Now might be a good time to remind everyone that Sub-Lt. Jeffrey Paul Delisle is an accused spy, not a proven one. Even in this era of national insecurity, Delisle has the right to presumed innocence and a fair trial.
At least he does in theory.
Because many facts in the case might be deemed state secrets, Delisle might be tried in secret and if that happens, we’ll never know if the trial was fair or not.
That’s the trouble with our post-Sept. 11 paranoia laws. How do we know?
It’s believed the charges against Delisle are the first under the Security of Information Act, which makes it illegal for anyone to pass “to a foreign entity or terrorist group" any information the government “is taking measures to safeguard." That’s a pretty broad ambit.
The law doesn’t always specify military information or information that bears on national security. It’s information the government “is taking measures to safeguard." And governments safeguard a lot of information, with very little oversight. Yet anyone convicted of passing on such information faces a life sentence.
The Security of Information Act is a creation of the former Liberal government at the height of international panic after the 9-11 attacks. It was billed as an overdue modernization of security laws like the Official Secrets Act, a relic of the First World Wa r.
Many measures in the new act make sense in our insecure world. They safeguard vital military information, no small thing with Canadians fighting in recent years in Afghanistan and Libya.
Leaks could have cost lives.
The law also binds some Canadians to a lifetime of secrecy.
Certain operatives in the Canadian police, intelligence or defence apparatus swear never to reveal their secrets, even in retirement, or face imprisonment.
Since no one other than Delisle has ever been charged with espionage under the act, we can assume most secret Canadians respect their vows. Canada does not appear to be a leaky nation.
The Security of Information Act provides a legal framework for dealing with foreign agents mucking about among our secrets. But the law only bites Canadians. Four members of the Russian embassy staff in Ottawa suspected of playing roles in the Delisle affair, in time-honoured tradition, were reportedly booted out of the country. They won’t face the law here.
The act also bans economic espionage, which surely must be a daily occurrence when you have trading friends like China, Russia and the United States.
With trillions of dollars on the line, the urge to cheat must be overwhelming.
So a lot of the law makes sense. But there are still questions. Is it in the national interest to allow secret trials? How are we to know that the government’s invocation of national security is legitimate? How much of a counterbalance is provided by the justice system itself? Will judges have the power to ensure any Canadian accused in a court will get a fair and open trial?
This is not to argue that an eventual trial for Delisle, if it actually happens, should be a wide-open affair. There’s no need for the public to know precisely what’s included in the presumably sensitive information this obscure junior officer is accused of passing to the Russians. The secrets, whatever they are, can be protected.
But the public does need to know that a Canadian citizen accused of very grave crimes received a fair trial and that his constitutional rights were respected throughout the process.
We need to know that the investigation was conducted legally and that Canadian values of fairness were observed.
That’s why no one should be satisfied with a plea bargain in this case. The government might have as much to hide as the accused, and plea bargains are convenient cover. They ensure no trial and minimal exposure of the evidence.
The government might opt for a secret trial through a publication ban on all proceedings in the case. If it does, civil liberties organizations and the media must oppose that, making the case for the great Canadian tradition of fair and transparent justice for all.
Original Article
Source: the chronicle herald
Author: Dan Leger
At least he does in theory.
Because many facts in the case might be deemed state secrets, Delisle might be tried in secret and if that happens, we’ll never know if the trial was fair or not.
That’s the trouble with our post-Sept. 11 paranoia laws. How do we know?
It’s believed the charges against Delisle are the first under the Security of Information Act, which makes it illegal for anyone to pass “to a foreign entity or terrorist group" any information the government “is taking measures to safeguard." That’s a pretty broad ambit.
The law doesn’t always specify military information or information that bears on national security. It’s information the government “is taking measures to safeguard." And governments safeguard a lot of information, with very little oversight. Yet anyone convicted of passing on such information faces a life sentence.
The Security of Information Act is a creation of the former Liberal government at the height of international panic after the 9-11 attacks. It was billed as an overdue modernization of security laws like the Official Secrets Act, a relic of the First World Wa r.
Many measures in the new act make sense in our insecure world. They safeguard vital military information, no small thing with Canadians fighting in recent years in Afghanistan and Libya.
Leaks could have cost lives.
The law also binds some Canadians to a lifetime of secrecy.
Certain operatives in the Canadian police, intelligence or defence apparatus swear never to reveal their secrets, even in retirement, or face imprisonment.
Since no one other than Delisle has ever been charged with espionage under the act, we can assume most secret Canadians respect their vows. Canada does not appear to be a leaky nation.
The Security of Information Act provides a legal framework for dealing with foreign agents mucking about among our secrets. But the law only bites Canadians. Four members of the Russian embassy staff in Ottawa suspected of playing roles in the Delisle affair, in time-honoured tradition, were reportedly booted out of the country. They won’t face the law here.
The act also bans economic espionage, which surely must be a daily occurrence when you have trading friends like China, Russia and the United States.
With trillions of dollars on the line, the urge to cheat must be overwhelming.
So a lot of the law makes sense. But there are still questions. Is it in the national interest to allow secret trials? How are we to know that the government’s invocation of national security is legitimate? How much of a counterbalance is provided by the justice system itself? Will judges have the power to ensure any Canadian accused in a court will get a fair and open trial?
This is not to argue that an eventual trial for Delisle, if it actually happens, should be a wide-open affair. There’s no need for the public to know precisely what’s included in the presumably sensitive information this obscure junior officer is accused of passing to the Russians. The secrets, whatever they are, can be protected.
But the public does need to know that a Canadian citizen accused of very grave crimes received a fair trial and that his constitutional rights were respected throughout the process.
We need to know that the investigation was conducted legally and that Canadian values of fairness were observed.
That’s why no one should be satisfied with a plea bargain in this case. The government might have as much to hide as the accused, and plea bargains are convenient cover. They ensure no trial and minimal exposure of the evidence.
The government might opt for a secret trial through a publication ban on all proceedings in the case. If it does, civil liberties organizations and the media must oppose that, making the case for the great Canadian tradition of fair and transparent justice for all.
Original Article
Source: the chronicle herald
Author: Dan Leger
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