Image Credit, Marxcine
When the immigrants stop coming, when the hands that quietly pick the berries, harvest the broccoli, frame the houses, and clean the hospital floors vanish from our economies, something fundamental shifts. The quiet machinery that keeps North America’s food chain moving, its cities expanding, and its services functioning begins to falter. And while it may go unnoticed at first, it doesn’t take long before the consequences touch every citizen, every household, and every dollar.
For decades, Canada and the United States have relied on immigrant labor to do the jobs that locals often reject—sometimes because the work is grueling, dirty, and physically demanding, and sometimes because the pay is low or based on systems like piecework, which are far from what most Canadian or American workers would accept. These are jobs without glamor or prestige, often existing outside the spotlight, and yet without them, everyday life would grind to a halt. Crops would rot in fields, housing developments would stagnate, and restaurants would shutter not for lack of customers, but for lack of kitchen staff.
There’s a stubborn myth in both countries that immigrants are somehow taking away jobs. But in truth, many of the jobs they fill are ones local populations have long since abandoned. Fruit picking, greenhouse labor, seasonal planting and harvesting—all typically paid per pound or per bushel—are not jobs many citizens line up to do. Neither are construction clean-up, roofing in summer heat, or restaurant dishwashing during a late-night rush. The wages for these roles are often far below minimum wage when broken down hourly. Still, these are the roles that keep shelves stocked and buildings rising. When immigrant labor disappears, these systems begin to break.
It’s important to note that many of these immigrants are not entering the country illegally. They arrive through temporary foreign worker programs, agricultural visas, live-in caregiver programs, and other legal pathways that have become essential to the functioning of critical industries. Whether it’s the Mexican worker on a seasonal farm in Quebec, the Filipino caregiver looking after an elderly patient in British Columbia, or the Jamaican laborer helping with Ontario’s apple harvest, these workers are not peripheral. They are central.
And yet, as rhetoric around immigration grows louder and more hostile, the people who do this indispensable work are increasingly viewed with suspicion or outright hostility. Calls to end immigration, to close borders wholesale, to ban entire classes of people, are not only morally bankrupt but also economically irresponsible. The fantasy of a self-sustaining, locally staffed economy ignores the hard reality that many Canadians and Americans will not do the jobs immigrants do—not because they’re incapable, but because they’re unwilling. Whether due to pride, the physical demands, or the low pay structures that some of these jobs rely on, these positions are unattractive to locals and often only viable for those coming from countries where the economic exchange still makes the labor worthwhile.
It’s worth examining what happens when immigrant workers begin to shift away from these roles, as we are increasingly seeing. More and more immigrants are pursuing education, starting businesses, moving into tech, healthcare, and trades. They are becoming entrepreneurs, landlords, franchise owners, and professionals. And while that progress is something to be celebrated, it also leaves a vacuum behind. The jobs they once took because they had to are now being left open because they can afford not to. The result is a tightening labor shortage in key sectors that cannot be resolved without a renewed and respectful immigration policy.
This evolution also challenges the mistaken notion that immigrants are static in their social or economic roles. In truth, they move upward. They strive. And when given the chance, they contribute in extraordinary ways—not only on farms and in fast food restaurants but in laboratories, universities, and boardrooms. To deny immigration is to deny the future scientist developing vaccines, the engineer building sustainable cities, or the teacher who connects with a new generation of children in more than one language. Immigration has always brought with it a deep reservoir of potential. When we cut off access, we lose not just the worker, but the entrepreneur, the innovator, the leader.
The argument that we need to reduce immigration to protect jobs is often made without acknowledging the full economic picture. When crops go unpicked because there are no workers, food prices go up. When housing projects stall due to lack of labor, home prices rise, and rental markets tighten. When cleaning staff, restaurant cooks, and personal caregivers are in short supply, entire businesses scale back hours or shut down altogether. This isn’t conjecture; it’s already happening in parts of the U.S. and Canada where labor shortages are driving up costs and lowering productivity.
At the heart of the matter is a deeper cultural misunderstanding. Somewhere along the line, we began assigning value to labor based on its perceived prestige rather than its actual impact. A doctor or software engineer is undoubtedly important, but so too is the person who sanitizes a hospital room or ensures fresh produce reaches the grocery store. There are no meaningless jobs. Every job that allows someone to feed their family, pay their rent, and contribute to the economy is meaningful. The dignity of work doesn’t come from its title, but from its purpose.
Unfortunately, harsh language and dehumanizing rhetoric around immigration have clouded public understanding. When people chant about stopping all immigrants, they often do so without realizing they’re asking for the collapse of the very systems that support their everyday lives. It is possible—and necessary—to enforce fair immigration policies, to crack down on illegal entry, and to ensure those who enter do so through lawful means. But it is equally necessary to stop painting all immigration with a single brushstroke of suspicion and fear. The majority of immigrants contribute far more than they take. They fill the gaps in labor. They boost the economy. They bring new perspectives, languages, and skills. And more importantly, they remind us of who built this continent.
Both Canada and the United States were built on immigration—not just in the distant past, but in the ongoing present. Every skyscraper, every innovation hub, every neighborhood restaurant, and every suburban home carries the fingerprints of someone who came from elsewhere to make a life and, in doing so, made life better for all. When we cut off that pipeline, we don’t just lose workers. We lose builders. We lose caregivers. We lose inventors. And we lose part of what defines us.
There must be a renewed commitment to balancing immigration policy with economic need, compassion with accountability, and border security with opportunity. We need to make space for intelligent conversations, for nuanced thinking, and for policies that are both firm and fair. We need to honor the idea that every job has value, and that every worker deserves respect, regardless of where they were born.
If the immigrants stop coming, or if those already here decide that they no longer want to mop the floors or stock the shelves or work 12-hour days in the fields, we will feel it. Not tomorrow, but very soon. And by then, it may be too late to undo the damage caused by narrow-minded policies and careless words. We need immigrants—not just for what they do today, but for what they might become tomorrow. And we need to stop pretending otherwise.
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