I TOOK A SIDE!...and I didn't hold back.
Alright. First, a disclaimer.
This article is biased, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But it’s based on facts, and on conversations, meetings, and discussions I’ve had with advocates, agencies, professionals, and people directly affected by this. This is my opinion, built on more than a passing glance at a headline. If you disagree, that’s your right. If you agree, I hope it moves you to look closer too.
Here’s where I sit, so you have the full picture before you read the rest: I’m a Christian who believes deeply in “love thy neighbour,” which is part of why I care about inclusion and equity, even where my views don’t map neatly onto either political side. Economically, I lean toward the free market and I believe in the value of our energy industry — but I also believe we have a responsibility to the environment, and to the people among us who need a hand up. I’m a proud Canadian who doesn’t want to see this country fractured by separatism, and I don’t always agree with how Ottawa treats Alberta either. On tough issues, I try to land on common sense over ideology.
I don’t fit neatly into either team, and I’ve made peace with that. I call myself a political orphan — and I think a lot of you might be one too, even if you haven’t said it out loud yet.
So when I tell you I’ve taken a side on this one issue, I want you to know it’s not coming from a place of blind partisanship. It’s coming from lived experience.
A Personal Note Before the Policy
I have several disabilities. I live with autism, a neurological condition that causes seizures throughout the day, mobility issues, memory lapses, chronic social anxiety, sensory processing challenges, and complex PTSD, among other things. Despite what my care team has sometimes recommended, I work — within my means, at a place I care about. That work is part of what’s now at risk under the changes I’m about to describe.
I’m not lazy, and neither are the tens of thousands of other Albertans in situations like mine. Every one of us is doing the math between working enough to survive and working so much it costs us our health. That balance is exactly what’s being stripped away, and it’s why I can’t stay quiet about this.
What Changed, Now That It’s Actually Here
The Alberta Disability Assistance Program officially launched July 1, 2026, replacing AISH for most recipients. Anyone previously on AISH was automatically transitioned, and there’s a protection window: transitioned recipients keep the full AISH-level payment of $1,940 a month until the end of 2027. After that, unless someone successfully re-qualifies for AISH through a new medical review process, their payment drops to the ADAP rate of $1,740 a month — a $200 monthly cut that simply arrives eighteen months later than it would have otherwise.
The earnings exemption is the part that’s changed the most, and the part I think matters most. Under AISH, the first $1,072 a month someone earned didn’t affect their benefit at all. Under ADAP, that exemption has been cut to $700 a month. It’s true that the government has raised the annual earnings ceiling to roughly $45,000 before benefits stop entirely, and it’s true that’s a high number by Canadian standards. But raising the ceiling while lowering the exemption means people start losing support sooner, even though they’re allowed to earn more before losing it completely. For someone piecing together part-time or inconsistent hours because that’s all their disability allows, it’s the exemption — not the ceiling — that determines whether working an extra shift is worth the risk.
There’s also, as of this year, no independent appeal process for the new Medical Review Panel’s eligibility decisions — a real departure from the previous system, where recipients could appeal to an independent Citizens’ Appeal Panel. If the panel decides you’re capable of work and moves you to ADAP, that decision is final.
The Parts That Don’t Get Talked About Enough
Two changes I don’t think have gotten enough attention:
First, starting this August, couples where both partners receive AISH or ADAP will each get only 88% of the maximum individual rate, rather than the full individual rate each partner received before. That’s a real cut to household income for couples managing disability together, on top of everything else changing.
Second, the Canada Disability Benefit — a federal support meant to be additional help — is still clawed back dollar-for-dollar by the province from AISH and ADAP payments. The federal government is indexing the CDB upward this year, from about $200 to roughly $204 a month. But because Alberta claws it back in full, that increase doesn’t reach a single recipient. It just becomes a slightly larger provincial deduction.
Why This Matters Beyond the Numbers
This isn’t an abstract policy debate. It’s rent, groceries, medication, and whether someone can afford to exist next month. It’s people doing math at their kitchen table that doesn’t work no matter how many times they run it.
I’m not the only one saying so. Physicians across the province have publicly pushed back on these changes too — the Alberta Doctors’ Digest recently published criticism from doctors describing the rollout as lacking compassion for the real, human reality of living with a disability. This isn’t a fringe reaction. It’s coming from people who see the impact of these policies on their patients directly.
I’ll say plainly: there may be a small number of people on AISH who shouldn’t be there, and who make it harder to advocate for the much larger number who genuinely need it. That’s a fair conversation to have. But redesigning the entire system around that assumption, in a way that touches close to 80,000 people, isn’t the answer.
Where I Land
I’m not neutral on this, and I’ve stopped pretending otherwise. I don’t think this is “just policy,” and I don’t think it’s too complicated to have an opinion about. I think a support system that Albertans with disabilities have relied on for decades is being reshaped in a way that will make life harder for a lot of people, even where the government’s own framing sounds generous on paper. I think that’s worth saying clearly, even to people who don’t already agree with me.
If you’re in a position to do something — write to your MLA, support local disability advocacy organizations, or simply talk about this with people who haven’t heard about it yet — that’s a meaningful place to start. This isn’t about which side of the aisle you sit on. It’s about whether the people among us with the least room to absorb a cut are given the dignity and stability they need to live.
Thank you for reading this far, and for caring enough to think it through with me.
