Labour Minister David Piccini at a training centre in Port Hope.
Ontario is in a hurry. There’s homes to build, factories to retool, and hospitals to staff — now. That’s why the province created the Skills Development Fund (SDF): short, job-linked training that moves people from an entry level job to a bigger paycheque in weeks, not years. So when critics try to slap a “Greenbelt sequel” label on the SDF, they miss both the facts and the moment.
Full disclosure: I’m a lobbyist. I worked in this government many years ago. I also worked in opposition, and I served in the federal government under a Conservative Prime Minister. My job — our job — is to help organizations understand how government actually works. And it can be hard to understand. Think of it this way: no one walks into court without a lawyer; in the same way, companies, charities and community groups usually don’t approach government without someone who knows the file, the process, and the legislative timelines.
Here’s what the SDF is — and what it isn’t. It is a practical tool that funds short, targeted programs tied to real jobs. It pays for seats, instructors, simulators, welding booths, certifications — the stuff that actually gets someone trained, hired and promoted. It brings unions, employers, Indigenous organizations, municipalities, hospitals, and community groups into the same tent and asks them all the same question: can you train people for in-demand jobs quickly and credibly?
It is not a black box. The intake rules are public. The transfer-payment agreements are standard. The deliverables — enrolments, completions, placements — are spelled out. When critics conjure a scandal, they run into an awkward reality: you can meet the people who took the training and the employers who hired them. You can ask them about their increased hourly wages and the fulfillment they have building a career while contributing to their communities.
And yes, let’s talk about lobbyists and money, because the insinuations are getting lazy. In Ontario, all lobbying activity is disclosed and overseen by the Integrity Commissioner. Corporate and union donations are banned. Individual donation limits are low, tightly enforced, and fully transparent. It’s nothing like those Super-PACS in the States. Pretending that a $3,000 donation buys millions in public funding ignores both the law and the sunlight that surrounds it. If anything, the SDF’s coalition — union training trusts, employers, and community agencies — exists because projects have to stand on their merits. Lobbyists don’t “buy” outcomes; we help clients meet the rules that already exist.
The bigger picture matters. Ontario is modernizing industry while tackling a historic housing build and a generational health-care staffing crunch. That means we can’t rely on one channel for training. We need colleges and longer pathways, absolutely — and we also need nimble, employer-driven programs that move in weeks. SDF is that second track. It complements the first; it doesn’t replace it.
I’ve seen this up close. When the SDF works well, you can point to a local training hall with doubled capacity, a cohort of newcomers who got industry-recognized safety tickets, or a mid-career worker who translated experience into an apprenticeship start. You can visit a northern community where mining or fabrication projects are finally hiring — and now there’s a program in place that turns that hiring spree into real opportunity for local people. That’s outcomes, not press releases.
Could the program tighten up? Sure. Publish standardized, project-level results — completions, job placements, and wage gains. Keep the wide aperture on who can apply, because demand looks different in Sudbury than it does in Mississauga. Ask for more sunlight, not fewer seats.
And a word about accessibility. I’ve worked with a lot of governments. There has never been a more accessible government — and a more accessible Premier — in Ontario’s history than Doug Ford. Phones get answered. Roundtables happen. If you’ve got a credible project and a community behind it, you can get in the door. That openness doesn’t guarantee a “yes,” but it guarantees a hearing. In a province this busy, that matters.
So let’s keep perspective. The SDF is not about public versus private. It’s about outcomes versus process. It connects people who need work to employers who need people, quickly and credibly, and it does so under some of the strictest transparency and fundraising rules in the country. Keep it. Improve it. And scale it — because behind every line item is a person who used it to get back to work or a better job, and a province that doesn’t have a minute to waste.
Laryssa Waler is the founder and CEO of Henley Strategies. She previously served as Premier Doug Ford’s executive director of communications.
Ontario is in a hurry. There’s homes to build, factories to retool, and hospitals to staff — now. That’s why the province created the Skills Development Fund (SDF): short, job-linked training that moves people from an entry level job to a bigger paycheque in weeks, not years. So when critics try to slap a “Greenbelt sequel” label on the SDF, they miss both the facts and the moment.
Full disclosure: I’m a lobbyist. I worked in this government many years ago. I also worked in opposition, and I served in the federal government under a Conservative Prime Minister. My job — our job — is to help organizations understand how government actually works. And it can be hard to understand. Think of it this way: no one walks into court without a lawyer; in the same way, companies, charities and community groups usually don’t approach government without someone who knows the file, the process, and the legislative timelines.
Here’s what the SDF is — and what it isn’t. It is a practical tool that funds short, targeted programs tied to real jobs. It pays for seats, instructors, simulators, welding booths, certifications — the stuff that actually gets someone trained, hired and promoted. It brings unions, employers, Indigenous organizations, municipalities, hospitals, and community groups into the same tent and asks them all the same question: can you train people for in-demand jobs quickly and credibly?
It is not a black box. The intake rules are public. The transfer-payment agreements are standard. The deliverables — enrolments, completions, placements — are spelled out. When critics conjure a scandal, they run into an awkward reality: you can meet the people who took the training and the employers who hired them. You can ask them about their increased hourly wages and the fulfillment they have building a career while contributing to their communities.
And yes, let’s talk about lobbyists and money, because the insinuations are getting lazy. In Ontario, all lobbying activity is disclosed and overseen by the Integrity Commissioner. Corporate and union donations are banned. Individual donation limits are low, tightly enforced, and fully transparent. It’s nothing like those Super-PACS in the States. Pretending that a $3,000 donation buys millions in public funding ignores both the law and the sunlight that surrounds it. If anything, the SDF’s coalition — union training trusts, employers, and community agencies — exists because projects have to stand on their merits. Lobbyists don’t “buy” outcomes; we help clients meet the rules that already exist.
The bigger picture matters. Ontario is modernizing industry while tackling a historic housing build and a generational health-care staffing crunch. That means we can’t rely on one channel for training. We need colleges and longer pathways, absolutely — and we also need nimble, employer-driven programs that move in weeks. SDF is that second track. It complements the first; it doesn’t replace it.
I’ve seen this up close. When the SDF works well, you can point to a local training hall with doubled capacity, a cohort of newcomers who got industry-recognized safety tickets, or a mid-career worker who translated experience into an apprenticeship start. You can visit a northern community where mining or fabrication projects are finally hiring — and now there’s a program in place that turns that hiring spree into real opportunity for local people. That’s outcomes, not press releases.
Could the program tighten up? Sure. Publish standardized, project-level results — completions, job placements, and wage gains. Keep the wide aperture on who can apply, because demand looks different in Sudbury than it does in Mississauga. Ask for more sunlight, not fewer seats.
And a word about accessibility. I’ve worked with a lot of governments. There has never been a more accessible government — and a more accessible Premier — in Ontario’s history than Doug Ford. Phones get answered. Roundtables happen. If you’ve got a credible project and a community behind it, you can get in the door. That openness doesn’t guarantee a “yes,” but it guarantees a hearing. In a province this busy, that matters.
So let’s keep perspective. The SDF is not about public versus private. It’s about outcomes versus process. It connects people who need work to employers who need people, quickly and credibly, and it does so under some of the strictest transparency and fundraising rules in the country. Keep it. Improve it. And scale it — because behind every line item is a person who used it to get back to work or a better job, and a province that doesn’t have a minute to waste.
Laryssa Waler is the founder and CEO of Henley Strategies. She previously served as Premier Doug Ford’s executive director of communications.
Ontario is in a hurry. There’s homes to build, factories to retool, and hospitals to staff — now. That’s why the province created the Skills Development Fund (SDF): short, job-linked training that moves people from an entry level job to a bigger paycheque in weeks, not years. So when critics try to slap a “Greenbelt sequel” label on the SDF, they miss both the facts and the moment.
Full disclosure: I’m a lobbyist. I worked in this government many years ago. I also worked in opposition, and I served in the federal government under a Conservative Prime Minister. My job — our job — is to help organizations understand how government actually works. And it can be hard to understand. Think of it this way: no one walks into court without a lawyer; in the same way, companies, charities and community groups usually don’t approach government without someone who knows the file, the process, and the legislative timelines.
Here’s what the SDF is — and what it isn’t. It is a practical tool that funds short, targeted programs tied to real jobs. It pays for seats, instructors, simulators, welding booths, certifications — the stuff that actually gets someone trained, hired and promoted. It brings unions, employers, Indigenous organizations, municipalities, hospitals, and community groups into the same tent and asks them all the same question: can you train people for in-demand jobs quickly and credibly?
It is not a black box. The intake rules are public. The transfer-payment agreements are standard. The deliverables — enrolments, completions, placements — are spelled out. When critics conjure a scandal, they run into an awkward reality: you can meet the people who took the training and the employers who hired them. You can ask them about their increased hourly wages and the fulfillment they have building a career while contributing to their communities.
And yes, let’s talk about lobbyists and money, because the insinuations are getting lazy. In Ontario, all lobbying activity is disclosed and overseen by the Integrity Commissioner. Corporate and union donations are banned. Individual donation limits are low, tightly enforced, and fully transparent. It’s nothing like those Super-PACS in the States. Pretending that a $3,000 donation buys millions in public funding ignores both the law and the sunlight that surrounds it. If anything, the SDF’s coalition — union training trusts, employers, and community agencies — exists because projects have to stand on their merits. Lobbyists don’t “buy” outcomes; we help clients meet the rules that already exist.
The bigger picture matters. Ontario is modernizing industry while tackling a historic housing build and a generational health-care staffing crunch. That means we can’t rely on one channel for training. We need colleges and longer pathways, absolutely — and we also need nimble, employer-driven programs that move in weeks. SDF is that second track. It complements the first; it doesn’t replace it.
I’ve seen this up close. When the SDF works well, you can point to a local training hall with doubled capacity, a cohort of newcomers who got industry-recognized safety tickets, or a mid-career worker who translated experience into an apprenticeship start. You can visit a northern community where mining or fabrication projects are finally hiring — and now there’s a program in place that turns that hiring spree into real opportunity for local people. That’s outcomes, not press releases.
Could the program tighten up? Sure. Publish standardized, project-level results — completions, job placements, and wage gains. Keep the wide aperture on who can apply, because demand looks different in Sudbury than it does in Mississauga. Ask for more sunlight, not fewer seats.
And a word about accessibility. I’ve worked with a lot of governments. There has never been a more accessible government — and a more accessible Premier — in Ontario’s history than Doug Ford. Phones get answered. Roundtables happen. If you’ve got a credible project and a community behind it, you can get in the door. That openness doesn’t guarantee a “yes,” but it guarantees a hearing. In a province this busy, that matters.
So let’s keep perspective. The SDF is not about public versus private. It’s about outcomes versus process. It connects people who need work to employers who need people, quickly and credibly, and it does so under some of the strictest transparency and fundraising rules in the country. Keep it. Improve it. And scale it — because behind every line item is a person who used it to get back to work or a better job, and a province that doesn’t have a minute to waste.
Laryssa Waler is the founder and CEO of Henley Strategies. She previously served as Premier Doug Ford’s executive director of communications.
Ontario is in a hurry. There’s homes to build, factories to retool, and hospitals to staff — now. That’s why the province created the Skills Development Fund (SDF): short, job-linked training that moves people from an entry level job to a bigger paycheque in weeks, not years. So when critics try to slap a “Greenbelt sequel” label on the SDF, they miss both the facts and the moment.
Full disclosure: I’m a lobbyist. I worked in this government many years ago. I also worked in opposition, and I served in the federal government under a Conservative Prime Minister. My job — our job — is to help organizations understand how government actually works. And it can be hard to understand. Think of it this way: no one walks into court without a lawyer; in the same way, companies, charities and community groups usually don’t approach government without someone who knows the file, the process, and the legislative timelines.
Here’s what the SDF is — and what it isn’t. It is a practical tool that funds short, targeted programs tied to real jobs. It pays for seats, instructors, simulators, welding booths, certifications — the stuff that actually gets someone trained, hired and promoted. It brings unions, employers, Indigenous organizations, municipalities, hospitals, and community groups into the same tent and asks them all the same question: can you train people for in-demand jobs quickly and credibly?
It is not a black box. The intake rules are public. The transfer-payment agreements are standard. The deliverables — enrolments, completions, placements — are spelled out. When critics conjure a scandal, they run into an awkward reality: you can meet the people who took the training and the employers who hired them. You can ask them about their increased hourly wages and the fulfillment they have building a career while contributing to their communities.
And yes, let’s talk about lobbyists and money, because the insinuations are getting lazy. In Ontario, all lobbying activity is disclosed and overseen by the Integrity Commissioner. Corporate and union donations are banned. Individual donation limits are low, tightly enforced, and fully transparent. It’s nothing like those Super-PACS in the States. Pretending that a $3,000 donation buys millions in public funding ignores both the law and the sunlight that surrounds it. If anything, the SDF’s coalition — union training trusts, employers, and community agencies — exists because projects have to stand on their merits. Lobbyists don’t “buy” outcomes; we help clients meet the rules that already exist.
The bigger picture matters. Ontario is modernizing industry while tackling a historic housing build and a generational health-care staffing crunch. That means we can’t rely on one channel for training. We need colleges and longer pathways, absolutely — and we also need nimble, employer-driven programs that move in weeks. SDF is that second track. It complements the first; it doesn’t replace it.
I’ve seen this up close. When the SDF works well, you can point to a local training hall with doubled capacity, a cohort of newcomers who got industry-recognized safety tickets, or a mid-career worker who translated experience into an apprenticeship start. You can visit a northern community where mining or fabrication projects are finally hiring — and now there’s a program in place that turns that hiring spree into real opportunity for local people. That’s outcomes, not press releases.
Could the program tighten up? Sure. Publish standardized, project-level results — completions, job placements, and wage gains. Keep the wide aperture on who can apply, because demand looks different in Sudbury than it does in Mississauga. Ask for more sunlight, not fewer seats.
And a word about accessibility. I’ve worked with a lot of governments. There has never been a more accessible government — and a more accessible Premier — in Ontario’s history than Doug Ford. Phones get answered. Roundtables happen. If you’ve got a credible project and a community behind it, you can get in the door. That openness doesn’t guarantee a “yes,” but it guarantees a hearing. In a province this busy, that matters.
So let’s keep perspective. The SDF is not about public versus private. It’s about outcomes versus process. It connects people who need work to employers who need people, quickly and credibly, and it does so under some of the strictest transparency and fundraising rules in the country. Keep it. Improve it. And scale it — because behind every line item is a person who used it to get back to work or a better job, and a province that doesn’t have a minute to waste.
Laryssa Waler is the founder and CEO of Henley Strategies. She previously served as Premier Doug Ford’s executive director of communications.
Ontario is in a hurry. There’s homes to build, factories to retool, and hospitals to staff — now. That’s why the province created the Skills Development Fund (SDF): short, job-linked training that moves people from an entry level job to a bigger paycheque in weeks, not years. So when critics try to slap a “Greenbelt sequel” label on the SDF, they miss both the facts and the moment.
Full disclosure: I’m a lobbyist. I worked in this government many years ago. I also worked in opposition, and I served in the federal government under a Conservative Prime Minister. My job — our job — is to help organizations understand how government actually works. And it can be hard to understand. Think of it this way: no one walks into court without a lawyer; in the same way, companies, charities and community groups usually don’t approach government without someone who knows the file, the process, and the legislative timelines.
Here’s what the SDF is — and what it isn’t. It is a practical tool that funds short, targeted programs tied to real jobs. It pays for seats, instructors, simulators, welding booths, certifications — the stuff that actually gets someone trained, hired and promoted. It brings unions, employers, Indigenous organizations, municipalities, hospitals, and community groups into the same tent and asks them all the same question: can you train people for in-demand jobs quickly and credibly?
It is not a black box. The intake rules are public. The transfer-payment agreements are standard. The deliverables — enrolments, completions, placements — are spelled out. When critics conjure a scandal, they run into an awkward reality: you can meet the people who took the training and the employers who hired them. You can ask them about their increased hourly wages and the fulfillment they have building a career while contributing to their communities.
And yes, let’s talk about lobbyists and money, because the insinuations are getting lazy. In Ontario, all lobbying activity is disclosed and overseen by the Integrity Commissioner. Corporate and union donations are banned. Individual donation limits are low, tightly enforced, and fully transparent. It’s nothing like those Super-PACS in the States. Pretending that a $3,000 donation buys millions in public funding ignores both the law and the sunlight that surrounds it. If anything, the SDF’s coalition — union training trusts, employers, and community agencies — exists because projects have to stand on their merits. Lobbyists don’t “buy” outcomes; we help clients meet the rules that already exist.
The bigger picture matters. Ontario is modernizing industry while tackling a historic housing build and a generational health-care staffing crunch. That means we can’t rely on one channel for training. We need colleges and longer pathways, absolutely — and we also need nimble, employer-driven programs that move in weeks. SDF is that second track. It complements the first; it doesn’t replace it.
I’ve seen this up close. When the SDF works well, you can point to a local training hall with doubled capacity, a cohort of newcomers who got industry-recognized safety tickets, or a mid-career worker who translated experience into an apprenticeship start. You can visit a northern community where mining or fabrication projects are finally hiring — and now there’s a program in place that turns that hiring spree into real opportunity for local people. That’s outcomes, not press releases.
Could the program tighten up? Sure. Publish standardized, project-level results — completions, job placements, and wage gains. Keep the wide aperture on who can apply, because demand looks different in Sudbury than it does in Mississauga. Ask for more sunlight, not fewer seats.
And a word about accessibility. I’ve worked with a lot of governments. There has never been a more accessible government — and a more accessible Premier — in Ontario’s history than Doug Ford. Phones get answered. Roundtables happen. If you’ve got a credible project and a community behind it, you can get in the door. That openness doesn’t guarantee a “yes,” but it guarantees a hearing. In a province this busy, that matters.
So let’s keep perspective. The SDF is not about public versus private. It’s about outcomes versus process. It connects people who need work to employers who need people, quickly and credibly, and it does so under some of the strictest transparency and fundraising rules in the country. Keep it. Improve it. And scale it — because behind every line item is a person who used it to get back to work or a better job, and a province that doesn’t have a minute to waste.
Laryssa Waler is the founder and CEO of Henley Strategies. She previously served as Premier Doug Ford’s executive director of communications.
Ontario is in a hurry. There’s homes to build, factories to retool, and hospitals to staff — now. That’s why the province created the Skills Development Fund (SDF): short, job-linked training that moves people from an entry level job to a bigger paycheque in weeks, not years. So when critics try to slap a “Greenbelt sequel” label on the SDF, they miss both the facts and the moment.
Full disclosure: I’m a lobbyist. I worked in this government many years ago. I also worked in opposition, and I served in the federal government under a Conservative Prime Minister. My job — our job — is to help organizations understand how government actually works. And it can be hard to understand. Think of it this way: no one walks into court without a lawyer; in the same way, companies, charities and community groups usually don’t approach government without someone who knows the file, the process, and the legislative timelines.
Here’s what the SDF is — and what it isn’t. It is a practical tool that funds short, targeted programs tied to real jobs. It pays for seats, instructors, simulators, welding booths, certifications — the stuff that actually gets someone trained, hired and promoted. It brings unions, employers, Indigenous organizations, municipalities, hospitals, and community groups into the same tent and asks them all the same question: can you train people for in-demand jobs quickly and credibly?
It is not a black box. The intake rules are public. The transfer-payment agreements are standard. The deliverables — enrolments, completions, placements — are spelled out. When critics conjure a scandal, they run into an awkward reality: you can meet the people who took the training and the employers who hired them. You can ask them about their increased hourly wages and the fulfillment they have building a career while contributing to their communities.
And yes, let’s talk about lobbyists and money, because the insinuations are getting lazy. In Ontario, all lobbying activity is disclosed and overseen by the Integrity Commissioner. Corporate and union donations are banned. Individual donation limits are low, tightly enforced, and fully transparent. It’s nothing like those Super-PACS in the States. Pretending that a $3,000 donation buys millions in public funding ignores both the law and the sunlight that surrounds it. If anything, the SDF’s coalition — union training trusts, employers, and community agencies — exists because projects have to stand on their merits. Lobbyists don’t “buy” outcomes; we help clients meet the rules that already exist.
The bigger picture matters. Ontario is modernizing industry while tackling a historic housing build and a generational health-care staffing crunch. That means we can’t rely on one channel for training. We need colleges and longer pathways, absolutely — and we also need nimble, employer-driven programs that move in weeks. SDF is that second track. It complements the first; it doesn’t replace it.
I’ve seen this up close. When the SDF works well, you can point to a local training hall with doubled capacity, a cohort of newcomers who got industry-recognized safety tickets, or a mid-career worker who translated experience into an apprenticeship start. You can visit a northern community where mining or fabrication projects are finally hiring — and now there’s a program in place that turns that hiring spree into real opportunity for local people. That’s outcomes, not press releases.
Could the program tighten up? Sure. Publish standardized, project-level results — completions, job placements, and wage gains. Keep the wide aperture on who can apply, because demand looks different in Sudbury than it does in Mississauga. Ask for more sunlight, not fewer seats.
And a word about accessibility. I’ve worked with a lot of governments. There has never been a more accessible government — and a more accessible Premier — in Ontario’s history than Doug Ford. Phones get answered. Roundtables happen. If you’ve got a credible project and a community behind it, you can get in the door. That openness doesn’t guarantee a “yes,” but it guarantees a hearing. In a province this busy, that matters.
So let’s keep perspective. The SDF is not about public versus private. It’s about outcomes versus process. It connects people who need work to employers who need people, quickly and credibly, and it does so under some of the strictest transparency and fundraising rules in the country. Keep it. Improve it. And scale it — because behind every line item is a person who used it to get back to work or a better job, and a province that doesn’t have a minute to waste.
Laryssa Waler is the founder and CEO of Henley Strategies. She previously served as Premier Doug Ford’s executive director of communications.
Ontario is in a hurry. There’s homes to build, factories to retool, and hospitals to staff — now. That’s why the province created the Skills Development Fund (SDF): short, job-linked training that moves people from an entry level job to a bigger paycheque in weeks, not years. So when critics try to slap a “Greenbelt sequel” label on the SDF, they miss both the facts and the moment.
Full disclosure: I’m a lobbyist. I worked in this government many years ago. I also worked in opposition, and I served in the federal government under a Conservative Prime Minister. My job — our job — is to help organizations understand how government actually works. And it can be hard to understand. Think of it this way: no one walks into court without a lawyer; in the same way, companies, charities and community groups usually don’t approach government without someone who knows the file, the process, and the legislative timelines.
Here’s what the SDF is — and what it isn’t. It is a practical tool that funds short, targeted programs tied to real jobs. It pays for seats, instructors, simulators, welding booths, certifications — the stuff that actually gets someone trained, hired and promoted. It brings unions, employers, Indigenous organizations, municipalities, hospitals, and community groups into the same tent and asks them all the same question: can you train people for in-demand jobs quickly and credibly?
It is not a black box. The intake rules are public. The transfer-payment agreements are standard. The deliverables — enrolments, completions, placements — are spelled out. When critics conjure a scandal, they run into an awkward reality: you can meet the people who took the training and the employers who hired them. You can ask them about their increased hourly wages and the fulfillment they have building a career while contributing to their communities.
And yes, let’s talk about lobbyists and money, because the insinuations are getting lazy. In Ontario, all lobbying activity is disclosed and overseen by the Integrity Commissioner. Corporate and union donations are banned. Individual donation limits are low, tightly enforced, and fully transparent. It’s nothing like those Super-PACS in the States. Pretending that a $3,000 donation buys millions in public funding ignores both the law and the sunlight that surrounds it. If anything, the SDF’s coalition — union training trusts, employers, and community agencies — exists because projects have to stand on their merits. Lobbyists don’t “buy” outcomes; we help clients meet the rules that already exist.
The bigger picture matters. Ontario is modernizing industry while tackling a historic housing build and a generational health-care staffing crunch. That means we can’t rely on one channel for training. We need colleges and longer pathways, absolutely — and we also need nimble, employer-driven programs that move in weeks. SDF is that second track. It complements the first; it doesn’t replace it.
I’ve seen this up close. When the SDF works well, you can point to a local training hall with doubled capacity, a cohort of newcomers who got industry-recognized safety tickets, or a mid-career worker who translated experience into an apprenticeship start. You can visit a northern community where mining or fabrication projects are finally hiring — and now there’s a program in place that turns that hiring spree into real opportunity for local people. That’s outcomes, not press releases.
Could the program tighten up? Sure. Publish standardized, project-level results — completions, job placements, and wage gains. Keep the wide aperture on who can apply, because demand looks different in Sudbury than it does in Mississauga. Ask for more sunlight, not fewer seats.
And a word about accessibility. I’ve worked with a lot of governments. There has never been a more accessible government — and a more accessible Premier — in Ontario’s history than Doug Ford. Phones get answered. Roundtables happen. If you’ve got a credible project and a community behind it, you can get in the door. That openness doesn’t guarantee a “yes,” but it guarantees a hearing. In a province this busy, that matters.
So let’s keep perspective. The SDF is not about public versus private. It’s about outcomes versus process. It connects people who need work to employers who need people, quickly and credibly, and it does so under some of the strictest transparency and fundraising rules in the country. Keep it. Improve it. And scale it — because behind every line item is a person who used it to get back to work or a better job, and a province that doesn’t have a minute to waste.
Laryssa Waler is the founder and CEO of Henley Strategies. She previously served as Premier Doug Ford’s executive director of communications.
Ontario is in a hurry. There’s homes to build, factories to retool, and hospitals to staff — now. That’s why the province created the Skills Development Fund (SDF): short, job-linked training that moves people from an entry level job to a bigger paycheque in weeks, not years. So when critics try to slap a “Greenbelt sequel” label on the SDF, they miss both the facts and the moment.
Full disclosure: I’m a lobbyist. I worked in this government many years ago. I also worked in opposition, and I served in the federal government under a Conservative Prime Minister. My job — our job — is to help organizations understand how government actually works. And it can be hard to understand. Think of it this way: no one walks into court without a lawyer; in the same way, companies, charities and community groups usually don’t approach government without someone who knows the file, the process, and the legislative timelines.
Here’s what the SDF is — and what it isn’t. It is a practical tool that funds short, targeted programs tied to real jobs. It pays for seats, instructors, simulators, welding booths, certifications — the stuff that actually gets someone trained, hired and promoted. It brings unions, employers, Indigenous organizations, municipalities, hospitals, and community groups into the same tent and asks them all the same question: can you train people for in-demand jobs quickly and credibly?
It is not a black box. The intake rules are public. The transfer-payment agreements are standard. The deliverables — enrolments, completions, placements — are spelled out. When critics conjure a scandal, they run into an awkward reality: you can meet the people who took the training and the employers who hired them. You can ask them about their increased hourly wages and the fulfillment they have building a career while contributing to their communities.
And yes, let’s talk about lobbyists and money, because the insinuations are getting lazy. In Ontario, all lobbying activity is disclosed and overseen by the Integrity Commissioner. Corporate and union donations are banned. Individual donation limits are low, tightly enforced, and fully transparent. It’s nothing like those Super-PACS in the States. Pretending that a $3,000 donation buys millions in public funding ignores both the law and the sunlight that surrounds it. If anything, the SDF’s coalition — union training trusts, employers, and community agencies — exists because projects have to stand on their merits. Lobbyists don’t “buy” outcomes; we help clients meet the rules that already exist.
The bigger picture matters. Ontario is modernizing industry while tackling a historic housing build and a generational health-care staffing crunch. That means we can’t rely on one channel for training. We need colleges and longer pathways, absolutely — and we also need nimble, employer-driven programs that move in weeks. SDF is that second track. It complements the first; it doesn’t replace it.
I’ve seen this up close. When the SDF works well, you can point to a local training hall with doubled capacity, a cohort of newcomers who got industry-recognized safety tickets, or a mid-career worker who translated experience into an apprenticeship start. You can visit a northern community where mining or fabrication projects are finally hiring — and now there’s a program in place that turns that hiring spree into real opportunity for local people. That’s outcomes, not press releases.
Could the program tighten up? Sure. Publish standardized, project-level results — completions, job placements, and wage gains. Keep the wide aperture on who can apply, because demand looks different in Sudbury than it does in Mississauga. Ask for more sunlight, not fewer seats.
And a word about accessibility. I’ve worked with a lot of governments. There has never been a more accessible government — and a more accessible Premier — in Ontario’s history than Doug Ford. Phones get answered. Roundtables happen. If you’ve got a credible project and a community behind it, you can get in the door. That openness doesn’t guarantee a “yes,” but it guarantees a hearing. In a province this busy, that matters.
So let’s keep perspective. The SDF is not about public versus private. It’s about outcomes versus process. It connects people who need work to employers who need people, quickly and credibly, and it does so under some of the strictest transparency and fundraising rules in the country. Keep it. Improve it. And scale it — because behind every line item is a person who used it to get back to work or a better job, and a province that doesn’t have a minute to waste.
Laryssa Waler is the founder and CEO of Henley Strategies. She previously served as Premier Doug Ford’s executive director of communications.
Ontario is in a hurry. There’s homes to build, factories to retool, and hospitals to staff — now. That’s why the province created the Skills Development Fund (SDF): short, job-linked training that moves people from an entry level job to a bigger paycheque in weeks, not years. So when critics try to slap a “Greenbelt sequel” label on the SDF, they miss both the facts and the moment.
Full disclosure: I’m a lobbyist. I worked in this government many years ago. I also worked in opposition, and I served in the federal government under a Conservative Prime Minister. My job — our job — is to help organizations understand how government actually works. And it can be hard to understand. Think of it this way: no one walks into court without a lawyer; in the same way, companies, charities and community groups usually don’t approach government without someone who knows the file, the process, and the legislative timelines.
Here’s what the SDF is — and what it isn’t. It is a practical tool that funds short, targeted programs tied to real jobs. It pays for seats, instructors, simulators, welding booths, certifications — the stuff that actually gets someone trained, hired and promoted. It brings unions, employers, Indigenous organizations, municipalities, hospitals, and community groups into the same tent and asks them all the same question: can you train people for in-demand jobs quickly and credibly?
It is not a black box. The intake rules are public. The transfer-payment agreements are standard. The deliverables — enrolments, completions, placements — are spelled out. When critics conjure a scandal, they run into an awkward reality: you can meet the people who took the training and the employers who hired them. You can ask them about their increased hourly wages and the fulfillment they have building a career while contributing to their communities.
And yes, let’s talk about lobbyists and money, because the insinuations are getting lazy. In Ontario, all lobbying activity is disclosed and overseen by the Integrity Commissioner. Corporate and union donations are banned. Individual donation limits are low, tightly enforced, and fully transparent. It’s nothing like those Super-PACS in the States. Pretending that a $3,000 donation buys millions in public funding ignores both the law and the sunlight that surrounds it. If anything, the SDF’s coalition — union training trusts, employers, and community agencies — exists because projects have to stand on their merits. Lobbyists don’t “buy” outcomes; we help clients meet the rules that already exist.
The bigger picture matters. Ontario is modernizing industry while tackling a historic housing build and a generational health-care staffing crunch. That means we can’t rely on one channel for training. We need colleges and longer pathways, absolutely — and we also need nimble, employer-driven programs that move in weeks. SDF is that second track. It complements the first; it doesn’t replace it.
I’ve seen this up close. When the SDF works well, you can point to a local training hall with doubled capacity, a cohort of newcomers who got industry-recognized safety tickets, or a mid-career worker who translated experience into an apprenticeship start. You can visit a northern community where mining or fabrication projects are finally hiring — and now there’s a program in place that turns that hiring spree into real opportunity for local people. That’s outcomes, not press releases.
Could the program tighten up? Sure. Publish standardized, project-level results — completions, job placements, and wage gains. Keep the wide aperture on who can apply, because demand looks different in Sudbury than it does in Mississauga. Ask for more sunlight, not fewer seats.
And a word about accessibility. I’ve worked with a lot of governments. There has never been a more accessible government — and a more accessible Premier — in Ontario’s history than Doug Ford. Phones get answered. Roundtables happen. If you’ve got a credible project and a community behind it, you can get in the door. That openness doesn’t guarantee a “yes,” but it guarantees a hearing. In a province this busy, that matters.
So let’s keep perspective. The SDF is not about public versus private. It’s about outcomes versus process. It connects people who need work to employers who need people, quickly and credibly, and it does so under some of the strictest transparency and fundraising rules in the country. Keep it. Improve it. And scale it — because behind every line item is a person who used it to get back to work or a better job, and a province that doesn’t have a minute to waste.
Laryssa Waler is the founder and CEO of Henley Strategies. She previously served as Premier Doug Ford’s executive director of communications.