Opinion: AISH clawback underscores Alberta's fraying social contract

Calgary Herald

5 days ago

There's a dangerous myth woven into Alberta's treatment of its citizens with disabilities: the idea that they should simply be grateful. Grateful for surviving, grateful for scraps, grateful for a system that does not support their well-being, but barely keeps them breathing.
But gratitude is not justice, and survival is not dignity.
Former premier Peter Lougheed once understood that. When he created the Assured Income for the Severely Handicapped (AISH), it was visionary, a bold commitment to lifting Albertans with disabilities out of poverty and away from the stigma of welfare. It was a moral promise, not just a budget line, to protect those who could not protect themselves — not out of pity, but out of principle.
That promise has been broken.
Today, AISH is framed as 'generous,' but only in the most cynical of comparisons. Alberta pays slightly more than other provinces, in a country where every disability program leaves people below the poverty line. Bragging about being the best of the worst is not a mark of excellence; it's a distraction.
The current rate of $1,902 per month sounds decent until you try to live on it in Calgary or Edmonton. After rent, utilities and food, most recipients are left choosing between medication and bus fare. This isn't generosity, it's slow deprivation, dressed in news releases.
And now, the Canada Disability Benefit, a long-awaited federal program meant to lift people out of poverty, is being clawed back by Alberta. AISH recipients are told to apply, only to have every federal dollar deducted from their provincial benefit. What should have been a turning point is instead a trap.
Alberta isn't supplementing, it's siphoning.
This is not how a just society behaves.
Justice means supporting people with disabilities not just in survival, but in well-being. It means recognizing that many want to work, but face unpredictable health conditions, chronic pain, PTSD or fatigue, which make conventional employment impossible. True justice offers flexibility, accommodation and stability, not punishment for failing to meet able-bodied expectations.
Yet, the myth persists that people with disabilities should be content with what they're given. That mere existence should be enough to inspire gratitude. It's a degrading expectation.
No one tells millionaires to be grateful for tax breaks. No one asks oil companies to be thankful for subsidies. But people with disabilities? They're told to smile while the social safety net is exchanged for a trampoline with a hole in it.
I've seen what happens when the system fails. When an adult with a disability loses the parent they relied on, they don't just lose a caregiver, they lose their home, their structure and their hope. They fall, and there's no net. And when they spiral into mental-health crises, the system shrugs. This isn't a fluke; it's the outcome of choices made by people in power.
And yet, Albertans with disabilities remain resilient. They remain proud. They are grateful, not for crumbs, but for every person who treats them with respect, for every doctor who listens, every stranger who sees their worth, every advocate who still has the energy to fight.
But make no mistake, they are owed more than gratitude. They are owed justice. For justice is the price of civilization.
Lougheed understood this more than 40 years ago. The current government has forgotten. Instead of defending dignity, they chase surpluses and weaponize austerity.
But we, persons with disabilities, understand.