This article supplied by Troy Media.

 By Sylvain Charlebois

The supply management system is cracking. With imports climbing, strict quotas in place and Bill C202 on the table, we’re struggling to feed ourselves

Canada’s supply management system, once seen as a pillar of food security and agricultural self-sufficiency, is failing at its most basic function:
ensuring a reliable domestic supply.

According to the Canadian Association of Regulated Importers, Canada imported more than 66.9 million kilograms of chicken as of June 14, a 54.6 per cent increase from the same period last year. That’s enough to feed 3.4 million Canadians for a full year based on average poultry consumption—roughly 446 million meals. Under a tightly managed quota system, those meals were supposed to be produced domestically. Instead imports now account for more than 12 per cent of this year’s domestic chicken production, revealing a growing dependence on foreign supply.

Supply management is Canada’s system for regulating dairy, poultry and egg production. It uses quotas and fixed prices to match domestic supply with demand while limiting imports, intended to protect farmers from global price swings and ensure stable supply.

To be fair, the avian influenza outbreak has disrupted poultry production and partially explains the shortfall. But even with that disruption, the numbers are staggering. Imports under trade quotas set by the World Trade Organization, the Canada-United States Mexico Agreement and the Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership are running at or near their allowable monthly share—known as pro-rata
levels—signalling not just opportunity, but urgency. Supplementary import permits, meant to be used only in emergencies, have already surpassed 48 million kilograms, exceeding total annual import volumes in some previous years. This isn’t a seasonal hiccup. It’s a systemic failure.

The system, designed to buffer domestic markets from global volatility, is cracking under internal strain. When emergency imports become routine, we have to ask: what exactly is being managed?

Canada’s most recent regulated chicken production cycle, which ended May 31, saw one of the worst shortfalls in over 50 years. Strict quota limits stopped farmers from producing more to meet demand, leaving consumers with higher grocery bills and more imported food, shaking public confidence in the system.

Some defenders insist this is an isolated event. It’s not. For the second straight week, Canada has hit pro-rata import levels across all chicken categories. Bone-in and processed poultry, once minor players in emergency import programs, are now essential just to keep shelves stocked.

And the dysfunction doesn’t stop at chicken. Egg imports under the shortage allocation program have already topped 14 million dozen, a 104 per cent jump from last year. Not long ago, Canadians were mocking high U.S. egg prices. Now theirs have fallen. Ours haven’t.

All this in a country with $30 billion in quota value, supposedly designed to protect domestic production and reduce reliance on imports. Instead, we’re importing more and paying more.

Rather than addressing these failures, Ottawa is looking to entrench them. Bill C202, now before the Senate, seeks to shield supply management from future trade talks, making reform even harder. So we must ask: is this really what we’re protecting?

Meanwhile, our trading partners are taking full advantage. Chile, for instance, has increased chicken exports to Canada by more than 63 per cent, now accounting for nearly 96 per cent of CPTPP-origin imports. While Canada doubles down on protectionism, others are gaining long-term footholds in our market.

It’s time to face the facts. Supply management no longer guarantees supply. When a system meant to ensure resilience becomes a source of fragility, it’s no longer an asset—it’s an economic liability.

Dr. Sylvain Charlebois is a Canadian professor and researcher in food distribution and policy. He is senior director of the Agri-Food Analytics Lab at Dalhousie University and co-host of The Food Professor Podcast. He is frequently cited in the media for his insights on food prices, agricultural trends, and the global food supply chain. 

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.

By Peter Shawn Taylor

Canada’s Bee Apocalypse began in 2008. That was the year the Canadian Association of Professional Apiculturists (CAPA) first reported unusually high rates of winter bee colony losses. At 35 percent, the winter die-off that year was more than twice the normal 15 percent rate of attrition.

“Successive annual losses at [these] levels … are unsustainable by Canadian beekeepers,” the CAPA warned. This set off an avalanche of dire media reports that now appear on a regular basis. Among the many examples over the years: Huge Honey Bee Losses Across Canada” and “Canada’s bee colonies see worst loss in 20 years”. As each of these stories reminds readers, the disappearance of honey bees will doom our food supply, given their crucial role in pollinating crops including canola, soyabeans, apples, tomatoes and berries.

This year the black-and-yellow striped Cassandras are back at work, with headlines shouting “Scientists warn of severe honeybee losses in 2025” and “The Bees are Disappearing Again”. If it’s spring, the bees must be disappearing. Again.

It is, however, mathematically impossible for any species to be in an allegedly continuous and calamitous state of decline over nearly two decades and never actually reduce in number. For despite the steady supply of grave warnings regarding their imminent collapse, Canada’s bees are actually buzzing with life.

In 2007, according to Statistics Canada, there were 589,000 honey bee colonies in Canada,; in 2024, they reached 829,000, just shy of 2021’s all-time high of 834,000. Figuring a conservative summertime average of 50,000 bees per colony, that means there are approximately 12 billion more honey bees in Canada today than when the Bee Apocalypse first hit.

As for beekeepers, their numbers have also been growing steadily, and now stand at 15,430 – the most recorded since 1988. As CAPA’s report acknowledges, “the Canadian beekeeping industry has been resilient and able to grow, as proven by the overall increase in the number of bee colonies since 2007 despite the difficulties faced every winter.”

How is this possible? As is usually the case where there’s a need to be filled, the market holds the answer.

It is true that Canadian honey bees face a long list of threats and challenges ranging from mites and viruses to Canada’s harsh winters. It is also true that they perform a crucial service in pollinating crops, the value of which is estimated at $7 billion annually. However, this underscores the fact that bees are a livestock bred for a particular agricultural purpose, no different from cattle, chickens or pen-raised salmon. They are a business.

And in spite of its alleged status as an environmental totem, the honey bee isn’t even native to North America. It was first imported by European settlers for its honey-making abilities in the 1600s. Since then, it has been cultivated with deliberate commercial intent – allowing it to outcompete native pollinators such as bumble bees and butterflies even though it is poorly suited to the local winter. (This highlights the irony of all those native-plant pollinator gardens virtuously installed in neighbourhoods across Canada that end up supporting an invasive honey bee population.)

The significance of the bee economy means that when a beehive collapses over the winter for whatever reason, beekeepers have plenty of motivation to regenerate that colony as swiftly as possible. While hives can create their own queens over time, this can be a slow process given the cold Canadian climate. The better option is to simply buy a new queen from a warmer country.

In 2024, Canada imported 300,000 queens worth $12 million, mostly from the U.S., Italy, Australia and Chile. That works out to $40 each. In a miracle of nature, each of these new queens can lay up to 2,500 eggs a day, and each egg takes just two to three weeks to reach full maturity as a worker or drone. It is also possible to import entire “bee packages” that include a queen and 8,000 to 10,000 bees.

As a result, even a devastating 50 percent winter loss rate, something that has occurred only rarely in Canada in individual provinces and never nationally, isn’t necessarily fatal to any beekeeping operation. The beekeeper can purchase imported queens in April, split their existing colonies and be back in business by May or June.

And regardless of the honey bee’s apparent difficulties with Canada’s unforgiving weather (efforts are ongoing to breed a hardier Canadian variant), there’s no shortage of bees worldwide. Earlier this year, the German statistical agency reported the global beehive count rose from 69 million in 1990 to 102 million in 2023. Another study looking back to 1961 by New Zealand researchers found the number of honey bee colonies has “nearly doubled” over this time, while honey production has “almost tripled.” As the New Zealand report observes, “Headlines of honey bee colony losses have given an
impression of large-scale global decline of the bee population that endangers beekeeping, and that the world is on the verge of mass starvation.” Such claims, the authors note, are “somewhat inaccurate.” In truth, things have never been better for bees around the world.

Here in Canada, the ability to import queens from other countries, together with their prodigious reproductive capabilities, backstops the amazing resiliency of the bee industry. Yes, bees die. Sometimes in large numbers. But – and this is the bit the headlines always ignore – they come back. Because the market needs them to come back.

If there is a real threat to Canada’s bee population, it’s not environmental. It’s the risk that unencumbered trade in bees might somehow be disrupted by tariffs or similar bone-headed human interventions. Left on their own, bees have no problem keeping busy.

The longer, original version of this story first appeared at C2CJournal.ca