This Week Uncut on CHCO-TV

In the seaside village of Blacks Harbour, long known for its deep fishing roots and close-knit community, an ongoing water crisis is reaching a critical point. Residents have grown increasingly frustrated with persistent boil water advisories, rust-coloured tap water, and the rising financial burden of filtering what they say should be a basic public service. But what makes this situation especially unusual—and politically charged—is that the community’s water supply isn’t municipally owned.

Instead, this village of just over 900 people draws its water from a system privately owned by Connors Bros., one of North America’s oldest sardine-packing operations. The aging infrastructure—including wells, pipes, and transmission lines—has long been deteriorating. And because the system remains outside municipal jurisdiction, both residents and local officials find themselves caught in a bureaucratic deadlock, with no easy path forward.

The issue took centre stage recently on This Week Uncut, a public affairs show produced by CHCO-TV, co-hosted by Vicki Hogarth and Nathalie Sturgeon. Sturgeon, who has reported extensively on the crisis, summed it up: “The water supply is currently owned by Connors Bros. It’s not as simple as saying, ‘Here’s the water supply—go forth and fix it.’”

Blacks Harbour is now one of the only municipalities in New Brunswick where water infrastructure remains in private hands—a legacy of its industrial past that continues to have real, daily consequences for the people who live there.

"It’s Not Safe, It’s Not Sustainable, and It’s Not Fair"

Municipal Councillor Adam Hatt has become one of the most outspoken voices on the issue, often bringing jugs of murky water into council meetings as a visual reminder of what many residents are dealing with at home. “It’s not safe, it’s not sustainable, and it’s not fair,” he said plainly.

But this is about more than inconvenience. The water crisis has triggered economic and health impacts across the community. Local restaurants have been forced to shut down during boil advisories, losing thousands of dollars in revenue. One restaurant owner at a public meeting estimated their losses at over $20,000 in just a few weeks, even after installing a commercial-grade filtration system at their own expense.

Homeowners are absorbing similar costs. Filtration systems, bottled water, and routine water testing have become standard household expenses, adding pressure in a community where median incomes are already below the national average.

A Complicated Path Toward a Public Solution

Municipal officials, in cooperation with the province and private landowners, are now exploring the development of a new, publicly owned water source. But that process—requiring land use negotiations, environmental assessments, and hydrological testing—takes time and significant funding.

Replacing the existing infrastructure outright could cost millions, and would likely require cost-sharing between municipal, provincial, and federal governments. In the meantime, residents are left navigating both uncertainty and unsafe tap water.

Media Pressure and Public Outcry Mount

Coverage by CHCO-TV and The Courier has played a key role in drawing broader attention to the crisis. “People, as we’ve seen in council chambers, are at a boiling point,” said Courier journalist Aidan Raynor during a recent roundtable. “There’s an expectation now that someone—at some level—has to take responsibility.”

The spotlight has amplified local demands for action and added pressure on decision-makers to address what is increasingly being recognized as a human rights issue, not just a municipal service failure.

A Crossroads Moment for Rural Canada

What happens next in Blacks Harbour could set a national precedent for how other small Canadian communities deal with legacy industrial infrastructure. At the heart of the issue is a fundamental question: should access to clean, safe water ever be left to the private sector?

In this fishing village, the answer is loud and clear. Residents continue to show up—sometimes carrying jugs of discoloured water—demanding what most Canadians take for granted: safe, drinkable water from the tap.