Thank you for having me.
Ladies and gentlemen, Canada replaced a fair system with an unfair one, halfway through a war. From First World War pensions—that were argued on this Hill by veterans who came aboard trains to argue in front of Parliament—until March 31, 2006, veterans could count on one inalienable truth: so long as there was a Government of Canada, there would be the steadying hand of support, and the daily acknowledgement of their suffering, in the form of a monthly pension.
This support was lifetime and without reservation. There were no conditions. Rank did not impact compensation. Neither did future earnings. It was a fair system.
The priceless peace of mind that is supposed to be there for those injured or disabled in the service of Canada is now gone. Make no mistake: I am here today because lives hang in the balance.
I have a tattoo to memorialize my friends who fell in Afghanistan. I have 12 names tattooed on my arm. Five of them have taken their own lives as a result of their service. In 2003-04, 2,200 people went to Afghanistan with me. In our first year back, seven of them took their own lives. That was the first year back. There have been dozens more since.
Now, what role does the lump sum pay in this? The lump sum versus the Pension Act goes after three things: stability, security, and hope.
In terms of security, a wound or an injury that was sustained in the service of Canada has, since 1919, earned a monthly pension. That connects the daily pain and suffering of the veteran to the Government of Canada and, by extension, to the Canadian people.
Every morning when I wake up, I'm compensated under the Pension Act for my lack of hearing and my bad knees. When my knees ache and I put my hearing aids in—I'm 30, by the way—I'm reminded that there's a connection to the Government of Canada and, by extension, the people; that my sacrifice is remembered; and that it's dealt with through a financial stipend. It's not a huge amount of money. I'm not going to get rich off of it. But it's a nice reminder that I haven't been forgotten and that's acknowledged—every day.
This reflects our unique relationship with Canada. We are members of society who have sacrificed our bodies and minds for the collective betterment of our country.
Now, a lump sum? We're not mercenaries. We're not sent into harm's way for profit. We're not sent into harm's way on the understanding that if we're hurt we'll be given a bag of money. We're sent into harm's way by our country, and we are told, from the day we enter basic training, that our country will take care of us if we are hurt—period. Do not pass go. There are no other terms and conditions to it. If you are hurt, we will take care of you.
We are not being taken care of under the new Veterans Charter. It's been a failure.
We can fix it. This is why I'm here.
We have something in the military called unlimited liability, which Aaron and Jim alluded to earlier. You don't hear about the Toronto Police Service ordered to assault a machine gun nest. Friends of mine are on the emergency response team in Vancouver, and they base all their scenarios on zero casualties.
The military is not that way. A regimental sergeant major during an infantry attack organizes a casualty collection point, because we know we're going to sustain casualties. It's part of the job. It comes with the territory. We accept that reality willingly, and go forth willingly. But part of that unlimited liability is the government's end of it: that we will take care of you when you get home.
We have prided ourselves as a nation on not having homeless veterans. We now have them. This is happening right now. We are seeing suicides right now as a result of this legislation—men and women who are penniless as a result of this.
We have veterans who have invested their lump sums, as they've been told to do. Let the free market dictate. You can invest your lump sum. You'll make more money. You'll be better off than if you had a pension.
The market crashed in 2008. Several of my friends had their savings wiped out.
These are veterans without legs, legs that were lost in the service of Canada. These are people who are not going to be able to have any further benefit coming. Why? Well, they're able to work.
In the old system, they would still receive their pension. In the new system, well, if you're able to work, we don't need to support you—never mind that you strap your leg to your body every morning when you get up.
This is not the society that I signed on to protect and serve. We took care of people.
When I was told by Veterans Affairs to go home, you're disabled, it gutted me. My life was turned upside down. I wasn't able to work, and that was something I prided myself on. I'd been working since I was 16 years old.
People who join the military don't tend to be the type of people who want to sit and wait for a handout. And it's really mean-spirited to assume it is a handout. I mean, we're disabled. I'm not able to live my life to the fullest extent that I could have had I not served my country.
That's a trade I'd gladly make again. I'd gladly serve in the military again if I were physically capable of doing so. But the reality is that we've lost faith. We've lost hope now, as veterans. We're disillusioned.
I get dozens of contacts through social media from people who are desperately seeking help, desperately wanting to know how the lawsuit is going, desperately wanting to know if there will be any change in the lump sum.
A friend of mine attempted suicide a few weeks ago. He has two young sons. He had done the math. He has PTSD, mind you. He can't work, he's not trainable. He has a debilitating mental illness. His lump sum was given to him at the height of his mental illness. Luckily his wife convinced him to buy a house. They still have a small mortgage, and he decided that his survivor's benefit to his wife, should he take his own life, would make more financial sense than if he were to remain alive. So he attempted to take his own life. Luckily the RCMP interceded, and he's still with us. Others have not been so lucky. This is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a rare case.
I can't put into words the feeling of betrayal, and how gutted I was when I was told the circumstances of the new Veterans Charter. When I was told that I was permanently disabled, yet my support was going to be a one-time payout so that government could walk away, it destroyed me. My mental state, which was already fragile, completely disintegrated, and I had no hope.
I ended up in treatment for alcohol and for post-traumatic stress disorder in 2011.
There are a lot of different scenarios that go into suicide and addiction and mental illness. There's only one that government can control, and that's the financial support that veterans receive. That falls to the men and women in this room, to make recommendations.
There's a common argument about the lump sum versus the monthly pension. People will say that a soldier who's addicted can go out and drink his monthly pension every month. That's true. However, every month that's going to come in, and those are months that he will remain alive. He will go for the next month, further and further and further.
The lump sum marks a finality to it, and when that's gone—and with the amounts that we are compensated, it's gone very quickly, inside of a year to three—hope is gone. Men and women are on the streets as a result of this legislation, they're penniless.
I had to make a decision between rehab, eating a pistol, or being homeless. Those were the choices that fell to me in 2011. I chose rehab. Spin the bottle, pick one of the three—two aren't good. I almost died because of this legislation.
It's not acceptable. It's not acceptable for Canadians. It's not acceptable for Canadian veterans. They deserve better. They are absolutely vulnerable as a result of their service to this country, and we are here to move forward with getting them the benefits they so richly deserve.
What do we need? We need hope. We, who are now wounded, have lost a part of ourselves and we've lost it willingly and without complaint for our country. There is not a veteran I've met who wouldn't join again tomorrow. These are proud Canadians, people who would willingly fight for their country again.
We've had faith that the government would take care of us and would honour their agreement. There is a whole host of programs under the new Veterans Charter, but the most important one is the disability allowance, and that's what's been slashed markedly under the new Veterans Charter.
Our monthly disability pension, that cheque that gives us hope as much as it gives money, had dignity to it. It meant that we could be somewhat self-supporting, it could make up in some small measure for our earning gap from what we could have made before, and we were comfortable in the knowledge that we were connected to the population of the country. The people who paid their taxes gave us a pension every month to say, “Hey, thank you for giving up your body parts or your sanity for our way of life.”
The war in Afghanistan has been going on for 12 years. There hasn't been any gasoline rationing or rationing of meat, or scrap metal drives or rubber drives like during the Second World War. The general population is completely disconnected to the fact that we are at war. But make no mistake, we have been at war.
In closing, I'd like to draw strength from the Legion's position during the 1951 pension debate, at which time the government was trying to prevent the raising of pensions to match the living wage.
The basic principle of pension legislation since the First World War has been that a war disability pension is compensation paid by the state for injuries suffered while on active service and assessed on an equitable basis for the same degree of injury, regardless of a man's civilian occupation or earning capacity. No subsequent training or earnings could affect a pension, once granted.
We need hope back. If we have hope, we can save lives. People can live better and it's a relatively simple fix.
I think I'd be of more value at this point taking questions, and I thank you for your time.