playing field.
Government officials and agencies now sport gray badges, symbols of credibility that can’t be purchased. These are the state’s chosen voices, publicly marked as incorruptible. To the EU, that should be a safeguard.
The second and third violations show how “transparency” doubles as a surveillance mechanism. X was fined for limiting access to advertising data and for restricting researchers from scraping platform content. Regulators called that obstruction. Musk called it refusing to feed the censorship machine.
The EU’s preferred researchers aren’t neutral archivists. Many have been documented coordinating with governments, NGOs, and “fact-checking” networks that flagged political content for takedown during previous election cycles.
They call it “fighting disinformation.” Critics call it outsourcing censorship pressure to academics.
Under the DSA, these same groups now have the legal right to demand data from platforms like X to study “systemic risks,” a phrase broad enough to include whatever speech bureaucrats find undesirable this month.
The result is a permanent state of observation where every algorithmic change, viral post, or trending topic becomes a potential regulatory case.
The advertising issue completes the loop. Brussels says it wants ad libraries to be fully searchable so users can see who’s paying for what. It gives regulators and activists a live feed of messaging, ready for pressure campaigns.
The DSA doesn’t delete ads; it just makes it easier for someone else to demand they be deleted.
That’s how this form of censorship works: not through bans, but through endless exposure to scrutiny until platforms remove the risk voluntarily.
The Commission insists, again and again, that the fine has “nothing to do with content.”
That may be true on a direct level, but the rules shape content all the same. When governments decide who counts as authentic, who qualifies as a researcher, and how visibility gets distributed, speech control doesn’t need to be explicit. It’s baked into the system.
Brussels calls it user protection. Musk calls it punishment for disobedience. This particular DSA fine isn’t about what you can say, it’s about who’s allowed to be heard saying it.
TikTok escaped similar scrutiny by promising to comply. X didn’t, and that’s the difference. The EU prefers companies that surrender before the hearing. When they don’t, “transparency” becomes the pretext for a financial hammer.
The €120 million fine is small by tech standards, but symbolically it’s huge.
It tells every platform that “noncompliance” means questioning the structure of speech the EU has already defined as safe.
In the official language of Brussels, this is a regulation. But it’s managed discourse, control through design, moderation through paperwork, censorship through transparency.
And the louder they insist it isn’t, the clearer it becomes that it is.
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