In a recent issue of the Toronto Sun, Liberal activist Warren Kinsella took on certain Ontario Liberal leadership candidates for courting certain union leaders at the expense of demonstrating support for a law that curbs the right of teachers to strike.
Kinsella’s argument basically boils down to dura lex sed lex — “the law may be harsh, but it’s still the law.” Politicians are expected to demonstrate support for the rule of law. Failure to do so, says Kinsella, surrenders society to the “caprice of despots and ideologues.”
Having lived through several months of riots in Montreal by “striking” students, I personally have little sympathy for those who use force to attempt to stop a government from acting in the best interests of society.
Kinsella’s article, however, invites us to reflect upon some important questions. Are there circumstances which make breaking the law acceptable? How should politicians deal with law-breakers in such circumstances? Can we clump all law-breakers into one category?
In traumatic times, it’s natural for individuals to seek simplistic answers to problems. No question, these are traumatic times for the West. Its supremacy is being challenged by Beijing as global terrorism peaks; its economies face almost unprecedented pressures. In times like these, it’s not always easy to avoid succumbing to with-us-or-against-us narratives.
Yet Kinsella — perhaps unintentionally — does make a point here about the law. There are certain political debates which require the establishment of two poles, no matter how imperfect each pole may be. Unambiguously supporting a woman’s full right to have an abortion is an imperfect position; it fails to take into account the risk of gender-selection, for example. A secular, free society, however, does not — and should not — have any room for nuance when it comes to a woman’s right to choose.
Should the debate over politicians’ deference to the law be such an either-or proposition? Should they have to side with all legislation under all circumstances? Is there no room left for the support of civil disobedience? The answer isn’t clear.
We strive for a society in which law represents the codification of a common morality. However, we must admit that “legitimate” and “legal” still don’t mean the same thing. Moreover, the law in theory is quite different from the law applied. The responsible consumption of marijuana — a drug less dangerous and less addictive than both tobacco and alcohol — is perfectly legitimate despite its illegality, and one can do so quite easily without being arrested. Cops also seldom ticket pedestrians for jaywalking.
In Kinsella’s column, the author admits that no court has passed judgment on Bill 115, the bill passed by the Ontario legislature curbing the right of teachers to strike. Our judicial system can’t deal with such questions at lightning speed, unfortunately. So we don’t know whether the bill conforms with the Constitution. Hence, when it comes to political issues surrounding the bill over the short term, the question should be one of legitimacy, not legality.
Is it legitimate to impose wage freezes on public servants if negotiations between a government and public sector unions fail? Yes. Was it right to single out teachers for cuts? No.
Does Bill 115 actually do anything to deal with the real issues facing Ontario’s finances in the years ahead? Absolutely not. When we compare the issue of public sector wages with the rising cost of public services, it becomes clear that Ontario’s government did what was most politically expedient instead of telling the electorate the hard truth.
The dura lex sed lex approach clearly has its flaws. Laws are important, but so are values. It isn’t just the law that protects the individual from the wrath of the state. Values passed down from generation to generation place limits on what people feel permitted to do — and on what their governments can do to them.
So long as the protests remain sporadic and peaceful, the value of respecting our teachers can trump a dubious piece of legislation.
Original Article
Source: ipolitics
Author: Zach Paikin
Kinsella’s argument basically boils down to dura lex sed lex — “the law may be harsh, but it’s still the law.” Politicians are expected to demonstrate support for the rule of law. Failure to do so, says Kinsella, surrenders society to the “caprice of despots and ideologues.”
Having lived through several months of riots in Montreal by “striking” students, I personally have little sympathy for those who use force to attempt to stop a government from acting in the best interests of society.
Kinsella’s article, however, invites us to reflect upon some important questions. Are there circumstances which make breaking the law acceptable? How should politicians deal with law-breakers in such circumstances? Can we clump all law-breakers into one category?
In traumatic times, it’s natural for individuals to seek simplistic answers to problems. No question, these are traumatic times for the West. Its supremacy is being challenged by Beijing as global terrorism peaks; its economies face almost unprecedented pressures. In times like these, it’s not always easy to avoid succumbing to with-us-or-against-us narratives.
Yet Kinsella — perhaps unintentionally — does make a point here about the law. There are certain political debates which require the establishment of two poles, no matter how imperfect each pole may be. Unambiguously supporting a woman’s full right to have an abortion is an imperfect position; it fails to take into account the risk of gender-selection, for example. A secular, free society, however, does not — and should not — have any room for nuance when it comes to a woman’s right to choose.
Should the debate over politicians’ deference to the law be such an either-or proposition? Should they have to side with all legislation under all circumstances? Is there no room left for the support of civil disobedience? The answer isn’t clear.
We strive for a society in which law represents the codification of a common morality. However, we must admit that “legitimate” and “legal” still don’t mean the same thing. Moreover, the law in theory is quite different from the law applied. The responsible consumption of marijuana — a drug less dangerous and less addictive than both tobacco and alcohol — is perfectly legitimate despite its illegality, and one can do so quite easily without being arrested. Cops also seldom ticket pedestrians for jaywalking.
In Kinsella’s column, the author admits that no court has passed judgment on Bill 115, the bill passed by the Ontario legislature curbing the right of teachers to strike. Our judicial system can’t deal with such questions at lightning speed, unfortunately. So we don’t know whether the bill conforms with the Constitution. Hence, when it comes to political issues surrounding the bill over the short term, the question should be one of legitimacy, not legality.
Is it legitimate to impose wage freezes on public servants if negotiations between a government and public sector unions fail? Yes. Was it right to single out teachers for cuts? No.
Does Bill 115 actually do anything to deal with the real issues facing Ontario’s finances in the years ahead? Absolutely not. When we compare the issue of public sector wages with the rising cost of public services, it becomes clear that Ontario’s government did what was most politically expedient instead of telling the electorate the hard truth.
The dura lex sed lex approach clearly has its flaws. Laws are important, but so are values. It isn’t just the law that protects the individual from the wrath of the state. Values passed down from generation to generation place limits on what people feel permitted to do — and on what their governments can do to them.
So long as the protests remain sporadic and peaceful, the value of respecting our teachers can trump a dubious piece of legislation.
Original Article
Source: ipolitics
Author: Zach Paikin
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