The infrastructure for cash is being dismantled piece by piece

For weeks, my social media feeds have been a whirlwind of panic and prophecy. You have likely seen the posts: grainy videos and frantic captions claiming that Canada is on the verge of outlawing physical money. While the digital world screams about an immediate “cashless society,” the reality is far more subtle, and in many ways, more concerning.

It is time to step away from the noise and look at the facts of Bill C-2 and Bill C-15, but more importantly, we must ask the question no one is asking; if the government doesn’t have to ban cash to make it disappear, who actually wins when your money becomes a line of code?

There is a psychological phenomenon called the “Curiosity Gap,” where the tension between what we know and what we want to know drives our behaviour. We know that Bill C-2, the Strong Borders Act, introduces restrictions on large cash transactions. We know it prohibits businesses and charities from accepting cash payments or donations of $10,000, or more. What we want to know, what we need to know, is why our daily survival is being reshaped without our explicit consent.

Power does not always manifest through a heavy-handed “ban.” Instead, it functions by narrowing the field of what is possible. No current Canadian legislation explicitly aims to eliminate cash. However, by targeting large transactions and pushing for “traceable digital methods,” the system creates a structural environment where cash becomes a burden rather than a right.

You see, when you control the medium of exchange, you control the boundaries of participation in society.

This is where the “slippery slope” becomes a reality we must acknowledge. While no politician is openly advocating for the end of physical currency, groups like Option Consummators warn that we are “sleepwalking” into a cashless reliance. When cash acceptance drops to roughly 10% of transactions, we are changing who is allowed to belong.

Bill C-15, the Budget Implementation Act, further accelerates this by enacting the Consumer-Driven Banking Act. While it promises “innovation” and faster cheque clearing for low-income users, it simultaneously builds a digital framework that makes the paper-money economy an antique.

The political divide on this is stark. Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre has campaigned against Central Bank Digital Currencies (CBDCs), calling them a threat to financial freedom. On the other side, the Liberal platform emphasizes digital infrastructure, with figures like Mark Carney favouring the stability of digital currencies over decentralized options. Yet, for the racialized nonprofit leaders and equity-focused entrepreneurs I work with, this is about the “unbanked” and the vulnerable who are being marginalized by “modernization.”

The unasked question is this; why are we being conditioned to view financial privacy as a luxury rather than a fundamental right?

By framing these changes as “anti-money laundering” measures or “financial modernization,” the state shifts the burden of proof onto the citizen. If you want to use cash, you are suddenly suspicious. If you prefer the tactile security of a banknote, you are “outdated.” This narrative transportation carries us toward a future where every transaction (every coffee, every donation, every gift) is a data point for a financial institution.

We must speak to the facts: cash remains legal tender in Canada as of early 2026, but we must also speak to the truth: the infrastructure for cash is being dismantled piece by piece. We are witnessing a slow-motion transition where the exit doors are being locked before we have even decided to leave the room.

To understand this shift is to recognize that our economy is like a language. When you remove words from a language, you limit what people can think. When you remove cash from an economy, you limit how people can resist, how they can support one another in private, and how they can exist outside the gaze of the institution.

We are losing the silence of the transaction, and in that silence is where true community resilience often lives.