Category: English

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Hugo G. Lapierre, Professeur adjoint en technologies éducatives, Université de Montréal

Students across Canada are exposed to artificial intelligence (AI) whether through search engines, writing assistants, automated recommendation systems or social media.

That everyday exposure raises a first, fundamental question: What should students should learn about AI? This goal is often described as AI literacy, which combines conceptual understanding with responsible use and critical judgment about AI.

A second, more practical, question is: Where should learning about AI sit in the curriculum? Since education is a provincial responsibility, Canada has no single approach.

Teaching AI literacy in schools builds on what provinces already require students to learn about digital technologies. How provinces do this determines how much time students get, what can be assessed and how teachers must be prepared.

In practice, these different curriculum models, plus the supports to ensure teachers can effectively teach them, will shape whether AI education becomes a set of tips for using apps — or a form of digital citizenship grounded in concepts, ethics and critical thinking.

What AI literacy implies for schools

Several provinces and educator associations have or are developing frameworks pertaining to AI in K-12 education. Several organizations have proposed similar frameworks that specify the concepts and competencies students should develop, or that guide what meaningful AI education would require in schools.

The United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization sees AI literacy spanning technical understanding and ethical awareness, and names a vision of students as AI co-creators and responsible citizens.

A U.S.-based framework, AI4K12, outlines what students should learn about AI across grade levels, and identifies five “big ideas” about AI: perception, representation and reasoning, learning, natural interaction and societal impact.

The U.S.-based International Society for Technology in Education (ISTE) proposes standards that engage students as empowered learners, computational thinkers, innovative designers and digital citizens.

Digital learning in provincial curricula

Across Canada, provinces integrate digital learning through different models — but note that these models are ideal types. Several provinces combine them. Each model can support AI literacy, but each creates different conditions for time, assessment and teacher preparation.

1. A dedicated subject or domain, where digital skills or computer science have their own courses. In many systems, teachers have been specifically trained for the subject. This configuration typically supports clearer sequencing across grades and more consistent assessment.

For example, between kindergarten to Grade 9, British Columbia teaches technological learning within applied design, skills and technologies curriculum, with Grade 8 requiring the equivalent of a full-year course that schools can deliver through modules.

Newfoundland and Labrador frames technology education as a hands-on area that can include programming and controlling physical devices through two dedicated courses about computer science in Grades 9 and 10.

Ontario’s computer studies curriculum creates dedicated course space for learning computing concepts. Ontario also illustrates how systems can shift emphasis over time: coding and digital competencies can be embedded within compulsory subjects, while a separate computer studies curriculum expands opportunities for sustained progression.

A dedicated subject provides protected classroom time to teach related core ideas (for example, data, algorithms and modelling) and to assess learning beyond using tools, while still making possible cross-curriculum learning.

It also creates clearer conditions for implementing ambitious AI literacy frameworks such as AIK12 and UNESCO’s guidance. This is because a teacher trained to translate specialized concepts for non-specialists leads instruction and can support sustained, project-based learning.

However, in many provinces, this “dedicated subject” exposure remains intermittent across K–12, often concentrated in a small number of courses, or sometimes a single year-long course with limited weekly time. This constrains cumulative progression and makes outcomes sensitive to local staffing capacity and teacher qualification.

2. Digital learning embedded in existing subjects. In New Brunswick, digital learning in Grades 6 to 8 is organized through the Middle Block, where Technology is one learning area among others. Teachers must address digital learning alongside a much wider set of practical and developmental goals, rather than teaching it as a fully separate subject with protected time.

This approach can make learning more connected to real problems and other learning. But it can also limit how much time can be devoted to AI-related concepts, and whether this learning is effective, when many other objectives must be covered within the same program structure. The trade-off is generally capacity: teachers are asked to carry new conceptual content without necessarily having time, training or materials.

3. A “transversal” framework, where competencies that underpin digital technology are meant to be integrated across subjects.

For example, Manitoba teaches literacy with information communication technology (ICT) across curriculum, related to thinking critically and creatively about information and about communication, “as citizens of the global community, while using ICT safely, responsibly and ethically.” Alberta’s information and communication technology program of studies states that it is “not intended to stand alone” but should be infused within core courses.

Québec has a province-wide digital competency framework describing 12 dimensions of confident, critical and creative uses of digital technology.

When competencies related to digital learning are integrated across subjects, every student can be reached, not only those who choose electives.

However, without clear accountability tying underlying competencies to particular digital media uses, this approach can potentially yield uneven learning experiences from school to school. Every teacher must also receive sufficient professional development on the subject.

What ‘AI-ready’ could mean

Each model requires different policy supports. Dedicated subjects need staffing and teacher preparation pipelines. Embedded approaches need sustained professional learning and realistic expectations for non-specialist teachers. Transversal frameworks need clear markers for student progression and assessment strategies, otherwise implementation depends on local enthusiasm.

For many provinces, the path forward is likely not choosing one model, but combining the strengths of all three.

This requires grounding in foundational knowledge of AI, as well as developing both discipline-specific and transdisciplinary competencies. UNESCO’s AI competency framework for teachers makes a similar point: governments should anchor AI learning in curriculum policy, build collaboratively with educators and invest in teacher preparation and resources.

Canada’s provincial diversity creates conditions for comparative analysis. If researchers study student learning associated with different models, this could help identify which policy arrangements, supports and implementation strategies are associated with stronger and more equitable forms of AI education.

Comparison may become even more salient with the OECD’s planned PISA 2029 media and artificial intelligence literacy assessment, which will be designed to examine whether students have had opportunities to learn to engage critically and responsibly with digital and AI systems.

Hugo G. Lapierre receives funding from the Fonds de recherche du Québec (FRQSC), the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) and IVADO.

Normand Roy receives funding from Fonds de recherche du Québec (FRQ), le ministère de l’Éducation du Québec (MÉQ), Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC).

Patrick Charland receives funding from the Fonds de recherche du Québec (FRQSC), the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) and UNESCO.

– ref. How should schools teach AI? 3 models to consider – https://theconversation.com/how-should-schools-teach-ai-3-models-to-consider-278041

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Jake Okechukwu Effoduh, Assistant Professor, School of Law, Toronto Metropolitan University

Parliament voted down a motion on April 15 to ban a practice most Canadians have never heard of, but that retailers are already rolling out: surveillance pricing.

Also called algorithmic personalized pricing, the practice uses personal data to estimate how much consumers are willing to pay, then adjusts the price accordingly. Two shoppers, same store, same item: two different prices, generated by data neither of them can see.

The NDP motion urges the government to prohibit surveillance pricing both in stores and online. The Liberals and Conservatives voted it down. NDP leader Avi Lewis had called the practice “unfair” and “downright creepy” at a news conference days earlier.

A poll by Abacus Data conducted in March found that while most Canadians are not familiar with the term, when the practice was explained to them, 52 per cent said it should be banned. Another 31 per cent of the Canadians surveyed said it should be allowed but more strictly regulated.

For Canadians struggling with cost-of-living pressure, the practice is spreading among retailers, and the laws meant to protect consumers were not designed to catch it.

Not the same as surge pricing

A useful distinction first. Dynamic pricing, the kind used by airlines, hotels and rideshare companies, adjusts based on conditions like demand, the time of day or weather, and applies the same algorithm to every customer equally.

Uber’s surge pricing is the textbook example of dynamic pricing: every rider in the same area at the same moment sees the same multiplier. Annoying? Perhaps. Personalized? No.

Surveillance pricing is different. Where dynamic pricing responds to market conditions, surveillance pricing responds to the individual. It draws on browsing history, device, postal code, purchase frequency and inferred income to predict a person’s willingness to pay.

Dynamic pricing seems to ask: “What are the conditions right now?” Surveillance pricing asks: “Who are you, and how much can we extract from you?”

How much is happening in Canada?

It’s difficult to know how much surveillance pricing is happening in Canada, if at all. So far, there has been no confirmed Canadian case, and the practice is opaque by design.

The Competition Bureau’s discussion paper, published in 2025, reported that more than 60 companies in Canada offer services that use algorithms to optimize pricing across retail, hospitality, transportation and ticketing.

The bureau’s What We Heard report, published in January after a public consultation on algorithmic pricing, identified transparency as Canadians’ chief concern. Shoppers do not know whether the price in front of them has been personalized to them specifically.

The most prominent real-world example came from south of the border. An investigation by Consumer Reports and Groundwork Collaborative documented Instacart customers in the U.S. being charged up to 23 per cent more than other shoppers for the same items, at the same store, at the same time.

Nearly three-quarters of grocery items tested were offered to shoppers at multiple price points simultaneously.

Instacart disputed the characterization, but halted the program in December 2025 following public backlash. New York Attorney General Letitia James has since demanded that Instacart share information about its price-testing experiments.

Canadian retailers, meanwhile, are assembling the same underlying toolkit: digital shelf labels that allow prices to be changed remotely in seconds, AI-driven pricing engines and the loyalty card data that feeds them.

Where Canadian law runs out

Most Canadians assume that if something feels deceptive at checkout, the law catches it. For some familiar problems, that is true.

Recent amendments to the Competition Act introduced an explicit ban on drip pricing — the practice of advertising a low price and then adding unavoidable fees at checkout.

The Cineplex case is the most prominent recent example of that law in action. The Competition Tribunal levied a record $38.9 million penalty against the cinema chain for concealing online booking fees, a ruling the Federal Court of Appeal upheld in January. Cineplex has since sought leave to appeal to the Supreme Court of Canada.

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Cineplex’s $38.9 million fine is a wake-up call about corporate sustainability practices

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But surveillance pricing slips past this framework entirely. The price displayed is technically accurate. No fee is buried and no phantom “regular price” is invented. What is hidden is the process.

Deceptive marketing rules assume everyone is offered the same price and someone is misrepresenting it. Surveillance pricing inverts the premise: everyone is offered a different price, and almost no one knows it’s happening.

The Competition Bureau’s mandate is to protect and promote competition, not consumer fairness. Its tools were built to catch anti-competitive behaviour between companies, not price discrimination between individual shoppers.

Similarly, provincial consumer protection laws like Ontario’s Consumer Protection Act are designed to deal with misleading or unfair practices in one-on-one transactions — not large-scale, automated differences in how millions of consumers are treated.

Privacy law, in turn, governs consent to data collection, not consent to how that data is used to shape what you pay. Three legal regimes circle the problem; none quite covers it.

What other jurisdictions have done

In November 2025, New York’s Algorithmic Pricing Disclosure Act took effect, requiring any business that uses personalized pricing to display a notice reading “this price was set by an algorithm using your personal data,” with civil penalties of up to US$1,000 per violation.

The European Union has required disclosure of personalized pricing since its 2019 consumer rights overhaul. Manitoba’s Bill 49, introduced March 17 by the NDP government of Premier Wab Kinew, would go further than either of those measures and prohibit surveillance pricing outright, making it an unfair business practice.

When asked if he would follow suit, Ontario Premier Doug Ford said he would not, telling reporters he believes in a “free market” and a “capitalist society.”

Federal AI Minister Evan Solomon said the federal government is “looking into” the issue, but that it would fall under the purview of the Competition Bureau.

What real protection would require

In the short term, shoppers can use private browsing mode, turn off location services and log out of loyalty apps before they shop.

These, however, are only workarounds. They place the burden of navigating an opaque system on the least-informed party in the transaction and they require a level of digital awareness some shoppers don’t have.

Real protection means either a federal disclosure mandate along New York’s lines, or an outright prohibition like the one Manitoba is pursuing. The Competition Bureau can keep monitoring, but monitoring is not enforcement, and competition law wasn’t designed to police unfairness on its own.

Until Parliament or the provinces close the gap, Canadian consumers have no reliable way of knowing whether the price they see is the price everyone else sees.

Jake Okechukwu Effoduh does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Your browsing history could soon set your grocery bill — and Canada isn’t ready for it – https://theconversation.com/your-browsing-history-could-soon-set-your-grocery-bill-and-canada-isnt-ready-for-it-281618

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Kariũki Kĩrigia, Assistant Professor, School of the Environment and African Studies Centre, University of Toronto

The story of wildlife conservation in East Africa is often told through spectacular images of beautiful scenery and the region’s charismatic animals. But seldom asked is the question about how those efforts include and impact the communities that live alongside wildlife.

At the core of Africa’s rich biodiversity are Indigenous communities, which include pastoralists and forest peoples whose ways of life and knowledge are critical to conservation.

However, these communities have historically been blamed for biodiversity loss. Pastoralists such as the Maasai are often blamed for keeping “excessive” amounts of livestock, overgrazing and land degradation.

Such tropes against African Indigenous communities linger and continue to shape conservation, which has led to strict and often punitive regulations.

My ongoing research in the Maasai Mara region of southern Kenya looks into wildlife conservancies. The region is home to the Maasai, as well as other Indigenous Peoples, and rich biodiversity. My research examines how conservancies impact local communities on whose land conservation is practised.

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Read more:
Tanzania’s Maasai are being forced off their ancestral land – the tactics the government uses

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What are wildlife conservancies?

The decline in wildlife in Kenya led to the birth of wildlife conservancies on both community and private lands. Kenya’s 2013 Wildlife Conservation and Management Act defines a wildlife conservancy as “land set aside by an individual landowner, body corporate, group of owners or a community for purposes of wildlife conservation.”

Organizations like the Kenya Wildlife Conservation Association (KWCA) view them differently. They see conservancies as land that is not set aside, but rather managed for the well-being of wildlife and communities.

In essence, the government maintains the view of fortress conservation that entails separating humans from nature, while the KWCA imagines communities co-existing with wildlife.

At the core of wildlife conservancies is land. Land ownership largely determines the type of conservancy that is established, which are either private, community, group or co-managed conservancies.

Private conservancies

In northern Kenya, private conservancies have largely been established in the highlands that were settled by white farmers during the colonial period.
These private conservancies have been criticized as “settler ecologies” built on a “big conservation lie” because they obscure the history of violent, colonial land dispossession, the criminalization of Indigenous pastoralist livelihoods and the exploitation of land and biodiversity to profit from conservation.

Additionally, the normalization of militarized violence in conservation, appropriation and control of conservation revenues meant for communities, and restriction of access to scarce water and pasture from pastoralists even during droughts, amounts to what is known as green colonialism.

The contradiction is that it was British colonial rule in Kenya that created the need for wildlife conservation starting in the 1940s. Extensive devastation of wildlife through sport hunting, wildlife trade and culling meant animals needed greater protection from humans, primarily through state-protected national parks and reserves.

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Read more:
Operation Legacy: How Britain covered up its colonial crimes

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Group conservancies

Group conservancies are mostly found in southern Kenya, where individual plots are amalgamated through long-term land leases to conservation investors who, in turn, establish wildlife conservancies.

In the Maasai Mara, local communities typically lease their land for conservancies in exchange for lease payments, regular access to pasture and investment in initiatives such as school bursaries and infrastructure development.

One such example is the Nashulai Maasai Conservancy, established in July 2016. It’s the first Maasai conservancy in the Maasai Mara created by Maasai peoples.

Wildlife conservancies in Kenya are an important way to enhance land security and conservation built around communities. Community and group conservancies are based on the idea of using the land, water and pastures in ways that support humans, livestock and wildlife.

As part of my research, I interviewed community members who told me about some benefits brought by the conservancy. These included access to post-secondary education through a community college, women empowerment projects such as soap made from elephant dung, river restoration for household water access and food aid during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Challenges faced by group conservancies

Many group conservancies employ strict access rules and hefty fines against human and livestock presence. These practices often agitate communities as they echo fortress conservation’s tactics of separating humans and wildlife.

Land lease agreements between conservancies and landowners are often crafted in complex legal language that only a few community members can comprehend. It is critical that communities are provided with a detailed explanation of what leasing land to a conservancy entails beyond the benefits promised.

In addition, community benefits are undermined through land dispossession by local elites during land subdivision, who, in turn, benefit unfairly from leasing the unjustly acquired land to conservancies.

Biodiversity conservation in East Africa and the Global South more broadly depends significantly on external funding from organizations in the West, especially non-governmental organizations, which British conservation scholar George Holmes calls “conservation’s friends in high places.”

However, Indigenous communities face onerous requirements and processes to access funding for conservation and climate change initiatives.

In a recent guest lecture at the University of Toronto, Kimaren Ole Riamit, the director of the Indigenous Livelihoods Enhancement Partners (ILEPA), explained how African Indigenous communities experience the negative impacts of climate change despite being the least responsible for global warming, lose land to conservation and carbon projects and face significant hurdles in accessing resources to address climate-related challenges.

Initiatives meant to empower communities are often captured by local elites and corporate interests that appropriate and control resources and benefits expected to flow to communities.

Carbon offsetting

Wildlife conservancies have also gained the attention of carbon offset markets, which are expanding fast in Kenya. The Northern Kenya Rangelands Carbon Project and the One Mara Carbon Project are some of the main carbon projects in the country’s northern and southern rangelands.

Kenya’s rangelands sequester atmospheric carbon dioxide, which is then measured and verified by certification bodies such as Verra, and converted into tradeable carbon credits. These are sold to organizations seeking to offset their carbon emissions.

Carbon projects enter into long-term contracts with landowners, typically around 40 years, and spell out how the landowners should utilize the land to ensure adequate carbon sequestration and storage. Landowners receive expert knowledge that employs technologies and measurements of carbon that are foreign to local communities.

On the contrary, the same communities that have long managed lands and ecosystems sustainably are treated as lacking the ecological knowledge necessary for biodiversity conservation and carbon sequestration.

The outcome is that the owners of the technologies and what is deemed “expert” knowledge become the owners of the value generated from the land owned by communities.

While such initiatives generate millions of dollars in revenue, it has been shown that less than two per cent of climate finance reaches Indigenous Peoples, smallholder farmers and local communities in developing countries.

To create genuinely sustainable ecological conservation and improved quality of life for local communities, the government must focus on empowering communities through meaningful participation in initiatives.

Organizations like ILEPA and the Nashulai Maasai Conservancy are working to empower Indigenous communities in Kenya. These kinds of community-led efforts exemplify how conservation can, and must, include the people who call East Africa’s rich biodiverse landscapes home.

Kariuki Kirigia has received funding from the Black Research Network at the University of Toronto, the Ryoichi Sasakawa Young Leaders Fellowship Fund, and SSHRC-IDRC through the Institutional Canopy of Conservation research project.

– ref. How wildlife conservancies perpetuate green colonialism in Kenya – https://theconversation.com/how-wildlife-conservancies-perpetuate-green-colonialism-in-kenya-278946

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Christina Clark-Kazak, Professor, Public and International Affairs, L’Université d’Ottawa/University of Ottawa

Canada’s Comprehensive Ranking System (CRS) was established in 1967 to respond to historic racism and nationality bias in Canada’s immigration system. Granting points for age, education, official language skills, Canadian work experience and family ties, the CRS ranks applicants for permanent residency.

The federal government recently proposed changes to CRS points, including the elimination of some point categories. While family-related points are proposed for removal, age-based criteria are not.

My research delves into the legal, ethical and policy reasons why Canada should ditch age-based immigration points.

Age-based points are Charter violations

The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms explicitly prohibits age discrimination in the equality clause of Section 15(1). According to the Supreme Court’s Singh v. Minister of Employment and Immigration decision, the Charter applies to anyone who is physically present in Canada, including non-citizens.

Many people who apply for permanent residence do so from within Canada. In fact, the federal government has introduced a two-year initiative — in 2026 and 2027 — to fast-track permanent residence for skilled workers who are already in Canada in specific high-demand sectors.

According to the lawyers I interviewed for my book, Age and Immigration Policy in Canada, such individuals would have solid legal grounds to launch a Charter challenge. They could claim that the points system constitutes age discrimination in violation of Canadian law.

Ageist immigration policies

Age discrimination embedded in the points system also contradicts Canadian values. Currently, a person gets zero points for age if they are under 18 or over 45.

Imagine the public outcry if a person received zero points for being a woman? Or for being a racialized person? Many Canadians would rightly call out such overtly sexist and racist policies.

Similarly, points for age undermine the merit-based foundations of the CRS. They contradict rights-based hiring practices that prohibit asking candidates their age and stereotyping older workers.

My archival research suggests the architect of the CRS, then-Deputy Immigration Minister Tom Kent, did not have a clear policy rationale for the initial age-based points. One historian has argued: “The points system, as it was originally conceived, has as much to do with politics as with labour markets.”

There is also some internal contradiction within the points system between the decreasing points for age and the increasing points for education and work experience. The latter rely on the passage of chronological time, while the former subtracts points for it.

Age-based points are bad policy

Policymakers and public commentators sometimes justify age discrimination in the points system by claiming that older immigrants are likely to take more from Canada than they are to give. But research shows that this is empirically incorrect.

First, Canadian and Québec pension plans are contributory — benefits are calculated by lifetime earnings in Canada. For Old Age Security, people must be residents of Canada for at least 10 years to qualify, and they must have resided here for at least 40 years to receive the maximum benefit.

As a result, immigrants to Canada receive fewer contributions and are more likely to be poor than any other group of Canadians when they retire.

Second, while some may assume older immigrants will be a burden on the health-care system, the “healthy immigrant effect” is well-documented.

Newcomers also tend to under-use health services. What’s more, there’s a waiting period for universal health coverage. Some immigrants actually return to their home countries to access time-sensitive or culturally appropriate care.

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Third, people over the age of 45 contribute indirectly to the Canadian economy in ways that are not captured in formal economic data. For example, they undertake unpaid work in family businesses or provide free child care to enable their adult children to work outside the home.

Given these legal, ethical and empirical concerns about age-based points, the time has come to eliminate them altogether. Ongoing public consultations on the CRS are a historic opportunity for Canadians to oppose the age discrimination that has been normalized in our immigration system for too long.

Christina Clark-Kazak receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

– ref. Here’s why Canada needs to ditch age-based immigration points – https://theconversation.com/heres-why-canada-needs-to-ditch-age-based-immigration-points-281515

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Sophie Webb, Postdoctoral Fellow,  Bridge Research Consortium, Simon Fraser University

Respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) is a familiar seasonal illness, but the tools to prevent it are new. Canada has recently approved vaccines for older adults and pregnant people, along with a long-acting monoclonal antibody that can protect infants through their first RSV season.

These innovations offer new ways to reduce hospitalizations and severe illness. Yet whether Canadians can access them still depends largely on where they live.

Across the country, provincial RSV programs vary widely in eligibility, scope and public funding — see, for example, Ontario RSV program updates and Alberta immunization program information.

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RSV FAQ: What is RSV? Who is at risk? When should I seek emergency care for my child?

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An infant eligible for publicly funded protection in one province may not be eligible in another. Seniors with similar health risks may face different access depending on their province. These differences are often dismissed as routine features of federalism.

But with World Immunization Week upon us, RSV provides the opportunity to ask a broader question: who’s responsible for delivering equitable access to vaccines in Canada?

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Immunity and Society is a new series from The Conversation Canada that presents new vaccine discoveries and immune-based innovations that are changing how we understand and protect human health. Through a partnership with the Bridge Research Consortium, these articles — written by experts in Canada at the forefront of immunology, biomanufacturing, social science and humanities — explore the latest developments and their impacts.

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New tools, uneven access

RSV prevention now includes vaccines for older adults and pregnant people, and a monoclonal antibody (nirsevimab) that offers season-long protection for infants with a single dose.

National guidance exists. The National Advisory Committee on Immunization recommends universal infant RSV immunization, but allows provinces to phase this in based on supply and cost. But these recommendations are advisory. Provinces ultimately decide what is publicly funded and for whom.

The result is a patchwork. Some provinces have expanded infant coverage, while others have limited access to those considered high risk. Adult and maternal programs also vary in eligibility, delivery and funding.

Cost plays a key role in these decisions. RSV therapies are expensive, and provinces must weigh them against competing health priorities. Epidemiological differences also matter, as do variations in disease burden and the additional challenges of vaccination in northern and remote communities.

Not all variation is inherently problematic. But together, these factors mean that access to protection is shaped as much by provincial priorities as by medical need.

When equity’s a goal but not a guarantee

In immunization policy, equity generally means ensuring that those at higher risk, or facing barriers to access, are protected first, and financial or geographic differences don’t determine who receives care.

RSV programs often emphasize protecting those at highest clinical risk, such as very young infants and people with underlying conditions. This approach is understandable. But it also narrows how equity operates in practice.

In a system where provinces determine their own budgets and priorities, equity can become something negotiated rather than guaranteed. One province may fund broader access; another may limit eligibility based on cost-effectiveness or capacity. The same intervention is therefore available to some populations and not others.

This shifts responsibility downward. Families must determine eligibility, navigate different rules, and sometimes absorb costs or logistical barriers to access. Equity becomes something people experience unevenly, rather than a guarantee built into the system.

COVID-19 offers a cautionary example. Communities identified as highest risk were often vaccinated later than wealthier neighbourhoods during early rollout phases. This prompted provinces to introduce reactive “hotspot” strategies that in some cases replicated the same effect. Simply naming groups as “equity-deserving” did not ensure timely access.

Governance and accountability

Canada’s immunization system involves multiple entities. Federal bodies approve products and issue recommendations. Provinces decide what to fund. Public health systems implement programs within local constraints.

While each level plays an essential role, none is clearly responsible for national equity, creating a governance gap.

Equity is widely endorsed, but no single body is accountable for delivering it nationally. RSV demonstrates how this plays out in practice — variation in immunization is accepted as a feature of federalism, rather than treated as a policy problem to be addressed.

Procurement adds another layer. Vaccine pricing and contract terms are not routinely disclosed in Canada, and negotiations with manufacturers are often confidential.

During COVID-19, federal vaccine contracts were released only after parliamentary pressure, with key details heavily redacted. Limited transparency makes it difficult to assess whether differences in access reflect pricing, negotiation leverage or policy choices.

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Consulting firms are the ‘shadow public service’ managing the response to COVID-19

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Why it matters

RSV is one of the first major post-pandemic tests of Canada’s immunization system. It’s unlikely to be the last. New vaccines and antibody-based therapies are increasingly tailored to specific populations, making decisions about access more complex.

As these technologies evolve, governance matters more, not less. Without clearer accountability, innovations risk reinforcing variation rather than reducing it.

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Read more:
Flu, RSV and COVID-19: Advice from family doctors on how to get through this winter’s ‘tripledemic’

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RSV highlights a broader challenge in Canadian immunization policy — equity is widely invoked, but responsibility for delivering it remains diffuse. Without clearer co-ordination, transparency and shared expectations, access to protection will continue to depend on where people live.

For families of infants and seniors, that distinction is not abstract. It determines whether immunity is treated as a public good, or as a matter of postal code.

Cora Constantinescu receives funding from bioMerieux, GSK, merck, Pfizer, Sanofi, with funds being transferred to her University organisation

Sophie Webb does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Why postal codes shouldn’t determine RSV protection in Canada – https://theconversation.com/why-postal-codes-shouldnt-determine-rsv-protection-in-canada-278717