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Showing posts with label law. Show all posts
Showing posts with label law. Show all posts

Saturday, December 31, 2011

LESSON IN THE LAW The Canadian Wheat Board and the Courts


December 31, 2011,  Online

The government's legislation to end the Wheat Board monopoly sparked a confusion of litigation.

First the Wheat Board applied to court to have the very introduction of the legislation declared a breach of a provision of the Wheat Board Act requiring a vote of farmers before changes to the monopoly. Then Board directors who opposed going to court in the face of legal advice that it would be pointless sued the other directors for wasting the Board's funds. Finally, having won the declaration despite that advice, the directors who sought it are applying to have the legislation, which has now been passed, declared invalid though it was key to their success that they expressly denied that they were challenging its validity.

Confused? You have every right to be. This is what happens when the courts are used as a substitute for democratic politics.

In granting a declaration that Agriculture Minister Gerry Ritz had broken the law in introducing the legislation Federal Court Judge Douglas Campbell laid into the Minister with gusto in
reasons released on December 7. The Board had applied for a declaration that Ritz's conduct in introducing a bill to end the Board's monopoly in wheat and other grains was an "affront to the rule of law." Campbell had "no hesitation in granting" the request. He admitted that the judgment would have no effect but practically said he wanted to teach the Minister a lesson. In what?

At issue was Section 47.1 of the Canadian Wheat Board Act, which required the Minister to consult with the Board and call a vote of producers before introducing a bill to add or remove grains subject to the Board's monopoly. The government argued plausibly that the section applied only to adding or removing specific grains and not to the government's plan to end the monopoly altogether. Campbell would have none of that and held that 47.1 was what law professors have called "manner and form" legislation.

It is unquestioned law that Parliament cannot bind its successors by providing in an act that it cannot be amended or repealed. But it has been suggested that Parliament can provide that an act can only be amended or repealed after following a specific procedure, in a particular "manner and form." A handful of odd Commonwealth cases are cited in support of this suggestion. There are a number of acts in Canada that provide for a "manner and form." The Ontario Taxpayer Protection Act, requiring a referendum on new taxes, is a notable example. But it is questionable that they would be effective if laws were passed in defiance of them.

Campbell based his decision on a snippet of Professor Peter Hogg's Constitutional Law of Canada.

Would the Parliament or a Legislature be bound by self-imposed
rules as to the "manner and form" in which statutes were to be
enacted? The answer, in my view, is yes.


Peter Hogg has been called a "constitutional guru" by Canada's national newspapers. Readers may be familiar with him as the man who instructs M.P.s on how they should question judges before they ascend to the Supreme Court of Canada. He was my estates and trusts professor. If you want to know about the rule against perpetuities or the rule in Howe v. Dartmouth, Hogg is your man. But they are law because of decided cases and statutes and not because the professor says they are.

Hogg's opinion is simply a statement that he thinks "manner and form" legislation should be effective. It is no authority for its being so. Your opinion is a authoritative as his, guru or not.

Hogg is not specific about what "manner and form" legislation should be effective. A provision that an M.P. introducing a bill to amend or repeal an act must first cut out his liver and eat it would amount to a provision against repeal and surely be ineffective. A provision that amendments to the Criminal Code must only be introduced on a Tuesday would not be worth thinking about.

The fundamental legal and democratic principal is that one Parliament, one majority, should not be allowed to fetter, in any way, the right of future Parliaments to make law as they, and the voters, see fit. How would the Opposition like it if the Harper government provided in all its bills that their repeal or amendment be subject to the advice and consent of carefully defined constituencies sure to object?

Before Campbell the Wheat Board said that it did not question the validity of Bill C-18. The Liberals upped the ante by asking the Governor General to withhold Royal Assent until an appeal was decided, despite the fact that the validity of the legislation was not in issue. Both the Board and the Liberals have used the Federal Court to make political propaganda.

Bob Rae even appeared at the news conference announcing the challenge to the validity of the legislation citing Campbell's decision, which expressly does not touch on the validity of the legislation. Rae is a lawyer and should know better.

Whatever the courts finally say about the legislation, the Wheat Board monopoly is at an end. But the legal and political waters have been muddied. Political argument has been confused by strained legal arguments. And the law has been used as a tool of political propaganda. Something Mr. Justice Campbell was too ready to lend himself to.

Jason Kenny and others have been berated for criticizing the courts, the Federal Court particularly. But if any time the government loses an argument in court ministers are to be pilloried as scofflaws the government will either shy away from making arguments that might be successful, as its argument over the Wheat Board may still be, or they will have to reply in kind.

Friday, October 14, 2011

GOVERNMENT BY PRESS RELEASE The Supreme Court of Canada Selection Panel


October 14, 2011, online

On August 5 the Minister of Justice, Rob Nicholson, announced the members of a“Supreme Court Selection Panel to fill the vacancies at the Supreme Court of Canada” resulting from the retirements of the Justices Ian Binnie and Louise Charron. The panel reportedly finished its work early this month, though no further announcement was made.

The Supreme Court of Canada Act provides that the judges of the Court shall be appointed by the Governor General, in practice on the advice of the Prime Minister. The Selection Panel had no legal foundation. It was a group of Members of Parliament, but it was not a committee of the House of Commons. No statute or regulation required or authorised the Minister of Justice to establish it. It was the creation of a press release.

The release said the panel would review a list of candidates “created”by the Minister of Justice “in consultation with the Prime Minister, the Chief Justice of Canada, the Chief Justice of Ontario, the Attorney General of Ontario and other prominent legal organizations,…” with input from the public. From this list the panel was to“provide” an unranked list of six from which the Prime Minister and the Minister of Justice will choose two. That they will be appointed by the Governor General is not mentioned.

The casual informality by which it is reported that the highest legal offices in the land are to be filled is weird. But it is the inevitable result of the perennial squawk that something must be done about the “process” by which Supreme Court judges are chosen, even from those who are perfectly content with the appointments made in the decades since the squawking started.

It is unlikely that there are more than six willing and likely candidates for the two Ontario vacancies on the court, so the Selection Panel may have no influence on who gets appointed. But they must have been given more than six names or they would have known they were being taken for fools and there is a risk that they may have eliminated one or more of the best prospects. If not this time, then another time, if this absurd process is entrenched.

Who are they anyway? Five M. P.s put up by their parties, four of them lawyers, one a former Minister of Justice who was involved in earlier attempts the placate the squawkers, and one, the chair, a financial planner. Tory M. P., Brent Rathgeber, chuffed at his selection to select, blogged that he was “spending the last part of my summer reading judgments and published articles written by the prospective nominees.…it has been quite some time since I have read law so intensely but I am certainly finding this project, although time consuming, extraordinarily interesting.”

They were not elected to choose judges and should the result be less than satisfactory they won’t be held responsible. Before the waters were muddied by the squawkers, we knew who was responsible. Now Harper can say he reformed the “process” and is not responsible for the result.

Agitators about the process crudely see seats on the Supreme Court as plums  handed out by the Prime Minister and sought by the unworthily ambitious. A seat on the Court is public service and the best prospects will see it as a duty they would not seek but would accept if called upon. The press release’s talk of candidates makes it sound more like an election with candidates pushing themselves forward.

It begins to look like the Giller Prize, the long list reduced to a short list by the Selection Panel and the Prime Minister and the Minister of Justice choosing the winners.

Binnie and Charron announced their retirements in May. In the months that have passed perhaps a dozen judges and eminent counsel have had the prospect of moving to Ottawa and the pluses and minuses of a seat on the Supreme Court dangled before them. The best of them could fairly be fed up with waiting. Binnie was appointed on January 8, 1998, little more than six weeks after the untimely death of John Sopinka, whom he replaced. The “process”now looks like taking six months with the court short handed for several weeks.

None of this need matter to Stephen Harper. He is playing to the squawkers. There never was a prospect that he could shape the Supreme Court to serve or protect a conservative agenda. Canada does not afford the judicial tendencies an American president can turn to when making appointments to the courts. We’ll get two competent judges who will pass through the charade of a hearing before a House of Commons committee and then be forgotten beyond the legal chapter of the chattering classes. But we might have done better if Harper had just announced appointments in June.

Saturday, March 1, 2003

BY-PRODUCTS OF THE LAW Stikeman Elliott, Tom Berger, Scott Turow


March 1, 2003,  Books in Canada

Stikeman Elliott
The First Fifty Years
by Richard W. Pound
McGill-Queen's University Press
ISBN: 0773524118

One Man's Justice
A Life in the Law
by Thomas R. Berger
Douglas & MacIntyr
ISBN: 1550549197

Reversible Errors
by Scott Turow
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
ISBN: 0002005301


Aspiring lawyers used to be told that the practice of law was no way to become rich. Lawyers have generally vied with doctors for the honour of having the best paid occupation, but, though many lawyers have made a very good living, lawyers who grew rich generally did so from business interests outside the practice of law itself.

Yet in 1952, the first year of his partnership with Fraser Elliott, Heward Stikeman, not yet 40, made about one million dollars from their practice. Later Stikeman and Elliott became very rich indeed from business interests outside the practice of law, particularly from CAE, which dominates the market for aircraft simulators for pilot training. But the interest of Stikeman Elliott is in the first few chapters, which describe how Stikeman and Elliott managed to build their extraordinarily lucrative practice.

Stikeman, born in in Montreal in 1913, worked as a lawyer for the Department of National Revenue from 1939 to 1946. From 1943 he was Assistant Deputy Minister of National Revenue. The Commissioner of Income Tax, from 1943 Deputy Minister of National Revenue, was Colin Fraser Elliott, the father of Roy Fraser Elliott, Stikeman's future partner. In the small society of Ottawa Stikeman became a friend of the father and the son.

Roy Fraser Elliott, born in Ottawa in 1921, graduated from Queen's in 1943 and Osgoode Hall Law School in 1946. After a year at Harvard he joined, at Stikeman's bidding, the firm Stikeman had gone to on returning to Montreal in 1946 after his war service at the Department of National Revenue.

War-time demands and post-war hopes had greatly increased the level and complexity of taxation. Stikeman had gained unparalleled knowledge of the legislation, some of which he helped to draft, and of its administration. Stikeman Elliott started out as a tax law boutique with only four lawyers. Good advice or successful representation could save clients lots of money and Stikeman and Elliott were paid accordingly. There were few other tax lawyers and none who could claim the knowledge and connections of Stikeman and Elliott.

Left wing critics would see in this something crooked: high priced talent helping corporations avoid paying their fair share. In fact the opposite is true. Overreaching governments risked stifling the economy with high taxes and were forced to try to mitigate the economic damages through   complicated legislation. These produced their own economic distortions and a lucrative but finally unproductive service industry of tax advice. Getting in on the beginning of this industry allowed Stikeman and Elliott to become rich through the practice of law.

Stikeman Elliott's advantage in tax law could not last forever and the firm gradually expanded into general business law and has now become a big full service firm much like all the others, whatever Stikeman Elliott may say about its special values. But as late as the early seventies Stikeman and Elliott were the only partners, doling out salaries and bonuses to their hard working and talented associates as they saw fit.

In the 1950's the old law schools did not produce lawyers fast enough to keep pace with the growth of the country, its economy and the complications of the law. There was work to be had for the asking and Stikeman and Elliott were never shy about asking. Even today the market for legal services is not so efficient that getting work does not count as much as doing it well, to say nothing of pricing it competitively. But the corporations that sustain the big firms are not so tied to old connections and will shop around. Careers such as Stikeman and Elliott enjoyed are now impossible.

Richard Pound is known to Canadians as a member of the International Olympic Committee. Like a good sport he has compiled the book his firm wanted though no one will want to read it through. It is surely no a coincidence that it is published by McGill-Queen's University Press and Pound is Chancellor of McGill. They have published duller and less worthy books. Hundreds of people who have worked at the firm are kindly mentioned. Big deals and big cases are briefly recognised. The opening of new offices in Toronto, Ottawa, London and beyond is chronicled. Those who left the firm early, unless like John Turner and Donald Johnston they went on to distinguished careers in politics, are sometimes curtly dismissed. There is nothing on the firms finances after 1970.

Tom Berger has not grown rich from the practice of law. Its attraction for him has been influence rather than money. Berger is best known to Canadians for the Mackenzie Valley Pipeline Inquiry and for resigning from the British Columbia Supreme Court in 1983 after public statements he made urging the inclusion of native rights in the constitution lead to an investigation by the Canadian Judicial Council. British Columbians may remember him as the leader of the provincial NDP for a brief period before he lost his seat and retired from electoral politics in 1969.

One Man's Justice is a memoir of Berger's favorite cases. Only incidentally does it recount his life beyond the cases. Berger had a commendable distaste for the phony side of politics:

...the proclamation of slogans....the constant meetings, speeches, the time spent in "working the room," meeting people you'd never met before and ("Nice to see you again") and would never meet again."
But he was as keen as any politician to make his mark on the life of the country; he simply wanted to do it in the courts rather than in a legislature. He would not have to persuade the people to support him, just a few judges.

Berger says nothing about his work as a judge. He is a strict believer in the rule that judges have their say in their reasons from the bench and should say no more than that. He breaches no client confidentiality describing his cases off the bench. But he whinges that others did it and got away with it in defending himself against the allegation that by urging the inclusion of native rights in the constitution he had breached the rule that judges should not speak out on political issues. It is a longstanding and sound rule made only more important by the increased political importance of the courts since the Charter. The Canadian Judicial Council did not recommend his removal from the bench. But Berger was fed up with the controversy. He had always been uncertain about wanting to be a judge, and finally he saw his hopes of sitting on the Court of Appeal or Supreme Court of Canada—where he fancied he could make law rather than just decide individual cases—fading. He flatters himself that his intervention helped get native rights in the constitution.

Berger likes to believe that in the cases he recounts he was "engaged in the pursuit of justice". Such a belief may give an advocate the confidence and energy to carry through a case to a successful conclusion. But it can also blind an advocate to the messiness of life, which the law exists to sort out. Berger's accounts of his cases are recapitulations of his advocacy. His clients were always right and if they did not win they should have. The only criminals Berger knew in an extensive criminal practice were pitiful or innocuous fellow who simply had their own subculture. Though he goes on too long about some of his cases one never feels one gets the full story.

On native rights Berger is a true believer. Fellow true believers will be grateful for his advocacy. Those unsure what to make of it all will learn nothing from him.

Scott Turow has grown rich from writing mystery novels about the law. The money he has made from novels like Presumed Innocent, turned into a successful movie starring Harrison Ford, has allowed him to do pro bono work that has extended his experience of criminal law and provided raw material for further novels. He has acted for prisoners on death row and prosecuted corrupt judges, both themes in his latest novel.

In Reversible Errors Rommy Gandolph, a dim witted petty criminal, is, in 2001, awaiting execution for a triple murder that took place on July 4, 1991. Arthur Raven, a former prosecutor now settled into a comfortable civil litigation practice, is conscripted by the Federal Court of Appeals to make one last attempt to save Gandolph. Rommy gave a full and videotaped confession. It looks like a simple open and shut case. But not for long. The pace and complication of the story,  which never loses plausibility, is impressive. The original investigating policeman, prosecutor and judge become involved. Divergent perspectives and interests are developed. One grows impatient for the next twist as Turow recounts the dreary amours of his principal characters at unnecessary length. The dialogue can be disconcerting. Turow seems to be trying to update the hard boiled idioms of film noir. Either that or cops and  criminals and lawyers in Chicago, where Turow practices, learned to talk at the movies.

Reversible Errors is not a novel about capital punishment. Turow set out his reasoned pragmatic opposition to capital punishment in a New Yorker article in January. In Reversible Errors it is simply a background fact. For the crime novelist the end of capital punishment would be a loss, draining some of the life and death drama from the genre.

The practice of law is not about winning or losing or changing the law without bothering with politics. It is the hard and generally well paid work of resolving people's conflicts according to settled rules so that they will not fight in the streets. Drama, wealth and power are occasional by-products of the resulting exposure to all aspects of human life.

Friday, November 1, 2002

IN TROUBLE WITH THE LAW J. L. Cohen

November 1, 2002, Books in Canada

Renegade Lawyer:
The Life of J. L. Cohen
The Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History
University of Toronto Press
ISBN: 0802035132

J. L. Cohen was one of the most prominent labour lawyers in Canada before the present regime of collective bargaining was established in the middle of the last century. He played an important role in establishing that regime, working with both the Ontario and Dominion governments. He also acted for a number of Communists in trouble with the law. The eminent career he built on exceptional hard work and intelligence ended with his conviction for the assault of his 22 year old occasional lover and secretary in 1945 and subsequent disbarment. He died in 1950 only a few months after his reinstatement. Laurel Sefton MacDowell speculates he committed suicide.

Cohen’s is a poignant story and a significant public life. The personal sources for his life are limited until the crisis at the end, for which MacDowell gives us more than we need from the transcripts of the proceedings against him. A workaholic, Cohen had for years relied on a combination of poorly understood prescription drugs and alcohol to keep him going.

We cannot now know Cohen. The death of his father when he was 13, leaving him to support his mother and five other children, no doubt shaped him. But invoking feminist theories of masculinity, a presumption of general Anti-Semitism and political prejudice is no help in understanding the man or his career.

It is Cohen’s public life that must be of lasting interest. Today labour law is a specialty sharply divided between union work and management work. Lawyers choose to go into it on one side or the other as they start out. Cohen seems simply to have taken what work he could get. Actually born in England in 1897 to immigrants from Lithuania, Cohen grew up in the garment district of Toronto. He found himself acting for both employers and employees in the garment industry. Some union activists were Communists whose demonstrations had them in continual conflict with the police. Cohen acted for them. MacDowell wonders why he never joined the Communist Party of Canada. Perhaps the answer is simply that he was never a communist. No doubt he was sincerely sympathetic to the CCF. He hoped to run for parliament as a CCF candidate in Windsor in 1945. His candidacy foundered on the reluctance of the CCF to accept a candidate with Communist support when the Party, under its latest directives from Moscow, was making common cause with the Liberals in the face of the rising CCF.

And no doubt Cohen sincerely believed in the collective bargaining regime modelled on the American Wagner Act that he advocated on behalf of unions. But what came first for Cohen was the work, for which he seems almost always to have been fully paid. He made for himself and his family a good life. He had little time for politics or society except as it related to his work.

Until 1934 Cohen acted for both employers and employees and was a director and shareholder of several companies. He arranged police protection for strikebreakers with Police Chief Draper, who had led the long running battle with Cohen’s Communist clients.

MacDowell speaks of Cohen bringing “his practice into line with his social outlook” and an “inherent conflict of interest in acting for both management and employees...”. But there is no inherent conflict. Paradoxically, while labour management relations have become more pragmatic and even businesslike under the regime that Cohen pioneered, labour has felt it necessary to construct a moral divide across which no bosses’ lawyer could be trusted to represent workers and any union lawyer who represented a boss would be a traitor.

Renegade Lawyer is published by the Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History, but there is little law in it. Cohen had mixed success for his Communist clients, partly because they rather wanted to go to gaol for propaganda purposes. He declined to act for Tim Buck when the Communist Party of Canada was outlawed fearing Buck “wanted a show trial to propagandise the Communist Party of Canada’s aims, not a simple legal defence to gain the release of the accused.” MacDowell seems not to have read the reasons for judgment in a single case in which Cohen appeared, preferring to insinuate judicial bias rather than to analyse legal reasoning. If Cohen’s civil liberties work had any effect on the law it does not appear from this book. Cohen’s dedicated advocacy bespeaks a faith in the law and the courts his biographer obscures.

The daughter of a distinguished union organiser and official and former wife of an Ontario Labour Relations Board chairman and affiliated with the Centre for Industrial Relations at the University of Toronto. MacDowell is steeped in labour history and industrial relations ideology. She does not feel it necessary to explain the significance of the struggles in which Cohen represented unions. Unions had a long history in Canada before Cohen came on the scene. The procedures of labour relations boards, certification, collective agreements, grievance and arbitration, the sidelining of courts, in the establishment of which Cohen played an important role, were major breakthroughs for unions but not the only possible outcome. It remains basically a North American model classically entrenched in Canada and more fragile in the United States. A large constituency of industrial relations academics, labour lawyers, law professors, arbitrators, human resources professionals and union officials have decided it is for the best and argue only over details, either pleasing to unions or not.

Stepping back in an epilogue to assess the importance of Cohen’s public life MacDowell sees nothing to consider but the arguments of Marxist academics for whom collective bargaining is a detour from the path of revolution. Their worst offence is to sound some times like right wing critics of unions.

MacDowell entertains suspicions of a political conspiracy behind Cohen’s conviction for assault and prejudice in the benchers of the Law Society in his disbarment. But her account makes the simplest explanation the most likely. He was guilty of assault causing bodily harm and his reformatory sentence and disbarment followed inevitably from that.

Cohen was by all accounts an abrasive personality. Many eminent lawyers have been difficult, flawed personalities. He did important work. But his work was finished. He would have been out of place in the conformist world of labour relations he helped establish.

Friday, October 11, 2002

CHEERING BERTHA WILSON The First Woman on the Supreme Court of Canada


October 11, 2002,  Books in Canada

Judging Bertha Wilson:
Law as Large as Life
Ellen Anderson
The Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History
University of Toronto Press
ISBN: 0802036481

In 1976 Bertha Wilson became the first woman on a provincial court of appeal, Ontario's, and in 1982 the first woman on the Supreme Court of Canada. The coming of the Charter has drawn public attention to the judges of the Supreme Court of Canada. Judging Bertha Wilson is the first biography of a Supreme Court judge of the Charter era. Ellen Anderson is a fan of Bertha Wilson. She neither judges her nor pleads a case for her. She cheers her on through a full life.

Wilson was born in Kirkcaldy in Scotland in 1923. She received an excellent Scottish education and developed a lifelong interest in philosophy growing from the Scottish Enlightenment tradition including Hume and Adam Smith. Both her brothers became philosophy professors. She married an equally bright Presbyterian minister, John Wilson, and began the life of a Scottish minister's wife. In 1949 John Wilson was called the the United Church in Renfrew Ontario. A stint as a navy chaplain brought the Wilsons to Halifax where, in 1954, Bertha enrolled at the Dalhousie Law School. John's job in church fundraising brought the Wilsons to Toronto and in 1958 Bertha was hired as an articling student by the old and respected firm of Osler, Hoskin & Harcourt.

Hard work, intelligence and and an appetite for reading that extended to the dustiest law books enabled Wilson to build from the routine legal research of an articling student a unique research practice at Osler's. She never went to court and had practically no clients of her own but she proved herself invaluable and was esteemed and rewarded accordingly. When Ottawa was looking for a woman to appoint to the Ontario Court of Appeal she seemed eminently qualified.

Anderson's account of Wilson's life is straightforward and agreeable. But the bulk of this book is a review of Wilson's judgments. Even for lawyers, trying to discern a pattern in the judgments in the hundreds of cases which circumstances bring before a long serving appellate judge is a daunting task. Anderson thinks she has found a 'Canadian Philosophy of Judicial Analysis' in Wilson's judgments. Her summaries of Wilson's judgments are superficial and uncritical. Only once does she tentatively suggest that Wilson fell short of her ideal. As one struggles to make sense of the flow of cases it may seem that Wilson was surrounded by fools, so obviously right Anderson always thinks she was. But few cases reach the appellate courts if there is not something to be said for both sides.

Judging Bertha Wilson is the culmination of years of work. It is based on Anderson's doctoral thesis 'Bertha Wilson: Postmodern Judge in a Postmodern Time'. She also wrote an MA thesis on the Scottish common-sense philosophers and their importance to Canadian law and culture and an LLB study on Wilson's jurisprudence. Anderson is the victim of too much postmodern education. Her theoretical apparatus only obscures her story. Her reading in fashionable theory has not been digested and she seems not have have managed the one thing educators at all levels say they aim at, critical thinking.

Anderson says Wilson is a postmodern judge with a distinctively contextual approach to the law. "Postmodern" or "contextual" occur hundreds of times in the book but could be deleted from the text with little damage to the syntax and no loss of meaning. Both are simply pretentious ways of excusing lax thinking. The judge who disregards context is a straw man.

Wilson's fondness for reading philosophy - she and her husband would spend days mulling over a passage from Heidegger - has encouraged Anderson to sprinkle references to Aristotle and Hume through her commentary on Wilson's judgments. Those who have not read philosophy will find these largely meaningless. Those who have will be sceptical. Anderson seems to think, and Wilson, who read the manuscript, may agree, that Hume's position on causation has some application to deciding cases. Thus "Her recognition that self-defence and provocation could co-exist and be co-determinative of the appellant's behaviour suggest a much more Humean notion of causation than is customary in our law courts". But Hart and Honoré's classic Causation in the Law, not in a bibliography that includes Aristotle, Derrida, Hume, Lyotard, Rorty and Adam Smith, firmly and rightly says that Hume's treatment of causation "is on a level of generality which is au dessus de la melée of the lawyer and the historian."

Wilson was a clear writer, an essential qualification, not by any means always met, for an appellate judge. She was fond of writing and wrote too much. On the bench she was courteous but firm, attentive, gently witty and well prepared. On the court of appeal and in commercial cases in the Supreme Court of Canada she stood generally for clarity and certainty. In family law cases, where feminists looked for a partisan, she was most concerned to see that legislative reforms, driven by the women's movement, worked as the legislatures intended. All this was neither exceptional nor exceptionable and well done.

Wilson's arrival on the Supreme Court of Canada coincided with the coming into force of the Charter. Judges knew well the dramatic implications of the Charter. They were faced with a choice between an restrained approach consistent with received jurisprudence and respectful of parliament and the legislatures and seizing on the Charter as an instrument of untrammelled power. With the slightest of hesitation they went for it. Wilson's account of the keenness of the judges to deal with Charter cases as they began to come before them, leaving aside, often to her, the traditional common law and statutory interpretation they had been used to, gives the lie to her claim "We didn't volunteer" set out in a 1999 contribution to Policy Options.

The most dramatic, and predictable, illustration of this was the Morgentaler decision. Positions on abortion are so vehemently held that on both sides ends seem to justify means. Politicians gave assurances when the Charter was being passed that, despite Roe v. Wade in the United States Supreme Court, it should not mean an end to the law on abortion. This was both true and disingenuous. Nothing in the Charter implies a right to an abortion. If you can find that in it you can find anything. But that is exactly the point. Finding whatever you like in the Charter was the predictable outcome.

Other judges tried to cover their decision in Morgentaler on procedural rights grounds. Wilson would have none of that and became the pro-choice hero as a result. She was pro-choice when she went on the court and no amount of legal analysis can get around the fact that she used the power given her by the Charter to enforce her personal convictions. Nor again, pace Anderson, does Hume have anything to do with it.

Wilson was both a card carrying New Democrat and a socialist. She seems never to have been politically active except on the bench. She showed her colours most freely in dissents that would have extended the Charter's
guarantee of freedom of association to collective bargaining and a right to strike. The principal cases in which she did this concerned the public sector, the most doubtful field for union activity. The point of such a fanciful reading of "freedom of association" is not that it would stop governments from passing back to work legislation or wage controls but that it would subject them and finally the minutiae of labour legislation to the arbitration of the Supreme Court of Canada, which, under Section 1 of the Charter will allow or disallow whatever it likes.

In McKinney, a case concerning compulsory retirement at universities, Wilson sets out her understanding of Canadian's political beliefs as an aid to interpreting the Charter:

 
"The vast majority of citizens nowadays want their government to be continuously active. Few people still subscribe to the doctrine that the less government does the better will be the result. The main controversies are centred not on whether government should act, but on how and when it should act.
....
...it seems generally accepted by our historians that the political philosophy of laissez-faire has not been embraced to any substantial degree in Canada.
....
I believe that this historical review demonstrates that Canadians have a somewhat different attitude towards government and its role from our U. S. neighbours. Canadians recognize that government has traditionally had and continues to have an important role to play in the creation and preservation of a just Canadian society. The state has been looked to and has responded to demands that Canadians be guaranteed adequate health care, access to education and a minimum level of financial security to name but a few examples."

 
Apparently the Charter has nothing to offer the substantial minority of right-wing Canadians. They are one minority not to be protected.

As Anderson explains it, Wilson believes the Charter is to be interpreted in the context of a kind of Canadian political consensus. Neither she nor Wilson seems able to contemplate the possibility that the consensus could change. If the longstanding Liberal hegemony were to end and be replaced by an Alliance/Conservative hegemony would the Charter be there to accommodate it or to thwart it?

Wilson was keen on intervenors. These she felt would help the court with "'legislative' facts illuminating the socio-political environment". In other words they would encourage a free ranging political debate before the court. An unnamed judge wrote in an internal memorandum that the court "now takes on the appearance of an ancient jousting contest with each side gathering up as many spear bearers as they can". The piling up of material from all interested lobbies before the court has coincided with a reduction of actual oral argument to a perfunctory ritual. Despite denials by Chief Justice Beverley McLachlin and others, the influence of the law schools' star ideologues serving as clerks to the justices must have expanded.

Anderson seems never to have read a judgment of Wilson's she does not like. But Wilson wrote not only too long but too often. She not only dissented often but often wrote "divergent concurrences". For Anderson this is sowing fruitful seeds for the future of the law. In fact, Wilson with her colleagues, was simply sowing confusion by the inability to settle collegially on reasons for judgment. Wilson's bright and curious mind and wide reading seems to have given her an exaggerated confidence in her opinions. Like a tiresome student in a seminar she always had to have her say. And keen on philosophy, history and sociology the facts and the law of particular cases became lost under generalities and her natural clarity became diffused.

When this book was published there was some comment in the press about Wilson's objection to what she called lobbying amongst the judges, from which she felt excluded.  Retired Chief Justice Antonio Lamer was quoted in The Globe and Mail as saying:

 
"Bertha was very often out in left field - you know, way out there. There was no point in going to Bertha's office and saying 'Bertha, if you were going to change this or that, I could go along with it.' Because she was as stubborn as a mule."

 
This is, perhaps, somewhat exaggerated and "left field" need not be understood in a political sense. But, if Wilson could often not bring other judges to her position or find her way to agreeing with them it was not because of some fault in the way the judges worked with each other on cases that requires procedural regulation. Wilson's free associating jurisprudence and garrulity is not distinctive but typical of the judges of the Charter era. Precisely because the judges have set themselves free from any strict or restrained construction of the Charter they will be in some difficulty settling on common reasons for judgment. What distinguished Wilson was her special confidence in her own point of view. And Wilson may never have developed a capacity for argument never having argued in court or public controversies.

Despite complaints from REAL Women to the Canadian Judicial Council that she had shown feminist bias in speeches while she was a judge, incidents which only confirm the unwisdom of judicial speechifying, Wilson says she is not a feminist. Perhaps this is postmodern irony. Her first work after she left the bench was heading a Task Force on Gender Equality for the Canadian Bar Association. This produced a predictably feminist report. The most contentious recommendations were for affirmative action to bring women along to law partnerships and the bench and compulsory sensitivity training for judges. Apparently, if this woman judge was not a feminist, male judges were presumptively chauvinist.

As the Task Force was winding down Wilson took on the most arduous task of her life as one of three non-native commissioners on the seven strong Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. The commissioners travelled in the bitterest winter to isolated communities. There was the full panoply of sweat lodges, sweet grass smudges, healing circles and feather holding. The largely aboriginal staffed commission produced a vast report advancing the usual aboriginal wish list of self-government, land claims, more money and affirmative action of various kinds. Wilson thinks this is the most important work she ever did. But it is now over five years since the report was published. Most Canadians have forgotten about it, if they ever noticed it in the first place. What little has been done to implement its recommendations would likely have been done without it.

The ghastly emiseration of Canadian native peoples will not be ended by the repetition and endorsement of pie in the sky demands. Not just Canadian politicians, as Anderson seems to think, but non-native Canadians generally remain miles apart from native leaders and their advocates in their understanding of the proper place of natives in Canadian society. A largely native Royal Commission that listened almost entirely to native people could do nothing to bring them together. Wilson and her fellow commissioners made themselves part of the problem rather than part of the solution. This was predictable. Wilson gave her heart and not her mind to the work and neither she nor Anderson seems to get it.

Biography is not the best way to come to terms with the politics of the law and the Charter. Even without a heavy burden of theory it tends too much to hero worship, or, perhaps, for some, demonisation. It is pleasant to read how Bertha Wilson lived, but in its treatment of the important issues she dealt with this book is a failure. It is another case of heart over mind.

Monday, January 5, 1998

COURTS SHOULD APPLY LAWS - NOT MAKE THEM Rosalie Abella and her Cadillac


COURTS SHOULD APPLY LAWS - NOT MAKE THEM
Rosalie Abella and her Cadillac
January 5, 1998,  Ottawa Citizen

Frustration with the expense and delay involved in going to court seems to be leading people to lose sight of what courts are for. Across the political spectrum, mediation and alternative dispute resolution are promoted as the way round problems in the courts. They have become growth industries for lawyers and lay counsellors and at times the prospect of the privatisation of civil justice looms. Governments baulk at the cost of the administration of justice and judges grow tetchy with the tedium of hearing peoples' private disputes.

The courts, however, are not just there to provide a government subsidised dispute resolution service to parties who could and should resolve their disputes themselves. There has never been anything stopping people from resolving their differences privately. The courts have no monopoly on dispute resolution. The expense and delay in going to court should provide plenty of opportunity for private competition. There has always been some private resolution of business disputes. It has never developed far because the courts offer something private dispute resolution cannot. What is new is government encouragement and, in prospect, requirement of alternative dispute resolution.

What distinguishes courts, what defines them, is their monopoly on the power to invoke the authority of the state. When a court issues a judgment property may be seized or people might be sent to gaol for not obeying an injunction. Alternative dispute resolution, if it cannot invoke the authority of the state, is simply another layer of preliminaries before the parties can finally put their case to the courts who can. If it can invoke the authority of the state, alternative dispute resolution is simply a new form of court proceeding, which there is no reason to suppose will be any cheaper or faster than the traditional courts can be.

The purpose of having the courts adjudicate private disputes is the same as the purpose of the courts in their criminal jurisdiction. It is to keep the peace. If people could not turn to the courts for a final determination of their differences backed by the authority of the state, they would end up fighting in the streets. People who can settle their differences amicably do not end up battling them out in court. If parties to a lawsuit often do manage to maintain civil, and even business relations, it is because they know that the state through the courts will dispose of their dispute and that there is no point in being nasty about it.

The rapidly growing political role of the courts has complicated and obscured their basic and essential role. It has complicated it in two ways: by adding to the courts' work and increasing the delays, particularly as political cases are usually given priority for hearing. And by encouraging a weakness of the courts for making law rather than applying it. When courts make law rather than applying it, no one can know where they stand until the highest court has spoken. Parties will not accept the law and settle but are encouraged to think that if they push hard enough they can get whatever they want from the courts. The political role of the courts has obscured their basic and essential role because, apart from criminal cases, most court cases receiving public attention are political.

Even judges have become confused about the role of the courts. Rosalie Abella of the Ontario Court of Appeal, the most popular choice to succeed John Sopinka on the Supreme Court of Canada, in an address she gave in 1991, when she was chairman of the Ontario Law Reform Commission, distinguished between public and private cases and called for more "expansive" hearing of "Constitutional questions, issues involving new jurisprudence", i. e. political cases. For Abella these were Cadillac cases, as opposed to the mere Chevies that you or I might have one day to drive to court.

Such a distinction is dangerous for the courts. The meanest dispute between neighbours must implicate the full authority of the state when brought to court. Conversely, whatever the political implications of a case, it is no occasion for being expansive. The facts must be found based on a painstaking review of the evidence and the law must be scrupulously applied and not made up from political considerations.

If we are ever to get prompt and economical justice from our courts they must be prepared to continue conscientiously in their essential work and not be put off by their mundane substance or distracted by political ambition and the lure of the big fancy cars. 

Friday, March 1, 1996

PUBLIC DEFENDER Arthur Maloney


March 1, 1996, The Literary Review of Canada

The Life and Times of Arthur Maloney:
The Last of the Tribunes
Charles Pullen
The Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History

Arthur Maloney was a famous criminal lawyer. In the O. J. Simpson trial a squad of famous criminal lawyers got their client an acquittal before a mass audience still largely convinced he is guilty. In the Paul Bernardo trial John Rosen became a famous criminal lawyer in the unsuccessful defence of a client whose guilt was never really in doubt. The importance of top lawyers needs critical assessment. Despite the opportunity offered by its subject this interesting book fails to provide it.

Arthur Maloney came from Renfrew County west of Ottawa. His father was a doctor and a Conservative M.P. from 1925 to 1935. After an undistinguished but agreeable time at the University of Toronto he began training as a lawyer under the old regime, mixing work in a law office with lectures at Osgoode Hall. As he was working on the side and no great scholar he had to pull strings to get called to the bar in 1943.

Fame came in 1952 when a chance elevator encounter with Chief Justice James McCruer led to his court appointment as counsel for Leonard Jackson, who with his fellow member of the bank robbing, gaol breaking Boyd gang, Steve Suchan, was charged with the murder of a police sergeant.  J. J. Robinette, already famous for his successful appeal and second trial in the Evelyn Dick case, defended Suchan. Both Jackson and Suchan were convicted and hanged. By Pullen’s account both murder convictions may have resulted from Maloney’s failure to dissuade Jackson from taking the stand in his own defence, a mistake attributable to his lacking the confidence and authority that comes with experience. The case received coverage in the relatively primitive provincial media of the early fifties comparable to the Bernardo case. There was never any doubt that Suchan shot Sergeant Tong. Maloney’s failure to save his client from the gallows was not held against him by anyone, not even his client. He was able to play the role to everyone’s satisfaction and his public reputation was established.

Maloney had a melodramatic and rhetorical sense of himself and his role as counsel. While a student he developed an interest in drama and opera. He debated and made recruiting speeches, though respiratory weaknesses kept him out of the war. He did radio commentary for Sunday masses at St. Michael’s Cathedral in Toronto. He was a great admirer of Churchill and managed to get in to a wartime press conference as a stringer for the Eganville Leader, by his account asking him a question. He had an egocentric gregariousness and from his first years in practice was the centre of a circle who drank after work at the Metropole Hotel, occasionally joined by police officers, and handy to the newspapers offices, with whose reporters he early established good relations. A long line of spirited students and juniors passed through his office and often on to distinguished careers in the law and beyond. Ontario Associate Chief Justice Patrick Lesage, who presided at the Bernardo trial, is one several times quoted in this book. Charles Pullen, Emeritus Professor of English at Queen’s University, is another.

Much of the book is based on fond recollection. Maloney was almost as celebrated as a popular fellow as for his legal or political careers. The cover photograph of Maloney smiling behind a raised glass is the image the book supports. But there is another view of him, as Pullen admits at the outset:
There is an accumulation of public, desultory memory of Maloney that is not flattering. From the beginning of this project, there has been some eye-shifting dubiety about the man. Indeed, within the Osgoode Society, and certainly within the legal profession, there are those who have a jaundiced view of him. Much of this opinion is confused, as well as vague, depending upon dim memories of newspaper reports and unsolicited word-of-mouth derision. Most of these people are innocent, unbiased spectators of the public scene who had heard enough about Maloney to presume to dislike him without much personal knowledge of the man.
None of this appears in the rest of the book. Through the warm glow of Pullen’s prose it is only possible to surmise that some who were not part of his circle may have grown weary of hearing what a great lawyer and a great fellow he was. The opportunity is passed up to try to assess just how good a lawyer Maloney was and what it would mean to the administration of justice if outstanding talent made a lot of difference to who was convicted of what and what such talent means if it does not. We do not see what drove him to make himself so popular and why with many people he failed.

Maloney was a great drinker:
...Arthur had a taste for drinking long into the night, even if he had started in the early afternoon....The later it got, as is the way of the world of alcoholic excess, the more questionable the company would become, as his legal associates withdrew, slipping away one by one....Many of his bar acquaintances were simply not fit company for a man in his position. When he was a young criminal lawyer, much of his social life in close connection with the sub-fusc [sic] side of the city was just barely acceptable, sustained by the public’s romantic ideas of how a criminal “mouthpiece” would comport himself....[Former Maloney student and eminent criminal counsel Clive] Bynoe, who had close connections with the police department..., had an arrangement with some senior detectives to keep an eye on Arthur as he roamed the clubs late at night.
Such loyalty is impressive. He was evidently not an ugly drunk. He was surely at times a boring or embarrassing drunk.

Pullen reviews in detail a few of Maloney’s cases, quoting from transcripts. The cross-examinations are skilful, but despite Pullen’s claims, unremarkable. Two jury addresses are reproduced as appendices. So far as one can judge them in cold print they are excellent. But there were and are plenty of lawyers as capable as Maloney appears from the evidence of this book. Maloney lost most of his cases as most criminal defence lawyers always have. Many cases are lost despite the most skilful defence. Many defendants are acquitted after an only a just competent defence. This is as it should be. Otherwise acquittals would depend on who could afford the best counsel or which defendants appealed most to the best counsels’ dramatic sense of themselves. The eminence of counsel depends more on their ability to impress clients and colleagues and their ability to get and get through a lot of work, than on the results they achieve. Lawyers themselves, as it sustains the prestige of the profession and provides occasion for fond and gregarious reminiscence, encourage a cult of the great advocate. The popular press to some extent supports it. Some scepticism is indicated and legal history should inform it.

Maloney’s public career outside the law was largely fruitless. He was lucky enough to be appointed at age 28 to the Ontario Parole Board, but resigned after three months, earning his first significant publicity. He argued that the board was too rigorous in considering prisoners’ records and should have dealt with them on a case by case basis. He seems never to have had the patience to work with others and bring them around to his views.

In the 1957 and 1958 he was elected the Progressive Conservative M. P. for the Toronto riding of Parkdale. He was defeated when the Tories collapsed in Toronto in 1962. He was a natural candidate, bringing name recognition, gregariousness and a readiness to make a rousing speech when that still counted for something. But his years in Ottawa seem largely to have been wasted. He was bored, found new watering holes in Ottawa and kept up a criminal practice. Apart from a predictably impassioned speech on capital punishment, he seems not to have interested himself in the work of parliament. Pullen devotes most of his chapters on this period to speculation as to whether he might have been made a minister and why he was not. It is perfectly possible that his support for Donald Fleming in the 1956 Progressive Conservative leadership convention or his drinking were factors. But in the end no definite explanation is needed. He was not so obvious a candidate for minister as Pullen supposes and there were more than enough Toronto ministrables ahead of him.

In 1966 Maloney was persuaded to run for the presidency of the national Progressive Conservative party in opposition to Dalton Camp, whose campaign to end Diefenbaker’s leadership was proceeding to its climax. It was a quixotic gesture. Maloney had never really been a Diefenbaker man. Dief’s dramatic style and high estimation of himself as a tribune of the people appealed to Maloney but they had never been close. While Maloney had continued to attend party meetings he had never held office in the party and knew nothing about political organisation. He simply lent his name to the battle to save Dief. His campaign was poorly organised, but that probably made no difference. The real question was whether Dief should go. Maloney got 43% of the votes at the party general meeting.

Maloney’s last and most notorious entry into public life was as Ontario’s first Ombudsman in 1975. It can be seen as his finest or worst hour. Pullen tries to come down somewhere in the middle. The office itself is something of an absurdity, a political fifth wheel, adopted on the basis of the once widely held belief that they do things better in Sweden. The office has no power beyond investigating and reporting. It is supposed to be a last resort for citizens who feel that they have been abused by government. Maloney, with an unqualified confidence in the goodness of his heart and ample confidence in the sharpness of his mind, wanted to establish himself as a one man alternative government. He personally stage managed an elaborate installation ceremony, insisted on handsome offices and with much publicity and to some mockery adopted a gryphon crest for the office. He quickly hired a large staff, largely young men from his circle. Pullen defends him against the charge of personal extravagance. The furniture in his own office was chosen and paid for by his wife. But Maloney’s defence against the charge of folie de grandeur, that as a matter of principle it was necessary to establish the presence and prestige of the office in order to serve its public clients, was unpersuasive.

The overwhelming majority of the Ombudsman’s clients fall into three groups: people who cannot be bothered to figure out what government office to turn to and need a citizens’ information office to steer them politely elsewhere; people who have existing rights of appeal that they are too impatient to exhaust; and people who just will not take no for an answer however fairly and patiently their complaint may have been reviewed by the responsible authorities. Maloney wanted to take on everyone, waiving the statutory requirement of a written complaint and keeping phones manned to late at night to capture the maximum business. In his first annual report he recorded 10,000 complaints, of which 90% were outside his jurisdiction.

One issue dominated Maloney’s three years as Ombudsman. The provincial government had purchased lands around Pickering for a proposed new airport. The sellers felt that the province’s land agents had misled them and driven too hard a bargain. After an informal investigation Maloney agreed and recommended substantial further payments. The government baulked at the prospect of having to pay out possibly tens of millions of dollars on the mere recommendation of Maloney and the issue became bogged down in further more formal inquiries and court proceedings before much of what Maloney recommended was done years later. It was never clear why, except for political reasons, the landowners deserved any redress. If there had been any legal wrong in the purchases they should have challenged them in the courts. A challenge to the purchases on broader, political, grounds was bound to involve a lengthy battle. Maloney was instrumental in supporting the landowners’ fight. But any idea that he could offer them a quick and simple solution was folly and his attempt to do so complicated and exacerbated the conflict.

Frustrated and tiring at the mass of mundane complaints Maloney resigned in 1978. He had managed to alienate members of the legislature’s committee on the Ombudsman of all parties, a perverse situation given that it is part of the the theory of the Ombudsman that he is the servant of the legislature. The office has continued, his successors little heard of, wasting several million dollars a year. Troubled by ill health in his last years, Maloney died in 1984 aged 65.

All of Maloney’s public career can be seen as an extension of his sense of vocation as a people’s advocate. He saw himself as a tribune of the people, hence Pullen’s subtitle. Most of his career as a criminal lawyer was before legal aid and he often took cases for nominal fees or none. Trials were much shorter then. Pullen gives some information on Maloney’s finances. His wife had money. His income ranged from under $10,000 a year in the fifties to six figures in the seventies. How this happened and how much was due to legal aid he does not explain.

Maloney defended the criminal defence lawyer’s role in conventional terms carried to the extreme: it was a privilege to gain acquittals for men he knew were guilty. He may have seen Jackson and Suchan as “feckless rogues” (Pullen’s phrase), particularly in the perspective of their poignant last days. They faced long years in prison if they had been acquitted of murder. But Maloney’s sentimental attitude to criminals evades the seriousness of public concern with crime. His practice seems a long way from the world of protracted trials, complex frauds and plea bargaining, a subject not touched on. One wonders how he might have handled the Bernardo defence and what sympathy he could have found for him. John Rosen’s efforts to arouse some sympathy for his client, “None of us are perfect.”, seemed laughable. His pronouncement in the face of legal aid cuts that “None of us work for nothing.” was not true in Maloney’s heyday.

Maloney appeared before the Supreme Court of Canada on the appeal of William Coffin, convicted of and later hanged for the murder of three American hunters in the Gaspé in 1955. He also appeared before a Royal Commission into the conviction in 1964. He believed Coffin had committed the murders. But he believed the proceedings leading to his conviction had been marked by unfairness. This is a perfectly reasonable and proper position. Whatever the rules of fairness may be they must be observed for everyone. The question that Maloney’s stance as tribune cannot answer is how far fairness must go. Criminal proceedings are not a game of cops and robbers. The only assurance of no wrong convictions is no prosecutions. Discussion of accuseds’ or suspects’ rights, even more with the Charter, becomes an abstract appeal to vaguely revered principles. Getting off on a technicality may result. The public cannot expect to be satisfied with the advocate’s claim of the privilege to achieve that result.

Pullen’s book meanders back and forth through time, giving perhaps too much family history and reminiscence of other legal stars of years past. It is often too literary and simply too long. It can be read with interest by those close enough to the law to read it critically and is a fond memorial to the man. Legal biography must play an important part in legal history. Some of the Osgoode Society’s initiatives in this have been successful: David Ricardo Williams on Duff; Patrick Boyer on McCruer. This is its first biography of a counsel. Its next legal biographies will be studies by Williams of seven eminent counsel. Biography of counsel is perhaps a more difficult undertaking than that of judges when what made counsel eminent was an often ephemeral celebrity. It is difficult to revive the interest of long forgotten trials and their interest is is usually more in the accused or the victims than in the counsel, however capable or flamboyant. But the effort, not entirely successful in this case, must be made if we are to have critical understanding of the law and its processes and keep alive the past beyond sentimental memory.

Monday, January 1, 1996

WHAT'S THE EVIDENCE? The Use the Supreme Court of Canada Makes of Evidence in Charter Cases


January 1, 1996,  Rethinking the Constitution  Oxford University Press

The coming into force of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms in 1982 launched a mass of speculation on what it might mean. It was suggested immediately that the courts would have to rely on evidence in deciding whether legislation should be struck down under the Charter.

While not unprecedented in Canada1, the use of evidence in constitutional cases is an American practice and speculation drew on American precedents. The Brandeis brief, long revered in law schools, was always referred to. Louis Brandeis, several years before his appointment to the United States Supreme Court, had filed government studies and other material to support the constitutionality of employment standards legislation specifically protecting women2. The practice became common in American constitutional practice, and with its apparent promise of litigating political issues was attractive to law professors and their more impressionable students.

Also rehearsed was a distinction between adjudicative facts, the ordinary facts in litigation of who did what to whom and where and with what effects, proved by conventional evidence and tested by cross-examination, and legislative facts, general social facts on which it might be thought legislatures should rely in making laws, to be established to the Court’s satisfaction in Charter cases by different kinds of evidence subject, if only for practical reasons, to less rigorous testing3. One of the grounds of this distinction was the suggestion that with legislative facts all that was necessary was to establish a reasonable basis for legislative action. For that purpose more laxed standards of admissibility and less rigorous testing of the evidence might be indicated. If the purpose of leading evidence was simply to show what the legislature was trying to do, and thus to explain away any apparent infringement of rights, the scrutiny of the evidence and the role assumed by the Court would be limited.

The early years of speculation have been superseded by more than ten years experience with Charter litigation. Evidence has been used to explain what the Charter’s rights and freedoms must mean and whether they have been infringed and what remedies there may be4. But the consideration of whether impugned legislation can be, in the words of section 1 of the Charter:
such reasonable limits prescribed by law as can be demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society.
has been the commonest and key use of evidence.

An examination of the more significant cases in the Supreme Court of Canada in which evidence was, or might have been, introduced to help the Court pass judgment on the work of the legislatures does not reveal settled principles or practice. But three uses of evidence for the Court are apparent. The Court has effectively used a call for and the availability of evidence to enhance and protect its authority and power. Firstly, calling on evidence has helped to protect the Court from blatantly imposing its political opinions on the legislatures. Secondly, by insisting that it decides, on evidence, whether legislation can be justified, rather than simply satisfying itself that there was a reasonable basis for the legislation and deferring to the institutionally competent and democratically accountable legislatures, the Court reserves for itself unrestricted power. Finally, by purporting to base its decisions on findings on the evidence in particular cases it has reserved to itself the freedom to revisit every political issue.

***

The first significant reference in a Supreme Court of Canada judgment to evidence in Charter cases came in 1984 in Skapinker5. Skapinker, a South African citizen at the time he was to be called to the Ontario bar, objected to the requirement in paragraph 28(c) of the Law Society Act that persons called to the bar be Canadian citizens or British subjects. Estey J., having decided that Skapinker’s rights had not been violated, nonetheless commented on the case that the Law Society would have had to make to justify the citizenship requirement if the Court had decided that it did violate Skapinker’s rights. He characterised the material that the Law Society would have relied on as minimal. It consisted of reports of government studies of professional organisations and a survey of the requirements in other jurisdictions. He insisted that more would be expected in the future:
As experience accumulates, the law profession and the courts will develop standards and practices which will enable the parties to demonstrate their position under s. 1 and the courts to decide issues arising under that provision. May it only be said here, in the cause of being helpful to those who come forward in similar proceedings, that the record on the s. 1 issue was indeed minimal, and without more, would have made it difficult for a court to determine the issue as to whether a reasonable limit on a prescribed right had been demonstrably justified. (D.L.R. 182; S.C.R. 384)
In light of what has been looked at in later cases it must be understood that it was the bulk rather than the character of the evidence that seemed deficient to Estey. Moreover, the deficiency would not have prevented the Court from deciding whether a reasonable limit had been justified, as Estey seems to say, but simply from deciding in the limit’s favour, something he appeared inclined to do, but wanted evidentiary cover for.

Almost a year later Wilson J. in Singh6 expressed disappointment at “the limited scope of the factual material brought forward by the respondent in support of the proposition that the Immigration Act’s provisions constitute a “reasonable limit” on the appellant’s rights.” and quoted Estey from Skapinker. (D.L.R. 467/8; S.C.R. 217) The appellant refugee claimants argued successfully that the act in denying them an appeal to the Immigration Appeal Board unless it was of the opinion on the basis of written material that the Minister’s determination not to grant refugee status could likely be overturned denied them security of the person without regard for the principles of fundamental justice contrary to section 7 of the Charter. It was contended for the Minister of Immigration that the U. N. High Commissioner for Refugees had approved Canada’s procedures, that Commonwealth and Western European countries offered no right of appeal and that the Immigration Appeal Board, already under strain, would be unreasonably burdened by a requirement of an oral hearing in every case. What exact factual material would have been satisfactory is unclear as Wilson doubted that “utilitarian” considerations could be allowed to prevail over the Charter rights that she held had been infringed. (D.L.R. 469; S.C.R. 718) She placed more reliance on a task force report and an Appeal Board chairman’s speech, which contained merely political comment more to her taste. The utilitarian results of the Court’s decision were a huge backlog of refugee claims, tens of thousands of claimants in welfare limbo, a raft of new patronage appointments, public lack of confidence in the refugee programme and a legal aid crisis.

***

The exact evidentiary character of the material needed to justify a limit under section 1 of the Charter remained vague. But the celebrated R. v. Oakes7, in which Chief Justice Dickson attempted to codify the requirements for a section 1 justification, seemed to call for something like evidence in the received sense. Before outlining the requirements of “pressing and substantial concerns”, “rational connection”, “minimal impairment” and “proportionality” on which a whole scholastic industry has since been built, the Chief Justice held that the onus of proving justification is on the party seeking to uphold the limitation and that the civil standard of proof by a “preponderance of probability” applies.

By speaking of onus and a standard of proof, concepts of the law of evidence, the Chief Justice called on evidence as the principal basis for the justification of limits to Charter rights. It was not surprising that he should do so. But it was not necessary. Justification could have been left a matter of argument, with legislative history and some evidence of political or economic context as an adjunct of legal argument. Reading the Court’s reasons this is often all that seems involved. But the Chief Justice said “cogent and persuasive” evidence would generally be necessary and, whether or not it has been cogent and persuasive, his wish to have evidence has generally been granted.

Dickson’s consideration of evidence in Oakes does not much help to show how evidence should be used. Oakes challenged section 8 of the Narcotic Control Act, which put the onus of showing that possession, once proved by the Crown, was not for the purpose of trafficking, on the accused. The Court held that this reverse onus was contrary to the presumption of innocence required by paragraph 11(d) of the Charter. The Crown argued that any infringement of the right to be presumed innocent was justifiable under section 1.

Dickson was satisfied that Parliament’s concern to fight drug trafficking was substantial and pressing on the basis of government reports from the fifties and seventies, international conventions and legislation in other countries. Reasonable people might judge that a recent leading article from The Economist was as good evidence, and more cogent and persuasive, to the contrary.

Having satisfied himself of Parliament’s pressing and substantial concern on doubtful evidence, the Chief Justice then struck down the reverse onus provision without further examination of evidence by holding that there was no rational connection between possession of a narcotic and possession for the purpose of trafficking. The implicit characterisation of the legislation as irrational seems unfair to its framers. The provision did not simply deem possession possession for the purpose of trafficking, which might arguably be irrational. It placed an onus on anyone proved to have been in possession of a narcotic to prove, on the balance of probabilities, that it was not for the purpose of trafficking. The question was not therefore whether “the possession of a small quantity of narcotics does not support the inference of trafficking.” but whether the reverse onus would help the fight against drug trafficking. On this specific point, which the Court does not even seem to have grasped, no evidence was considered and its absence or insufficiency went unremarked.

After the elaborate analysis and solemn talk of cogent and persuasive evidence the determinative finding comes too easily. The case could have been decided on brief reasons without the encouragements to Charter scholasticism and an inflation of constitutional evidence. The consideration of evidence in Oakes demonstrates that the use of evidence will be strongly determined by the context of the specific case and the positions taken by the parties. The Court purports to endorse parliament’s concern with drug trafficking on the basis of doubtful evidence when it was never seriously in issue. It then rejects the instrument by which parliament attempted to address its concern by reasoning without evidence, no attempt being made to consider how the instrument might work.

References to legislation in other countries and international conventions have been common since the earliest attempts to justify legislation under section 1. It is argued that if legislation like that impugned under the Charter is tolerated in other nice countries it must be a reasonable limit demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society. The references in Oakes were only intended to show that the object of the impugned legislation was “substantial and pressing” and not to justify the specific impugned legislation. The logic of attempts to justify impugned Canadian legislation by showing similar legislation in other putatively free and democratic countries is doubtful. But they present little problem of getting evidence as the foreign legislation can generally simply be filed without controversy. The analysis in Oakes indicates that, as always seemed likely, justification by foreign legislation alone will not work. But as Oakes itself demonstrates, foreign legislation can still puzzlingly be accepted as evidence to satisfy one or another of the Oakes criteria for justification.8

As Oakes illustrates, the use made of evidence by the Court in Charter cases will be determined by the judges’ preconceptions. In ordinary trials the judge has no preconceptions about the facts and must rely entirely on the evidence to decide where the cars were at the time of the accident, who shot whom, where the money went or why the machine would not work. In Charter cases judges appear to invoke evidence or pass it by depending on how it suits their arguments. It is often difficult to determine from the Court’s logorrhoeic reasons exactly what evidence they considered and what they made of it. Ordinary cases often turn entirely on the facts and judges’ reasons review the evidence in detail and make findings expressly based on it, particularly of credibility. The credibility of the reports and studies relied on in Charter cases is never made an issue.

***

Oakes implied a readiness to weigh up the merits of legislation in light of political findings based on evidence. A few months before, in Operation Dismantle9, Dickson J. (who became Chief Justice between the argument of the case in February 1984 and judgment in May 1985) firmly refused to be drawn into political judgments, dismissing them as matters of speculation. The appellants alleged in their statement of claim that cruise missile testing would violate the section 7 right to security of the person and life because,inter alia:
verification of the extent of this nuclear weapons system [would be] impossible;
with the impossibility of verification, the future of nuclear weapons control... [would be] completely undetermined as any such agreements become practically unenforceable;
the testing...would result in making Canada more likely to be the target of nuclear attack;
a “Launch on Warning” system would be necessary in order to respond to the cruise missile...increasing the likelihood of either a preemptive strike or an accidental firing;
the cruise missile [would] have the effect of a needless and dangerous escalation of the arms race, thus endangering the lives and security of all people. (D.L.R. 485/6; S.C.R. 448)

The usual approach in deciding whether to strike out a statement of claim, the issue in Operation Dismantle, is to assume that the allegations in the statement of claim are true and decide whether they could support any claim at law. Dickson decided the case on the novel basis that the allegations made by the appellants simply could not be proven:
Since the foreign policy decisions of independent and sovereign nations are not capable of prediction, on the basis of evidence, to any degree of probability, the nature of such reactions can only be a matter of speculation; the causal link between the decision of Canada to permit the testing of the cruise and the results that the appellants allege could not be proven. (D.L.R. 488; S.C.R. 452)
In later cases the Court has been ready to hear and make findings on evidence no less intractable than what might have been led by Operation Dismantle and on issues no less speculative than those raised by it. While the dismissal of its claim came as relief to sensible people, the reasoning was unsatisfactory. Had the Court chosen to impose some limits to the imperial and despotic powers plausible and prevailing interpretations of the Charter give it, on the grounds that the Court simply cannot properly deal with certain kinds of issues, it would have been a healthy development.10 But in deciding the case on a kind of finding of fact, for which no evidence was considered necessary, or even possible, the Court showed that it was not prepared to set any limits to its powers beyond its energy and interests.

***

By 1986 what evidence could be lead to justify a limit under section 1 of the Charter remained a matter of speculation and lobbying. While seized with Operation Dismantle, Chief Justice Dickson, addressing a Bar Association meeting in Edmonton in February 1985, had invited counsel to:
become more imaginative in their presentation of factual material in constitutional litigation....While I cannot pre-judge the evidence the Court will deem relevant and admissible in a particular case, I urge all counsel in constitutional litigation to offer the Court, as evidence, any material they deem useful to the questions at hand. [emphasis added]11

With this encouragement it might have been expected that some Charter litigation would have degenerated into a battle of the social scientists, like the battles of psychiatrists in criminal cases or social workers in custody cases. But generally a mass of dull paper has been dumped on the Court without controversy and become matter for argument between counsel and been picked over by the judges.

In Thomsen12, Hufsky13 and Ladouceur14 the respective accused drivers argued successfully that their right not to be arbitrarily detained under section 9 of the Charter had been infringed. But the Court accepted in justification several volumes filed by the Crown as evidence of the seriousness of impaired driving and unlicensed and uninsured driving and the need for breathalyser tests and random checks to deal with them. Though these considerations may justify the attacked legislation and go some way beyond judicial notice, the show of bringing an open mind to be persuaded by evidence strains credibility. The Court was making political judgments. On such issues lack of existing opinion is improbable. Judging by the questions asked by Sopinka J. in Ladouceur, the evidence, for the assembly of which the case had been adjourned for a year in the Ontario Court of Appeal, did not itself compel the Court’s conclusion:
Although the statistics are voluminous, there is no evidence as to whether during the relevant period police officers were actually exercising the “roving random stop” power. For example, was the percentage of accidents involving unlicensed drivers realized notwithstanding the fact that police officers were employing this method of enforcement? If it was, presumably it is only since s. 189a(1) was enacted in 1981. What were the percentages before this method was used? How many motorists who were perfectly law-abiding were stopped for every one that was committing some violation? On the other hand, if the police have not been using this method and this case is an isolated incident, what is the evidence that police officers consider that this power is essential to effective enforcement? (C.C.C. 27/8; S.C.R. 1265)

Some other questions might be asked. Did the legislature do wrong in giving police the power being challenged without exhaustive evidence to satisfy Sopinka? Sopinka, in a minority of four, held that the “roving random stops” in question in Ladouceur could not be justified. Was Sopinka asking the questions because of a principled requirement for evidence or because he did not like police having the power and just wanted to strike down this particular bit of legislation? In later cases Sopinka was prepared to be much less demanding of the evidence.

In the cases dealing with Quebec’s language legislation at the end of 198815 the Court accepted material simply attached to the Quebec attorney general’s factum in the Court of Appeal. It ranged
in nature from the general theory of language policy and planning to statistical analysis of the position of the French language in Quebec and Canada. (Ford D.L.R. 626; S.C.R. 777)
Excusing the irregular way in which it had been submitted the Court commented that:
...the parties did not appear to be taken by surprise..., but showed themselves fully prepared to argue the merits of the material.... The material is of the kind that has been invited and considered by the Court in other cases involving the application of s. 1 of the Charter, without having been subjected to the evidentiary testing of the adversary process. It is material that is treated similarly to treatises and articles in other judicial contexts. (Ford D.L.R. 626; S.C.R. 776/7)

The printer Singer, in Devine, attacked some of the material as biased or misleading and submitted other statistical analysis and the Court said “due regard” should be given to this. But what is remarkable in the cases is the readiness of the Court to accept the whole of Quebec’s linguistic national policy “without [its] having been subjected to the evidentiary testing of the adversary process”. Because the Court struck down the outright ban on English signs and Quebec reacted strongly and invoked the notwithstanding clause the public saw the Court as condemning Quebec linguistic nationalism. In fact it endorsed it, only balking at the outright ban on languages other than French on signs, holding that it failed to meet the proportionality test in Oakes.

The French language decisions illustrate the artificiality and evasiveness of the Charter evidence practice. In accepting Quebec’s language policy the Court had not only to accept the statistics it submitted “without [their] having been subjected to the evidentiary testing of the adversary process”. It had also to accept Quebec’s “general theory of language policy and planning” and the value placed on Quebec’s language and culture as against other affected values. By discussing the issues in terms of “materials” or “evidence” the Court obscures the fact that it must and does make political judgments beyond anything determined by the general language of the Charter itself.

***

In the Irwin Toy16 case, a toy manufacturer argued that Quebec’s ban on advertising directed to children was a denial of freedom of expression. Having already forced itself to accept that argument by its inclusion of “commercial expression” within freedom of expression in Ford and Devine, the Court was ready to consider social science evidence justifying the ban. Irwin Toy argued that studies done after the legislation was enacted could not be relied on to justify it. It seemed to contend that legislation should be reviewed like an administrative decision, only what was before the legislature when it enacted the legislation, an extended legislative history, being considered. The Court would only go so far as to look for some justifiable intention at the time of the enactment. While it wondered:
why the Attorney-General did not tender in evidence certain reports and studies that were used by the government both in enacting the legislation and subsequently in reviewing its operation. (D.L.R. 619; S.C.R. 985)
it was content “to assess the constitutionality of the legislation on the basis of the material that was filed.” including “studies post-dating the enactment of the [legislation] and upon which the government did not rely in adopting [it].”
In showing that the legislation pursues a pressing and substantial objective, it is not open to the government to assert post facto a purpose which did not animate the legislation in the first place (see R. v. Big M Drug Mart [(D.L.R. 352/3; S.C.R. 335)]:17  However, in proving that the original objective remains pressing and substantial, the government surely can and should draw upon the best evidence currently available. The same is true as regards proof that the measure is proportional to its objective: see R. v. Edwards Books & Art Ltd. (1986), 35 D.L.R. (4th) 1 at p. 41...[1986] 2 S.C.R. 713 [ at p. 769]. It is equally possible that a purpose which was not demonstrably pressing and substantial at the time of the legislative enactment becomes demonstrably pressing and substantial with the passing of time and the changing of circumstances. (D.L.R. 618; S.C.R. 984)

The result seems to be that the legislation must have had an objective when it was passed that can be justified when the matter comes before the Court, but that it does not matter whether that objective could be justified when the legislation was passed. Legislation may come to be justified some time after it is passed as its objective becomes pressing and substantial or the proportion between the objective and the measure shifts. It should also follow that legislation once justifiable may in time cease to be18.

The implication of these principles is that the Court may be asked to revisit any issue on the grounds that circumstances have changed since it last upheld or struck down any particular legislation. Indeed, it should not be necessary to argue that circumstances have changed. As the Court claims to decide the issues on evidence, it should be enough to say that there is evidence the that Court has not previously considered. While Irwin Toy has had its chance to rebut the Crown’s evidence any other toy maker, or children’s advocate, who wants to challenge the Quebec legislation should be free to do so.

On this analysis the claim to decide section 1 issues on evidence must largely preclude any final settlement of constitutional jurisprudence as the Court pushes its way through the first wave of Charter cases. Cases decided on evidence are generally only binding between the immediate parties.

***

By 1989 the Court’s appetite for evidence in Charter cases seemed to have become an addiction. In MacKay v. Manitoba19 MacKay challenged provisions of the Manitoba Election Finances Act for the subsidisation of candidates elections expenses. He contended that the use of tax monies, to which he was obliged to contribute, to support candidates with whose opinions he disagreed and the 10% of votes requirement for the subsidy as a barrier to small or new parties infringed his freedom of expression. The case was apparently pursued with more enthusiasm than thought and no facts were put before the Court beyond the legislation itself. The government of Manitoba was content that it should proceed on that basis and the judge at first instance and the Manitoba Court of Appeal held that there was no infringement of freedom of speech.

Before the Supreme Court of Canada the attorneys general of Canada and Ontario intervened and took the position that there was no factual basis for dealing with the appeal. Cory J. agreed and delivered a homily on the need for evidence in Charter cases:
In light of the importance and impact that these decisions may have in the future, the courts have every right to expect and indeed to insist upon the careful preparation and presentation of a factual basis in most Charter cases. The relevant facts put forward may cover a wide spectrum dealing with scientific, social, economic and political aspects. Often expert opinion as to the future impact of the impugned legislation and the result of the possible decisions pertaining to it may be of great assistance to the courts.
Charter decisions should not and must not be made in a factual vacuum. To attempt to do so would trivialize the Charter and inevitably result in ill-considered opinions. (D.L.R. 388; S.C.R. 361)
For a Court that dismissed Operation Dismantle on the basis that its allegations about international politics could simply never be proved the readiness to be persuaded of the future impact of impugned legislation and the result of possible decisions is remarkable. Also remarkable is the contrast between the demand for the careful preparation and presentation of a mass of factual material and wide eyed acceptance of any social science and expert opinion without “the evidentiary testing of the adversarial process”.

MacKay’s counsel argued that Neo-Nazis might get 10% of the vote and be entitled to public funding. Cory would have none of this without evidence. But it is not clear what help evidence would be. Did Cory mean that only when a Neo-Nazi actually had 10% of the vote and was about to receive public funds would freedom of expression be in danger? Or would some specific probability of a Neo-Nazi getting 10% of the vote testified to by some dubious political scientist have decided the case?

MacKay’s case was simple enough. Even Cory dealt with large part of it as presented:
    The appellants also argued an issue that does not require a factual foundation. It was said
that the statutory funding of candidates could, whenever a losing candidate or candidates received 10% of the vote, force a taxpayer to support a candidate whose views are fundamentally opposed to that of the taxpayer. This enforced support of a contrary view was said to infringe the taxpayer’s right to freedom of expression. I cannot accept that contention. The Act does not prohibit a taxpayer or anyone else from holding or expressing any position or their belief in any position. Rather, the Act seems to foster and encourage the dissemination and expression of a wide range of views and positions. In this way it enhances public knowledge of diverse views and facilitates public discussion of those views. (D.L.R. 392; S.C.R. 366/7)
But by 1989 the Court had become so used to buffering its decisions in masses of evidence that it would not fully deal with MacKay .

***

In 1990 and 1991 the Court became more and more confident and ambitious in dealing with political issues, upholding mandatory retirement provisions in universities20 and hospitals21, but striking down a provisions of the Unemployment Insurance Act that restricted benefits for people over 6522, upholding hate propaganda bans in the Canadian Human Rights Act23, but striking down limits on political activity by public servants24. In all of these cases quantities of evidence were before the Court, but it is hard to tell from its reasons how much an of it was relied on.

Merv Lavigne’s unsuccessful attempt to have the requirement that he pay dues to the Ontario Public Service Employees Union in order to keep his job teaching at a community college25 demonstrated how far politics cloaked in evidence could go. Lavigne objected that his dues were being used to support the New Democratic Party, disarmament campaigns and other causes. None of the judges thought Lavigne’s right to freedom of expression had been infringed by his being forced to contribute funds to support causes he disagreed with. Wilson J. relied on MacKay . Only three of the judges thought Lavigne’s right to freedom of association had been infringed. But all of the judges held that whatever rights or freedoms might have been infringed, it could be justified under section 1. LaForest J., who had held that Lavigne’s freedom of association was infringed, nevertheless insisted that he could not even be allowed an opt out for dues not spent strictly on collective bargaining, having evidently been persuaded by the evidence of the following:
...there is evidence to support the view that the cause of unionism has been advanced by the NDP. The respondents referred to the role that the party played in the establishment of medicare, pensions, and unemployment insurance, and of what unions would have had to give up in the way of demands in other areas in order to get medical coverage from employers, private unemployment insurance coverage, and so on. In the light of the foregoing, it is inconceivable that support of the NDP could be considered irrelevant to the union’s obligation to represent those who pay dues to it. But the important point is that if individuals can “opt out” of supporting the NDP, the unions will have much fewer dollars to support it. (D.L.R. 638; S.C.R. 337)

It was never in the cards that the Supreme Court of Canada would take on the unions over the use of compulsory dues for political purposes, something that people with more political nous than the Citizens Coalition, which backed Lavigne’s case, would have known. This was all the more so after the Court had repeatedly held in 1987 that freedom of association did not include a right to strike despite alarming dissents by Dickson and Wilson. But the readiness to find political facts on which to base its decision shows a Court acknowledging no bounds to its political competence.

***

In more recent cases there have been comments that might be read as indicating that the Court had developed a more modest conception of its competence and might be ready to defer slightly to the legislatures. They might even be read as saying that the Court would be satisfied with a “reasonable basis” for impugned legislation. In Dickason26, yet another lengthy and inconclusive treatment of the issue of mandatory retirement, Sopinka J. (dissenting) says:
The first question in this appeal is the meaning to be ascribed to the phrase “reasonable and justifiable”. I agree with the board of inquiry, the courts below and my colleagues that the jurisprudence developed with respect to s. 1 of the Charter is a useful guide in applying s 11.1 of the I.R.P.A. There is also substantial agreement that in determining whether the proportionality factor has been met, the Court should not defer to the decision of an employer in the same way as in the case of a governmental actor. The rationale for this approach in the latter case is that in dealing with governmental actors, it is often difficult, if not impossible, to prove in the ordinary way whether a particular measure will in fact achieve its objective. Accordingly, if Parliament...had a reasonable basis for concluding that the measure would achieve its objective, that is ordinarily a basis for concluding that there is a rational connection between the measure and the governmental objective. Accordingly, although the government could not prove that advertising toys on television had a manipulative effect on children, nor that hate propaganda actually promoted hatred against an identifiable group, nor that pornography caused harm to women, the fact that there was sufficient evidence to provide a reasonable basis for the legislature to adopt the impugned legislation in aid of its objective was sufficient to save it. (D.L.R. 482/3; S.C.R. 1195/6)
There is no reason to see this as indicating that the Court will not, as it has readily for ten years, put itself in the place of the legislature. The point in Irwin where the Court would not second guess the legislature was the age limit of 13 for ban on advertising. It was following Edwards27, a Sunday shopping case, in which Chief Justice Dickson accepted the exception for stores with seven employees or less saying:
...I do not believe that there is any magic in the number seven as distinct from, say, 5, 10, or 15 employees as a cut-off point for eligibility for the exemption. In balancing the interests of retail employees to a holiday in common with their family and friends against the s. 2(a) interests of those affected the legislature engaged in the process envisaged by s. 1 of the Charter. A “reasonable limit” is one which, having regard to the principles enunciated in Oakes, was reasonable for the legislature to impose. The courts are not called upon to substitute judicial opinions for legislative ones as to the place at which to draw the line. (D.L.R. 51; S.C.R. 781/2)

Clearly in these cases the Court had no different idea of its own on where to draw the lines and might as likely as not have done so at 13 years and seven employees. It was not so much deferring to the legislatures as condescending to them, leaving them the details to work out. Contrary to the implication of Sopinka’s comments in Dickason, the Court seemed satisfied in Irwin that advertising toys on television did have a manipulative effect in children. It was only unsure at what age this ceased to be a pressing and substantial concern.

In Keegstra28 the Alberta school teacher was charged with wilfully promoting hatred against an identifiable group under subsection 319(2) of the Criminal Code and argued that the provision infringed his freedom of expression and, in putting the onus on him to prove truth, his right to be presumed innocent. There was a real difference of opinion between the majority and the minority in the Court over whether the hate propaganda provisions of the criminal code would be effective to combat racial hatred, an objective all agreed was pressing and substantial. The minority was persuaded by the argument that the prosecution of hate propagandists can give their views free publicity and encourage a public suspicion that there may be something to what they say because it is suppressed. Though a newspaper report of Ernst Zundel’s relishing his Court battle was referred to, this does not appear to be an argument for which evidence was considered necessary. The minority was also impressed with the argument that the use of an anti-hate law in pre-Hitler Germany did no good. “Historical evidence” was relied on for this argument. But Chief Justice Dickson, writing for the majority, simply brushed aside this argument, most pertinently observing that post-war Germany had enacted new anti-hate legislation. Typically, Keegstra is a rambling political discussion given an air of detachment by the Oakes jargon of “minimal impairment” etc. and the citation of many authors putatively learned in the law and other subjects. It is clear, however, that in the end the Court is deciding whether it likes the legislation, without any deference to the legislature. Contrary to Sopinka’s claim in Dickason that the case did not depend on the government proving “that hate propaganda actually promoted hatred against an identifiable group” Dickson held:
...it would be difficult to deny that the suppression of hate propaganda reduces the harm such expression does to individuals who belong to identifiable groups and to relations between various cultural and religious groups in Canadian society. (C.C.C. 52; S.C.R.  767)

Keegstra contained a statement by Dickson of a common recent theme of flexibility in the use of the Oakes criteria:
The analytical framework of Oakes has been continually reaffirmed by this Court, yet it is dangerously misleading to conceive of s. 1 as a rigid and technical provision, offering nothing more than a last chance for the state to justify incursions into the realm of fundamental rights. From a crudely practical standpoint, Charter litigants sometimes may perceive s. 1 in this manner, but in the body our our nation’s constitutional law it plays and immeasurably richer role, one of great magnitude and sophistication. (C.C.C. 28; S.C.R. 735)
This typically vain and self-serving comment on the Court’s chief source of power cannot be read as indicating a readiness to defer to the legislatures. Rather it is an announcement of the Court’s refusal to be bound by the straight jacket it might have fashioned for itself in Oakes. A rigid application of Oakes might have obliged the Court to strike down legislation it liked when the evidence it called for was not forthcoming.

In Butler29, in which a Winnipeg adult video store owner challenged the obscenity provisions of the Criminal Code, Sopinka J. did find that the government could not prove that pornography caused harm to women. He referred to the conflicting conclusions of reports in Canada and the United States. Notwithstanding, he was prepared to uphold freshly interpreted obscenity legislation on the basis of the possibility of harm. But again there is no basis for the suggestion, encouraged by his own comment in Dickason, that he was deferring to parliament. Clearly he thought that the evidence of the possibility of harm was enough and that the obscenity law as he reinterpreted it was worth having to guard against the possibility of harm and he would not have deferred to parliament if he had not thought so. If he had taken the trouble to follow Oakes closely enough to speak of standard of proof, perhaps he would have been prepared to find that, on the balance of probability, pornography does cause harm.

The Supreme Court of Canada’s call for and acceptance of a mass of doubtful political evidence and its casual use of it has simply illustrated the incapacity of any Court satisfactorily to exercise the power that the Court so complacently holds. A proper use of evidence would limit its quantity and limit its use to showing that the legislature was reasonably addressing a problem and not simply contemptuous of rights and freedoms. It would see the Court expressly relying on evidence in its reasons or expressly rejecting it as unhelpful and unwanted. It would subsume evidence within an extended legislative history and allow the Court to speak once on the validity of legislation rather than leaving it open for fresh evidence or changed circumstances. Most importantly it would require the Court expressly to limit its own absolute power.

JOHN T. PEPALL

OCTOBER 22, 1994

1 P. W. Hogg, “Proof of Facts in Constitutional Cases”, 26 U.T.L.J. 386 (1976)
2 Muller v. State of Oregon (1908), 208 U.S. 412
3 K. C. Davis, “An Approach to the Problems of Evidence in the Administrative Process” (1942) 55 Harvard Law Review 364
4 Carl Baar, “Criminal Court Delay and the Charter: The Use and Misuse of Social Facts in Judicial Policy Making”, (1993) 72 C. B. R. 305 is an interesting discussion of the use and abuse of evidence in the Askov  fiasco, although biased by Baar’s interest as a part-time researcher in the field of Court delays and the source of much of the evidence.
5 Law Society of Upper Canada v. Skapinker (1984), 9 D.L.R. (4th) 161, [1984] 1 S.C.R. 357
6 Re Singh and Minister of Employment & Immigration (1985), 17 D.L.R. (4th) 422, [1985] 1 S.C.R. 177
7 R. v. Oakes (1986) 24 C.C.C. (3d) 321, 26 D.L.R. (4th) 200, [1986] 1 S.C.R. 103
8 Even more doubtful is the logic of appeals to international conventions [see Keegstra and Butler footnotes 28 and 29 infra ], but as these may be considered part of the law of Canada they may be left out of a consideration of the role of evidence.
9 Operation Dismantle v. The Queen (1985), 18 D.L.R. (4th) 481, [1985] 1 S.C.R. 441
10 Uncharacteristically Wilson J. seemed ready to accept a presumptive limit on the Court’s power to review “governmental action which concerns the relations of the state with other states...” (D.L.R. 490; S.C.R. 518)
11 Quoted by Brian G. Morgan in “Proof of Facts in Constitutional Litigation”, notes for an address at the University of Toronto Faculty of Law Constitutional Litigation Programme on February 26, 1986. The papers were revised and published as Robert J. Sharpe (ed.) Charter Litigation (Toronto, 1987). Morgan drops the quotation from Dickson but Katherine Swinton cites it in “What do the Courts Want from the Social Sciences”. Swinton and Morgan’s chapters and John Hagan’s “Can Social Science Save Us? The Problems and Prospects of Social Science Evidence in Constitutional Litigation” are a good representation of the state of knowledge and speculation in 1986. For the practitioner no more is known now.
12 R. v. Thomsen (1988), 40 C.C.C. (3d) 411, [1988] 1 S.C.R. 640
13 R. v. Hufsky (1988), 40 C.C.C. (3d) 398, [1988] 1 S.C.R. 621
14 R. v. Ladouceur (1988), 56 C.C.C. (3d) 22, [1990] 1 S.C.R. 1257
15 Ford v. Quebec (Attorney-General) (1988), 54 D.L.R. (4th) 577, [1988] 2 S.C.R. 712 and Devine v. Quebec (Attorney-General) (1988), 54 D.L.R. (4th) 641, [1988] 2 S.C.R. 790
16 Irwin Toy Ltd. v. Quebec (Attorney-General) (1989), D.L.R. (4th) 577, [1989] 1 S.C.R. 927
17 This is not exactly what Big M  (1985), 16 D.L.R. (4th) 321, [1985] 1 S.C.R. 295 says. There Ottawa only had legislative jurisdiction to pass the Lord’s Day Act if it was criminal law enforcing a religious observance. If it was that, according to the Court, it offended the religious freedom provision in paragraph 2(a) of the Charter. If the Lord’s Day Act only established a secular day of rest, the basis on which Ottawa tried to justify it, it was not within Ottawa’s legislative jurisdiction.
18 In Butler footnote 29 infra and R. v. Zundel  (1992) 95 D.L.R. (4th) 202, [1992] 2 S.C.R. 357 added confusion and argued with itself over whether there could be a shift in emphasis giving new constitutional life to legislation without the shift in purpose rejected in Big M. A shift in emphasis allowed obscenity legislation for the protection of women in Butler, but the argument that section 181 of the Criminal Code could now be considered anti-hate legislation was rejected.
19 (1989), 61 D.L.R. (4th) 385, [1989] 2 S.C.R. 357
20 McKinney v. University of Guelph (1990), 76 D.L.R. (4th) 545, [1990] 3 S.C.R. 292 and Harrison v. University of British Columbia (1990), 77 D.L.R. (4th) 55, [1990] 3 S.C.R.451
21 Stoffman v. Vancouver General Hospital (1990) 76 D.L.R. (4th) 700, [1990] 3 S.C.R. 483
22 Tétrault-Gadoury v. Canada( Employment & Immigration Commission) (19910 (4th) 81 D.L.R. 358, [1991] 2 S.C.R. 22
23 Canada (Canadian Human Rights Commission) v. Taylor (1990), 75 D.L.R. (4th) 577, [1990 3 S.C.R. 892
24 Osborne v. Canada (Treasury Board) (1991) 82 D.L.R. (4th) 321, [1991] 3 S.C.R. 69
25 Lavigne v. Ontario Public Service Employees Union (1991), 81 D.L.R. (4th) 545, [1991] 3 S.C.R. 211
26 Dickason v. University of Alberta  (1992), 95 D.L.R. (4th) 439, [1992] 2 S.C.R. 1103. Dickason is not a Charter case, but the Court proceeded on the basis that the “reasonable and justifiable” defence provided for in the Alberta Individual’s Rights Protection Act was equivalent to section 1 of the Charter and embarked on an Oakes analysis.
27 R. v. Edwards Books and Art Ltd. (1986), 35 D.L.R. (4th) 1, [1986] 2 S.C.R. 713
28 R. v. Keegstra (1990) 61 C.C.C. (3d) 1, [1990] 3 S.C.R. 697
29 R. V. Butler (1992) 89 D.L.R. (4th) 449, [1992] 1 S.C.R. 452