The CAQ doesn’t give a damn about Quebecer’s rights

And it’s going to shove its constitution down their throat, whether they like it or not.

It may look like another clickbait headline. It’s more than that. A full-scale attack on the rights and freedoms of Quebecers, the power of the courts, and the ability of civil society organizations to effectively counterbalance the power of the ruling party is underway.

This has been going on for years and has just escalated. At first, it was “them” who were targeted. So it was rather popular. But now it’s “us.” And the not-so-subtle implication of the whole maneuver is that Quebecers who disagree are traitors.

It started with Bill 21. A majority of Quebecers agreed. But they may have a different idea about the method used, everything that followed, and what is coming.

Go get some coffee, and let’s dive in together.

Phase 1: Bill 21

In 2019, when it passed Bill 21 on secularism (or laïcité, as we say here), the CAQ exempted it from charter review.

Throughout the debate, which focused almost exclusively on “veiled” women—who, in fact, wear headscarves and are almost never the ones doing the proselytizing—, three important things were overlooked, which go beyond the idea of secularism.

First, most Quebecers do not realize that not only the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms was put aside, but Quebec’s own Charter of Rights and Freedoms too. The Canadian Charter was imposed on Quebec through the repatriation of the Canadian Constitution, so there’s some rationale for the government using the notwithstanding clause when a Quebec law could be struck down by the Canadian Charter.

But the Quebec Charter of Rights protects essentially the same rights and it even has a larger scope (it also applies to interactions between private individuals and businesses). It was, until now, the law that came closest to a Quebec Constitution, and had been a source of pride under Robert Bourassa, René Lévesque, and all other premiers before François Legault. The CAQ decided that Quebec’s Charter of Rights had to be moved out of the way.

Second, the CAQ applied the notwithstanding clause preventively, rather than after a legal challenge to the law, as was previously the case. They did not want Bill 21 to be tested. (One wonders why).

Third, to prevent its conception of state secularism from being challenged, the CAQ used a legislative bazooka, rendering sections 1 to 38 of the Quebec Charter inapplicable to Bill 21.

This is no small matter. These articles protect, notably, the right to life, and to personal security, inviolability and freedom, freedom of conscience, freedom of religion, freedom of opinion, freedom of expression, freedom of peaceful assembly and freedom of association, the right to the safeguard of their dignity, honour and reputation, to respect for their private life, to the peaceful enjoyment and free disposition of his property, to non-disclosure of confidential information, to full and equal recognition and exercise of his human rights and freedoms, without distinction, exclusion or preference based on race, colour, sex, gender identity or expression, pregnancy, sexual orientation, civil status, age except as provided by law, religion, political convictions, language, ethnic or national origin, social condition, a handicap or the use of any means to palliate a handicap, of petition to the National Assembly for the redress of grievances, to be a candidate and to vote at an election, to a full and equal, public and fair hearing by an independent and impartial tribunal, to not be subjected to unreasonable search or seizure, when arrested or detained, to be treated with humanity and with the respect due to the human person, to be promptly informed, in a language he understands, of the grounds of his arrest or detention, to be promptly informed of the specific offence with which he is charged and be brought promptly before the competent tribunal or released, to be tried within a reasonable time, presumed innocent until proven guilty according to law, to be represented by an advocate or to be assisted by one before any tribunal, to a full and complete defense, etc.

Was it really necessary to suspend all these rights and freedoms as a preventive measure?

No Quebec government had ever acted in this way, including the Parti Québécois in 1977, when it passed Bill 101. René Lévesque, like the politicians of his time, believed in and understood the importance of respecting fundamental rights.

Lévesque and others remembered how, in the past, the rights of French Canadians, and later Quebecers, had been trampled upon. In short, letting the Quebec Charter having the last word was as much a matter of basic justice as it was of consistency.

But the CAQ had found its method, and it would not hesitate to use it again.

Phase 2: Bill 96

The attack on Quebecers’ rights and freedoms continued with Bill 96, whose full name is An Act respecting French, the official and common language of Québec. With a title like that, who could be against it?

But Bill 96 has little to do with Bill 101. While the latter aimed to make French the common public language in Quebec, notably by regulating business signage and making French school attendance mandatory for the children of immigrants, Bill 96 includes several nitpicky and vexatious measures that seem less aimed at preserving French as the common language than at annoying English-speaking Quebecers or recent immigrants, regardless of their basic rights or simple decency.

For example, the Quebec government prohibits civil servants from communicating with immigrants in any language other than French after they have spent six months in Quebec. Six months to be comfortable enough to discuss tax returns or health insurance registration in French? Really?

It is understandable not to require all Quebec civil servants to speak English or a third language, but many do already. And it’s just mean to prevent a government representative from being accommodating to a newcomer if they are able to do so. The children of immigrants attend French schools. Can we give their parents a break while they learn a new homeland and its rules?

Another example of the vindictiveness of Bill 96 is the prohibition of requiring English language knowledge for judges sitting in English-speaking parts of Quebec.

No English speaker will learn French because of this—although nearly 70% of Quebec anglos already speak French—but it will complicate access to a fair trial for thousands of Quebecers. I could introduce you to some (very sovereigntist) judges who could explain it better than I can, but the issue can be summed up as follows: would you want to be judged in another language than your own? I know I wouldn’t, and I’m bilingual. But even then, I’m aware than when I’m having a conversation in English, I may be missing some nuances, of falling short of explaining them. I’m also a lot more prone to making mistakes. That may be problematic when being on trial. In short, Bill 96 almost certainly violates a fundamental right, but, as with Bill 21, the government preventively suspended sections 1 to 38 of the Quebec Charter. Problem solved.

In the wake of Bill 96, the Ministry of Health also issued a directive (later amended) stating that English-speaking Quebecers who wanted to receive care in their language had to provide a certificate proving that they were eligible to attend English school. This is a far cry from Lucien Bouchard, who reassured English-speaking Quebecers by telling them that, “When you go to the hospital and you’re in pain, you may need a blood test, but you certainly don’t need a language test.”

In short, both Bill 21 and Bill 96 are assertive identity policies that a Parti Québécois led by Lévesque, Parizeau, or Bouchard would never have considered, accompanied by a desire and measures aimed at silencing those who might oppose the dictates of the ruling party. And now, buckle up, because things are about to get a little more intense.

Phase 3: The Last Legislative Stand

The CAQ is dying, and it knows it. If elections were held today, the CAQ would get 15% of the vote. The most likely scenario is that it would not elect any MNAs. Politically, it has a little over six months to live.

But the CAQ has not said its last word. Despite multiple resignations from its caucus, 79 MNAs still fly the CAQ flag. That’s enough to pass all the bills it wants, but time is running out. And before it is shown the democratic doorway, it will force down our throats its majoritarian, even authoritarian, conception of the exercise of political power, hoping that Quebec will be changed in a lasting way.

I may sound dramatic, but in a few minutes, you will find that I am not exaggerating enough.

In early fall 2025, the CAQ introduced a series of bills that not only limit rights guaranteed by the Quebec Charter, but also make it virtually impossible to challenge the limits imposed on those rights. In other words, in addition to adding a legislative lock on certain rights, the CAQ is throwing the key into the river.

The most notable of last fall’s flurry of bills are Bill 2, on physician remuneration; Bill 3, on union democracy and governance; and Bill 9, on strengthening secularism. All of them have in common the heavy hand of the state and a surprising disregard for the exercise of our fundamental rights. The cornerstone, which projects this invasive and constraining conception of the state onto all the components and counterbalances of Quebec democracy, remains the Québec Constitution Act, 2025, or Bill 1.

It’s worth taking them one by one, without going into too much detail. After all, we are talking about the foundations of Quebec’s parliamentary democracy.

Bill 2: Bringing Doctors Into Line

Bill 2 aimed to reform doctors’ remuneration. While the objective was legitimate, the implementation was so botched that the government backtracked on just about everything substantial in the bill, which led the Premier of Quebec to tell some very big lies in an attempt to save face.

Bill 2 also provided for fines of up to $20,000 per day for individuals, $140,000 per day for representatives of groups of doctors, and $500,000 per day for organizations participating in “concerted actions” that would have had the effect of reducing a doctor’s participation in a professional committee or working group, or even simply encouraging it (see section 131 et seq.). Don’t agree with the law? Better don’t say so.

Even more outrageous, the law established a whole system of task and schedule management for every health care setting where doctors practice, as well as an obligation to report those who did not comply fully (see sections 141 et seq.). Protesters were subject to a 40% reduction in pay for each day of dissent. Are you starting to see a pattern?

Bill 3: Bringing Unions Into Line

Bill 3 aims to improve “transparency, governance, and the democratic process of various workplace associations.” In other words, unions.

At first glance, it’s hard to argue against greater accountability. However, the bill goes further than that, severely limiting the use of union dues to finance advertising campaigns, organizing demonstrations, or appearing in court for matters that do not relate to the usual activities of a union, such as negotiating working conditions.

To be clear, the bill provides that this applies to a legal case concerning “constitutionality or validity of a provision of an Act, a regulation, a government order or a ministerial order” (see section 7 of the bill). Keep the italicized passage in mind.

Public campaigns or legal action would still be possible, but they would be funded by optional dues, the authorization of which would be subject to mechanisms that seem designed to discourage unions from using them.

I would like to take a minute to say that I have never been a fervent union activist and that I am always in favour of improving the democratic process, both in unions and in general. I remain uncomfortable when a government seeks to muzzle important countervailing power, and unions are certainly one such power.

By the government’s own admission, unions use only between 3.5 and 4.5% of their dues for “optional” activities. And historically, what unions gain for their members generally ends up benefiting the general population. Also, union membership has been stagnated for 20 years in Quebec, and would have declined had it not been for recent hiring in schools, hospitals, and the civil service.

So where is the problem? The Fédération autonome de l’enseignement (FAE), a teachers’ union, is challenging Bill 21 in the Supreme Court, in particular the “ease with which parliaments suspend our fundamental rights by making excessive use of derogation clauses.”

The CAQ did not take kindly to this, so it is seeking to cut off funding to unions to discourage the FAE and others from trying again, whether it be Bill 21 or other legislation. (You will see shortly that the CAQ is nothing, if not persistent.)

The Quebec Bar, which is not exactly a bastion of leftists, has come to the same conclusion. According to the Bar, the goal of improving transparency and union democracy in Bill 3 “serves as a pretext for reducing the ability of unions to intervene in political and social debates (…), thereby reducing their importance and impact on civil society and diminishing their influence as a counterweight to the government, despite their essential role in a state governed by the rule of law.”

Bill 9: Bringing Women Who Wear Hijabs Into Line

Bill 9, or the “Act to strengthen secularism,” aims to ban the wearing of religious symbols by employees of early childhood centres, employees of family daycare coordinating offices, employees of subsidized daycare centres and subsidized private schools, and people who provide integration or francization activities to immigrants. So, not just educators. (Which would still have been a bit of overreaching, but less so.)

This follows Bill 94, which extended the ban on wearing religious symbols to all staff at school service centres and those who provide services to them. So, the janitor, the cafeteria worker, the library volunteer, or even the administrative assistant who never sees any students.

We are starting to stray quite a bit from the original objective.

In 2008, in the wake of the “accommodements raisonnables” crisis, Gérard Bouchard and Charles Taylor – two foremost Quebec intellectuals – produced a report proposing to ban religious symbols for government employees representing the authority and coercive power of the state, namely judges, prosecutors, police officers, and prison guards. It was not based on any evidence, but there was at least some rationale and a very broad consensus supporting it.

Bill 21 added teachers to the list. While I did not agree with it, I was able to recognize a semblance of rationality in it. My view, then as now, is that this was a smokescreen and that the real objective was to target the hijab, which some people wanted to see disappear, even though no one has never demonstrated a link between wearing a hijab and being prone to proselytizing. The recent bills confirm that this was indeed the objective all along.

Today, employees who have nothing to do with teaching are being targeted, as if the mere sight of a sign of religious affiliation was contagious—or dirty. All this in schools, hundreds of which are named after Christian Saints. And, as if admitting that we are witnessing a flagrant and unjustifiable violation of universal and fundamental rights, the application of the Quebec Charter is also suspended, as it was for Bills 21 and 94.

But these are other people’s rights, and many Quebecers may not be concerned. Not for long, because the pièce de résistance is coming. Because it always starts with other people’s rights. Then, eventually, it’s ours.

Bill 1: The Legislative Padlock and the Key In the River

Bill 1, or the Quebec Constitutional Act, 2025, was introduced last fall. It includes the Constitution of Québec, the Act respecting the constitutional autonomy of Québec and the Act respecting the Conseil constitutionnel, in addition to amending other laws and the Constitution Act, 1867, the latter being part of the Constitution of Canada. (It is possible to unilaterally add certain provisions to the Constitution of Canada, and Quebec has done so recently, but I will not go into that here for the purposes of this article.)

The Constitution of Québec formally outlines a certain vision of Quebec society within a legislative framework. Subject to what others may find and without having studied it in detail, it generally amounts to legal apple pie. Perhaps not unanimous apple pie, but relatively consensual apple pie. One could say that the Constitution, as written, is more Ricardo than Richard Martineau. But the Constitution of Québec is only one part of the legislative arsenal provided by Bill 1.

And things quickly go downhill with the Act respecting the constitutional autonomy of Québec (see section 2 of Bill 1).

Section 5 of this Act provides that:

“The Parliament of Québec may declare in an Act that the Act or a provision of the Act protects the Québec nation as well as the constitutional autonomy and fundamental characteristics of Québec.”

Currently, the legislature’s intention is that this applies to five laws: the Charter of the French Language (Bill 101, amended in particular by Bill 96); An Act respecting the laicity of the State (Bill 21, amended by Bills 94 and 9); the Constitution of Québec; the Act respecting integration into the Québec nation; and the Act respecting the constitutional autonomy of Québec.

Strangely, or perhaps tellingly, the Quebec Charter of Rights and Freedoms is not among these indisputable laws “that protect the nation or the fundamental characteristics of Quebec.”

I’m not sure we should let a political party, or even several, define what Quebec is or should be. Because, by definition, anything that is not explicitly defined is not part of it. And since a constitution cannot be amended every two weeks, it may quickly become stale.

But that’s far from the worst part.

Phase 4: Legislative and judicial lock

The final phase is not temporal, but rather an additional step in Bill 1. It is the keystone of everything that precedes it, from Bills 21 and 96 to the Quebec Constitution, including the legislative salvos in soft authoritarianism mode fired during the fall of 2025.

This keystone, or rather this lock, is enshrined in the second paragraph of Article 5:

“No body may, by means of sums from the Consolidated Revenue Fund or other sums derived from levies, taxes, duties or penalties collected under an Act of Québec, contest the operability, constitutionality or validity of a provision regarding which a declaration is made under the first paragraph or otherwise contribute to such a contestation, except where the contestation is made in the context of the legal representation of or legal assistance to a natural person, where the court orders the state to pay a lawyer’s fees or where the contestation is invoked as a defence in a civil, administrative or penal case.”

In other words, no public body may challenge a law if the government considers that it “protects” the Quebec nation, its constitutional autonomy, or the fundamental characteristics of Quebec. A lot can be included in this, in the name of the nation’s best interests.

Which bodies are targeted? Bill 1 names about a hundred, individually or by category, explicitly at the end of section 2. It covers a wide range, from the province’s ombudsman to the auditor general, including the chief electoral officer, Quebec’s health care and welfare commissioner, its judicial council, the Council of Status of Women, the Office des personnes handicapées du Québec, Quebec’s Bar, the College of Physicians and all professional orders, CEGEPs, universities, hospitals, municipalities, and a ton of others. And, of course, “bodies or classes of bodies that the Government determines.” Why take the chance of forgetting anyone?

With the adoption of Bill 1, all these actors of civil society, who serve as both a counterweight to the government and part of our social and moral conscience, would lose their right to oppose the state, or simply to raise an issue in a law that the government has deemed fundamental.

An exception is provided for a challenge on behalf of an individual, within a specific framework. But no public body could challenge the principle or provisions of a law if the government has decided that it is unchallengeable. The legal battles that are sometimes necessary to clarify or protect the exercise of fundamental rights will effectively only be accessible to individuals who are willing to embark on this kind of legal guerrilla warfare.

+++++++

In principle, state power is divided into three branches: the executive, the legislative, and the judicial, each exercising a counterforce on the others, and, in particular, the second and third on the first one.

In practical terms, in our system, which favours majority governments with 40% of the vote and relies on party lines, the legislative branch has long been swallowed up by the executive branch. That was not enough; the judicial branch, and therefore the courts, also had to be neutralized. The CAQ did this initially by limiting the power of judges, either by suspending articles 1 to 38 of the Quebec Charter preventively and on multiple occasions, to the point of becoming systematic. It is now completing this process by handcuffing organizations that have the capacity and means to intervene before the courts.

All the power of the state is thus concentrated in the hands of the few individuals who control the cabinet, with the definition of our rights subject to the political whims of the small group that has taken the wheel. Currently, 15% of Quebecers are prepared to vote for the party in power. But they are the ones flying the plane, the cockpit is locked, and we will land wherever they want us to.

The Quebec Bar has politely stated that several aspects of Bill 1 “threaten the balance of powers, legal predictability, the protection of fundamental rights and freedoms, and access to justice.”

I won’t be as polite. From a democratic point of view, Bill 1 is completely insane. You don’t make a constitution against the society to which it applies.

And, much like Bill 2 on doctors’ remuneration, but taking the principle further, the government is ensuring that no individual will want to take the risk of challenging the all-powerful state, as evidenced by the third paragraph of section 5:

“The members or directors of a body having approved the allocation of a sum contrary to this section are held solidarily liable for the restitution of the sum to the Consolidated Revenue Fund.”

You have been warned. Fall in line, or suffer the consequences.

+++++++

Since we are talking about simple laws, passed by a simple majority in Quebec’s National Assembly, isn’t it also simple to repeal them? In theory, yes. In practice, it’s far from certain. The CAQ is not yet completely defeated, and they may yet survive. If a minority government were formed, it could have an influence. A government formed by another party might also hesitate to abolish all or part of a law whose concept is generally popular, even if its implementation is questionable.

In any case, such a move by a future government could be seen in some parts as threatening the very foundations of the Nation (with a capital N). Populists and reactionaries will be waiting just for that. A newly elected Premier who would take on the task of overturning all this had better have a keen moral sense and a strong backbone.

The very fact that we are having a conversation about this is completely surreal.

A constitution should never be politicized. Its drafting should be a defining moment in the life of a society that is coming together around its most widely shared characteristics. And a constitution should never be adopted against the will of a large part of its constituents.

That should go without saying, and it would have been the case until recently, but democratic conventions only exist as long as those who are subjected to them respect them, foremost the party that holds the levers of power, and to the extent that this party exercises that power with the restraint of one who considers that political options other than its own are equally legitimate. If the party that holds the levers decides to use them to push forward a bulldozer, there is not much that can be done.

The new constitution and accompanying laws will instead be part of a legislative power grab, a desperate attempt to exist beyond the date of the next election and to freeze, at least for a time, the legal pillars of Quebec according to the very narrow desires of one party, its narrow conception of democracy and checks and balances, and a vision of Quebec that excludes a portion of Quebecers or denies them the right to be who they are.

Bill 1 provides that the Constitution of Quebec will come into force on June 24, 2026.

It’s going to be a strange national holiday.

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This text is 4,196 words long, or about seventeen pages of a book. The research and writing took me about three days and gave me a slight constitutional headache.

My name is Patrick Déry. I write (mostly in French) for a living. I try my best to Quebecsplain in English here, and give an insight you will not find in most media outlets. If you enjoyed reading this text, you can encourage me by buying me a coffee. Comments, shares, and likes are always appreciated.

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