The government is demanding increasingly personal information, and Canadians who refuse to comply face fines

The 2026 Census proves that the state is back in the bedrooms of the nation. This year’s long-form version was the longest, nosiest one yet and even asked about sexual orientation. People had good reason to feel uncomfortable.

The census is conducted every five years to give the government a statistical read on the state of the country. Combined with information collected in previous censuses, it also gives a snapshot of trends. No doubt, this information is useful to governments, researchers, and businesses. But whether it’s useful to the citizenry depends on the integrity and goals of the government. Most households receive the short-form census, while only some are selected for the far more detailed long-form version.

Conducting a census under the penalty of fines for non-compliance is contrary to a free society. A government less bent on control and more interested in personal freedom has fewer questions to ask. It is loath to either demand intrusive answers or to act in response to them. Too many questions suggest a readiness for overreach. Whatever problem the government finds, it will probably solve by creating new programs and new spending. It’s their answer for everything.

The Harper Conservatives noted this tension and replaced a mandatory long-form census with a voluntary National Household Survey in 2011. The government still collected demographic information, but Canadians could decide for themselves whether to provide it. The Conservatives argued that people should not face jail or fines for refusing to fill out a government questionnaire. The response rate fell from 93.5 per cent to 68.6 per cent, proving that many would not fill it out unless coerced. Regardless, the Justin Trudeau Liberals restored this coercion in 2016 and reinstated the mandatory long-form census. Thankfully, it did not reinstate jail sentences as a possible penalty.

Statistics Canada insists that the information received is confidential. The point of the census, we are supposed to believe, is not what an identifiable individual says about themselves. It is about aggregated data. The alleged goal is to perceive the forest, not to identify a tree. Unfortunately, some questions seem to have little point except for the latter.

Even the short-form census asks for the email and phone number of the person filling out the form and the members of the household by name, along with their birthdays. What more would anyone need to precisely match an individual with the information provided?

The long-form census asks for the full name of the company, business, government department or agency, or person someone is working for. This census also asks for the address of the employer and the address of the respondent’s work location. How could such data be aggregated in a meaningful way? These are not forest questions; they are tree questions. More importantly, why should Canadians be compelled under threat of fines to provide this information at all?

The 2026 long-form census shows the government has a new interest in the state of Canadians’ health, previous homelessness, and their sexual orientation. The choices are straight, lesbian or gay, bisexual or pansexual, or some fourth choice people can write in.

The long-form census asks if people are citizens by birth or naturalization or not at all, if they are also citizens of other countries, and even if they are a “citizen” of a Métis nation or settlement. It asks if they were a beneficiary of an Inuit land claims agreement and which one. Where someone lived five years ago and last year is apparently the government’s business simply because it wants to know.

Another curious granular question is whether someone lives in the home of a government representative of another country. Unless there is a statistically significant number of ambassadors and their staff in Canada, that is a tree question.

The question is not whether the government finds this information useful. The question is whether citizens should be forced to provide it under threat of fines.

And giving the government answers to all of this reflects a whole lot of trust. Even if one accepts the government’s rationale for collecting the information, there remains another problem: whether it can keep that information secure.

Confidentiality assurances are only as good as an agency’s cybersecurity. According to a recent report from the Privacy Commissioner of Canada (PCC), the Canada Revenue Agency has been breached in 42,755 separate incidents since 2020. The census has not had any such breaches we know of, but the new powers of AI agents in hacking present new challenges.

Households who refused to fill out the census will receive a final reminder letter in mid-July. Cases of non-compliance could be turned over to the Public Prosecution Service of Canada to initiate a summary conviction proceeding. Fortunately, only 47 prosecutions were initiated in 2016 and 43 in 2021, and the maximum fine is only $500. One wonders how the government chooses so few people out of thousands for repercussions.

All we know is we have to trust the government, and even if we don’t, they don’t leave us a choice. It shouldn’t be that way. The Harper government had it right. The census should be voluntary again, even if that means sending out a few more surveys to get a statistically adequate number of responses.

Lee Harding is a research fellow at the Frontier Centre for Public Policy. He holds a Master of Public Policy (U of C) and a BA in Journalism, with a career spanning major networks like CBC and Global TV, as well as landmark published research on Canadian economic and social policy.