RSS FeedDiscretion, law, and Rahim Jaffer
When the Crown dropped drunk driving and cocaine charges against Rahim Jaffer, everyone seemed unhappy and suspicious. There was a lot more unity of opinion than when a Canadian woman was stuck in Africa because Canadian officials thought she didn’t look like her passport photo. Both cases involved our trust in government, and in both cases government officials had a lot of discretion in making their decisions. Our law gives Crown prosecutors discretion in laying charges. The only constraint is that they must act in public interest. The popular mindset that justifies giving this leeway to the Crown is crime control. A different philosophy is due process, which emphasizes the rights of the accused, but this approach doesn’t seem very popular politically. The actual system is hopefully something between the two. In the Jaffer case, the public wants some accountability from the Crown but it does not seem ready to swing in the due process direction. Can we hold Crown prosecutors accountable for their discretionary decisions such as laying charges? It is very, very difficult, and the only way is to bind the Crown with more rules reducing their discretion.
A cop pulled over Rahim Jaffer, a Canadian politician, because Jaffer was going 93 km/h in a 50 km/h zone. The officer ended up arresting Jaffer who failed a breathalizer test. Jaffer was charged with drunk driving, speeding, and possession of cocaine. But eventually the Crown dropped the most serious drunk driving and drug charges. The judge famously told Jaffer, “I’m sure you can recognize a break when you see one.” Search Google News for “Rahim Jaffer,” and you’ll see what firestorm this case started in Canada. The public wants accountability from the Crown for dropping the charges against an influential figure. But can it get it?
Accountability means giving reasons for decisions. It’s pretty simple. If you give reasons for your decision, we can have a competent third party review your reasons to see if you made any mistakes in facts or rules. The third party must have the power to reverse your decision or to make you reconsider. With government decisions, the third party is usually the courts. If there are no reasons for a decision, it is very hard to know if the decision is wrong. It must be so obviously wrong that no reasons can justify it. It must pretty much be an absurd decision for a court to quash it without seeing any reasons. So if a decision maker doesn’t have to give reasons, there is very little accountability.
Truly discretionary decisions never require giving of reasons. Discretion means freedom from rules. Broad principles may limit discretion but if you set rules for someone in their decision-making they don’t have discretion any more. For example, the Crown has discretion in laying charges, but they must make decisions in public interest. That’s a broad principle. But there are no rules such as “you must lay a possession charge if the cocaine was found in the car,” or “you must never refuse to lay a charge to protect a politician,” or “you must lay a drunk driving charge even if the police officer broke rules in obtaining evidence.” The Crown’s discretion in laying charges implies it doesn’t have rules like that. Discretion means we trust they will do the right thing because they are experts, or because we are scared, or because it’s the cheapest way. But that means the Crown doesn’t have to explain its decisions or they wouldn’t really have our trust. That’s why the Crown’s discretionary decisions do not require it to give reasons. If you ask, they will say that their decision was in the public interest—and they are legally right. But try to challenge a decision on the basis of a broad principle like that.
If you give someone discretion because you want to be tough on crime, don’t expect them to be accountable. It’s impossible to have your cake and eat it too. When all the law requires is that the state make decisions in the public interest, it will be very hard to prove to the courts that a particular decision is not in the public interest. The broader the standard, the heavier is the burden to prove that it was not followed. How is the Supreme Court to judge the government on what it purports to do for our common good in some secret international circles? So they decided they couldn’t in the Khadr case. And so the courts will decide they can’t interfere in the Crown’s discretion in the Jaffer case if some naive person will try to challenge the decision to drop charges. Once the law gives someone discretion, the courts will generally stay away from poking their nose. So if you want accountability from the government, you should bind it with rules instead of giving it blank checks. That’s the due process attitude, but it lasts only until the next scare when the crime control mindset takes over. Let’s hope the two will be in balance.
(Post sponsored by AdviceScene)
Standing up for the Rule of Law
Note: This piece was subsequently published on March 26, 2009 in the StarPhoenix. Available online here
Due process is a long-standing Canadian principle. It is enshrined in our legal tradition as a safeguard against the denial of liberty. It is a part of our liberal democracy that distinctly separates us from the dictatorships scattered around the world today. Yet, certain Canadians are being apparently denied their basic rights as citizens.
Consider the case of Abousfian Abdelrazik. Since 2003, Abdelrazik has languished in limbo in Khartoum, Sudan and currently lives in the lobby of the Canadian embassy. His ill-fated trip to Khartoum in 2003 to visit his ailing mother ended in secret detention under the country’s notorious domestic security agency, which newly de-classified documents show acted on the request of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS).
He was repeatedly detained for a total of nineteen months. No charges. No trial. No conviction. A Canadian citizen – arbitrarily detained at the behest of Canada, by a disreputable foreign regime whose president was indicted this month by the International Criminal Court for crimes against humanity. Abdelrazik says he was tortured by his Sudanese captors, and has the scars to show it.
Sudan’s dismal human rights record speaks for itself. CSIS agents visited and interrogated Abdelrazik during his imprisonment. Documents reveal that Canadian diplomats in Khartoum were told to not provide him with his right to consular support during interrogations by Sudanese and American officials.
Today, Abdelrazik lives in virtual exile – denied the right to come back to Canada and to his family. Sudan says it has no reason to hold him and has cleared him of the suspicions laid out by CSIS. It even offered to fly him back to Canada.
Although the federal government has tried to get Abdelrazik removed from an international no-fly list, it has still raised road-blocks to prevent his return. When he did find ways to return, like arranging a flight out of Sudan, he was refused a passport. Why?
It is alarming to see Sudan more committed to releasing a Canadian than us. When we unlawfully outsource the detention and interrogation of one of our own to an authoritarian state, then we are going down a frightening path of injustice.
Another troubling case is that of Canadian Omar Khadr – a story well known to many of us. Captured as a child soldier in Afghanistan at the age of 15 and held for more than six years at the Guantanamo detention facility without conviction, Omar is the last Western citizen languishing in a place that exists outside the norms of law. His Canadian lawyer, Dennis Edney, has said Omar is a broken person.
Although U.S. president Barack Obama has frozen “trial” proceedings at Guantanamo and is slated to shut the facility down, we have yet to intervene and repatriate this young citizen. This stands in stark contrast to other Western nations like the United Kingdom and France, which have already repatriated their nationals.
For ourselves and our country, some important questions need to be asked. What has happened to the value of Canadian citizenship? Are we being parochial and selective in upholding the rights of our citizens?
And, perhaps most importantly, have we learned from the perilous mistakes that were brought to light during the Arar Inquiry? At this point, it does not seem like we have.
Our government must provide answers and address the unjust plight of Abdelrazik. Indeed, his case and that of Khadr demonstrate a harmful and dangerous erosion of fundamental justice and must not be taken lightly.
At the same time, our courts exist for a reason and they constitute the proper forum to mete out justice with transparency and due process. Canadian courts have successfully convicted those charged with terrorism under the Criminal Code. For example, Momin Khawaja of Ottawa was found guilty of such offences in October 2008 and and was recently sentenced to 10.5 years of jail time.
Yet, for over five years, no grounds or evidence have been offered regarding Abdelrazik. And for six years, the Americans have failed to create a just process for Khadr that is consistent with legal norms and international law.
There is no doubt that national security and collective safety are critical in times like these. But the inalienable rights and citizenship of every Canadian must be upheld and respected.
Let us stand by the timeless Canadian edifice that defines our values and separates us from the agents of chaos and the regimes of repression: the rule of law. In our cherished democracy, real security is the preservation of not only human life, but also of human dignity.
Kashif Ahmed of Law is Cool is a Board Member of CAIR-CAN. Note that this piece is provided for interest alone.
