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MacDonald Laurier Institute

Weaponizing human rights tribunals

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18 minute read

From the Macdonald Laurier Institute

By Stéphane Sérafin for Inside Policy

If adopted, Bill C-63 could unleash a wave of “hate speech” complaints that persecute – and prosecute – citizens, businesses, or organizations while stifling online expression.

Much has already been written on Bill C-63, the Trudeau government’s controversial Bill proposing among other things to give the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal jurisdiction to adjudicate “hate speech” complaints arising from comments made on social media. As opponents have noted, the introduction of these new measures presents a significant risk to free expression on many issues that ought to be open to robust public debate.

Proponents, for their part, have tended to downplay these concerns by pointing to the congruence between these new proposed measures and the existing prohibition contained in the Criminal Code. In their view, the fact that the definition of “hate speech” provided by Bill C-63 is identical to that already found in the Criminal Code means that these proposed measures hardly justify the concerns expressed.

This response to critics of Bill C-63 largely misses the point. Certainly, the existing Criminal Code prohibitions on “hate speech” have and continue to raise difficult issues from the standpoint of free expression. However, the real problem with Bill C-63 is not that it adopts the Criminal Code definition, but that it grants the jurisdiction to adjudicate complaints arising under this definition to the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal.

Established in 1977, the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal is a federal administrative tribunal based on a model first implemented in Ontario in 1962 and since copied in every other Canadian province and territory. There is a Canadian Human Rights Tribunal, just as there is an Ontario Human Rights Tribunal and a British Columbia Human Rights Tribunal, among others. Although these are separate institutions with different jurisdictions, their decisions proceed from similar starting points embedded in nearly identical legislation. In the case of the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal, that legislation is the Canadian Human Rights Act.

Tribunals such as the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal are administrative bodies, not courts. They are part of the executive branch, alongside the prime minister, Cabinet, and the public service. This has at least three implications for the way the Tribunal is likely to approach the “hate speech” measures that Bill C-63 contemplates. Each of these presents significant risks for freedom of expression that do not arise, or do not arise to the same extent, under the existing Criminal Code provisions.

The first implication is procedural. As an administrative body, the Tribunal is not subject to the same stringent requirements for the presentation of evidence that are used before proper courts, and certainly not subject to the evidentiary standard applied in the criminal law context. But more importantly still, the structure of the Canadian Human Rights Act is one that contemplates a form of hybrid public-private prosecution, in which the decision to bring a complaint falls to a given individual, while its prosecution is taken up by another administrative body, called the Human Rights Commission.

This model differs from both the criminal law context, where both the decision to file charges and prosecute them rest with the Crown, and from the civil litigation context, where the plaintiff decides to bring a claim but must personally bear the cost and effort of doing so. With respect to complaints brought before the Tribunal, it is the complainant who chooses to file a complaint, and the Human Rights Commission that then takes up the burden of proof and the costs of prosecution.

In the context of the existing complaints process, which deals mainly with discriminatory practices in employment and the provision of services, this model is intended to alleviate burdens that might deter individuals from bringing otherwise valid discrimination complaints before the Tribunal. Whatever the actual merits of this approach, however, it presents a very real risk of being weaponized under Bill C-63. Notably, the fact that complainants are not expected to prosecute their own complaints means that there is little to discourage individuals (or activist groups acting through individuals) from filing “hate speech” complaints against anyone expressing opinions with which they disagree.

This feature alone is likely to create a significant chilling effect on online expression. Whether a complaint is ultimately substantiated or not, the model under which the Tribunal operates dispenses complainants from the burden of prosecution but does not dispense defendants from the burden of defending themselves against the complaint in question. Again, this approach may or may not be sensible under existing anti-discrimination measures, which are primarily aimed at businesses with generally greater means. But it becomes obviously one-sided in relation to the “hate speech” measures contemplated by Bill C-63, which instead target anyone engaging in public commentary using online platforms. Anyone who provides public commentary, no matter how measured or nuanced, will thus have to risk personally bearing the cost and effort of defending against a complaint as a condition of online participation. Meanwhile, no such costs exist for those who might want to file complaints.

A second implication arising from the Tribunal’s status as an administrative body with significant implications for Bill C-63 is that its decisions attract “deference” on appeal. By this, I mean that its decisions are given a certain latitude by reviewing courts that appeal courts do not generally give to decisions from lower tribunals, including in criminal matters. “Deference” of this kind is consistent with the broad discretion that legislation confers upon administrative decision-makers such as the Tribunal. However, it also raises significant concerns in relation to Bill C-63 that its proponents have failed to properly address.

In particular, the deference granted to the Tribunal means that proponents of Bill C-63 have been wrong to argue that the congruence between its proposed definition of “hate speech” and existing provisions of the Criminal Code provides sufficient safeguards against threats to freedom of expression.

Deference means that it is possible, and indeed likely, that the Tribunal will develop an interpretation of “hate speech” that diverges significantly from that applied under the Criminal Code. Even if the language used in Bill C-63 is identical to the language found in the Criminal Code, the Tribunal possesses a wide latitude in interpreting what these provisions mean and is not bound by the interpretation that courts give to the Criminal Code. It may even develop an interpretation that is far more draconian than the Criminal Code standard, and reviewing courts are likely to accept that interpretation despite the fact that it diverges from their own.

This problem is exacerbated by the deferential approach that reviewing courts have lately taken towards the application of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms to administrative bodies such as the Tribunal. This approach contrasts to the direct application of the Charter that remains characteristic of decisions involving the Criminal Codeincluding its “hate speech” provisions. It also contrasts with the approach previously applied to provincial Human Rights Tribunal decisions dealing with the distribution of print publications that were found to amount to “hate speech” under provincial human rights laws. Decisions such as these have frequently been criticized for not taking sufficiently seriously the Charter right to freedom of expression. However, they at least involve a direct application of the Charter, including a requirement that the government justify any infringement of the Charter right to free expression as a reasonable limit in a “free and democratic society.”

Under the approach now favoured by Canadian courts, these same courts now extend the deference paradigm to administrative decision-makers, such as the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal, even where the Charter is potentially engaged. In practice, this means that instead of asking whether a rights infringement is justified in a “free and democratic society,” courts ask whether administrative-decision makers have properly “balanced” even explicitly enumerated Charter rights such as the right to freedom of expression against competing “Charter values” whenever a particular administrative decision is challenged.

This approach to Charter-compliance has led to a number of highly questionable decisions in which the Charter rights at issue have at best been treated as a secondary concern. Notably, it led the Supreme Court of Canada to affirm the denial of the accreditation of a new law school at a Christian university in British Columbia, on the basis that this university imposed a covenant on students requiring them to not engage in extra-marital sexual relations that was deemed discriminatory against non-heterosexual students. Four of the nine Supreme Court of Canada judges would have applied a similar approach to uphold a finding by the Quebec Human Rights Tribunal that a Quebec comedian had engaged in discriminatory conduct because of a routine in which he made jokes at the expense of a disabled child who had cultivated a public image. (With recent changes to the composition of the court, that minority would now likely be a majority). This approach to Charter-compliance only increases the likelihood that the proposed online hate speech provisions will develop in a manner that is different from, and more repressive than, the existing Criminal Code standard.

Finally, the third and potentially most consequential difference to arise from the Tribunal’s status as an administrative rather than judicial body concerns the remedies that the Tribunal can order if a particular complaint is substantiated. Notably, the monetary awards that the Tribunal can impose – currently capped at $20,000 – are often imposed on the basis of standards that are more flexible than those applicable to civil claims brought before judicial bodies. An equivalent monetary remedy is contemplated for the new online “hate speech” provisions. This remedy is in addition to the possibility, also currently contemplated by Bill C-63, of ordering a defendant to pay a non-compensatory penalty (in effect, a fine payable to the complainant, rather than the state) of up to $50,000. This last remedy especially adds to the incentives created by the Commission model for individuals (and activist groups) to file complaints wherever possible.

That said, the monetary remedies contemplated by Bill C-63 are perhaps not the most concerning remedies as far as freedom of expression is concerned. Bill C-63 also provides the Tribunal with the power to issue “an order to cease the discriminatory practice and take measures, in consultation with the Commission on the general purposes of the measures, to redress the practice or to prevent the same or a similar practice from recurring.” This remedy brings to mind the Tribunal’s existing power to under the anti-discrimination provisions of the Canadian Human Rights Act.

It is not entirely clear how this kind of directed remedy will be applied in the context of Bill C-63. The Bill provides for a number of exemptions to the application of the new “hate speech” measures, most notably to social media platforms, which may limit their scope of application to some extent. Nonetheless, it is not inconceivable that remedies might be sought against other kinds of online content distributors in an effort to have them engage in proactive censorship or otherwise set general policy with little or no democratic oversight. This possibility is certainly heightened by the way in which the existing directed remedies for anti-discrimination have been used to date.

A prominent example of directed remedies being implemented in a way that circumvents democratic oversight is provided by the Canada Research Chairs (“CRC”) program endowed by the federal government at various Canadian universities. That program has recently come under scrutiny due to the on appointments under the CRC program. In reality, those implementing the quotas are merely proceeding in accordance with a settlement agreement entered into by the federal government following a complaint made by individuals alleging discrimination in CRC appointments. That complaint was brought before the Tribunal and sought precisely the kind of redress to which the government eventually consented.

Whatever the merits of the settlement reached in the CRC case, the results achieved by the complainants through their complaint to the Tribunal were far more politically consequential than the kinds of monetary awards that have been the focus of most discussion in the Bill C-63 context. As with the one-sidedness of the procedural incentives to file complaints and the deference that courts show to Tribunal decisions, the true scope of the Tribunal’s remedial jurisdiction presents significant risks to freedom of expression that simply have no equivalent under the Criminal Code. These issues must be kept in mind when addressing the content of that Bill, which in its current form risks being weaponized by politically motivated individuals and activist groups to stifle online expression with little to no democratic oversight.


Stéphane Sérafin is a senior fellow at the Macdonald-Laurier Institute and assistant professor in the Common Law Section of the Faculty of Law at the University of Ottawa. He holds a Bachelor of Social Science, Juris Doctor, and Licentiate in Law from the University of Ottawa and completed his Master of Laws at the University of Toronto. He is a member of the Law Society of Ontario and the Barreau du Québec.

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MacDonald Laurier Institute

Rushing to death in Canada’s MAiD regime

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Macdonald-Laurier Institute By Ramona Coelho for Inside Policy

Canada legalized Medical Assistance in Dying (MAiD) in 2016, encompassing both euthanasia and assisted suicide. Initially limited to those nearing their natural death, eligibility expanded in 2021 to individuals with physical disabilities, with eligibility for individuals with mental illness in 2027. Parliamentary recommendations include MAiD for children. A recent federal consultation explored extending MAiD to those who lack capacity via advance directives, an approach Quebec has already adopted, despite its criminal status under federal law.

Despite its compassionate framing,  investigative journalists and government reports reveal troubling patterns where inadequate exploration of reversible suffering – such as lack of access to medical treatments, poverty, loneliness, and feelings of being a burden – have driven Canadians to choose death. As described by our former Disability Inclusion Minister, Canada’s system at times makes it easier to access MAiD than to receive basic care like a wheelchair. With over 60,000 MAiD cases by the end of 2023, the evidence raises grave concerns about Canada’s MAiD regime.

I am a member of Ontario’s MAiD Death Review Committee (MDRC). Last year, the Chief Coroner released MDRC reports, and a new set of reports has just been published. The first report released by the Office of the Chief Coroner, Waivers of Final Consent, examines how individuals in Track 1 (reasonably foreseeable natural death) can sign waivers to have their lives ended even if they lose the capacity to consent by the scheduled date of MAiD. The second, Navigating Complex Issues within Same Day and Next Day MAiD Provisions, includes cases where MAiD was provided on the same day or the day after it was requested. These reports raise questions about whether proper assessments, thorough exploration of suffering, and informed consent were consistently practised by MAiD clinicians. While MDRC members hold diverse views, here is my take.

Rushing to death, Ignoring Reversible Causes of Suffering

In the same-day or next-day MAiD report, Mrs. B, in her 80s, after complications from surgery, opted for palliative care, leading to discharge home. She later requested a MAiD assessment, but her assessor noted she preferred palliative care based on personal and religious values. The next day, her spouse, struggling with caregiver burnout, took her to the emergency department, but she was discharged home. When a request for hospice palliative care was denied, her spouse contacted the provincial MAiD coordination service for an urgent assessment. A new assessor deemed her eligible for MAiD, despite concerns from the first practitioner, who questioned the new assessor on the urgency, the sudden shift in patient perspective, and the influence of caregiver burnout. The initial assessor requested an opportunity for re-evaluation, but this was denied, with the second assessor deeming it urgent. That evening, a third MAiD practitioner was brought in, and Mrs. B underwent MAiD that night.

The focus should have been on ensuring adequate palliative care and support for Mrs. B and her spouse. Hospice and palliative care teams should have been urgently re-engaged, given the severity of the situation. Additionally, the MAiD provider expedited the process despite the first assessor’s and Mrs. B’s concerns without fully considering the impact of her spouse’s burnout.

The report also has worrying trends suggesting that local medical cultures—rather than patient choice—could be influencing rushed MAiD. Geographic clustering, particularly in Western Ontario, where same-day and next-day MAiD deaths occur most frequently, raises concerns that some MAiD providers may be predisposed to rapidly approve patients for quick death rather than ensuring patients have access to adequate care or exploring if suffering is remediable. This highlights a worrying trend where the speed of the MAiD provision is prioritized over patient-centered care and ethical safeguards.

MAiD without Free and Informed Choice

Consent has been central to Canadians’ acceptance of the legalization of euthanasia and assisted suicide. However, some cases in these reports point to concerns already raised by clinicians: the lack of thorough capacity assessments and concerns that individuals may not have freely chosen MAiD.

In the waiver of final consent report, Mr. B, a man with Alzheimer’s, had been approved for MAiD with such a waiver. However, by the scheduled provision date, his spouse reported increased confusion. Upon arrival, the MAiD provider noted that Mr. B no longer recognized them and so chose not to engage him in discussion at all. Without any verbal interaction to determine his current wishes or understanding, Mr. B’s life was ended.

In the same-day or next-day MAiD report, Mr. C, diagnosed with metastatic cancer, initially expressed interest in MAiD but then experienced cognitive decline and became delirious. He was sedated for pain management. Despite the treating team confirming that capacity was no longer present, a MAiD practitioner arrived and withheld sedation, attempting to rouse him. It was documented that the patient mouthed “yes” and nodded and blinked in response to questions. Based on this interaction, the MAiD provider deemed the patient to have capacity. The MAiD practitioner then facilitated a virtual second assessment, and MAiD was administered.

These individuals were not given genuine opportunities to confirm whether they wished to die. Instead, their past wishes or inquiries were prioritized, raising concerns about ensuring free and informed consent for MAiD.  As early as 2020, the Chief Coroner of Ontario identified cases where patients received MAiD without well-documented capacity assessments, even though their medical records suggested they lacked capacity. Further, when Dr. Leonie Herx, past president of the Canadian Society of Palliative Medicine, testified before Parliament about MAiD frequently occurring without capacity, an MP dismissed her, advising Parliament to be cautious about considering seriously evidence under parliamentary immunities that amounted to malpractice allegations, which should be handled by the appropriate regulatory bodies or police.  These dismissive comments stand in stark contrast with the gravity of assessing financial capacity, and yet the magnitude is greater when ending life. By way of comparison, for my father, an Ontario-approved capacity expert conducted a rigorous evaluation before declaring him incapable of managing his finances. This included a lengthy interview, collateral history, and review of financial documents—yet no such rigorous capacity assessment is mandated for MAiD.

What is Compassion?

While the federal government has finished its consultation on advance directives for MAiD, experts warn against overlooking the complexities of choosing death based on hypothetical suffering and no lived experience to inform those choices. A substitute decision-maker has to interpret prior wishes, leading to guesswork and ethical dilemmas. These cases highlight how vulnerable individuals, having lost the capacity to consent, may be coerced or unduly influenced to die—whether through financial abuse, caregiver burnout, or other pressures—reminding us that the stakes are high – life and death, no less.

The fundamental expectation of health care should be to rush to care for the patient, providing support through a system that embraces them—not rush them toward death without efforts to mitigate suffering or ensure free and informed consent. If we truly value dignity, we must invest in comprehensive care to prevent patients from being administered speedy death in their most vulnerable moment, turning their worst day into potentially their last.


Dr. Ramona Coelho is a family physician whose practice largely serves marginalised persons in London, Ontario. She is a senior fellow at the Macdonald-Laurier Institute and co-editor of the new book “Unravelling MAiD in Canada” from McGill University Press.

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Immigration

Immigrant background checks are unrelated to national security?

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Macdonald-Laurier Institute By David L. Thomas for Inside Policy

Canadians are rightly under the impression that migrants have been properly vetted before coming into our country. But it’s clear we’re not living up to expectations.

A recently de-classified 2022 report of the National Security and Intelligence Review Agency (NSIRA) suggests we’ve entirely misplaced our priorities when it comes to protecting Canadians from foreigners with dangerous backgrounds. Apparently referring prospective immigrants from places in the world beset with violent extremism for deeper background checks could constitute discrimination against those individuals that is “not justifiable on security grounds.”

Arbitrary discrimination on a prohibited ground is wrong. However, it is obviously important, for example, for the government to conduct proper security checks when we admit people into Canada as immigrants. There are times when certain discrimination might be warranted.

Essentially, for fear of being accused of discrimination, our national security oversight committee has deemed that checking prospective immigrants for ties to terrorist organizations is not a matter of national security. This is plainly absurd and is a grave risk to our national security.

The decision-style report of the NSIRA tribunal related to a group of complaints before the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal (CHRT) under the Canadian Human Rights Act (CHRA). The large group of complainants were citizens of Iran seeking temporary or permanent visas to Canada and who were subjected to security background checks. They alleged discrimination on the basis of race and that the CSIS checks delayed the processing of their visa applications (reported by NSIRA as an average delay of 14 days for temporary visas and 26 days for immigration visas). Iran is a country with which we have no diplomatic relations and we have designated as a state sponsor of terrorism since 2012.

Without the resources of CSIS and a deeper security check, how could an immigration officer in the field determine if a visa applicant may have once been a member of a terrorist organization, like al-Qaeda, or a drug cartel? CSIS security checks are designed to look deeper into an individual’s background, sometimes with the co-operation of foreign spy agencies.

These complaints came across my desk in the final months of my term as the Chairperson of the CHRT. Having previously practiced immigration law for more than 20 years, I was well aware of CSIS security background checks. My expectation was that the NSIRA would recommend dismissal of the complaints because, well of course, checking whether a prospective immigrant is connected to a terrorist organization has to be related to the security of Canada, no?

Apparently not.

The CHRT complaints were suspended under a never-before-used section of the CHRA. Under Section 45, the Minister of Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada gave notice “that the (alleged discriminatory) practice to which the complaint relates was based on considerations relating to the security of Canada.” Despite this notice, the Human Rights Commission declined to dismiss the complaints and instead referred the matter to the NSIRA to provide a report on the matter.

The NSIRA report was the first of its kind and acknowledged there is little legislative guidance on the nature of its role under a Section 45 referral. However, in my view, the NSIRA has usurped the role of the CHRT by determining that the criteria applied for requesting the CSIS background checks “was not justifiable on security grounds.” In my view, their determination should have been limited to only whether the alleged discriminatory practices related to national security.

Nevertheless, the complaints are now proceeding before the CHRT to determine if it was discriminatory to make referrals for security background checks.

Arbitrary discrimination is, in most cases, against the law. However, there are exceptions, and one of them is Section 45 of the CHRA which creates a “carve out” from the normal rules when a matter of national security is on the line. And yet, the NSIRA decision bizarrely set aside national security and failed to grant the exception.

Canada has drastically increased its intake of migrants in recent years. Since 2021, the annual target for permanent residents was almost doubled to 500,000. Non-immigrant foreigners, mostly students and temporary workers, accounted for 2.5 million people, or 6.2% or the population in 2023. As these are people entering Canada legally, Canadians are rightly under the impression that migrants have been properly vetted before coming into our country. But it’s clear we’re not living up to expectations.

Canada recently admitted Muhammad Shahzeb Khan from Pakistan, accused of plotting a massive attack against Jews in New York last October. When this news broke Canada was still reeling from the embarrassment of having just granted Canadian citizenship to Ahmed Fouad Mostafa Eldidi. Along with his son, Mostafa Eldidi, he was arrested in July last year as the pair was accused of being in the advanced stages of  planning a violent attack on behalf of ISIS in Toronto. Apparently, Ahmed appears in a 2015 video dismembering an ISIS prisoner with a sword.

All prospective immigrants to Canada are subject to checks for past criminal activity. However, sometimes an immigration officer might flag an applicant for a security screening by the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) to determine if a visa applicant has ties to terrorist groups, espionage, war crimes, crimes against humanity, etc.

In order to protect Canada, immigration officers in the field should have the unfettered discretion to refer any non-Canadian for a CSIS security background check. The referral is not a denial of entry into Canada. Applicants are just being asked to wait a little longer until we’re satisfied about their background. Immigration officers should not be second-guessing themselves about this discretion for fear of a human rights complaint.

Now is the time for Canada to set its priorities right. Our national security must be paramount and should not be hamstrung by unrealistic idealism.


David Thomas, a senior fellow at the Macdonald-Laurier Institute, is a lawyer and mediator in British Columbia. From 2014 to 2021, he was the chairperson of the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal.

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