RSS FeedOn democratic legitimacy of the courts
My last post talked about how judges work with each other’s decisions. Today, I’d like to take a bird’s eye look at the relationship between the judiciary and Parliament. Unelected judges handle laws passed by elected legislatures such as Parliament of Canada or provincial parliaments. How they do it helps understand why it’s ok for judges to be unelected and why we need an independent judiciary.
In Canada, judges do really only two things with laws legislatures pass (also known as acts of legislature or statutes). They apply them or strike them down as unconstitutional.
When judges apply statutes, they interpret them. Legislatures often cannot or do not want to spell out every detail in rules of law they include in statutes. But the only way a law can work is by affecting conduct of specific people in a myriad specific life situations. If somebody believes you violated their legal rights or broke the law, they can sue you or charge you with a crime. You can quickly give in if you know you have nothing going for you. In that case, you will apply the law yourself. You will adjudicate your own case in favour of the other side. You can also dispute the other side’s reading of the law. You will claim that in that particular situation, the law means something different, and you neither broke it nor violated anyone’s rights. Now a judge will have to adjudicate this dispute and impose his or her reading of the law on both sides.
For example, Parliament of Canada defines “invention” as “any new and useful art, process, machine, manufacture or composition of matter” in a statute called Patent Act. Harvard University created a gene making mice susceptible to cancer. A mouse with a gene like that can help identify carcinogens. Harvard University tried to patent the mouse in Canada, failed, and sued the government. Harvard believed that its cancer mouse was an “invention” under Patent Act, but the patent office didn’t. So it was up to a federal court judge to adjudicate this dispute, which basically came down to interpreting the language of the statute.
One reason it was ok for an unelected judge to impose his reading of the law is because the elected legislature implicitly allowed him to do so. Our Parliament chooses broad language for its statutes in full knowledge that some disputes over their interpretation will end up in the courts. The elected Parliament accepts that unelected judges will interpret its acts. If our elected politicians didn’t want the courts to interpret legislative acts, they would use more specific language or create special tribunals to interpret statutes. It happens all the time and is also known as ousting the courts’ jurisdiction. Basically, our elected politicians can shield entire areas of law from the courts, and when they choose not to they essentially delegate some of their democratic mandate and legitimacy to the courts.
Even when the courts do have the power to interpret a democratically created statute, provincial legislatures and Parliament always have an option of overriding the courts’ reading by clarifying or changing the statute. The term “dialogue” is used to describe this relationship between the courts and the legislators. When the courts ultimately decided that the cancer mouse was not an invention, they did their best, very democratically, to divine the will and intention of Parliament. They did not try to make their own ethical or political judgment, and they knew perfectly well that if they got it wrong, Parliament can always correct them by clarifying the Patent Act. Parliament didn’t.
So one huge responsibility of the courts—interpreting legislative will—is far more democratic and legitimate than some think. Of course, the courts’ other responsibility—striking down laws as unconstitutional—is a lot more controversial, but this topic is better left for its own blog post.
Pulat Yunusov is a Toronto litigation lawyer.
(Post sponsored by AdviceScene)
The purpose of blawgs
More than a year ago I wrote a post entitled “How lawyers think.” Its basic idea is that a lawyer’s job is to maximize legal protection of his client’s rights. Protecting rights means either of two things: one, letting the world know what your rights and their legal basis are, and, two, getting a court or tribunal to change the mind of someone who disagrees. Lawyers predict what kind of rights the courts will find that you have if it comes to litigation. That’s called giving legal advice, and that’s why lawyers think by imaging what would happen if this issue gets to court and how courts have decided similar issues in the past. All lawyers think about courts whether they are in litigation or not, and the courts is where the law becomes the law.
The previous sentence means that an act of Parliament is not really the law until the courts have adjudicated a dispute about what the specific legislative act or its provision means in a specific case. If all people understood the same text and applied it to the same facts the same way, we wouldn’t need courts. Lawyers predict what the courts will say the law is for the given facts, and litigators, in addition to that, offer judges their theories of what the law is in a given dispute. So advocacy in court is trying to influence the judge’s vision of what the law is and of how to apply it in this particular case. Without impartial and binding adjudication of disputes by the courts, the law is only what the strongest party (the police, the employer, the rich, and so on) says it is.
So if lawyering is predicting how the courts or tribunals will apply the law to a particular situation, blawging, in my opinion, is the same thing but by way of informal and accessible writing in a blog. A blawg should predict what the law is in some interesting case of current interest. A blawg is always a legal opinion, but it’s almost never legal advice, because it is addressed to a broad audience rather than a client. If I write about telephone number portability, the blog post should give a basic idea about what enforceable rights you will have if your telephone company decides to take your phone number from you. A blawg is not about what will happen, but rather about what you can reasonably accomplish by taking your case to a court or tribunal, if you have the time, the money, and the expertise.
In this sense, blawgs can be a little removed from reality because most people don’t have the time, the money, and the expertise to go to court. In fact, of those who do begin litigation, most never sustain it all the way to trial, which would be the first chance a judge will get to decide the case. That’s why lawyers, of course, must give practical advice in addition to pure legal advice, and it’s hard, and that’s why there is a disconnect between the public and lawyers. The client expects a solution and doesn’t care about the method, and the lawyer often must think in terms of courts because that’s all he or she may be qualified to do.
Perhaps blawgs can bridge this gap by educating the public about the law and teaching the public to self-regulate due to better knowledge of legal consequences. But unless we make access to the courts cheaper and easier so judges can hear and decide more cases that deserve to be heard and decided, blawgs alone will face an uphill struggle.
Pulat Yunusov is a Toronto litigation lawyer.
(Post sponsored by AdviceScene)
What can the mayor of Toronto really do?
Toronto will go to the polls to elect its mayor on October 25 this year. There is a lot of media interest in mayoral candidates and scandals surrounding some of them. The incumbent mayor, David Miller, also attracted media attention and intense feelings among both his supporters and detractors. But is the mayor’s job really that important? What actual powers does the mayor of Toronto have? If we look at the law, the answer is rather surprising. Despite all the attention, the mayor of Toronto doesn’t decide much, and the city’s governance is mostly in the hands of the city council and ultimately the provincial legislature.
The word “Toronto” has two meanings: a place and a corporation. The second meaning refers to the organization that governs the city. This organization is a special corporation created by Ontario legislature through the City of Toronto Act. As a creature of statute, the city has only powers granted by the province. The same statute grants powers to the mayor and to the city council and authorizes the city council to delegate its powers to the mayor. That’s why to get a general idea of the mayor’s powers, you need to review both the City of Toronto Act and city council by-laws.
The city, the mayor, and the city council must exercise their powers within the limits set by Ontario legislature. All three owe their existence to provincial statute and can be abolished by provincial statute. The 1997 ruling in East York v. Ontario confirmed that municipalities do not have an “autonomous” constitutional status and are subject to the will of provincial parliaments. In that case, a group of Toronto residents and some of the municipalities making up the Metro Toronto area challenged amalgamation of cities around the old Toronto into the megacity where we live today. Their challenge failed and the appeal was dismissed.
In 1994, the Supreme Court ruled that the city of Vancouver may not boycott Shell for its cooperation with the apartheid South Africa. The Court’s majority decided that such boycott was not for a municipal purpose as set by British Columbia legislation, specifically the Vancouver Charter, which is the equivalent of the City of Toronto Act. These cases show that municipalities and their mayors are subject to provinces’ will and must act within the authority given by provinces.
The word “mayor” appears only five times in the City of Toronto Act. The statute grants the mayor only two roles: the head of the city council and the “chief executive officer of the City.” In the first role, the mayor’s powers are “to preside over meetings of council so that its business can be carried out efficiently and effectively; to provide leadership to council; to represent the City at official functions; to carry out the duties of the head of council;” and to give the council certain information and recommendations. As the city’s CEO, the mayor must “uphold and promote the purposes of the City; promote public involvement in the City’s activities; act as the representative of the City both within and outside the City, and promote the City locally, nationally and internationally; participate in and foster activities that enhance the economic, social and environmental well-being of the City and its residents.”
The powers of the highly-contested mayor’s office appear almost ceremonial. The mayor doesn’t control the police, cannot influence legislation in his jurisdiction as Premiers or the Prime Minister can, and cannot issue executive orders. And the mayor doesn’t run the city’s operations: it’s the city manager’s job.
The mayor does have one truly great power, but only in emergencies. The City of Toronto Act allows the city council to delegate its legislative authority in limited circumstances. Under Chapter 59, Article VI of the Toronto Municipal Code, the mayor takes over the council’s legislative authority in emergencies. That’s what happened in 1999, when then mayor Mel Lastman called in the Canadian Forces after a massive snowfall in Toronto blocked ambulances from reaching patients.
All in all, Ontario legislature leaves it for the city council to govern Toronto. The council is like a corporate board of directors and the city manager’s office is like managers of a corporation. The mayor can’t do much without the council or the city manager. But the nature and the powers of the mayor’s office certainly make for a lot of publicity, which probably explains why there is so much hoopla over Toronto mayor’s elections this fall.
Pulat Yunusov is a Toronto civil litigation lawyer.
(Post sponsored by AdviceScene)
Are there inalienable rights in Canada?
We in Canada like to think of ourselves as free. We also like to think we have rights. The police can’t throw us in jail for our political views. And if they do throw us in jail for any reason, the police must let us call a lawyer. A part of Canada’s constitution, the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms guarantees our rights and freedoms. But the constitutional rights and freedoms such as freedom of expression, a right against arbitrary detention or imprisonment, and even our right to life, liberty and security, are not absolute. The Charter leaves loopholes for the federal Parliament, provincial legislatures, or even judges to limit or take away any rights or freedoms. There are no inalienable rights in Canada.
A legal right is a claim to a benefit. The law sets legal rights, and the courts will enforce them if no one else will. When you sign a contract to lease an apartment in exchange for rent, your tenant has a right to use the apartment, and you have a right to some of the tenant’s money. Your right is always someone else’s duty, which is either to give up the benefit you claim or to let you claim the benefit freely. You can also have rights against the government. For example, habeas corpus is a right to see a judge if the police arrest you. Freedoms are like rights but they are more about enjoying benefits you already have, such as speech or movement. Still, the flip side of every freedom is someone’s duty to respect it. For example, if you have a freedom of religion, the government may not ban your faith.
But rights and freedoms in our relations with the government are tricky because the government is a sovereign. It means that within its geographic borders the government writes the law. What good is a right if the government can scrap it? That’s where a constitution comes into play. It’s a superlaw that tells the government what laws it can and cannot write. And it’s very difficult for the government to change the constitution. The Canadian Charter is the part of our constitution that orders the government to respect certain human rights. If a provincial or the federal legislature passes a law infringing on our Charter right, the courts can strike that law from the books. It will have no force and effect. That way the Charter protects us from the government.
Even democracies need this protection to stop majorities from oppressing minorities. For example, our legal tradition has very good reasons for protecting some rights of the criminally accused. Only a minority of the total population will ever need these rights. Whether justified or baseless, a fear of crime can bring a party that wants to do away with these rights to power. In theory, our Charter will always stop the Parliament from touching the rights of the criminally accused. Before the Charter, the Parliament could throw out the presumption of innocence or the law against self-incrimination. A constitution can also protect racial, gender, or other minorities from discrimination. We can be sure of our human rights only when they are safe from the majority and the government it elects.
The Charter promises us this safety, but it doesn’t really deliver. There are several loopholes in the Charter that let the federal parliament, provincial legislatures, or the courts take away rights. First, the notwithstanding clause in s. 33 empowers legislatures to suspend fundamental freedoms (s. 2) and legal (ss. 7-14) and equality (s. 15) rights. Perhaps for fear of the ballot box, legislatures tried it for real only very few times. But if the government can suspend the rights, they are not inalienable.
Second, the most obvious limitation on all rights and freedoms in the Charter is in s. 1. It basically says that sometimes the Charter will not protect our rights. Suppose the Parliament passes a law that bans newspapers in a certain language. If the government can justify this law as reasonable “in a free and democratic society,” it can get away with it under s. 1. Who decides what’s reasonable and what’s free and democratic? Ultimately, it’s the nine people on the Supreme Court of Canada. Sometimes a s. 1 justification is a very hard task, but a right or freedom is guaranteed only if it’s legally certain, not if it’s probable or very likely. So the government can strip anyone of any Charter right with the consent of the Supreme Court.
Third, the courts decide what each right and freedom in Canada actually means. For example, s. 7 allows the government to deprive anyone of “the right to life, liberty, and security of the person” only in accordance with “the principles of fundamental justice.” The Supreme Court decides what these principles are. Next, the Charter often defines rights using the principle of “reasonableness,” which is really a code word for letting the courts fill in the details. See, for example, the right against “unreasonable search” (s. 8), the right to be tried within a “reasonable time” (s. 11(b)), etc. When the police breach our Charter rights to obtain evidence against us in a criminal investigation, we have a right to have it excluded from our trial—but only if “the admission of it in the proceedings would bring the administration of justice into disrepute” (s. 24(2)). Again, the courts decide what that means by applying factors laid down by the Supreme Court.
Finally, if the government breaches your Charter rights, the courts decide what compensation you get if any. It is little comfort to you and little deterrent to the government if the courts merely declare government action unconstitutional. Denied or insufficient remedies gut Charter rights and freedoms. As the recent case of Omar Khadr has shown, the Supreme Court can deny a meaningful remedy even for breaches of the most basic rights such as a right to fundamental justice in s. 7. Most Canadians don’t seem to like Omar Khadr or his family, so the majority is clearly not on his side. The Supreme Court didn’t say that it let the government off the legal hook because of the views of the majority of Canadians. But these views possibly encouraged the government when it violated Khadr’s Charter rights or denied him the requested remedy. What is the value of rights that depend on politics?
One can argue that these cases are extreme and that limits on our Charter rights are fine because we trust our government. After all we elect it. But consider this. First, majorities elect the government, and how certain are you what the majority will be like 20 years from now? Are you going to be in that majority? Do you want to entrust your most basic human rights to a majority? Second, even election rights in the Charter are not inalienable. Mix a national emergency with the right people on the Supreme Court (appointed by the Prime Minister; no Parliament’s consent required), and the words “reasonable,” “free,” and “democratic” in section 1 of the Canadian Charter can have a very different meaning.
The word “inalienable” expresses the idea of rights that the law can never let anyone take. An inalienable right is yours by the fact of your membership in the human species. No government or person gave you this right, so they can never take it away. It is yours by birth. It recognizes your inherent value as a human being regardless of who you are, what you did, or what you think. Very few rights can be inalienable but those that can are truly fundamental: a right to a fair trial, freedom of speech, habeas corpus. The US Declaration of Independence speaks of “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness” as inalienable rights. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights recognizes “the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family.”
Our Charter does not have the word “inalienable,” neither in letter nor in spirit. It uses other words. But social conditions change, and what’s not “reasonable,” “free,” or “democratic” today can become such in the future. There is a fully legal path to breaches of any rights in Canada. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s possible politically, socially, or economically, but legally our rights are uncertain. A constitution that fails to protect minorities from the majority’s changing moods does not guarantee rights. The loopholes in the Charter show that we have rights and freedoms only as long as the government and the Supreme Court let us. Rights and freedoms in Canada do not inherently belong to us as human beings but are revocable gifts from the government and the courts. And if we can’t change our Charter, we must at least hold our government to account especially strictly when it comes to human rights.
Access to justice and elected judges (conclusion)
(Part 1)
So anyone demanding the election of judges should understand this: there is a conflict between accountability and impartiality. It’s often hard to get the judges both to be independent and to answer to the people. For example, when the government throws a citizen to the wolves in a foreign country, an independent judge will lawfully award her damages. A judge worried about re-election may cave to his sense of the mood among the majority of taxpayers.
When judges apply straightforward law to straightforward facts, the accountability argument is especially weak. The law is an expression of the majority’s will. When legislatures pass laws, their straightforward applications are obvious. We expect judges to apply such laws almost mechanically. In these cases, judges are pretty much delegates of the legislature. They don’t make any law so they should not be accountable beyond the basic professional standards.
And don’t forget the Constitution—the super law. Its very purpose is to protect some principles against the majority’s will. In Canada, these principles include the makeup of our political system and the fundamental human rights. Judges can strike federal laws when they overstep the constitutional bounds. This is an awesome power of the judiciary. It usually uses it against the majority, so how can anyone expect it to be accountable to the majority at the same time?
When judges apply ambiguous non-constitutional rules, the accountability appears more important. The legislature, either intentionally or accidentally, leaves gaps in the law. It is up to the judiciary to choose one interpretation of the law when some new, unusual dispute finds a hole in the rules. Trial judges have another important power that may need accountability. They are free to decide what facts to take as the truth and what facts to ignore after hearing both parties. Sometimes, juries of ordinary citizens do this job, but in Canada usually judges “find facts”.
But even when accountability is reasonable, it is practically too difficult to have. Judges are different from politicians. Majorities have a right to call the government to account on every political decision. But as we just saw, citizens can claim a right to scrutinize only some judicial rulings. This brings difficulty and uncertainty. Most people do not have legal training. Citizens will have a hard time telling decisions open to their scorn from untouchable rulings. Using more government resources to explain or filter judicial decisions will overburden a system that is already bursting at the seams.
The good news is there are alternatives to the judiciary’s direct accountability through elections. First, we can choose judges very carefully. The Parliament is free to set standards for judicial selection. Second, we can monitor the judiciary for obvious abuse. The police are free to investigate judges suspected of crimes. The Crown is free to charge them if there is enough evidence. Third, we have the appeal route when judges make errors of law. It’s a time-tested but expensive mechanism. Finally, perhaps we should have more juries to make fact-finders more representative of the general population. Unlike the US, Canada has very few jury trials. When a jury makes a verdict, it’s one fewer judge to accuse of being unaccountable to the people.
There are good reasons to demand election of our judges. But the reasons not to are even better. In conclusive cases and in many constitutional disputes the judges should not owe any accountability to the majority. Telling the difference could be too costly for the public, but any mistakes can undermine the administration of justice or the Constitution. Judges protect us not only from illegality but also from ourselves. It’s a huge role. Much accountability is already there through law enforcement and regulation of the bench. If that’s not enough, we could use juries more often. Beyond that, we will have to trust our judges. They have usually been doing a good job anyway.
Federal Election Strategic Voting Tool
With the federal election just two weeks away, many are still scrambling to decide which name they should tick off on the ballot.
A friend of mine turned me on to an interesting Google Maps mashup which allows you to enter your postal code and see an estimation of the latest poll results for your riding.
The tool is designed with strategic voting in mind.
It is a pro-environment leaning website, and the goal of the authors is to see the Liberals, NDP, Bloc, and Greens win the most seats in the house of commons. Therefore, the website makes recommendations about which of these three parties you should strategically vote for in a particular riding to shut the Conservatives out of a seat.
However, even if you are a Conservative voter, you may still be interested to see how your candidate is doing in the latest polls.
I highly recommend checking it out.
The website is Vote For Environment / Voter Pour l’Environnement.
