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MacDonald Laurier Institute

Bureaucrats should not be arbiters of our online world

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From the Macdonald Laurier Institute

By Leonid Sirota and Mark Mancini

When it comes to regulating the internet, Ottawa tells Canadians to simply “trust the experts.”

The federal government has pursued a far-reaching internet regulation agenda. This includes the Online Streaming Act (previously known as Bill C-11) and the Online News Act (previously known as Bill C-18). Both are ostensibly designed to force foreign online platforms – streaming ones such as Netflix, Disney+, and YouTube in the former case, Google and Facebook in the latter – to provide support, mainly but not exclusively financial, to Canadian cultural and journalistic producers. The most recent addition to this regulatory programme, Bill C-63, partly targets online platforms too, but its reach is broader. It seeks to prevent a range of “online harms” – from the distribution of child pornography to hate speech.

These legislative endeavours have attracted commentary from all corners, not least from Macdonald-Laurier Institute experts. Much of the discussion has been critical of the government’s policies on the ground of their unwisdom, immorality, and possible unconstitutionality.

But we would like to take a different tack here and focus not on the ends pursued but the means employed by C-11, C-18, and C-63: the empowerment of administrative agencies as rule-makers and arbiters of Canadians’ online world. While they purport to regulate new technologies, business models, and cultural forms, these policies are a throwback to an old philosophy of government that subverts fundamental constitutional principles: democracy, the separation of powers, and the rule of law.

It is worth beginning with a brief restatement of what these principles mean. Democracy means the exercise of political power – law-making, in particular – by either the people themselves or, more commonly, through elected representatives. The separation of powers means that the making and execution of laws are different functions, not to be confused or conflated, and that adjudication of disputes in accordance with the law is a separate function still. The rule of law is a complex idea, but perhaps the pithiest formulation of its core meaning belongs to economist and political philosopher F.A. Hayek: it “means that government in all its actions is bound by rules … which make it possible to foresee how the authority will use its coercive powers in given circumstances.”

Contrast this with the philosophy underpinning the government’s approach to internet regulation. This philosophy permeated the report of a panel commissioned by the federal government at the end of the last decade to propose reforms to Canada’s regulation of the internet. Published in January 2020, “Canada’s Communications Future: Time to Act” called for legislation that would “provide sufficient guidance to assist the [Canadian Radio-Telecommunications Commission (CRTC)] in the discharge of its duties, but sufficient flexibility for it to operate independently in deciding how to implement sector policy. To achieve this, legislative statements of policy should set out broadly framed objectives and should not be overly prescriptive.” Translation: the democratically elected Parliament should not bother with making actual rules; that would be the job of the bureaucrats at the CRTC. They know better – both what the rules should be and how to apply them. Parliament is their enabler, not their master, and the courts should defer to their judgments.

In fairness, the legislation ultimately enacted or considered by Parliament does not go quite as far in empowering the CRTC or a new Digital Safety Commission (DSC) at the expense of Parliament as that report had urged. But it does go far. Probably the most important example of this concerns the amenability of user content – the average TikTok video, rather than Netflix – to CRTC regulation. This was one of the major points of contention when Bill C-11 was before Parliament. The Bill itself – despite claims by the government to the contrary – quite clearly permitted the CRTC to regulate user content, though it did not require it to do so. Amendments to remove this discretionary power were roundly rejected at the government’s insistence, in favour of leaving the user content question open for decision by the CRTC – only for the government to issue a Policy Direction to the CRTC “not to impose regulatory requirements” on user content.

The real scope of the law, and hence the degree of its impact on the freedom of expression of ordinary Canadians, will thus be fleshed out through the interplay of policy directions from Cabinet and CRTC consultations and orders. The same goes for various other aspects of the Online Streaming Act, such as Canadian content and discoverability requirements to be imposed on online platforms. The Online News Act, had it functioned as intended, would similarly have given the CRTC the final say over the extent of the obligations of the platforms subject to it. (In reality, one of these two platforms instead banned the publication of news content, and to avoid the other doing the same thing, the government made a deal with it that eviscerated the act.) And under Bill C-63, the decisions as to whether an online platform’s policies are “adequate to mitigate the risk that users … will be exposed to harmful content” is similarly within the remit of the DSC, with little if any guidance from Parliament as to what is in fact required.

This way of doing things undermines parliamentary democracy as anyone, except some scholars of administrative law would understand it. The people elected to make laws do not, in fact, make them in any meaningful way. On the contrary, they pawn off responsibility for contentious policy choices to administrators; they enact no more than empty shells, politely described as “framework legislation,” full of blanks to be filled out later. This transgression against constitutional principle is compounded when Cabinet makes a mockery of the parliamentary process with its policy flip-flops, which can then be reversed by further Cabinet fiat. The excuse typically given for this dereliction of duty is that the problems to be addressed are too complex for parliamentarians to deal with, which only makes one wonder at their nerve to have put themselves forward to do a job they are concededly unqualified for in the first place.

Enthusiasts for the internet agenda may say that it remedies its democratic deficiencies by consulting with those subject to new registration requirements. Yet CRTC consultations on the Online Streaming Act provided no more than a shabby ersatz of what democracy is supposed to mean – debate and discussion in Parliament. The submission period was short,  and “industry-focused.” The CRTC ended up issuing orders requiring registration on a range of internet services that meet a $10 million revenue threshold, and the government issued a policy direction to the CRTC instructing that user content not be regulated. The CRTC’s regulatory plan for the Online Streaming Act is still being developed, and will likely involve further decisions about the reach of registration requirements. Whether the DSC does any better – if and when it implements Bill C-63 – remains to be seen. But, in any case, consultations that only include industry players, or some nominal number of users, cannot replicate an engaged and informed Parliament that weighs competing interests. Nor can it replace an engaged and informed citizenry, holding politicians to account for their choices at the ballot box.

Separation of powers fares no better. Instead of Parliament making laws, independent prosecutors bringing charges, and independent courts ruling on them, the CRTC and DSC combine their broad rule-making powers with the ability to both jawbone and outright prosecute online platforms, and to rule on the charges. The Canadian Civil Liberties Association rightly laments “the vast authority bestowed upon” the DSC “to interpret the law, make up new rules, enforce them, and then serve as judge, jury, and executioner.”

Here again, proponents of administrative power think they have an answer. Instead of the old-fashioned institutions wielding divided powers, they say the modern world requires the government’s full authority to be concentrated in the hands of experts. Agencies like the CRTC and, presumably, the DSC have the skills and wisdom to deal with the complex and increasingly difficult online environment. This claim is attractive in part because the layman often cannot comprehend the size and scale of challenges that modern regulation confronts, while politicians are all too often happy to demonstrate their unseriousness and ignorance.

But, in addition to its other problems, the vision of expert administrators who know better is simply unwarranted by the facts. For example, Konrad von Finckenstein, former chair of the CRTC, has told a Senate committee studying Bill C-11 that the CRTC simply does not normally deal with matters of this nature; and that the CRTC will likely need to hire contractors to fulfil its mandate under the legislation. The CRTC is also, by its own admission, not really up to speed when it comes to the universe of online media it is required to regulate under the Online Streaming Act: it has invoked the need to gather information about podcasting to justify its far-reaching registration requirements for platforms that host them. As for the DSC, it will of course be an entirely new bureaucratic structure with no existing expertise at all. Perhaps the government will appoint experts to it. But it doesn’t have to. Bill C-63 imposes no requirements as to the qualifications of the DSC’s members other than their being Canadian citizens or permanent residents. Under the Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission Act, the same is also true of the CRTC.

Over-reliance on administrative regulation and enforcement undermines the rule of law too, by making the rules applicable to the internet uncertain and their application unpredictable. The legislation relies on vague terms that will only be fleshed out as the agencies that apply it go along, which will discourage innovation, chill expression, and incentivize platforms to take quick action against their users to avoid getting into trouble with the regulators. And if the victims of unfavourable rulings want to challenge them in actual courts, the Supreme Court’s precedents prevent judges from coming to their own independent assessment of what the law requires, but instead require them to yield to the bureaucrats’ interpretations unless these are not “merely” mistaken, but outright unreasonable. Even the requirements of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms are dissolved in this bureaucratic acid; from the supreme law of Canada, they are diluted into values that must, to be sure, be taken into account, but only as a factor among others.

All this may seem like legalistic pedantry propounded by academics who do not care about the pressing needs of contemporary society. But that impression would be mistaken. It is precisely the government’s disregard for Canada’s constitutional foundations that ultimately ensures that the rules produced for it by its administrative instrumentalities are out of touch.

Instead of legislation reflecting Canada’s public opinion as represented in Parliament, we are to be governed by rules drafted by unrepresentative bureaucrats, potentially influenced by special interest groups with a privileged access to them. Instead of the exercise of coercive power being channelled through institutions with limited remits keeping one another accountable, we are told to trust experts who cheerfully admit having no real expertise to speak of. And instead of the law being predictably and impartially applied by judges who are not invested in the government’s policy and do not depend on government goodwill for reappointment, the law, and the constitution itself, only count insofar as they are consistent with administrative need.

It may be that we are stuck with the administrative state. Although some scholars have made arguments to the contrary, we believe that, as a matter of law, Parliament is entitled to delegate very considerable policy-making powers to agencies such as the CRTC and the DSC. If the government is set on pursuing its regulatory agenda through the old-fashioned means of creating and empowering bureaucratic structures, the courts will not save us, even though, as we have argued elsewhere, they have become rather more skeptical of the administrative state’s claim to be the solution to all the problems of the modern world than they used to be until fairly recently.

But the government having the authority to do something does not mean that doing it would be a good idea. It, and we the citizens, should embrace the judiciary’s skepticism of the vision of government-by-administrator that characterizes the federal government’s plans. More to the point, we should recall what our most important constitutional principles mean. If we are not to erode them, we need to reject the means the government is proposing to employ, as well as, arguably, the ends it is pursuing.

Leonid Sirota is Senior Fellow with the Macdonald-Laurier Institute, and an Associate Professor in the School of Law at the University of Reading, in the United Kingdom, where he teaches public law. His research interests include the rule of law, constitutional interpretation, administrative law, the freedoms of conscience and expression, election law, and other aspects of Canadian and comparative public law.

Mark Mancini, a Senior Fellow with the Macdonald-Laurier Institute, is a Ph.D. candidate at the University of British Columbia, Peter A. Allard School of Law. He holds a J.D. from the University of New Brunswick, Faculty of Law, and an LL.M. from the University of Chicago Law School.

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MacDonald Laurier Institute

The Governor General deserves better, but we deserve impartiality

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From the Macdonald Laurier Institute

By Philippe Lagassé

Mary Simon’s impartiality was undermined by hosting a symposium tied to controversial government legislation.

Mary Simon has been a guarded Governor General. She’s adopted a low profile since her appointment, performing her vice-regal responsibilities without much notice. When she has been in the news, it’s usually because of her efforts to learn French and costly diplomatic trips, not on account of an initiative she’s launched or a stance she’s taken. Aside from routine public statements and some championing of Indigenous reconciliation, Simon hasn’t tried to make a mark. Until last week, that is.

On April 11, Her Excellency hosted a symposium on online abuse and creating safe digital spaces. Simon has been the target of vitriol on social media, a reality she shares with many public figures, particularly women. She wants to address this problem, stressing that “we deserve better.” As far as causes go, this is a laudable one. Online abuse is a serious issue, one that can excuse and encourage physical violence and attacks. To highlight the severity of the challenge, the Governor General’s symposium featured well-known Canadians who’ve also suffered from online abuse and are determined to fight it.

Unfortunately, the Governor General’s symposium took place while a government bill on online harms is making its way through Parliament. Bill C-63, the Online Harms Act, has been the source of significant controversy, notably around its impact on free expression and the potential life sentences it imposes on certain types of hateful speech. C-63 has been criticized by law professors, civil liberties advocates, and the Conservative Party. While there may be a general consensus that online abuse is a scourge, the solution is contentious, and Bill C-63 has been the subject of serious debate.

As well-intentioned as the Governor General’s symposium was, she should never have hosted it in this context, a conclusion that’s reinforced by the Minister of Justice publicly tying the event to bill C-63. As soon as the government tabled the bill, Her Excellency should have understood that the symposium was no longer appropriate and would present a risk to her office’s impartiality.

The Governor General is the second highest office of the Canadian state, right under the King. As the King’s vice-regal representative, the Governor General performs core constitutional functions. These demand that the Governor General not only act impartially but be perceived to be impartial. This isn’t just good form, it’s a fundamental part of the job.

As part of their constitutional role, Governors General exercise the Crown’s reserve powers. These include the granting of royal assent to legislation on the advice of the houses of Parliament, proroguing and dissolving Parliament on the advice of the Prime Minister, and inviting a party leader to form a new government when the serving Prime Minister resigns. Impartiality helps shield the Governor General from partisan attacks when exercising these powers and maintains public trust in the office.

Now, to be clear, the Governor General has very limited discretion in exercising these reserve powers. As long as the Prime Minister’s party holds the confidence of the House of Commons, the Governor General must almost always accept their advice. Yet, there have been and will be cases where vice-regal representatives exercise their discretion to decide the fates of governments or guard against unconstitutional abuses of power. When these occur, we need the Governor General to be respected as a non-partisan, politically neutral office. Doubts about a Governor General’s impartiality undermine her or his constitutional functions and can weaken trust in the office when it’s most needed.

Turning back to the symposium, it’s important to clarify why it undermined her impartiality, or at least perceptions of it. Defenders of the symposium have argued that the event didn’t feature any members of the government as speakers, hence it wasn’t partisan or meant to endorse the Online Harms Act. Suffice to say, had ministers spoken at the event, we would be dealing with an outright constitutional debacle, not just concerns about vice-regal impartiality. A full-on violation of constitutional norms isn’t the standard here. Instead, we should be asking why the Minister of Justice was even there, and why the Governor General decided to host the symposium, considering how contentious Bill C-63 has been already. Hosting the event allowed Her Excellency to get pulled into the partisan fray, a predictable outcome that she shouldn’t have risked.

Those who participated in the symposium will counter that it was the Minister of Justice who made the connection with Bill C-63, not the Governor General. Her Excellency’s motives, and the importance of the cause addressed by the symposium, shouldn’t be impugned by a careless, partisan tweet. Alas, partisans are going to partisan and politicians are going to politick. This is precisely why vice-regal representatives should avoid wading into politically charged topics. Expecting politicians to show restraint and respect the neutrality of the office of the Governor General is more than a tad naive. Vice-regal representatives should have the wherewithal to avoid situations where their office can be leveraged for partisan purposes.

Defenders of the symposium offer another argument: as the sovereign’s representative, the Governor General should address important social problems that affect Canadians. The vice-regal role shouldn’t be confined to constitutional functions, ceremonies, and commemorations. Not allowing vice-regal representatives to advocate for the public good would be a lost opportunity. This is a fair point, though Governors General need to be careful about what causes they take up. When it comes to vice-regal advocacy, banal benevolence is the way to go. Anything that’s the subject of notable partisan and parliamentary debate, is ideologically fraught, or might be fought over during an election should raise red flags.

Thankfully for the Governor General, the controversy surrounding her symposium hasn’t extended beyond the Ottawa bubble yet. She should keep it that way by abandoning her “We Deserve Better” campaign while partisans battle it out over Bill C-63 and the courts review the Online Harms Act if it becomes law.

This isn’t because the Governor General doesn’t deserve better; she does, as do all those who suffer online abuse. It’s because Canadians deserve impartiality from the Governor General, both real and perceived.

Philippe Lagassé is an associate professor at Carleton University. He’s the co-editor of Canada and the Crown: Essays on Constitutional Monarchy (2014) and The Crown and Parliament(2015).

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Health

Time for an intervention – an urgent call to end “gender-affirming” treatments for children

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From the Macdonald Laurier Institute

By J. Edward Les

Despite the Cass Review’s alarming findings, trans activists and their enablers in the medical professions continue to push kids into having dangerous, life-altering surgeries and hormone-blocking treatments. It needs to stop.

If nothing else, the scathing final report of the Cass Review released this week (but commissioned four years ago to investigate the disturbing practices of the UK’s Gender Identity Service), is a reminder that doctors historically are guilty of many sins.

Take the Tuskegee syphilis study, one of the greatest stains on the medical profession, in which impoverished syphilis-infected black men were knowingly deprived of therapy so that researchers could study the natural history of untreated disease.

Or consider the repugnant New Zealand cervical cancer study in the 1960s and 1970s, which left women untreated for years so that researchers could learn how cervical cancer progressed.  Or the Swedish efforts to solidify the link between sugar and dental decay by feeding copious amounts of sweets to the mentally handicapped.

The doctors behind such scandals undoubtedly felt they were advancing scientific inquiry in pursuit of the greater good; but they clearly stampeded far beyond the boundaries of ethical medical practice.

More common by far, though, are medical “sins” committed unknowingly, such as when doctors prescribe toxic treatments to patients in the mistaken belief that they are beneficial. When physicians in Europe and Canada latched onto thalidomide in the late 1950s and early 1960s, for instance, they thought it was a wonder drug for morning sickness. Only the fine work of Dr. Francis Kelsey, an astute pharmacist at the FDA, prevented the ensuing birth-defects tragedy from being visited upon American women and children.

And when Oxycontin hit the medical marketplace in the 1990s, physicians embraced it as a marvellous — and supposedly non-addictive — solution to their patients’ pain. But the drug was simply another synthetic derivative of opium, and every bit as addictive; its use triggered a massive opioid overdose crisis — still ongoing today — that has killed hundreds of thousands and ruined the lives of countless individuals and their families.

Physicians in the latter instances weren’t driven by malevolence; but rather by a deep-seated desire to help patients. That wish, compounded by extreme busy-ness, repeatedly seduces doctors into unwarranted faith in untested therapies.

And no discipline in medicine, arguably, is more frequently led astray by the siren song of shiny new things than the field of psychiatry. Which is understandable, perhaps, given the nature of psychiatric practice. Categorizations of mental disorders — and the methods used to treat them — are based almost entirely on consensus opinion, rather than on direct measurement.  Contrast that with other domains of medical practice: appendicitis is diagnosed by imaging the infected organ, and then cured by surgically removing the inflamed tissue; diabetes is detected by measuring elevated blood sugar, and then corrected by the administration of insulin; elevated blood pressure is calibrated in millimetres of mercury, and then effectively reduced with antihypertensives; and so on.

But mental disturbances remain largely the stuff of conjecture — learned conjecture, mind you, but conjecture, nonetheless. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, the “bible” of mental health professionals, is the collective effort of groups of tall foreheads gathered around conference tables opining on the various perturbations of the human mind. Imprecise definitions abound, with heaps of overlap between conditions.

The current version (DSM-5) describes schizophrenia, for example, as occurring on a spectrum of “abnormalities in one or more of the following five domains: delusions, hallucinations, disorganized thinking (speech), grossly disorganized or abnormal motor behavior (including catatonia), and negative symptoms.” Each of these five domains is open to professional interpretation; and what’s more, the schizophrenia spectrum is further subdivided into ten sub-categories.

That theme runs through the entire manual – and imprecise definitions lead on to imprecise solutions. Given the blurred indications for starting, balancing, and stopping medications, it’s no accident that many mentally unwell patients languish on ever-changing cocktails of mind-altering drugs.

None of which is to downplay the enormous importance of psychiatry, which does much to address human suffering amidst unimaginable complexity; its practitioners are among the brightest and most capable members of the medical profession. But by its very nature the discipline is submerged in — and handicapped by — uncertainty. It’s unsurprising, then, that mental health professionals desperate for effective treatments are susceptible to being misled.

The dark history of frontal lobotomies, seized upon by psychiatrists as a miracle cure but long relegated to the trash heap of medical barbarism, is well known. The procedure (which garnered its inventor the Nobel Prize in Medicine) basically consisted of driving an ice pick through patients’ eye sockets to destroy their frontal lobes; thousands of patients were permanently maimed before saner heads prevailed and the practice was halted. Many of its victims were gay men: “conversion therapy” with a literal, brain-altering “punch.”

Similarly, the fabricated “recovered memories of sexual abuse” saga of the 1980s and early 1990s suckered mental health practitioners into believing it was legitimate. Hundreds of professional careers were built on the “therapy” before it was all exposed as a fraud, leaving many lives ruined, families torn asunder, and scores of innocent men imprisoned or dead from suicide. In a 2005 review, Harvard psychology professor Richard McNally pegged the recovered memory movement as “the worst catastrophe to befall the mental health field since the lobotomy era.”

Until now, that is. That scandal pales in comparison to the “gender transition/gender affirming care” craze that has befogged the medical profession in recent years.

Without a shred of supporting scientific evidence, many doctors — led by psychiatrists, but aided and abetted by endocrinologists, surgeons, pediatricians, and family doctors — have bought into the mystical notion of gender fluidity. What was previously recognized as “gender identity disorder” was rebranded as gender “dysphoria” and recast as part of the normal spectrum of human experience, the basic truth of binary mammalian biology simply discarded in favour of the fiction that it’s possible to convert from one sex to another.

Much suffering has ensued. The enabling of biological males’ invasion of women’s spaces, rape shelters, prisons, and sports is bad enough. But what is being done to children is the stuff of horror movies: doctors are using medications to block physiological puberty as prologue to cross-gender hormones, genital-revising surgery, and a lifetime of infertility and medical misery — and labelling the entire sordid mess as gender-affirming care.

The malignant fad began innocently enough, with a Dutch effort in the late 1980s and early 1990s to improve the lot of transgendered adults troubled by the disconnect between their physical bodies and their gender identity. Those clinicians’ motivations were defensible, perhaps; but their research was riddled with ethical lapses and methodological errors and has since been thoroughly discredited. Yet their methods “escaped the lab”, with the international medical community adopting them as a template for managing gender-confused children, and the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH) enshrining them as “standard of care.” Then, as American social psychologist Jonathan Haidt is the latest to observe, the rise of social media torqued the trend into a craze by convincing hordes of adolescents they were “trans.” Which is how we ended up where we are today, with science replaced by rabid ideology — and with condemnation heaped upon anyone who dares to challenge it.

An explanation sometimes offered for the massive spike in gender-confused kids seeking “affirmation” in the past fifteen years is that today it’s “safe” for kids to express themselves, as if this phenomenon always existed but that — as with homosexuality — it was “closeted” due to stigma. Yet are we really expected to believe that the giants of empirical research into childhood development —brilliant minds like Jean Piaget, Eric Erikson, Lev Vygotsky, and Lawrence Kohlberg — somehow missed entirely the trait of mutable “gender identity” amongst all the other childhood traits they were studying? That’s nonsense, of course. They didn’t miss it — because it isn’t real.

The fog is beginning to dissipate, thankfully. Multiple jurisdictions around the world, including the UK, Sweden, Norway, Finland, and France have begun to realize the grave harm that has been done, and are pulling back from — or halting altogether — the practice of blocking puberty. And the final Cass Report goes even further, taking square aim at the dangerous practice of social transitioning and concluding that it’s “not a neutral act” but instead presents risk of grave psychological harm.

All of which places Canada in a rather awkward position. Because in December of 2021 parliamentarians gave unanimous consent to Bill C-4, which bans conversion therapy, including “any practice, service or treatment designed to change a person’s gender identity.” It’s since been a crime in Canada, punishable by up to five years in prison, to try to help your child feel comfortable with his or her sex.

As far as I know, no one has been charged, let alone imprisoned, since the bill was passed into law. But it certainly has cast a chill on the willingness of providers to deliver appropriate counselling to gender-confused children: few dare to risk it.

A conversion therapy ban had been in the works for years, triggered by concerns about disturbing and harmful practices targeting gay children. But by the time the bill was presented in its final form to Parliament for a vote it had been hijacked by trans activists, with its content perverted to the degree that there is more language in the legislation speaking to gender identity than to homosexuality.

To be clear, likening homosexuality to pediatric “gender fluidity” is a category error, akin to comparing apples to elephants. The one is an innate sexual orientation, the acceptance of which requires simply leaving people be to live their lives and love whomever they wish; the other is wholly imaginary, the acceptance of which mandates irreversible medical (and often surgical) intervention and the transformation of children into lifelong (and usually infertile) medical patients.

And the real “elephant” in the room is that in a troubling number of cases pediatric trans care is conversion therapy for gay children because for some people, it’s more acceptable to be trans than it is to be gay.

Bill C-4 received unanimous endorsement from all parliamentarians, including from Pierre Poilievre, now the leader of the Conservative Party. No debate. No analysis. Just high-fives all around for the television cameras.

It’s possible that many of the opposition MPs hastening to support the ban did so for fear of being painted as bigots. Yet the primary responsibility of an opposition party in any healthy democracy is to oppose, even when it’s unpopular. In 2015, when NDP Opposition leader Tom Mulcair faced withering criticism for resisting anti-terror legislation tabled by Stephen Harper’s Conservative government, he cited John Diefenbaker’s comments on the role of political opposition:

“The reading of history proves that freedom always dies when criticism ends… The Opposition finds fault; it suggests amendments; it asks questions and elicits information; it arouses, educates, and moulds public opinion by voice and vote… It must scrutinize every action of the government and, in doing so, prevents the shortcuts through democratic procedure that governments like to make.”

In the case of Bill C-4 the Conservatives did none of that. And by abdicating their responsibility they helped drive a metaphorical ice pick into the futures of scores of innocent children, destroying forever their prospects for normal, healthy lives.

We’re long overdue for a “conversion”: a conversion back to the light of reason, a conversion back to evidence-based care of children.

In 1962, when the harms of thalidomide became known, it was withdrawn from the Canadian market. In 2024, now that the serious harms of “gender-affirming care” have been exposed, it remains an open question as to when Canada’s doctors and politicians will finally take the difficult step of admitting that they got it wrong and put a stop to the practice.

Dr. Edward Les is a pediatrician in Calgary who writes on politics, social issues, and other matters.

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