On a windswept plain in southern Alberta, a field of mirrors now tracks the sun with quiet precision. Each panel tilts in unison, converting photons into electrons, sunlight into electricity. It is a scene more commonly associated with California or Spain than Canada—and yet it may offer a glimpse of the country’s energy future.
A growing number of researchers argue that Canada has been thinking too small about solar power. According to a recent analysis from Simon Fraser University’s Clean Energy Research Group, the country should pivot away from its current patchwork of rooftop installations and instead invest heavily in utility-scale solar mega-projects (vast ground-mounted arrays capable of feeding power directly into the grid).
The case is not that rooftop solar is unhelpful. It is that it may be insufficient (both technically and politically) if Canada is serious about decarbonizing its energy system.
A solar laggard in a sunny world?
Globally, solar power has transformed from a niche technology into one of the fastest-growing sources of electricity. Costs have plummeted, with panel installation prices falling by roughly 90 per cent over the past decade, driven by manufacturing scale and technological advances. Yet Canada has largely sat on the sidelines. Solar accounts for around 4 per cent of global electricity generation, but just 0.5 per cent in Canada, according to the SFU analysis.
That disparity is striking, particularly for a country with vast land area and significant solar potential in regions such as Alberta, Saskatchewan and the interior of British Columbia. Even today, solar contributes only about 1 per cent of Canada’s electricity mix, dwarfed by hydropower, which dominates the system.
In part, this reflects geography: Canada’s long winters and variable sunlight are often cited as barriers. But the deeper explanation lies in policy. Solar deployment in Canada has largely been shaped by incentives for small-scale, decentralized systems in the form of rooftop panels on homes, warehouses and office buildings.
These schemes offer a political advantage: they are visible, popular and relatively easy to implement. Homeowners receive subsidies or net-metering credits; governments can point to individual participation in the energy transition. But, according to the SFU team, this approach has limitations that are becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
Utility-scale solar, the researchers contend, offers a fundamentally different proposition. Rather than distributing thousands of small systems across rooftops, it concentrates capacity into large installations—often hundreds of megawatts—linked directly to transmission infrastructure. The economics are compelling. On average, utility-scale solar is around 64 per cent cheaper than residential systems and roughly 50 per cent cheaper than commercial installations, largely because of economies of scale, lower labour costs and simplified permitting.
This is not a uniquely Canadian pattern. Globally, large solar farms now rank among the cheapest sources of new electricity, frequently undercutting fossil fuels on a levelised-cost basis.
There is also a systems-level argument. Distributed solar can fragment electricity networks, introducing variability at thousands of points and requiring complex balancing measures. Large-scale solar, by contrast, can be integrated in a more controlled manner, particularly when paired with battery storage. Plus there is equity. Rooftop solar tends to favour households and businesses that can afford the upfront investment or have access to favourable financing. Utility-scale projects spread costs across the grid, potentially lowering prices for all users rather than privileging early adopters.
Why hesitate?
If the case for large solar farms is so strong, why has Canada not embraced them more fully? Part of the answer lies in familiar obstacles: high upfront capital costs, regulatory complexity and political resistance to large infrastructure projects. Solar farms require space—sometimes thousands of acres—and can trigger local opposition over land use and visual impact.
Here the researchers suggest the concerns may be overstated. The total land footprint required for solar to make a substantial contribution to Canada’s electricity supply is far smaller than many assume, particularly when compared with the land used for agriculture, forestry or fossil fuel extraction. There are also emerging solutions. “Agrivoltaics”, which refers to combining solar panels with crops or grazing land, can allow dual use of land. Projects in British Columbia, for example, are exploring ways to integrate solar arrays into agricultural systems, capturing water and improving soil conditions at the same time.
Agrivoltaics is the dual use of land for solar energy production and agricultural activities, enabling simultaneous electricity generation and farming.
Some researchers suggest that using public land could further ease tensions, reducing the “not in my backyard” effect while enabling strategic siting in high-irradiance regions. Canada would not be starting from scratch. Around the world, utility-scale solar has already proven its viability.
In California, the Solar Star project spans roughly 13 kilometres and generates 579 megawatts of electricity, enough to power hundreds of thousands of homes. Yet in Arizona, the Mesquite Solar complex began as a $600 million, 150 MW installation backed by a federal loan guarantee; it has since expanded into a multi-phase project exceeding 500 MW, illustrating how public financing can catalyse large-scale deployment. Such examples highlight a crucial insight: utility-scale solar often requires strong government support in its early stages, but can become economically self-sustaining once supply chains, financing models and regulatory frameworks mature.
A decentralized policy for a centralized grid
Canada relies heavily on centralized infrastructure. Its electricity system, which is dominated by large hydroelectric stations and nuclear plants, was built around big, capital-intensive projects. Yet when it comes to solar, policy has tended in the opposite direction. The result is a fragmented landscape: more than 100,000 small installations across the country, alongside a relatively modest number of large solar farms.
This fragmentation is reinforced by governance. Electricity regulation in Canada is largely provincial, meaning there is no single national framework for grid interconnection or renewable deployment (Canada lacks a unified national electricity market). Each province controls its own grid, pricing mechanisms, and approval processes). Developers must navigate a patchwork of rules, timelines and incentives that vary widely between jurisdictions.
The report calls for a more coordinated approach, including reforms to grid interconnection, often cited as a bottleneck for new generation projects, and stronger federal leadership to align provincial strategies. This aligns with broader trends in Canadian energy policy. The federal government’s Clean Electricity Regulations, finalised in 2024, aim to drive a transition towards a net-zero electricity system by 2035, requiring substantial investment in new generation capacity. Meeting that demand will likely require a mix of technologies. But solar, the researchers argue, could play a much larger role than it currently does.
None of this suggests that rooftop solar is redundant. Distributed systems can enhance resilience, reduce transmission losses and empower consumers to generate their own energy. Different scales of deployment each have a role to play, yet from an efficiency-of-capital perspective, he argues, utility-scale projects should be prioritised to accelerate the transition.
This is becoming especially true as electricity demand rises. Electrification of transport, heating and industry is expected to push consumption significantly higher in the coming decades, placing pressure on existing generation capacity. Where incremental additions of rooftop panels may struggle to keep pace. Large-scale projects, by contrast, can deliver substantial capacity quickly—provided the policy environment allows it.
There is a deeper shift implied here. For decades, Canada has viewed solar as a marginal technology—useful at the edges, but not central to the system. Hydropower, with its vast dams and reservoirs, has dominated the narrative. However, climate change is already challenging that model. Droughts and shifting precipitation patterns have begun to affect hydroelectric output in some regions, highlighting the need for greater diversification. A handful of rooftops may signal progress. yet if Canada’s energy transition is to gather real momentum, the future may lie in landscapes filled, horizon to horizon, with light.