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At both the policy development stage and the point of implementing administrative processes, more attention must be paid to the hidden challenges faced by disabled women of lower income in securing and using income support benefits. Many of these gendered barriers figure within the administrative processes subsumed in the design and delivery of disability income support programs, and in governmental regimes connected (directly and indirectly) to them. As the Canada Disability Benefit Act progressed through the House of Commons, it was modified to include a guarantee that the application process be “without barriers, as defined in section 2 of the Accessible Canada Act”. The Canada Disability Benefit Act therefore presents an excellent opportunity to examine the ways in which statutory administrative regimes designed to further disability equality rights may result in barriers leading to administrative violence how to avoid that consequence. By drawing on the theoretical frameworks of bureaucratic disentitlement, administrative violence and disability equality, this article examines the lived realities of women with disabilities in order to suggest ways that income support systems can be more responsively and ethically designed. Administrative justice requires that users of income support programs obtain substantive equality-based service at first instance. This should be the experience of all users and would also avoid the time, energy and emotional investment of further appeals and/or judicial review. Moreover, both disability equality and administrative justice call for heightened attention to the lived experiences of disabled women with intersecting backgrounds in order to create equality-based and effective systems of disability income support.

The recent deaths of migrants trying to cross the Canada-U.S. border through Indigenous territory highlight the history of colonial dispossession that the border represents.

Each year, over 100,000 Ontarians seek justice from Tribunals Ontario. This group of people —the size of a small city— includes tenants, landlords, motor vehicle accident victims seeking insurance benefits, people denied disability benefits, and those who believe that their fundamental human rights have been infringed. This group of 100,000 is significantly larger than the […]

Those determining bail must reflect on their own beliefs and show restraint as they determine risk to avoid relying on false racist narratives. So should those calling for bail reform.

In a global era marked by surging racial nationalism and penal populism , anti-racist and decolonial research, education, and training has been under increasing threat in academia across the world. Popular use of the universalizing language of liberal internationalism as the dominant frame in discussing these developments leaves gaps in our understanding as to what areas of academic freedom are under the greatest threat, why they are under threat, what levers of sanction and discipline are used to suppress certain areas, and for what ends. Such a frame risks contributing to overly abstracted conceptualizations of academic freedom (and unfreedom) that are unmoored from the realities of how power operates in educational institutions and attendant maldistributions of who can in fact claim and be protected by academic freedom and who cannot.In this article, I put into conversation three very different jurisdictional contexts where nationalist backlash to, and suppression of, anti-racist and decolonial education and scholarship is occurring. Specifically, it examines American anti-Critical Race Theory (CRT) campaigns, Chinese suppression of scholarship critical of its ongoing colonial suppression of non-Han native peoples in the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region (XUAR), and Israeli suppression of scholarship critical of its ongoing occupation of Palestinian territories through the case study of the ‘Spiro scandal’ at the University of Toronto (UofT) Faculty of Law. No good politics of academic freedom can emerge without centering an analysis of broader societal power and subordination. This is particularly true in the areas of national security and anti-racism, which form both distinct grounds for legal and political intervention in academic freedom. A national security threat engages certain types of legal grounds, particularly domestically (e.g. carceral responses to perceived counterterrorism, separatism, and extremism threats) while anti-racism justifies other types of intervention (e.g. civil rights complaints, removing of curriculum, firings, cutting funding) and can operate powerfully on a transnational level as well. I highlight three common elements in a transnational blueprint that can be observed in the creation, justification, and operation of selective nationalist attacks on academic freedom in anti-racist and decolonial education. My highlighting of these common elements are not meant to suggest any sort of equivalence between their operation, historical context, and/or relative severity, but rather to advance our collective understanding of the distributive nature of academic freedom politics and its relationship to power, race, and colonialism. Unpacking these campaigns transnationally complicates and unsettles the dichotomy between authoritarian and liberal populist censorship, giving us a more nuanced foundation by which to protect academic freedom and knowledge production in the service of racial justice and collective liberation.

For the Encouragement of Learning addresses the contested history of copyright law in Canada, where the economic and reputational interests of authors and th...

Review of Michael Trebilcock, Paradoxes of Professional Regulation: In Search of Regulatory Principles. Canadian Business Law Journal, Vol. 67, page 247. This review considers the regulation of professions through an examination of Michael Trebilcock's new book. The key themes include risk arising from service-provision, alternatives such as licensing and registration, and the political economy of occupational regulation. Trebilcock's book combines the virtues of "thinking like a lawyer" and "thinking like an economist."

This essay explores the idea of “safety” in artificial intelligence (AI) and robot governance in Canada. Regulating robotic and AI-based systems through a lens of safety is a vital, but elusive, task. In Canada, much governance of robotic and AI systems occurs through public bodies and structures. While various laws and policies aim to ensure that AI and robotic systems are used “safely,” the meaning and scope of “safety” are seldom, if ever, explicitly considered. Safety is not a neutral concept and determining what kinds of technologies and applications are “safe” requires normative choices that often go unexpressed in the law and policy-making process. Broad appeals to the policy goal of “safety” can bring conduct or regulation into conflict with the actual safety of individuals and communities. Expanded thinking about “safety” and governance in relation to automated technologies is needed, along with greater precision in law and policy goals. Scholars and activists, particularly those advocating for the abolition of state policing and the prison industrial complex, have robustly critiqued and re-theorized the concept of “safety” in law and policy, particularly in ways that are cognizant of equitable and collectively beneficial outcomes. To imagine a society without policing and prisons, abolitionist thinkers engage in a systemic critique of how society, communities, and the state understand and seek to attain “public safety.” Thus, abolitionist writers engage in a deep rethinking of the concept of “safety” and methods for creating safety, generating a richness that would benefit current discussions about AI and robotics governance. This paper explores some of this scholarship and relates it back to how we might understand and critique the use of “safety” in AI and robotics governance in Canada.

This article centers on the profound discrepancy between efforts by First Nations to obtain injunctions against industry and the state versus the far more successful record of corporations and governments seeking to obtain injunctions against First Nations. We examine how the common law test for injunctions in struggles over lands and resources leads to these results. We begin with the history of injunctions in the Aboriginal law context, especially the development of s. 35(1) jurisprudence which ironically deprived First Nations of access to injunctions, despite an earlier period of successful defence of Indigenous land rights using this legal tool. We then focus on the doctrinal and political function of the “public interest” consideration in injunction cases, locating this concept within a broader political economy framework. Finally, we turn to the origins of the injunction as an equitable remedy and argue that the current imbalance in injunction success rates ought to be understood though a re-examination of equity within a broader historical trajectory of settler-colonial legality. We conclude that the heavy lifting done by notions of ‘public interest’ both relies on and obscures the circumvention and exclusion of Aboriginal treaty and constitutional rights from the law of injunctions and constitutes a de facto resolution of Aboriginal land rights in Canada. Finally, we ask what place, if any, exists in injunction jurisprudence for Indigenous law and governance.

Recent global financial crises have resurrected debates over money and its provision, not only in economics but in law and history. This presents an opportunity to revisit past moments when money and banks were viscerally political and considered central to our legal order. This paper looks at one such moment: the conflict between Upper Canada’s Conservatives and Reformers leading to rebellion in 1837. While little mentioned in the literature, the legal architecture of money and banks played a central role in the Reform movement. The British had previously flooded the colony with publicly issued notes to fund the war of 1812. By the 1830s, this government monetary issue was fully redeemed and replaced with notes issued by the colony’s first three chartered banks. The reformers saw those banks as public agents, playing a public role, but without democratic accountability. After several failed attempts to reform that system, they turned to establishing their own institution, named the Bank of the People. In doing so, they saw themselves not as merely engaging in private commerce, but as directly contesting this fundamental public provision. This article provides a legal-political history of that early contest over Canadian money and sovereignty, and explores the way in which Upper Canada’s Reformers put forth a critique of bank-issued money that remains relevant today.

This article explains how the Supreme Court’s decision in R. v. Chouhan concerning jury impartiality is an illustrative example of “baselines”, or how implicit political positions held by judges govern their legal analysis. It begins with a summary of the background in Chouhan: the issue before the Court (the abolition of peremptory challenges) and how the judgment resolved that issue by constitutionally vindicating the impartiality of systemically white juries (an unfortunate continuation of the Court’s widely critiqued judgment in Kokopenace). Then, the article analyzes Chouhan through the lens of baselines. First, the article uses Chouhan to describe what baselines are—that is, by examining both the judgment and hearing, the article reveals how implicit political positions significantly drove the legal analysis in the case. And, given the political character of that baseline reasoning, the article briefly critiques the Court in two ways: (1) it critiques Justices Moldaver and Brown for relying on weak baseline positions, like juries already being diverse (they are not) or Canada not having intractable racial inequality (it does); and (2) it critiques the Court’s recent notice limiting intervention submissions to “legal” issues insofar as that limitation can, perversely, prevent interveners from challenging those weak baselines from which the Court may conduct its analysis. Second, the article uses Chouhan to describe what baselines do—that is, by examining Justices Moldaver and Brown’s opinion in Chouhan, the article demonstrates how judges’ baseline commitments can motivate their reasoning and lead them to make analytical errors. In their opinion, Justices Moldaver and Brown purport to defer to Parliament while nakedly legislating from the bench—indeed, they rule that their policy preference of ignoring race in jury selection should, “as a matter of law”, take precedence over Parliament’s preference for race-conscious processes. Further, Justices Moldaver and Brown strawman both jury diversity and peremptory challenges to bolster their position. Specifically, when jurists argue for more jury diversity, Justices Moldaver and Brown simply respond that no jury can be perfectly diverse, a fallacious response because doing something for jury diversity need not require doing everything. The article concludes by noting how the continuing relevance of baselines in constitutional interpretation demands ongoing and critical reflection on how Canadian jurisprudence is routinely produced from a baseline of “silly anecdotes”: white subjectivity masquerading as universal objectivity, which institutionalizes white supremacy in law.

Approaches to security issues in Canada today need to learn from the dire histories of what happens under the banner of national security.

<p>“Learning in Place”, 3rd ed. gives students background and tools to support their legal externship or internship experience. Written in a Canadian context, this text will help students understand the context of practice, the ethical and professional obligations of lawyering, and common workplace challenges that shape the earliest days of becoming a lawyer. The text encourages students to think creatively and critically about situations that arise in a work context. The text has a practical bent, and includes information about the nature of legal workplaces and practice-related information that might be unfamiliar to students but important to understanding the practice of law. “Learning in Place” also includes theoretical pieces to support students in critically reflecting on their work.</p>