Le 3 novembre dernier, la Cour suprême a rendu sa décision dans l’affaire Association des juristes de justice c. Canada (Procureur général). La Cour a cassé la décision de la Cour d’appel fédéral et rétabli la décision de l’arbitre de grief Stephan J. Bertrand de la Commission des relations de travail et de l’emploi dans la fonction publique. L’arbitre Bertrand avait conclu que la directive du Procureur général imposant à ses juristes des quarts de garde après les heures normales de travail n’était pas un exercice légitime des droits de direction dont dispose tout employeur. De surcroît, il a conclu que la directive portait atteinte à la liberté protégée par l’art. 7 de la Charte canadienne des droits et libertés, puisqu’elle s’immisçait directement dans plusieurs volets de l’autonomie personnelle des employés en question.
Uber a annoncé aujourd’hui qu’elle s’apprête à plier bagage pour quitter le marché québécois. La multinationale a indiqué qu’elle cessera ses activités le 14 octobre prochain. La raison invoquée est l’imposition prochaine par le ministère du Transport de nouvelles obligations, notamment l’obligation des chauffeurs de suivre une formation de 35 heures, ce que la compagnie prétend serait incompatible avec son modèle d’affaires.
Advenant qu’Uber mette sa menace à l’exécution, ses chauffeurs vont perdre leur emploi. Quelles sont les obligations de la compagnie à cet égard et comment peut-on s’assurer qu’elle les respecte ? Voilà les questions auxquelles le présent billet tentera de répondre.
Les 25 et 26 octobre prochains, j’aurai le privilège de prendre part au Symposium de la Cour suprême du Canada, qui sera tenu à Ottawa. C’est à cette occasion, et plus précisément dans le but d’aider à la préparation d’une des séances du symposium, que m’a été posée ainsi qu’aux autres participants la question suivante : « Quel est le plus important défi auquel fera face la Cour suprême du Canada au cours des prochaines décennies, et comment pourrait-elle relever ce défi? Ma réponse est que le plus important défi auquel fait déjà face la Cour suprême du Canada est le risque de sa politisation. Continuer à lire … « Le principal défi pour la Cour suprême du Canada ? Contrer le risque de sa politisation »
By Maxime St-Hilaire, Patrick F. Baud, and Éléna S. Drouin
This last post of our series aims to clarify how one can better define the procedure that allows the amendment of the supreme law of Canada, a procedure that, as we submitted in our previous posts, represents the best criterion to determine whether or not a provision is part of this very supreme law.
The Canadian constitutional amendment procedure: a new, thought-economical, account
Canada’s threefold constitutional amendment procedure is mostly set out in Part V of the Constitution Act, 1982 (CA 1982). It is asymmetrical, composed of a default, or “normal” procedure and two specific, or “exceptional” ones. We will start with the two exceptions. Continuer à lire … « 150 Years On: What is the Constitution of Canada?–Part 3 of 3–A New Presentation of the Procedure that Enables its Identification »
By Maxime St-Hilaire, Patrick F. Baud, and Éléna S. Drouin
In Canadian constitutional law, it is not tautological to say, as we did in our previous post, that, as provided for by subsection 52(3) of the Constitution Act, 1982 (CA 1982), the supreme law of Canada is composed of all provisions that may be only amended in accordance with it. This is precisely what makes the difference between (formally) ordinary and (formally) constitutional “written” laws—an ordinary law cannot definitively determine how it is to be amended. While it is true that we do not know the exact substantive extent of the supreme law of Canada, we do know that the constituency competency (which again, must not be mistaken for the idea of “constituent power”), which was transferred to Canada in 1982 through an amendment “formula”, is meant to be exhaustive, or as Richard Albert puts it, a “complete code”. This is what the “patriation of the constitution”—effected by the Canada Act 1982 and its Schedule B, the CA 1982—was chiefly about. This means, as the Supreme Court explained in its 1982 opinion rejecting Quebec’s claim that it possessed a conventional veto over constitutional amendments, the “new procedure for amending the Constitution of Canada…entirely replaces the old one in its legal as well as in its conventional aspects”. It is through subsection 52(3), which we propose to use as the criterion for defining the supreme law of Canada that allows us to conceive of the non-recognition by, or “irrelevance” for, Canadian law, of the hypothetical repeal by the Parliamentary of the United Kingdom of section 2 of the Canada Act 1982, which reads: “[n]o Act of the Parliament of the United Kingdom passed after the Constitution Act, 1982 comes into force shall extend to Canada as part of its law”.
Any provision elsewhere in the supreme law related to constitutional amendment procedure is implied to have been repealed by Part V of the CA 1982. We are aware of five such provisions: section 3 of the Constitution Act, 1871, which allowed the federal parliament to alter a province’s boundaries only with the authorization of the affected province’s legislature; and the provisions in each of the agreements, made between the Federal executive and those of Alberta, British Columbia, Manitoba, and Saskatchewan; concerning public lands and natural resources of these four provinces; and constitutionalized by the British/imperial Constitution Act, 1930, which reproduced them in schedules, that allow those agreements to be “varied by agreement confirmed by concurrent statutes of the Parliament of Canada and the Legislature of the Province”. Continuer à lire … « 150 Years On: What is the Constitution of Canada?–Part 2 of 3–Amending the Supreme Law »
By Maxime St-Hilaire, Patrick F. Baud, and Éléna S. Drouin
Canada’s constitution was for many decades perhaps best known for combining British-style constitutional monarchy and parliamentary democracy with American-inspired federalism, albeit in a colonial form. Such a mixed constitution would have been considered improbable by the constitutional scholars of that age, such as A.V. Dicey (chap. III).
The Canadian federation’s constitution, which was initially set out in Canada’s Constitution Act, 1867 (CA 1867) served as a model for the Commonwealth of Australia Constitution Act in 1901. Over three decades ago, the Canada Act 1982 and its Schedule B, the English and French versions of the Constitution Act, 1982 (CA 1982), transferred full and exclusive constituent competency to Canada. This final step in Canada’s peaceful transition from British colony to independent country continues to serve as a model throughout the Commonwealth. Yet the constitutional reforms brought about in 1982 continue to raise the following essential, theoretical question: how, absent a revolution, can the full constituent competency be truly transferred rather than simply delegated to the former colony by the imperial legislator?
A basic question with no clear answer (yet)
The CA 1982 also brought major reforms to Canada’s constitution. In the past 35 years, Canada has become renown for its Charter of Rights and Freedoms, which served as one of the models for South Africa’s Bill of Rights, as well as the recognition and affirmation of Aboriginal and treaty rights in section 35 of the CA 1982, section that currently informs ongoing Australian debates on the constitutional recognition of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. But these oft-debated features of Canada’s constitution mask a more fundamental problem facing Canadian constitutionalists—they cannot answer what should be a simple question: what is the supreme law of Canada composed of? This question is one without a clear answer in Canadian law. For one, there exists no reliable list of the supreme law’s components and no such list could be established. Rather, it seems that the supreme law of Canada includes any possible provision that, based on the nature of its contents, falls under one of the (real) constitutional amendment procedures that the supreme law provides in certain of its key components. However, one of the amendment procedures does not specify which contents it applies to, yet it presents itself as the “normal,” that is to say, residual or default procedure. This draws a vicious circle. In our view, this problem is one that should be of interest not only to Canadian constitutionalists. This problem also particularly highlights the issues that can arise from perfectible constitutional drafting and the interaction among the constitutional amendment procedure and the rest of a constitution, notably a federative one. Continuer à lire … « 150 Years On: What is the Constitution of Canada?–Part 1 of 3–The Problem of Identification »
Jeudi dernier, le Tribunal administratif du travail (le « TAT») a rendu une décision importante par laquelle il « déclarait » inconstitutionnel l’article 111.10 du Code du travail. Il s’agit là d’une conséquence logique de la décision de la Cour suprême dans l’affaire Saskatchewan Federation of Labour. Or, si la décision du TAT est bien fondée en ce qui concerne la constitutionnalité de l’article en question, il est du moins douteux qu’il avait le pouvoir d’accorder le remède qu’il a choisi.
Although I can understand the desire to explain the distribution of legislative powers simply, it is misleading, not only in informal talks but also as the Supreme Court itself too often does, to suggest this distribution is set out only in sections 91 and 92 of the Constitution Act, 1867, or only in this Act. See e.g. Carter v Canada, para 50; Tsilhqot’in Nation v British Columbia, para 131; Reference re Securities Act, para 54.
The federative distribution of legislative competencies is effected not only by these sections, not only within Part VI of the CA 1867, and again not even only within this Act, but also in other enactments that form part of the supreme law, including the Constitution Act, 1982. Continuer à lire … « 150 Years On: Why don’t we get clear on where the Canadian federal distribution of legislative powers (legally) comes from? »
In his post on I-CONnect, Adam Perry writes that the British cases on what are known in the UK as constitutional statutes (and in Canada as quasi–constitutional statutes) “have been very controversial in constitutional circles”, whereas, by contrast, “the Canadian cases caused barely a ripple.” I would like here to take up the invitation, and to throw a tiny pebble into the lake.
Elsewhere — in a chapter on whether Quebec may adopt a “written constitution” for a book building on work presented at a symposium convened at Yale by Richard Albert— I incidentally develop an argument about quasi-constitutional statutes in Canada.
My main argument is that the only way to enact formal constitutional provisions thatare part of the supreme law, so that they may invalidate ordinary ones, is to use one of Canada’s special constitution-changing procedures, which are different from and more demanding than the ordinary process of enacting a statute by an exercise of ordinary legislative power. These special procedures are entrenched in sections 35.1,38–43, and 46–48 of the Constitution Act 1982. It is worth noting that, whereassection 35.1 is not included in Part V, titled “Procedure for amending Constitution of Canada” but is nonetheless part of that procedure, other sections which are included in that Part, among them section 45, pertaining to “laws amending the constitution of the province”, are not. To summarize, my general thesis is that, in accordance with the “unwritten” principle of parliamentary sovereignty, both the federal parliament and provincial legislatures may probably not legally bind their successors or even themselves, even by (true) “manner” or “form” requirements, the meeting of which the validity of subsequent legislation would be conditional upon. My point is that the limited range of so-called “manner and form” requirements (from ordinary legislation) that are permissible under Canadian constitutional law using ordinary legislation should be understood as statutory interpretation rules, in the sense of rules allowing actors to resolve inconsistencies between enactments of a same legislature, and not as conditions for legal validity. This is where the idea of “quasi–constitutional” statutes becomes relevant.
By Patrick F. Baud and Maxime St-Hilaire
On February 23, 2017, the Supreme Court of Canada granted leave in two appeals arising from the British Columbia and Ontario law societies’ decision not to accredit of Trinity Western University’s law school. Trinity Western University, a private, evangelical Christian university in British Columbia, requires students to sign its Community Covenant as a condition of admission to the law school. The Community Covenant prohibits students from engaging “sexual intimacy that violates the sacredness of marriage between a man and a woman”. Without the law societies’ accreditation, the law school’s graduates will not be automatically eligible to be admitted to the bar. Continuer à lire … « Trinity Western: Did the Chief Justice of Canada make an illegal or questionable order? »