Section 16: The Defence of Mental Disorder - Episode 18 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

Section 16 describes the defence we now know as mental disorder but which we previously called the insanity defence. It is an incapacity defence, meaning that if successful the accused person is found to be incapable of forming the requisite intent for the crime. Thus, the accused could not even formulate the malicious intent required to commit the crime and is therefore absolved of criminal responsibility. The insanity defence is from English common law; specifically the 1843 British House of Lords Daniel M’Naghten case and thereafter the insanity defence became known as the M’Naghten Rule. This rule was codified into our Criminal Code from the Code’s inception.

In the 1892 Code, the defence was found under s.11. To read the section is a lesson in now inappropriate language as the section absolves those “labouring under natural imbecility” or disease of the mind. Other than this, the section does read very similarly to the present section 16 as a person “labouring” or “suffering,” as we say now, is exempt from criminal responsible if that disease or disorder rendered the person “incapable of appreciating the nature and quality” of his or her actions. However under the 1892 section the accused must also be incapable “of knowing that that the act or omission is wrong.” Let’s quickly look at the present section 16(1) for comparison:

No person is criminally responsible for an act committed or an omission made while suffering from a mental disorder that rendered the person incapable of appreciating the nature and quality of the act or omission or of knowing that it was wrong.

Our present defence requires that the person suffering from a mental disorder must be “incapable of appreciating the nature and quality of the act or omission” or “knowing it was wrong” and not and “knowing it was wrong” as in 1892 version.

The balance of the subsections under the 1892 section 11 is as follows:

2. A person labouring under specific delusions, but in other respects sane, shall not be acquitted on the ground of insanity, under the provisions hereinafter contained, unless the delusions caused him to believe in the existence of some state of things, which, if it existed, would justify or excuse his act or omission.

3. Every one shall be presumed to be sane at the time of doing or omitting to do any act until the contrary is proved.

Subsection 2 from the 1892 insanity section qualifies subsection 1 by providing an exception. A person may be “labouring under natural imbecility or a disease of the mind” but if they suffer from specific delusions and are otherwise sane, they cannot use the insanity defence unless those delusions “caused him to believe in the existence of some state of things which, if it existed, would justify or excuse his act or omission.” Subsection 3 indicates that everyone is presumed sane “until the contrary is proven.” Once an accused is found NCR or not criminally responsible, the person would be held in detention until the “pleasure” of the Lieutenant Governor. This “pleasure” had no time limitation. Although, I will not discuss this here, this indeterminacy was changed in later amendments.

The 1892 version of the defence continued until the 1953-54 amendments at which point the section was re-enacted as s. 16 but this version, again, is quite different from what we have today. The revised section reads very much like the original version except that it changes the “and” “knowing that such act or omission is wrong” to “or.”

In 1975, the Law Reform Commission of Canada, as it then was (it was disbanded in 1993 and re-enacted as the Law Commission of Canada in 1996 but then had its budget cut in 2006 and was closed down), published Working Paper #14 on “The Criminal Process and Mental Disorder.” The significant commissioners at the time were two soon to be Supreme Court of Canada Justices – Antonio Lamer (Vice-Chair and later to be Chief Justice of the SCC) and Gerard La Forest (commissioner) and the Chair, E. Patrick Hartt, who became a Justice of the High Court of Ontario in 1996 and retired in 2001. For more information on the fascinating history of Canada’s law reform agencies, I recommend reading Gavin Murphy’s paper that can be accessed here.

In any event, this Working Paper, although not partially acted upon until the 1991 amendments (which were done in response to the constitutional striking down of the old sections by the Supreme Court of Canada), suggested various fundamental changes to the insanity defence and the procedures surrounding it. As a result, it is with some irony that the Paper opens with the words “It [the Paper] examines many of the important but sometimes neglected problems of mental disorder in the criminal process.” It seems the issue was even further neglected legislatively for a further sixteen years.

However, there was some groundwork done in the intervening time. The government, in 1982, through the Department of Justice, started the Mental Disorder Project as part of a comprehensive review of the criminal process by provincial and federal Minister of Justice officials. In 1983, a discussion paper was published and again the procedural difficulties and inherent unfairness in the system were discussed. Additionally, with the advent of the Charter, the system’s constitutional compliance was questioned. A full report was eventually tabled in 1985 and a draft Bill was introduced in 1986 by the then Minister of Justice John Crosby. The Bill was still under scrutiny when in 1991, the Supreme Court of Canada found the insanity rules and some of the Criminal Code sections unconstitutional in the Swain case. It should be noted that the then Chief Justice Lamer together with Justice Cory and Justice Sopinka wrote what would be the majority decision. Justice La Forest concurred with Justice Gonthier, who agreed substantially with Lamer CJ’s conclusion.

Thus we have the 1991 amendments under which we practice today. Although the new amendments have not anticipated all issues, certainly section 16 is a much better and fairer section than the previous iteration.

The present version retains the presumption of sanity but also clarifies the burden of proof required to overcome the presumption. It must be noted that either the Crown prosecutor or the defence may raise the issue of mental disorder. If this occurs the trier of fact must be satisfied on the civil standard of balance of probabilities that the presumption of sanity does not apply. There is no exception, in the present s. 16, for specific delusions. The balance of the present section 16 (2) and (3) is as follows:

Presumption
(2) Every person is presumed not to suffer from a mental disorder so as to be exempt from criminal responsibility by virtue of subsection (1), until the contrary is proved on the balance of probabilities.

 Burden of proof
(3) The burden of proof that an accused was suffering from a mental disorder so as to be exempt from criminal responsibility is on the party that raises the issue.

Although section 16 sets out the defence of mental disorder, the presumption of sanity and the burden of proof, it is Part XX.1 of the Criminal Code, entitled Mental Disorders, which sets out the procedure to be followed in considering the defence. It is a lengthy Part and thus the defence of mental disorder is complex and time consuming requiring often-competing experts and the application of circuitous special procedures. A full discussion on this Part will come when we discuss sections 672.1 to 672.9, much further down this Criminal Code journey.

One last comment on the recent controversial nature of this issue, particularly with the finding that Vince Li, who beheaded a passenger on a bus, was found not criminally responsible due to a mental disorder and was sent to a psychiatric institution for treatment. Just recently Li’s terms of segregation at the hospital were relaxed by the Criminal Code Review Board of Manitoba to permit Li to leave the hospital unescorted. This relaxation has resulted in a call to tighten once again the consequences of a finding of mental disorder.

The Federal Government has been most vocal in wanting changes and introduced last year a Bill C-54 to amend the Code to include strict restrictions on a person found mentally disordered under s.16. Critics of the Bill suggest that the further stigmatizing of the mentally ill will not “make society safer.” The Bill received its First Reading in the Senate in June of 2013. Read the presenting speech made by the original sponsor of the Bill, the then Justice Minister Rob Nicholson, as well as the response speeches here. Read also the article by the Canadian Psychiatric Association on the “fundamental flaws” in the new proposal.

It should also be noted that in a recent legal conference on mental disorder and the criminal justice system, questions were raised on the constitutionality of the proposed new amendments. Although, section 16 has come a long way from M’Naghten and the 1892 Code, the future of criminal responsibility and mental disorder is still unsettled and may only be determined, once again, by court intervention.  

Section 16 - The Defence of Mental Disorder: Episode 18 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

Section 12 – Anyone Want To Play Double Jeopardy?: Episode 14 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada

Double jeopardy, like the presumption of innocence, is a legal term, which is a familiar part of our social discourse. The phrase is at once a movie, a book (actually multiple books), and even a segment of a game show. The concept, that an accused may not be tried or punished for the same offence more than once, is ancient and runs deep in our “fundamental freedoms” psyche. The Greek orator, paid speech writer, and all-around democrat, Demosthenes in his speech of 355 BCE Against Leptines, reminded the Athenian jury that “the laws forbid the same man to be tried twice on the same issue.”  Roman law later codified this concept when they published The Digests or Pandects of Justinian and referred to the maxim ne bis in idem or “not twice in the same” in Book 48, Title 2, Section 7(2). The maxim eventually was subsumed into English common law, however it was strictly defined and originally applied to those acquitted or convicted of capital offences. See Blackstone Commentaries in Book 4, Chapter 26 for more on the English law equivalent.

Not surprisingly, this restricted concept was handed down to us when we codified our Canadian criminal laws. In the 1892 Criminal Code, section 933 codified the Canadian principle under Proceedings After Conviction pertaining to “Punishments Generally.” As it is very similar to our present version under section 12, I will not reproduce it here but please note that the prohibition against double punishment is not limited to capital crimes. Also note that I referred to the concept as “double punishment” and not “double jeopardy.” To explain this difference, let’s read section 12:

Where an act or omission is an offence under more than one Act of Parliament, whether punishable by indictment or on summary conviction, a person who does the act or makes the omission is, unless a contrary intention appears, subject to proceedings under any of those Acts, but is not liable to be punished more than once for the same offence.

Immediately, it is clear that this section protects double punishment, not double jeopardy – an accused can therefore be charged and tried for similar offences, but once convicted, the accused cannot be punished more than once. This is much different than the American concept of double jeopardy as found in the Double Jeopardy Clause of the Fifth Amendment, in which a person, who is subject to the same offence, is not to be “twice put in jeopardy of life or limb.” In the American version, therefore, even the risk or danger of being convicted is being protected. The Canadian codification in the Code, like the English principle, does not go as far.

In fact, even our Charter protection under section 11(h), albeit broader than section 12 of the Code, is still not as robust as the American conception.  Section 11(h) of the Charter reads: 

Any person charged with an offence has the right if finally acquitted of the offence, not to be tried for it again and, if finally found guilty and punished for the offence, not to be tried or punished for it again.

The Charter prohibits double punishment, like section 12 of the Code, but also prohibits retrying an already acquitted accused. It is unsurprising that section 12 of the Code does not refer to acquittals considering its antecedents as a section under the punishment part of the original Code. Also, both of these concepts – not to be convicted or tried twice – come from the common law and, as we learned in a previous podcast, common law defences under section 8(3) are still available. Therefore, does section 12 really need to be under the Criminal Code? Those common law defences are known as autrefois acquit and autrefois convict. Autrefois acquit, meaning previously acquitted, and autrefois convict, meaning previously convicted, are actually referred to in the Criminal Code as “special pleas” under s. 607. Yes, we will eventually discuss this section but much much further down this podcast road.

In any event, autrefois convict has been further refined as it only applies after there has been a complete adjudication on a matter including sentence. Before punishment, pursuant to s. 12 of the Code, an accused who has been tried and convicted of offences arising out of the same transaction, can rely on the case law principle prohibiting multiple convictions from the 1975 SCC R v Kienapple. Thus, an accused charged and convicted of driving with over 80 mgs of alcohol (section 253(1)(b)) and driving while impaired (section 253(1)(a)) arising from the same transaction, will not be punished for both offences but will have one of the charges stayed or “kienappled” as defence lawyers like to call it. As an aside there are a few cases, which have become verbs in the legal nomenclature, such as a case being “askoved” or stayed due to a trial not being heard within a reasonable time pursuant to s. 11(b) of the Charter.

The lesson learned from this podcast and the previous podcast on s. 6 the ersatz “presumption of innocence” found in the Code, is that our societal perspective of law is not really reflected in our Criminal Code. Instead our perspective is coloured by the media, by the American experience, and by our own assumptions of what the law is and what the law is not.

Join me for the next podcast when we discuss section 13 of the Criminal Code.

Episode 14 of the Ideablawg Podcast on Section 12 of the Criminal Code of Canada

Section 11: The Parallel Universe of Criminal and Civil Law: Episode 13 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada

Today we will step out of our criminal law comfort zone to talk a little bit about the civil law, in particular how criminal and civil law reside in a parallel universe due to section 11 of the Criminal Code.

To start, let’s discuss how civil law and criminal law differ from one another. First, it should be noted that when I speak of “civil law,” I am using this term generously to refer to the legal system controlling private disputes, particularly where there is harm caused either physically (tort law) or through a breach of contractual obligations. Another definition of “civil law” may be the civil law tradition, which comes from the Continental legal tradition (The Napoleonic Code for instance), and involves codified civil statutes governing society, such as found in Quebec.

As you probably already noticed, the main difference between criminal and civil laws is the type of parties engaged in each of these systems. Civil law is between private individuals, whilst criminal is between the state or the government and an individual, although a corporation can also be charged with a criminal offence. Thus, in criminal law we are concerned with public wrongs and harms against society. As, I have mentioned before, the criminal law underlines society’s fundamental values and is reflective of how we view our society at any given time.

As a result of this differing viewpoint, civil and criminal law employ different legal processes, on occasion differing legal rules, and even a different standard of proof. To reflect the specialness of the criminal law, the burden of proof, which is on the state, is beyond a reasonable doubt, and for the civil world it is proof on a balance of probabilities, which is a lower standard of proof than the criminal one.

The civil law also employs some different types of remedies than the criminal law, although sometimes not. Criminal law remedies are about punishment, with the concomitant ideals of retribution and rehabilitation. Typically, civil remedies are about compensation, to ensure the injured party is recompensed for the harm caused. However, there are occasions where these remedies do meet such us in the criminal law when compensation is ordered or in civil law when punitive damages are assessed. This blurring of the lines between civil and criminal law is best seen in the regulatory field of legislation. For further reading on this issue, My Masters Thesis considered the criminalization of regulatory offences and the use of the civil punitive sanction as an alternative.

Now that we understand the differences between civil and criminal, let’s take a look at section 11 of the Criminal Code to try and figure out what it means and what it is doing in our Criminal Code.

Section 11 is entitled Civil Remedy Not Suspended and reads as follows:

No civil remedy for an act or omission is suspended or affected by reason that the act or omission is a criminal offence.

As an aside, a similar section can be found in the 1892 Criminal Code under s. 534. It is under the General Provisions of procedure section of the Code, while the present section 11 is under the General Part.

On the face, the meaning of the section is fairly clear: a civil action may proceed despite a parallel criminal action. In other words, a person charged with an offence can also face a civil suit for his or her actions and that civil case can continue at the same time as the criminal prosecution. However, as discussed in the last two previous podcasts, as the court retains an inherent jurisdiction over its process, a judge, in exceptional circumstances, can suspend a civil case until the criminal matter concludes. The circumstances for such abeyance would involve the right of the accused to a fair trial and the prejudicial effect of a continuing civil case. It must be emphasized that this power is discretionary and there is no automatic right to stay a civil case until a criminal matter is completed.

Another concern for an accused facing a civil suit is the civil requirement for questioning the parties on the suit. Such responses may later incriminate the accused at the criminal trial. However, there is protection for the accused under s.13 of the Charter, which prohibits the use of such testimony in a criminal proceeding, except in a prosecution for perjury or “for the giving of contradictory evidence.” Therefore, the state cannot advance such incriminatory evidence at the accused’s trial unless the evidence forms the basis of a perjury charge or unless the accused testifies at the criminal trial and his testimony at the criminal trial is contradictory to the previous testimony in the civil proceeding. In that instance, the civil testimony does not go in for the truth of its content but can be used to cross-examine the accused on a prior inconsistent statement. However, under provisions in the Canada Evidence Act, an accused must still answer the questions put to him when questioned in a civil case.

There are cases where the civil trial judge has stayed the civil proceeding when the accused is facing criminal charges in the United States. In that forum, the accused, as a Canadian citizen, would not be entitled to invoke the protection of the Fifth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution and would not be protected by the Canadian laws.

Our final consideration is why is the section in the Code. I suggest the section is in place to reiterate the differences between criminal and civil law. The sections speaks of civil remedies or the outcome of a civil case and also a civil suit’s purpose – to enforce a right of the party, which has been harmed, or unrecognized by the other party’s actions. This enforcement is between these two parties – not between Her Majesty and the accused - therefore the action is in respect of different parties. The harm is a private one, and again does not underline the social values at stake in a criminal case. Finally, the standard of proof is lower in a civil suit and therefore a civil remedy may be ordered even if an accused is ultimately acquitted of the criminal case – see the O.J. Simpson trial as an example of this.  So they are different proceedings, for a different reason, making parallel proceedings possible. Finally, there is a desire that civil matters, like criminal cases, be heard in a timely manner to ensure the integrity of the civil system. Of course, with the caveat that, in matters of justice, the criminal case will prevail.

Episode 13 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 11

A Long Holiday Read On Section 8 And Section 9 Of The Criminal Code - Codification vs. Common Law, Is The Criminal Code Big Enough?: Episode Eleven Of The Ideablawg Podcast (And The Text Version!) On The Criminal Code of Canada

Codification can be a good thing: instead of searching multiple statutes to find the criminal offence for which your client is charged, as an English barrister must do, the Canadian lawyer just flips through the weighty but convenient Criminal Code. To be fair to England, they did try to codify their criminal law. In fact, our codified criminal law comes from that English attempt by Sir James Fitzjames Stephen. I say the English "attempt" as even though we Canadians embraced the codification concept, the English Parliament did not. For more information on the history of the Criminal Code and possible reform, I invite you to read my previous blog on the subject entitled The Criminal Code of Canada: Codification and Reform from February 12, 2012.

Codification can therefore provide much needed certainty of the law. There is no guess work with codification – we know it is a crime because the Code says so. Thus, the concept of ignorance of the law is no excuse from the Latin maxim of ignorantia juris non excusat, is crystallized in a compendium of sections of the Criminal Code and even is codified in it as we will see when we discuss s.19 of the Code.

Alas, however, this same reasoning can lead to the conclusion that codification can also be a bad thing. Firstly, codification leaves little room for interpretation. The Criminal Code, as a really, really, long statute, abides by the rules of statutory interpretation, which guides us on the application and meaning of this statute. According to another Latin maxim of statutory interpretation expressio unius est exclusio alterius or “expression of one is the exclusion of the other,” means that what is not written in the Criminal Code is not part of the Criminal Code. This principle is supported by other statutory interpretation rules such as the  plain meaning rule of statutory interpretation, which advises us that the words used in the Criminal Code mean what they ordinarily mean.

These rules have not gone unchallenged and there are interesting articles discussing those issues. For instance, the rule raises the question as to whether or not there truly is an “ordinary” meaning of a word when considering the differing cultures and perceptions of our multicultural nation.

Besides critics of these statutory interpretation concepts, there are other rules of interpretation, which seem contrary to these “closed book” rules, such as the ability of a court to “read-in” words or phrases to a statute to ensure its constitutional integrity. To be sure courts through the ages have read-in phrases and meanings in certain sections of the Code but they have not actually read-in a whole section. 

Thus, through the effect of codification, the Criminal Code captures and defines our criminal law, leaving very little room, if any, for change, unless Parliament so chooses. In this way the dynamic nature of society is not reflected through our laws. Certainly, however our Charter has added a fluid dimension to the Criminal Code by superimposing societal change, albeit incrementally, onto the written word. Instead of a closed book, the Code seems to be more akin to an e-reader, in which the internet can be accessed, on occasion, to elucidate the reader.

The second problem with codification is the isolation of the criminal law from the English common law tradition, which brings with it a rich and varied criminal law. Using another metaphor, codification is like a tree without its roots as common law is an important source of our criminal law. However, the whole purpose of codification would be defeated by the uncertainty caused by permitting the common law to exist outside of codification. How would an accused then know the charge for which he or she was facing without reference to a specific charge found in the Code if unwritten common law could still form the basis of a charge?

This last objection, to permitting the common law to stand as a system parallel to the Criminal Code, is also reflected in our Charter as a principle of fundamental justice under section 11(a) wherein a person charged with a criminal offence has a right to be informed of the specific offence without delay.

Thankfully, the framers of the Code did think of these issues and so we finally come to the sections which we will discuss in this podcast: sections 8 and 9 of the Criminal Code. But first we will look at section 9, which restricts the common law and ensures Canadian criminal law is consistent with the Charter. Section 9, under the heading Criminal Offences To Be Under Law Of Canada reads as follows:

Notwithstanding anything in this Act or any other Act, no person shall be convicted or discharged under section 730

(a) of an offence at common law,

(b) of an offence under an Act of Parliament of England, or of Great Britain, or of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, or

(c) of an offence under an  Act or ordinance in force in any province, territory, or place before that province, territory or place became a province of Canada,

but nothing in this section affects the power, jurisdiction, or authority that a court, judge, justice or provincial court judge had, immediately before April 1, 1955, to impose punishment for contempt of court.

This section is actually an enabling section as it ensures that the Criminal Code has full force and effect in Canada and that no one can be convicted or discharged with an offence other than an offence under the Code. This was needed as prior to codification, the sources of law were varied and included laws of the United Kingdom, laws particular to pre-Confederation governments, and laws arising from common law.

It is interesting to note that the section bars punishment for these offences as opposed to prohibiting a person from being charged for these offences. I would suggest that the word “charged,” as under s. 11 of the Charter, refers to the laying of an Information against an accused person, an action which comes at the beginning of the criminal process as opposed to “conviction,” which comes at the end. Thus, the protection of this section is triggered at the end of the trial process when an accused is found guilty by the trial judge and a conviction is entered. The triggering words are similar to the ersatz (see my previous podcast/blog where I explain why I use this qualifying adjective) presumption of innocence found under section 6 of the Code. In effect then, someone may be arrested, charged, and tried for an offence under either 9(a) or (b) or (c), and even found guilty, but it is the judicial action after the finding of guilt and immediately before a conviction or a discharge is entered, which section 9 prohibits. As in section 6, the focus is on punishment and is unlike the Charter sections on legal rights, which so assiduously protect the accused throughout the criminal process; from detention to arrest to charges to pre-trial custody to trial and then to acquittal or punishment.

Of note, is section 11(g) of the Charter that gives a person charged with a criminal offence the right

not to be found guilty on account of any act or omission unless, at the time of the act or omission, it constituted an offence under Canadian or international law or was criminal according to the general principles of law recognized by the community of nations.

This section seems to parallel section 9 but it may be interpreted as giving a broader protection by using the phrase “not found guilty,” and therefore protects an individual before a finding of guilt is made. After the trial judge makes a finding of guilt, the accused is not convicted as he or she may be discharged under section 730 of the Code. Although a discharge is not a conviction, and therefore the accused does not have a criminal record, it is a “sentence” or punishment under the Code. This does seem to be a question of semantics, yet an interesting one to ponder.

There is, however, an exclusion to this decree as the section permits a court to “impose punishment for contempt of court.” Thus, section 9 preserves the court’s “inherent and essential jurisdiction” to cite and punish someone appearing before it for the common law offence of contempt of court. The purpose of preserving this power, according to Justice McIntyre speaking for the Supreme Court of Canada in the Vermette case, was “necessary, and remains so, to enable the orderly conduct of the court's business and to prevent interference with the court's proceedings.”

However, the jurisdiction of the inferior court or provincial court differed from the inherent powers of the superior courts. While the provincial court could only cite someone for common law contempt where the actus reus or contemptuous conduct occurred in the face of or in the presence of the court, the superior court could also use their contempt power in circumstances where the conduct was outside of court or ex facie. This was due to the inherent jurisdiction of the superior courts to maintain discipline within their courts independent of statute as opposed to the provincial or inferior courts whose jurisdiction was purely statutory.

This common law power is still used in courts today, albeit sparingly, and is available even though there are perfectly appropriate charging sections in the Criminal Code, such as s. 139 obstruct justice and s. 131 perjury. I have represented an individual for common law contempt and the unique aspect of the offence is the ability of the accused to proffer an explanation or an apology for the contemptuous behaviour that may be accepted as “purging” the contempt charge. I say “may” as the apology may negate the mens rea required for conviction but a judge is certainly not required to accept an apology as vacating the contempt finding.

Let’s now return to the second section to be discussed today, section 8. We saw how Parliament ensured that the Criminal Code would safeguard an accused’s rights by limiting common law offences and now, section 8, extends this protection by permitting some common law principles, which inure to the benefit of the accused, such as common law defences. In particular, I will read section 8(3):

Every rule and principle of the common law that renders any circumstance a justification or excuse for an act or a defence to a charge continues in force and applies in respect of proceedings for an offence under this Act or any other Act of Parliament except in so far as they are altered by or are inconsistent with this Act or any other Act of Parliament.

Therefore, all common law defences, unless they are “altered by or are inconsistent with” the Code are available to an accused. The defences specified by the section are “justifications and excuses,” which are complete defences to a criminal charge but apply even though both the actus reus and mens rea of an offence are proven. Although both of these defences are restricted to a reasonable response by the accused to external pressures, they do differ.

An excuse acknowledges the wrongfulness of the action but holds that the accused should not be punished for his or her actions as Justice Dickson stated in the Perka case,

a liberal and humane criminal law cannot hold people to the strict obedience of the laws in an emergency situation.

Examples of an excuse would be the defence of duress, as in the Paquette case, and the defence of necessity as in the Perka case.

Conversely, a justification is where the accused challenges the wrongfulness of the act  as in the circumstances where “the values of society, indeed of the criminal law itself, are promoted by disobeying the law rather than observing it.”

For a fuller discussion on the present law on excuses see my previous blog on duress and the SCC Ryan case entitled Not To Make Excuses, But The Unresponsiveness of the Supreme Court of Canada To The Defence of Duress.

Returning to the exception in the section, which suggests that if the common law defences alter or are inconsistent with codified defences, then the codified versions prevail, we must consider the defence of duress as codified under s.17. As we will discuss when we arrive at s.17, both the common law defence of duress and the section 17 duress are available to certain accused in certain circumstances. We will see that far from the caution that the common law defence where altered or inconsistent cannot stand in the face of the codified defence, the common law defence of duress has actually altered the codified version as a result of the application of the Charter. But we will come to this in due course.

Of course, there is a world of common law defences outside of the Code and outside of the rubric of justifications and excuses such as the common law defence of mistake of fact and the common law defence of mistake of law. Certainly, the common law defence of mistake of fact has been altered for sexual assault offences pursuant to s. 273.2. There are other common law defences, which sadly are sorely underused such as the de minimus defence, or the defence that the law does not consider trifling breaches of the law. These common law defences receive short shrift unfortunately due to the advent of the Charter and the subsequent Charter-weaned lawyers who believe Charter rights are the only kind of defence worth pursuing.

Finally, a note on the legislative histories of these two sections. Section 8 actually was our present section 9 and our present section 9 was the then section 7 until section 6 was re-enacted as the present section 7. Section 7, as you may recall in the previous podcast, involves offences on aircraft and offences occurring outside of Canada. Our present section 9 was enacted as section 8 in the 1953-54 Code amendments. The reversal occurred in the revisions under the 1985 Code when section 8 became section 9. To make matters even more confusing section 8 was present in our original Criminal Code of 1892 under the then sections 7 and 983. In 1906, the sections were combined and re-enacted as sections 9 to 12. The following revisions made a dizzying number of changes until the 1985 revisions re-enacted the then section 7 to the present section 8.

Confusing? As I have complained before in these podcasts, often the government has placed content over form by changing and adding sections to the Code without consideration for placement or sense.

On that historically obfuscating note, I wish one and all a very happy holidays and a happy new year. This podcast will return in January 2014 as we discuss the next section of the Criminal Code of Canada – section 10 when we revisit the common law offence of contempt of court and the availability of appellate remedies.

Episode 11Of The Ideablawg Podcast On The Criminal Code of Canada: On Section 8 And Section 9 Of The Criminal Code - Codification vs. Common Law, Is The Criminal Code Big Enough?

The Golden Thread Metaphor: Section Six And The Other Presumption Of Innocence Episode Nine of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada – Text Version!

The presumption of innocence – the concept that an accused is presumed innocent until proven guilty - is easily the most well known legal principle. As important as this principle is to our concept of justice, the presumption of innocence has become much more than a legal tool. It has become part of the fabric of our society. Today, every citizen is aware of the presumption of innocence in a criminal case. This principle has transcended the legal arena to become one of our society’s fundamental values. It is not only a value understood by all but it is part of our culture.

Indeed, as an example of the ubiquitous nature of the presumption of innocence, we can find the concept used as a title of a book, such as in Scott Turow’s novel, Presumed Innocent and the movie version with Harrison Ford. Or used as almost a character flaw as in one of my favourite legal literary heroes, Rumpole of the Bailey, written by John Mortimer Q.C. In those stories, Horace Rumple, the rumpled everyman barrister, finds personal solace in his belief in “the health-giving qualities of claret, of course, the presumption of innocence, and not having to clock into chambers in the morning.” In the classic play/movie 12 Angry Men, when Juror #8, played by Henry Fonda, reminds Juror #2, played by John Fiedler, that “the burden of proof is on the prosecution. The defendant doesn’t even have to open his mouth. That’s in the Constitution,” we nod our heads in agreement and relief. Although many of us could not say which section of the Charter (s. 11(d): “to be presumed innocent until proven guilty”) encapsulates this concept, we all take comfort in knowing it is there.

But there is another place where the presumption of innocence is recorded in Canadian law and that is section 6 of the Criminal Code, which is entitled “presumption of innocence,” the first part of which reads as follows:

Where an enactment creates an offence and authorizes a punishment to be imposed in respect of that offence,

(a) a person shall be deemed not to be guilty of the offence until he is convicted or discharged under section 730 of the offence; and

(b) a person who is convicted or discharged under section 730 of the offence is not liable to any punishment in respect thereof other than the punishment prescribed by this Act or by the enactment that creates the offence.

Now, that’s not really the “presumption of innocence” we have come to expect, is it? When you read this section it just does not seem to have that visceral punch I talked about earlier when reacting to the lines spoken in 12 Angry Men. It also does not seem to be conveying the deep, and almost personal societal, values underlying this fundamental premise.

First, let’s look at the wording. Unlike the Charter equivalent, there is nothing in section 6 about a “presumption” only a “deeming.” So the very word, we hang on when discussing innocence, the “presumption,” which gives the concept such solemnity, is gone. Second, there is nothing in the section about “innocence” although the title suggests it. However, as we know from my previous podcasts, in the Criminal Code the headings are there for convenience only and do not form part of the section itself. Instead, I would suggest, the section seems to be contrary to the presumption of innocence as it focuses instead on the concept of guilt and punishment. The section describes the circumstances in which the court can finally impose punishment. Now to be sure the court needs to hold off until conviction, but as soon as that pre-condition is fulfilled the sanctioning regime kicks in and punishment is not only available but also inevitable. Section 6(1)(b) continues this punishment theme by ensuring that the punishment can only be that as prescribed or authorized by law but it adds nothing to our concept of the presumption of innocence. So this section is not really about the fundamental premise of our criminal justice system, the golden thread of criminal law, but about when punishment can, and will, be meted out.

To understand why this section reads as it does, a little legislative history is in order. The section first arose in 1886 legislation on punishment entitled An Act Respecting Punishment, Pardons, and the Commutation of Sentence, and was not only subsumed into the first Criminal Code but was placed in the latter part of the Code where the punishment sections resided. The purpose of the section was not therefore to trumpet the fundamental principle of the presumption of innocence but to reinforce the applicability of punishment at the time of a finding of guilt. This concept of punishment only upon conviction was not only consistent with English criminal law but was consistent with chapter 39 of the Magna Carta which stated that:

No freemen shall be taken or imprisoned or disseised or exiled or in any way destroyed, nor will we go upon him nor send upon him, except by the lawful judgment of his peers or by the law of the land.

In the original Latin phrase of this article “nisi per legale judicium parium suorum vel per legem terrae,” the Magna Carta protects the accused from punishment without judgment of his equals and in accordance with “the law of the land.” So this idea that an accused is guilty only when he is found guilty, remained under the general punishment section of the Code until 1955, when it was moved to the front part of the Code, namely to section 5(1), but was still viewed as a punishment section as it was then entitled Punishment Only After Conviction. However the wording of the 1955 section does resemble the wording we have today under section 6. It is not until the 1985 revision of the Code, when the section was repealed and reinvigorated as section 6 that it becomes the more venerable presumption of innocence. Of course this reconstitution (forgive my pun) came after the 1982 enactment of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

Understanding this legislative history does give us a better sense of how it came into the Code but why it was renamed the presumption of innocence is an unanswered question requiring deeper investigation than an Internet search. Certainly, looking at case law, this section is rarely invoked as authority for the principle of the presumption of innocence. A quick survey of cases reveals there are only a few such cases (these cases can be found here, here, here, and here) where section 6 was relied upon as propounding the concept but always invoked with the constitutionalized version found under s. 11(d) of the Charter.

Although I cannot explain why this presumption section is so named, I would like to take a few moments to consider where the concept of the presumption of innocence arose in the first place. In my earlier posting on the issue, I suggested, through the academic writings of George Fletcher that the concept actually migrated to criminal law from the English civil law. I do not want to return to that discussion, instead I want to take us to the moment when the presumption of innocence becomes imbued with the gravitas it now enjoys – the particular moment when the presumption of innocence transformed into the fundamental principle it is today. I have already alluded to that moment earlier in this podcast when I described the presumption as the “golden thread of criminal law.” In first year law school there a few seminal or landmark English cases we discuss and end up knowing virtually by heart. One of them is the case where this “golden thread” metaphor is first used, the 1935 English House of Lords case of Woolmington v. DPP.  The facts of the Woolmington case do not concern us here but the decision, what is written by the then Lord Chancellor of Great Britain, Viscount Sankey, does.

In order to set the stage for this momentous decision, I need to give a quick legal backgrounder on Lord Sankey and the great impact he had on Canadian law. After the Supreme Court of Canada in 1925 found women were not “persons” under the British North America Act and therefore ineligible to sit in the Senate, the case, known as the Persons case, was appealed to what was then the highest level of appeal, the British Judicial Committee of the Privy Council. Civil appeals to the Privy Council were abolished in 1949, while criminal appeals ended in 1933. Lord Sankey, as a member of the Privy Council, wrote the appeal decision in the Persons Case or Edwards v. Canada (Attorney-General). In the case, reversing the Supreme Court of Canada decision and finding women were indeed “persons,” Lord Sankey commented on the argument that historically women were disbarred from public office. Despite this historical fact, Lord Sankey concluded that “the exclusion of women from all public offices is a relic of days more barbarous than ours” and that “customs are apt to develop into traditions which are stronger than law and remain unchallenged long after the reason for them has disappeared.” In the Persons Case there was no reason why women could not discharge the parliamentary duty of office. In terms of the efficacy of the actual British North America Act, which today we call the Constitution Act, 1867, Lord Sankey, famously remarked that the Act “planted in Canada a living tree capable of growth and expansion within its natural limits.” This metaphor of the Constitution as a living tree has taken root since the 1930 Persons Case and has become a guiding doctrine in our constitutional jurisprudence.

Needless, to say Lord Sankey has a way with words and the Woolmington case was no exception. On the issue of presumption of innocence, Lord Sankey surveyed the textbooks on the issue and was perplexed to find a suggestion that the presumption was one of guilt and the burden was on the accused to prove otherwise. After running through more cases, Lord Sankey described the fundamental importance of the presumption as:

Through-out the web of the English Criminal Law one golden thread is always to be seen that it is the duty of the prosecution to prove the prisoner's guilt subject to what I have already said as to the
defence of insanity and subject also to any statutory exception.

Lord Sankey then connects the presumption of innocence with the burden of proof, which requires the Crown to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. This connection is explored in my previous blog on the issue. So, it was Lord Sankey who gave use this strong visualization of the presumption of innocence and turned the principle into something much more.

How Lord Sankey came to this golden thread metaphor is puzzling. I suggest that this metaphor must have come from the Greek myth of Ariadne and Theseus. Ariadne gave Theseus a golden thread to help him escape the Minoan Labyrinth after he killed the Minotaur. Thus, the presumption of innocence, as the golden thread of Ariadne, leads the accused out of the maze-like machinations of the criminal law.

This thread theme is reinforced by a further metaphor, which I also referred to earlier in my podcast; that the presumption of innocence is part of the “fabric” of our society. Indeed, I found a 1965 case, R v Dixon, from the then District Court of Ontario, written by Mr. Justice Robinson wherein he describes the presumption as the “golden thread” that “runs through the warp and woof and is thus firmly imbedded in the whole fabric of the administration of English and Canadian criminal justice.” When I first read this passage, not unlike a Wiki page, I thought someone added the phrase “warp and woof” for a joke. But, like a good researcher, I looked up “warp and woof” and found the following definition:

The essential foundation or base of any structure or organization; from weaving, in which the warp — the threads that run lengthwise — and the woof — the threads that run across — make up the fabric: “The Constitution and the Declaration of Independence are the warp and woof of the American nation.” This expression, used figuratively since the second half of the 1500s, alludes to the threads that run lengthwise ( warp ) and crosswise ( woof ) in a woven fabric.

So this thread metaphor is taken in a different direction but is also a good candidate for explaining Lord Sankey’s “golden thread” turn of phrase. By the way, I did take my research a little further to find other cases that have used this archaic phrase. I found only a few cases, some which were actually about fabric making but there was a use of this metaphor in two Supreme Court of Canada constitutional Division of Powers cases; Reference as to the Validity of Section 6 of the Farm Security Act, 1944 of Saskatchewan and the 2009 Consolidated Fastfrate Inc. v. Western Canada Council of Teamsters. Notably, in the 2009 case, Mr. Justice Binnie used the phrase in a delicious quote invoking the world of the 1860s:

The current Canadian economy would be unrecognizable to the statesmen of 1867 and, to borrow an analogy from Thomas Jefferson, one would not expect a grown man to wear a coat that fitted him as a child.  The coat is of the same design, but the sleeves are longer and the chest is broader and the warp and woof of the fabric is more elaborate and complex.  Adopting a purposive approach to constitutional interpretation, as we must, what is important is not how transportation was viewed in 1867 but rather to match in our own era the level of regulation (federal, provincial or territorial) appropriate to the nature and scope of the undertaking.  Now, as in 1867, when a transportation undertaking connects or extends “beyond the Limits of the Province” its regulation is assigned by the Constitution Act, 1867 to the federal level of authority.

In 1859, Charles Dickens also used a golden thread metaphor in A Tale Of Two Cities, to suggest a strong bond of familial love created by the indomitable Lucie. Although, there is a strong affiliation between the criminal law and the presumption, I still prefer the Greek myth connection. I should recommend here my previous blog on Charles Dickens and the law called Charles Dickens Is On The Side Of Justice wherein I discuss some of the more legally minded passages of Dickens’s novels. 

One final aside on this golden thread metaphor brings us to American literature and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter, where Hester is required to sew a letter “A” onto her clothing as her punishment as an adulterer. As time wears on, Hester proudly marks her shame with an “A” made of golden thread. For Hester, the golden quality of the thread reflects the shame of the community who branded her with their cruelty.

In some way the golden thread of the presumption of innocence protects us from a similar fate – a society devoid of compassion - or as Chief Justice Dickson, as he then was, reminded us in the 1986 Supreme Court of Canada Oakes case, the presumption of innocence "confirms our faith in humankind; it reflects our belief that individuals are decent and law‑abiding members of the community until proven otherwise." To me, his words are indeed golden.