Canada is in the depths of a severe housing crisis. Nationally, rents have increased 21 percent in just two years. While some large landlords are reporting huge gains in income, it is estimated that fewer than one percent of rental units are both vacant and affordable for the average Canadian.

So, in such a dire moment, why is Canada subsidizing landlords?

After nearly a decade in power, many Canadians blame the Liberals for the housing crisis. This is despite the government’s National Housing Strategy (NHS), which has committed more than $100 billion over ten years to increase access to housing. Among other items, the NHS has led to agreements with the provinces to share the expenses of providing a housing benefit—a targeted monthly payment intended to offset the cost of rent. In this way, housing benefits aim to turn private rentals into ‘affordable’ housing by effectively lowering the price of rent for low-income tenants.

Take for instance the Canada-Nova Scotia Targeted Housing Benefit, or CNSTHB. Nova Scotia has been especially hard hit by the housing crisis. In Halifax, average rents increased by 12 percent over the last year, while the number of people experiencing homelessness has more than doubled since 2022. During my time as a housing support worker in Halifax, I assisted many people in accessing the CNSTHB. For those experiencing homelessness or housing insecurity, the rent subsidy program was often the only way they could secure shelter.

Although the CNSTHB subsidized thousands of tenancies, accessing the program can be a frustrating, disempowering experience. For starters, applying to the program currently requires submitting a valid rental agreement. As a result, people experiencing homelessness due to a lack of affordable rentals cannot even apply until after they sign a lease. For those able to find housing, processing times for applications are long—at least two to three months. In the meantime, tenants struggling to cover rent are forced to make impossible spending decisions, stuck between facing food insecurity and energy poverty, or risking arrears and a swift eviction.

Worse still, the provincial government has repeatedly changed the program’s eligibility cutoff. At its start, access to the program was available to persons losing more than 30 percent of their income to rent, the nationally accepted definition of housing unaffordability. In January 2023, that benchmark was suddenly shifted to 50 percent, preventing hundreds of vulnerable households from receiving the benefit. Although the cutoff has since been lowered to 40 percent, this restriction still requires Nova Scotians to face severe housing poverty before they can apply for assistance.

All of this is secondary to the larger problem with housing benefits like the CNSTHB: landlords are the true beneficiaries of this program. Since proof of severe unaffordability is a requirement to access the program, CNSTHB payments aren’t pocketed by tenants to use however they like. That money goes straight to rent—otherwise, tenants will lose their housing altogether. This means that, despite the fact that landlords are responsible for charging prices higher than tenants can afford, CNSTHB payouts support landlords in collecting the full amount of rent, month after month. Put another way, housing benefits like the CNSTHB are a subsidy for landlords.

Is this an ethical, efficient response to the housing crisis? In 2024 alone, the provincial government has earmarked $69 million for the program. Nationwide planned investments in housing subsidies across the country amount to $4.8 billion, over eight years. Even as a full third of low-income households in Nova Scotia spend more than half of their income on rent, and rates of child poverty sit at one in five, governments are heaping cash into landlord coffers.

We need a better approach, one that starts with building more public housing, units where rent is bound to income, guaranteeing affordability. Instead of tying support to prolonged financial hardship, increasing public housing would actually address people’s housing needs in the long term. Public housing offers a direct solution for people experiencing homelessness, as opposed to betting on subsidies to match ballooning landlord demands. Plus, significantly increasing public housing stock would divert demand from the private market, reducing the supply crunch and making housing more accessible for all.

Building public housing takes significant resources, but our provincial government can afford it. Over the last two years Nova Scotia has run up a combined budget surplus of over $250 million. The funding announced by the province to build enough public housing for 600 new tenants comes to less than a quarter of that amount. Besides, beyond initial construction expenses, the long-term costs of public housing are negligible compared to the current policy of subsidizing landlords. The Nova Scotia Provincial Housing Agency reported that operating expenses this year for the provincial public housing stock were a mere $161,000. That’s less than one percent of what the province plans to spend on the CNSTHB in 2024.

What’s more, as additional buildings are completed, new units could eventually be offered to those receiving the CNSTHB. Savings from the housing benefit could then be used to pay down building costs and finance additional projects. In short, building new affordable housing represents an opportunity to reinvest public money back into public assets, instead of propping up a private market, which time and time again has failed to meet the needs of working people.

To be clear, this does not mean that the CNSTHB should be abolished. Housing benefits are, as advocates point out, an essential stopgap measure. Alongside stricter rent control, policies like Nova Scotia’s rent subsidy program are necessary until safe and secure housing can be guaranteed for all. But these measures cannot stand in for robust long-term solutions. Any real housing strategy must focus on establishing housing as a human right, not on lining landlord pockets.

Joshua Pittman is a care worker and writer from Conception Bay South, Ktaqkmuk (Newfoundland and Labrador). He is currently pursuing a master’s degree in social work at Dalhousie University, developing a care practice at the crossroads of psychotherapy and class struggle. Josh writes about politics, pain, and culture in Atlantic Canada. His work has been published in The Independent and Riddle Fence.