Le langage de la justice

Un article paru sur le site de Radio-Canada parle d’une étude réalisée par un avocat, Mark Power, de Heenan Blaikie, pour le compte de la Fédération des associations des juristes d’expression française de common law, portant sur la constitutionnalité de nominations de juges unilingues à la Cour suprême. Selon Me Power (ou du moins selon l’article de Radio-Canada, puisque l’étude n’est pas disponible en ligne) de telles nominations contreviendraient à la garantie du bilinguisme officiel enchâssée à l’article 16 de la Charte canadienne des droits et libertés.  Dans la mesure où la chance d’être compris par un juge de la Cour suprême dépend de la langue dans laquelle on s’adresse à lui, tous les juges parlant l’anglais, mais pas tous parlant le français, les deux langues officielles ne sont pas égales. Certes, la Cour dispose de traducteurs et d’interprètes, mais ceux-ci feraient des erreurs et ne seraient donc pas des substituts adéquats à des juges bilingues. Ce raisonnement et cette conclusion, à supposer qu’ils sont bien présentés par Radio-Canada, soulèvent plusieurs questions.

Il y a des questions pratiques, celle par exemple de savoir ce qui constitue un niveau de bilinguisme adéquat. Ainsi, l’article mentionne deux juges unilingues. (Il s’agit des juges Rothstein et Moldaver.) On juge donc le niveau de bilinguisme de la Juge en chef suffisant, mais l’ayant entendu prononcer un discours et répondre aux questions en français, je me demande si je ne préférerais pas, si je devais plaider en français devant elle, qu’elle ait recours aux services d’un interprète. Son français n’est pas mauvais―il remarquablement bon même, considérant qu’elle ne l’a appris qu’après sa nomination à la Cour suprême―mais il est loin d’être parfait, et je serais peut-être rassuré si les détails de ma plaidoirie lui étaient traduits par un spécialiste.

Il y a des questions d’interprétation constitutionnelle. Certaines de celles-ci concernent l’enchâssement du processus de nomination des juges de la Cour suprême dans la Loi constitutionnelle de 1982. L’alinéa 42(1)(d) de celle-ci semble élever “la Cour suprême du Canada” au rang constitutionnel, mais la Loi sur la Cour suprême ne fait pas partie de la liste de lois faisant partie de la Constitution du Canada selon l’Annexe de la même Loi constitutionnelle, si bien qu’on ne sait pas vraiment si la Cour suprême est enchâssée ou non. Cependant, si elle l’est, la règle selon laquelle une partie de la Constitution (en l’occurrence, l’article 16 de la Charte) ne peut modifier ou invalider une autre (les règles concernant les qualifications et la nomination des juges de la Cour suprême) empêcherait la conclusion que la nomination de juges unilingues est inconstitutionnelle. Une autre question d’interprétation concerne le libellé du paragraphe 16(1) de la Charte, qui dispose « [l]e français et l’anglais … ont un statut et des droits et privilèges égaux quant à leur usage dans les institutions du Parlement et du gouvernement du Canada ». La références aux « institutions du Parlement et du gouvernement du Canada » se retrouve aussi dans le texte de l’article 32 de la Charte, en vertu duquel celle-ci « s’applique … au Parlement et au gouvernement du Canada ». Or, cette disposition a été interprétée comme ne s’appliquant pas directement aux tribunaux, le Parlement et le gouvernement faisant référence aux branches législative et exécutive du gouvernement, et la branche judiciaire étant manifestement omise. Si les termes identiques utilisés par le constituant au paragraphe 16(1) de la Charte reçoivent la même interprétation, alors il faudrait conclure que cette disposition est silencieuse quant au statut des langues officielles devant les tribunaux.

Et puis il y a la question de principe. Est-il raisonnable de nommer des juges bilingues de préférence à des juges unilingues mieux qualifiés―car c’est ce qu’exigerait l’introduction d’une exigence de bilinguisme? Selon Me Power, il y aurait un risque d’injustice résultant d’erreurs de traduction. Peut-être bien. Mais n’y a-t-il pas aussi un risque d’injustice résultant de la nomination de juges qui ne sont pas d’aussi bons juristes? Et ce risque-ci serait présent non seulement dans la petite proportion d’affaires plaidées en français où le vote d’un juge unilingue anglophone est déterminant, mais dans chaque dossier traité par la Cour suprême.

À qualité égale, un juge pleinement bilingue serait peut-être préférable à un collègue unilingue. Et encore. Comme je le mentionnais plus haut, la Juge en chef McLachlin n’était pas bilingue au moment de sa nomination, mais elle a appris le français. Idéalement, son exemple devrait inspirer ses collègues unilingues. Mais le plus important n’est pas que les neuf juges de la Cour suprême parlent tous le français et l’anglais. C’est qu’ils parlent tous le langage de la justice.

Keeping Judges Busy

The Globe and Mail reports that the federal government will go to the Supreme Court to review the constitutionality of its Senate Reform project. Opponents of the reform have dared it to do so for years. They’ll get their wish now. The Supreme Court’s was already asked to rule on Senate reform project once, by Pierre Trudeau’s cabinet. The result was Re: Authority of Parliament in relation to the Upper House, [1980] 1 S.C.R. 54―a somewhat vague and inconclusive decision, because the government then did not have a specific reform project, and referred only vague questions to the Court. This time will be different. I won’t comment on the substance of the case just yet, but for those interested in the subject, the text of the bill, as it now stands, is here. And here are the comments of Peter Hogg, the most prominent Canadian constitutionalist, and of Fabien Gélinas, who taught me constitutional law at McGill, on a previous Senate reform bill.

The government also announced today that it will appeal the decision of Québec’s Superior Court in Québec (Procureur général) c. Canada (Procureur général), 2012 QCCS 4202, the gun registry case, which I summarized and commented on last week. As I wrote then, I think that the decision should stand, albeit that Justice Blanchard’s opinion was far from the best that could have been written.

So the government is keeping judges―and lawyers of course, not to mention us humble bloggers―well occupied. Which reminds me: it will be four months tomorrow since Justice Deschamps announced her resignation from the Supreme Court. Since the government likes to keep the courts busy, it should also make sure they are fully staffed.

 

Are Provincial Election Spending Restrictions Ultra Vires?

Here’s a simple, crazy question: is legislation limiting electoral campaign expenses unconstitutional because ultra vires the provinces? I think that the argument in support of an affirmative answer makes sense, even though I wouldn’t expect Canadian courts to buy it. Here it is.

Campaign spending restrictions restrict free speech on political matters. Nobody disputes that, and the Supreme Court recognizes this in cases such Libman v. Quebec (Attorney General), [1997] 3 S.C.R. 569. Nonetheless, such laws (if not too restrictive – as the law in Libman was found to be) can be justified under s. 1 of the Charter, and are therefore constitutional. Or are they?

In the “implied bill of rights” cases, starting with the Alberta Statutes Reference, [1938] R.C.S. 100, the Supreme Court pushed back against attempts by the provinces (first Alberta and then Québec) to curtail political speech disagreeable to authoritarian provincial governments. As there was no Charter then, it used the federal division of powers to ground its judgments. Speech, especially political speech, was said to be within the exclusive competence of Parliament, outside the reach of provincial legislation. Whatever its subject, it was not of merely provincial importance. In the words of Chief Justice Duff and Justice Davis in the Alberta Statutes Reference, at p. 134,

[a]ny attempt to abrogate this right of public debate or to suppress the traditional forms of the exercise of the right (in public meeting and through the press) would, in our opinion, be incompetent to the legislatures of the provinces, or to the legislature of any one of the provinces, as repugnant to the provisions of The British North America Act, by which the Parliament of Canada is established as the legislative organ of the people of Canada under the Crown, and Dominion legislation enacted pursuant to the legisla­tive authority given by those provisions. The subject matter of such legislation could not be described as a pro­vincial matter purely; as in substance exclusively a matter of property and civil rights within the province, or a matter private or local within the province.

Saumur v. City of Québec [1953] 2 S.C.R. 299 and Switzman v. Elbing [1957] S.C.R. 285 are to the same effect.

Overruling such hallowed precedents, showing the Supreme Court’s commitment to individual rights even in the absence of explicit constitutional authorization, seems unthinkable.

Can they be distinguished? One might argue that regulation of provincial elections, as opposed to political speech generally, is a different subject, competent to the provinces. I think the distinction fails. The passage I quote above does not really leave room for it. Provincial politics and federal politics are obviously connected, so if federal political discussion is to be free, so must provincial political discussion. But there is another possibility. It is at least a somewhat plausible reading of the “implied bill of rights” cases that what they prohibit is not any regulation of political speech by the provinces, but only, to use an American term, “viewpoint restrictions.” A province can regulate speech; it just cannot single out one opinion for unfavourable treatment. And it is perhaps arguable, though I believe (for reasons I have no room to elaborate here but touch on in my Cyberpresse op-ed) not correct, that campaign spending restrictions are viewpoint neutral. If that argument fails, as I think it should, then provincial restrictions on election spending are ultra vires and thus unconstitutional.

Quasi-Constitutional Rights?

What are “quasi-constitutional rights”? Is this a meaningful, a useful concept? Justice Lebel’s comments in a decision released last week by the Supreme Court raise the question.

The decision, Éditions Écosociété Inc. v. Banro Corp., 2012 SCC 18 is one of three released last Wednesday, all dealing with questions of when Canadian courts can, and when they should, assume jurisdiction over a tort action with multi-jurisdictional elements. In this case, the action was in defamation. The appellants were the publishers of a book savaging Canadian mining companies for their activities (allegedly involving massive human rights violations) in Africa. The respondents were one of these companies. The book was published in Québec, but over 90 copies were sold in Ontario, some to public libraries, and the book was promoted there. The respondents are based in Ontario, and sued for defamation there. The publishers tried to have the proceedings stayed either for lack of jurisdiction or because the Ontario court was a forum non conveniens; they argued that the respondents were engaging in libel tourism, suing for defamation in jurisdiction more favourable to plaintiffs than that in which the suit should logically have been brought (in this case, Québec). Their motion was dismissed, and their appeals rejected both by the Ontario Court of Appeal and now by the Supreme Court.

In discussing the issue of the choice of law in defamation actions, Justice Lebel wrote (for the unanimous court)

that the harm occasioned by the publication of a defamatory statement is not the publication itself, but rather injury to the plaintiff’s reputation. While the constitutional right to the protection of freedom of expression must be upheld in the crafting of the law of defamation, this Court has recognized that one of the primary purposes of the law of defamation is to protect the reputation of the individual, which was elevated to quasi-constitutional status in Hill v. Church of Scientology of Toronto, [1995] 2 S.C.R. 1130. [par. 57]

As those of you who read my lament about the Charter’s unfortunate effects will recall, I am not a fan of Justice Cory’s reasoning in Hill, linking reputation to innate dignity and privacy, which I called “grasping at constitutional straws.” At least, Justice Cory did not actually speak of a “quasi-constitutional status” for the right to reputation. Justice Lebel now does. What does that mean? Continue reading “Quasi-Constitutional Rights?”

A Charter Child’s Blues

This was originally written more than three years ago now, but I am fond of the text. I thought I would repost it tomorrow, on the Charter‘s 30th anniversary, but decided to do it today. Hopefully I’ll come up with something more celebratory tomorrow.

***

I am a proud Charter child. A copy of the Charter is hanging in my room; right above my bed in fact. Every night I fall asleep secure in the knowledge that “the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms guarantees the rights and freedoms set out in it subject only to such reasonable limits prescribed by law as can be demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society.” You might I’m really taking too far – or even that I’m nuts. You can even tell me this in so many words. That’s fine. “Everyone has the following fundamental freedoms: freedom of thought, belief, opinion, and expression.” But the Charter, according to our Chief Justice, belongs to the people, so it belongs to me too. I’m not the fat old lady, or the gentleman wearing some sort of cross between a Chinese hat and a sombrero, or a kid playing hockey, or any other character gracing my copy of the Charter. But collectively, they all are me. So why is that that I have been having the Charter blues?
Continue reading “A Charter Child’s Blues”

A Right to Bear Arms? Canadian Cases

Here’s something I should have done yesterday, before launching into my analysis of the Charter‘s protection of liberty and of the right to bear arms: read some actual cases! Well, better late than never.

In R. v. Hasselwander, [1993] 2 S.C.R. 398, Justice Cory, writing for a 3-2 majority, opined,  at p. 414, that “Canadians, unlike Americans do not have a constitutional right to bear arms.  Indeed, most Canadians prefer the peace of mind and sense of security derived from the knowledge that the possession of automatic weapons is prohibited.” However, the issue in that case was not the right to bear arms itself, but rather the definition of the Criminal Code‘s provision banning automatic weapons. There had been, in all likelihood, no argument on the right to bear arms, and there was no detailed analysis of the Charter.

The Supreme Court upheld the federal licensing and registration requirements for long guns in the Reference re Firearms Ac (Can.), 2000 SCC 31, [2000] 1 S.C.R. 783, which has subsequently been cited for the proposition that possession and use of firearms is heavily regulated in Canada. But the Charter was not at issue in this case – it was only about division of powers between Parliament and the provinces. And of course something being heavily regulated does not mean that it is not also a constitutionally protected right – electoral campaign speech is heavily regulated by Parliament and provincial legislatures, but there is a right to engage in it, and at least some regulations will be unconstitutional, as those struck down in Libman v. Québec (A.G.), [1997] 3 S.C.R. 569.

The Supreme Court’s last engagement with the right to bear arms came in R. v. Wiles, 2005 SCC 84, [2005] 3 S.C.R. 895, a brief decision holding that a mandatory prohibition on firearms ownership attaching to a conviction for some (non-violent) drug offences is not “cruel and unusual punishment” contrary to s. 12 of the Charter. Again, a general right to bear arms, or s. 7 of the Charter, was not at issue.

In my view, the Supreme Court has not conclusively pronounced on the possibility that s.7 of the Charter protects a right to bear arms. The question was never directly put to it. The Ontario Court of Appeal, however, took a contrary view in a recent decision. But that decision, as well one by the Saskatchewan Court of Appeal, rejected a challenge based on the English Bill of Rights of 1689. The Bill of Rights was variously said to have been made part of the Canadian constitution by the preamble to the Constitution Act, 1867, or by s. 26 of the Charter, but those arguments were very weak. Again, s. 7 of the Charter, although mentioned in passing, was not the object of a full argument by the parties or analysis by the courts.

So it seems to me that in theory, a well-developed argument based on s. 7 could yet be brought. But as I wrote yesterday, I think that the chances of such an argument, if based on the s. 7 guarantee of liberty, would not be good. What’s left to explore is an argument based on the s. 7 guarantee of the “security of the person.” I hope to get to it next week.

Emergency Wiretaps and Privacy Rights

Well, the Supreme Court of Canada has great timing. Or maybe I do, but saying that would be immodest, right? In any case, the day after I wrote that the Court latest privacy decision was a mess, it has released its decision in R. v. Tse, 2012 SCC 16, addressing the conflict bewteen the right to privacy protected by s. 8 of the Charter and s. 184.4 of the Criminal Code authorizing warrantless interception of private communications by a peace officer if

(a) the peace officer believes on reasonable grounds that the urgency of the situation is such that an authorization could not, with reasonable diligence, be obtained … ;
(b) the peace officer believes on reasonable grounds that such an interception is immediately necessary to prevent an unlawful act that would cause serious harm to any person or to property; and
(c) either the originator of the private communication or the person intended by the originator to receive it is the person who would perform the act that is likely to cause the harm or is the victim, or intended victim, of the harm.

The Court’s decision is unanimous, and authored by its two newest members, Justices Karakatsanis and Moldaver. The Court holds s. 184.4 unconstitutional, because it does not create any mechanisms by which the peace officers engaging in warrantless wiretapping can be held accountable. Parliament now has a year to re-write the legislation to bring it in conformity with the Charter.

Generally speaking, warrantless searches (including interceptions of private communications) are contrary to the Charter. But they can be justified in emergencies. The question in this case, says the Court, is whether s. 184.4 “strike[s] a reasonable balance between an individual’s right to be free from unreasonable searches or seizures and society’s interest in preventing serious harm?” The Court spends a considerable time on clarifying the interpretation of s. 184.4, ensuring that it remains a narrow and exceptional source of authority, to be used only in circumstances of “dire emergency.” It also expresses concern at the fact that this authority might be conferred on too many people – not only police officers but other “peace officers”, including mayors and prison guards. But since this case implicates police officers, there is no record on the basis of which to conclude that this renders s. 184.4 over-broad.

The trouble with s. 184.4, says the Court, is that, unlike other provisions allowing interception of private communications, its use is subject to no after-the-fact accountability measures. At least one such measure, disclosure to the parties whose communications were intercepted, is constitutionally required. Others, such as reporting to Parliament and record-keeping would be welcome, but are not necessary. In its present form, s. 184.4 does not meet the requirements of s.8 Charter. Furthermore, it cannot be saved under s. 1, since a less restrictive measure – a similar provision incorporating after-the-fact notice requirements – is easily available to Parliament.

Seems like a good decision to me. Interestingly, expectations of privacy do not feature at all in the Court’s analysis. It does not ask itself whether it is generally expected that infringements of our privacy will be reported to us. It simply holds that that the Charter requires that they be. Perhaps this is one way out of the problem which so bothered Judge Kozinski and about which I wrote yesterday. Still, courts cannot operate in a vacuum. When they ask themselves whether a search of seizure is “unreasonable,” they bring their, and society’s, expectations to the table. We cannot count on courts to protect our privacy to a much greater extent than we want it protected.