The last three weeks have been some of the most demoralizing — and also some of the most galvanizing — of my career in the nonprofit sector.
When the Houston government tabled its provincial budget, it did so without consulting the communities it was gutting. Indigenous communities, Black and African Nova Scotian communities, 2SLGBTQIA+ groups, and disability-serving nonprofits did not receive a phone call, a meeting, or even a warning. They opened their emails one morning and discovered that their operational grants had been cut by anywhere from five to 40 percent. Some programs disappeared overnight.
That is not fiscal responsibility. That is contempt.
I want to be direct about what I believe will happen as a result: these cuts are going to prove more detrimental to Nova Scotia’s nonprofit sector than COVID-19 ever did. At least during the pandemic, financial supports existed to cushion the blow. Emergency funds were created. Programs were extended. There was a recognition, however imperfect, that the sector needed to survive.
There is no equivalent safety net here. And people are already losing their jobs.
Collective pain and collective action
In response to these cuts, a group of nonprofit consultants and I organized an emergency fundraising resource call. In one week, 65 people registered — fundraisers, nonprofit staff, sector leaders, and community members from across the province trying to make sense of what comes next. The response was sobering. Organizations are in crisis. The ripple effects are already being felt in communities that were already under-resourced and already being asked to do too much with too little.
Premier Houston built his political identity on speaking up for people who felt ignored by government. He made his name standing at microphones on behalf of the victims of the Mass Casualty, calling out a premier he felt was not listening to the people. And yet, when thousands of his own constituents showed up to the legislature, he walked past them smirking.
He told the media the protests were organized by the NDP. They were not. They were organized by people who are scared for the future.
The arts, culture, and heritage sector is not a “nice to have.” It is the infrastructure through which marginalized communities build identity, access services, process trauma, and participate in civic life. When you defund African Nova Scotian cultural organizations, you are not trimming fat. You are cutting the connective tissue that holds communities together. When you eliminate funding for Indigenous arts and language programs, you are not making a budget decision. You are continuing a historical project of erasure. This is racism and bigotry in budget form.
Stephanie Domet, co-executive director of the Afterwords Literary Festival and a fellow advocate, has been documenting this moment in real time through a podcast she never wanted to have to make. It’s called Culture is Critical, and in its first three episodes she has interviewed people working in environmental, arts, and archives sectors — all of whom reinforce the same message — these cuts make no sense. As Domet put it herself: “These cuts are not for Nova Scotians, they are not about the way we live here. It hurts. It hurts deeply.”
Don’t Let Them Count On Our Exhaustion
I know that many of the organizations reading this are exhausted. You are trying to figure out how to keep the lights on, keep your staff employed, and keep serving people who depend on you — while also being expected to fight for your own survival. That is an impossible ask. And it is one that the government is counting on you being too tired to meet.
Do not let them count on that.
What I have seen over the past three weeks has reminded me of why I do this work. People are showing up. Organizations are reaching out to each other. Sector leaders who have never worked together are building coalitions. The fundraising community is sharing resources freely and without reservation. That is what solidarity looks like in practice — not as a slogan, but as a survival strategy.
We have put together a free resource repository for any organization navigating these cuts. We are building a community of practice so if you need support, fill out this form. If you have capacity to offer, share it with us. If you want to learn more about how these cuts are impacting the sector please visit our visual report called “The Ripple Effect.” If you work with an organization being impacted, pass this along.
The MLAs who are holding this government to account deserve our thanks and our continued pressure. The organizations doing this work deserve our resources and our respect. And the communities being harmed by these decisions deserve better than a smirk.
If you can, show up. On Friday, March 27 at noon, there will be another rally outside the legislature. Bring your colleagues. Bring your board members. Bring your family. Or like me, bring your mom!
Remind Houston that he is not the CEO of Nova Scotia. He is an elected official. He works for us, not the other way around.
Liz LeClair is a fundraising consultant and principal of Uprising Consulting, based in Nova Scotia.