Remembrance transcends ritual commemoration; it demands active reclamation of the democratic legacy.
By Fareed Khan
A version of this article can be found on Substack.
In total since World War One, over 113,000 Canadians perished, their ultimate sacrifice helping to forge a Canada where citizens’ voices could speak out and dissent, where people could gather without fear of reprisal, and political leaders could be held accountable for their actions. These warriors did not storm foreign shores merely to repel invaders. They battled to enshrine a birthright of freedom from tyranny, equality under the law, and governance by the consent of the people, free from the shadows of authoritarianism.
However, as the wreaths are removed from cenotaphs and as the red poppies are put away for another year, a disquieting question lingers, what endures of their legacy when the very foundations freedom, democracy and human rights they bled to secure are being slowly dismantled bit by bit? In the years since those cataclysmic struggles, Canada has morphed into a nation where safeguards against governmental overreach now yield to the imperatives of “security”, and to ideological fervour.
The Charter of Rights and Freedoms, the aspirational 1982 compact born from decades of constitutional struggles, now faces insidious encroachments. Nominally a society that embraces freedom and civil liberties, Canada now grapples with a creeping curtailment of personal freedoms, masked as bulwarks against terrorism, crime and societal harmony. If the ghosts of Vimy Ridge, Dieppe, or Kandahar could peer through the mist of time, they might recoil at the sight of a democracy seemingly adrift, where the clamour of protest is muffled because it bothers certai n communities, where expressions of dissent are branded as dangerous, and where elected official’s voices are reduced to mere echoes of their political masters.
Consider the legislation coming out of Parliament, cloaked in the garb of safety and security. The Strong Borders Act (Bill C-2), unveiled in June, promises to fortify our borders against shadowy transnational threats. At first glance, it evokes the steadfast resolve of those sent off to distant lands to defend Canadian values. Yet, within its pages lies a network of provisions that erode the bedrock of privacy and mobility enshrined in the Charter of Rights, ones that empower Canadian Border Service officials with sweeping authority to scrutinize digital footprints and personal data, often without judicial approval or oversight, under the flimsy veil of “reasonable suspicion. Critics from more than 300 advocacy organizations, representing refugee networks to digital rights sentinels, decry it as a Trojan horse for unchecked surveillance which could threaten human rights, refugee and migrant rights, and the privacy of all Canadians. This legislation is no mere bureaucratic tweak but rather a concession of the freedoms that Canadians fought to defend from the spectre of authoritarian ideologies.
No less alarming is Bill C-8, the Critical Cyber Systems Protection Act. Framed as a bulwark against threats to vulnerable infrastructure—from power grids, to telecommunications infrastructure, to financial institutions—it compels companies under federal jurisdiction to undertake exhaustive audits of their vulnerabilities, with regulators able to dictate the removal of suspect technologies or the overhaul of protocols. While the spectre of cyber incursions is a real threat, with this legislation the federal government tilts perilously close towards a scenario where the Charter’s protections against unreasonable searches and protections of personal security—Sections 7 and 8—are ignored in the name of advancing national priorities and strengthening Canada’s economic resilience. In an era where data and technology is critical to economic success, such overreach risks transforming the open and free spaces where Canadians live their lives into places of constant surveillance, much like it is in present day China.
This escalation of restrictions extends to municipal governance in several jurisdictions across Canada, where officials, reacting to persistent protests against the genocide in Gaza, have instituted “bubble zone” bylaws that impose spatial buffers around key civic institutions. In Toronto, a city characterized by its pluralism and diversity, the city council approved a regulation establishing 50-meter exclusion zones around places of worship, educational facilities, and childcare centres, prohibiting assemblies deemed “disruptive” on the basis of subjective reports of discomfort. Initially conceived as a protective measure for entities affected by intense demonstrations—many of which have condemned Israel for committing horrific atrocities—the policy has evolved into a broader mechanism of control, targeting non-violent gatherings under the rationale of “protecting” citizens. Violations incur penalties of up to $5,000, administered by municipal enforcement officers with police support, even though law enforcement authorities maintain that existing legislation is adequate.
Similar measures have emerged in the cities of Vaughan and Brampton, north of Toronto, and Ottawa is developing its own framework. This creates a fragmented landscape of censorship of political activism that undermines the Canadian Charter of Rights’ protections under Sections 2(b) and 2(c), which cover freedom of expression and assembly. Advocates for civil liberties caution that these bylaws impose a deterrent effect on legitimate and legal protest, especially among underrepresented groups advocating for global justice, thereby converting historically inclusive public spaces into government controlled no go zones.
Exacerbating these trends is the gradual institutional adoption of broadened criteria for identifying prejudice, specifically the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism, which has been integrated into governmental policy since its federal acceptance in 2019 and subsequent provincial implementations through 2025. Jurisdictions including Ontario, Alberta, and Quebec have codified the definition, presenting it as an instrument to combat rising intolerance. However, its non-binding examples—some of which equate specific criticisms of Israeli state policy with antisemitic intent—risk conflating political analysis and criticism with ethnic and racial animus, thereby capturing human-rights advocacy concerning the Levant within the scope of prohibited speech. Progressive Jewish organizations, like Independent Jewish Voices, and allied civil-society coalitions contend that the definition is being weaponized to suppress substantive and legitimate debate while insulating those who support the suppression of legal free speech contested from scrutiny, thus eroding the freedoms that Allied forces sought to secure during the Second World War. In a society that embraces multicultural integration, such instruments threaten to undermine social cohesion by elevating one interpretive framework above rights guaranteed under the Charter.
Provincial governments, ostensibly custodians of regional autonomy, have increasingly invoked the Constitution’s notwithstanding clause (Section 33) to suspend Charter protections for disadvantaged populations. Quebec’s 2019 secularism law, reaffirmed in 2024, prohibits public-sector employees from displaying religious symbols, thereby overriding guarantees of religious freedom and equality. Saskatchewan’s 2023 requirement for parental consent in cases of gender-identity disclosure by minors, alongside Alberta’s 2025 legislation enabling teacher dismissals during labour disputes, both deploy the clause to preempt Charter challenges. Ontario’s adjustments to electoral boundaries and New Brunswick’s language-policy directives similarly shield contentious measures from judicial review.
Originally conceived in 1982 as a limited override to be used only in the most extraordinary circumstances, to balance parliamentary sovereignty with rights adjudication, the clause has been activated six times by five provinces since 2019, diminishing the Charter’s normative authority and enabling majority governments to violate constitutional rights under the guise of democratic prerogative. The framers of Canada’s constitutional order, informed by the injustices of wartime internment and the use of the War Measures Act during the FLQ Crisis in Quebec, intended the mechanism as an exceptional safeguard. Its contemporary proliferation signals a regression toward discretionary governance in which fundamental rights are sacrificed on the altar of political expediency.
At the core of this democratic deficit lies Parliament, the institution designed to translate popular sovereignty into accountable administration. In principle, it functions as the primary arena for executive oversight, where rank-and-file legislators interrogate policy, compel evidence, and, if necessary, withdraw confidence to precipitate governmental collapse. The 1873 Pacific Scandal, in which parliamentary censure over railway corruption toppled Sir John A. Macdonald’s administration, exemplifies an era when Members of Parliament were able to exercise independent judgment unconstrained by party directives. By contrast, the contemporary House of Commons, comprising 343 members following the 2025 redistribution, operates within a rigid disciplinary party structure that prioritizes caucus cohesion and party loyalty over constituent representation. Informal yet coercive party protocols brand nonconformists as outliers and even traitors, and consign them to irrelevance. In the recent federal election the prime minister sustained a narrow electoral plurality, retains exclusive authority over cabinet formation, committee placements, and ancillary benefits such as international travel or remunerated parliamentary roles. Policy direction largely originates not from elected colleagues but from an insulated “palace guard” within the Prime Minister’s Office and the Privy Council Office—apparatchiks whose primary allegiance is to the executive. Empirical analyses reveals that members adhere to the party line in 99.6 percent of recorded votes, rendering their contributions perfunctory.
This structural weakness arises from the imperatives of minority or slim-majority governance and a leader-centred political approach, where the leader tolerates no internal dissent that might jeopardize legislative stability. Career advancement—parliamentary secretaryships, committee chairmanships, or cabinet portfolios—function as an incentive for compliance, while resistance invites sanction. Consequently, the House of Commons, intended to constrain executive overreach, has devolved into a compliant assembly where rigorous examination atrophies and democratic accountability is limited. Without a credible check on prime ministerial authority, the system ceases to embody representative democracy as was originally intended.
The Canadian combatants who fell at Juno Beach, Kapyong, or Panjwai did not sacrifice themselves for this faded silhouette of self-governance. They confronted totalitarian regimes to defend a society where freedom and democracy is the norm, where dissent is a catalyst for reform rather than repression, and where elected officials serve the public rather than entrenched elites. Their legacy is undermined not by external adversaries but by internal erosion—federal surveillance regimes that intrude upon personal autonomy, municipal ordinances that stifle public expression, provincial suspensions of constitutional rights, and legislatures shackled by partisan discipline.
Reforms of the inadequacies of society requires deliberate intervention. Legislation should mandate conscience votes on ethical issues and insulate committee assignments from leadership discretion. Judicial oversight of Section 33 invocations before they are implemented should become the norm, restricting its use to genuine existential emergencies. Bubble-zone bylaws and the IHRA definition’s overboard applications should be rescinded to restore unencumbered forums for critique. Border-security and cybersecurity initiatives must incorporate robust transparency and warrant requirements. Most critically, statutory reforms should affirm that Members of Parliament owe their primary duty to constituents, not party hierarchies.
Remembrance transcends ritual commemoration; it demands active reclamation of the democratic legacy. We honour the fallen not through ephemeral tributes but by reinvigorating the liberties they secured. Only through such renewal can their sacrifice resonate as the foundation of an enduring, resilient Canada. In their memory, we are compelled to act, before the principles they defended dissolve into oblivion.
© 2025 The View From Here. © 2025 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.
As the chill of November settles over Ottawa the solemn rituals of this week’s Remembrance Day ceremonies are now etched into our collective memory—a moment to salute the valour of those who ventured into the inferno of global conflicts. From the blood-soaked trenches of Europe, to the beaches of Normandy, the frozen hills of Korea, and the dusty trails of Afghanistan, Canadian service men and women laid down their lives not for glory, but for the sake of “freedom” and “democracy”, or so they were told.
In total since World War One, over 113,000 Canadians perished, their ultimate sacrifice helping to forge a Canada where citizens’ voices could speak out and dissent, where people could gather without fear of reprisal, and political leaders could be held accountable for their actions. These warriors did not storm foreign shores merely to repel invaders. They battled to enshrine a birthright of freedom from tyranny, equality under the law, and governance by the consent of the people, free from the shadows of authoritarianism.
However, as the wreaths are removed from cenotaphs and as the red poppies are put away for another year, a disquieting question lingers, what endures of their legacy when the very foundations freedom, democracy and human rights they bled to secure are being slowly dismantled bit by bit? In the years since those cataclysmic struggles, Canada has morphed into a nation where safeguards against governmental overreach now yield to the imperatives of “security”, and to ideological fervour.
The Charter of Rights and Freedoms, the aspirational 1982 compact born from decades of constitutional struggles, now faces insidious encroachments. Nominally a society that embraces freedom and civil liberties, Canada now grapples with a creeping curtailment of personal freedoms, masked as bulwarks against terrorism, crime and societal harmony. If the ghosts of Vimy Ridge, Dieppe, or Kandahar could peer through the mist of time, they might recoil at the sight of a democracy seemingly adrift, where the clamour of protest is muffled because it bothers certai n communities, where expressions of dissent are branded as dangerous, and where elected official’s voices are reduced to mere echoes of their political masters.
Consider the legislation coming out of Parliament, cloaked in the garb of safety and security. The Strong Borders Act (Bill C-2), unveiled in June, promises to fortify our borders against shadowy transnational threats. At first glance, it evokes the steadfast resolve of those sent off to distant lands to defend Canadian values. Yet, within its pages lies a network of provisions that erode the bedrock of privacy and mobility enshrined in the Charter of Rights, ones that empower Canadian Border Service officials with sweeping authority to scrutinize digital footprints and personal data, often without judicial approval or oversight, under the flimsy veil of “reasonable suspicion. Critics from more than 300 advocacy organizations, representing refugee networks to digital rights sentinels, decry it as a Trojan horse for unchecked surveillance which could threaten human rights, refugee and migrant rights, and the privacy of all Canadians. This legislation is no mere bureaucratic tweak but rather a concession of the freedoms that Canadians fought to defend from the spectre of authoritarian ideologies.
No less alarming is Bill C-8, the Critical Cyber Systems Protection Act. Framed as a bulwark against threats to vulnerable infrastructure—from power grids, to telecommunications infrastructure, to financial institutions—it compels companies under federal jurisdiction to undertake exhaustive audits of their vulnerabilities, with regulators able to dictate the removal of suspect technologies or the overhaul of protocols. While the spectre of cyber incursions is a real threat, with this legislation the federal government tilts perilously close towards a scenario where the Charter’s protections against unreasonable searches and protections of personal security—Sections 7 and 8—are ignored in the name of advancing national priorities and strengthening Canada’s economic resilience. In an era where data and technology is critical to economic success, such overreach risks transforming the open and free spaces where Canadians live their lives into places of constant surveillance, much like it is in present day China.
This escalation of restrictions extends to municipal governance in several jurisdictions across Canada, where officials, reacting to persistent protests against the genocide in Gaza, have instituted “bubble zone” bylaws that impose spatial buffers around key civic institutions. In Toronto, a city characterized by its pluralism and diversity, the city council approved a regulation establishing 50-meter exclusion zones around places of worship, educational facilities, and childcare centres, prohibiting assemblies deemed “disruptive” on the basis of subjective reports of discomfort. Initially conceived as a protective measure for entities affected by intense demonstrations—many of which have condemned Israel for committing horrific atrocities—the policy has evolved into a broader mechanism of control, targeting non-violent gatherings under the rationale of “protecting” citizens. Violations incur penalties of up to $5,000, administered by municipal enforcement officers with police support, even though law enforcement authorities maintain that existing legislation is adequate.
Similar measures have emerged in the cities of Vaughan and Brampton, north of Toronto, and Ottawa is developing its own framework. This creates a fragmented landscape of censorship of political activism that undermines the Canadian Charter of Rights’ protections under Sections 2(b) and 2(c), which cover freedom of expression and assembly. Advocates for civil liberties caution that these bylaws impose a deterrent effect on legitimate and legal protest, especially among underrepresented groups advocating for global justice, thereby converting historically inclusive public spaces into government controlled no go zones.
Exacerbating these trends is the gradual institutional adoption of broadened criteria for identifying prejudice, specifically the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism, which has been integrated into governmental policy since its federal acceptance in 2019 and subsequent provincial implementations through 2025. Jurisdictions including Ontario, Alberta, and Quebec have codified the definition, presenting it as an instrument to combat rising intolerance. However, its non-binding examples—some of which equate specific criticisms of Israeli state policy with antisemitic intent—risk conflating political analysis and criticism with ethnic and racial animus, thereby capturing human-rights advocacy concerning the Levant within the scope of prohibited speech. Progressive Jewish organizations, like Independent Jewish Voices, and allied civil-society coalitions contend that the definition is being weaponized to suppress substantive and legitimate debate while insulating those who support the suppression of legal free speech contested from scrutiny, thus eroding the freedoms that Allied forces sought to secure during the Second World War. In a society that embraces multicultural integration, such instruments threaten to undermine social cohesion by elevating one interpretive framework above rights guaranteed under the Charter.
Provincial governments, ostensibly custodians of regional autonomy, have increasingly invoked the Constitution’s notwithstanding clause (Section 33) to suspend Charter protections for disadvantaged populations. Quebec’s 2019 secularism law, reaffirmed in 2024, prohibits public-sector employees from displaying religious symbols, thereby overriding guarantees of religious freedom and equality. Saskatchewan’s 2023 requirement for parental consent in cases of gender-identity disclosure by minors, alongside Alberta’s 2025 legislation enabling teacher dismissals during labour disputes, both deploy the clause to preempt Charter challenges. Ontario’s adjustments to electoral boundaries and New Brunswick’s language-policy directives similarly shield contentious measures from judicial review.
Originally conceived in 1982 as a limited override to be used only in the most extraordinary circumstances, to balance parliamentary sovereignty with rights adjudication, the clause has been activated six times by five provinces since 2019, diminishing the Charter’s normative authority and enabling majority governments to violate constitutional rights under the guise of democratic prerogative. The framers of Canada’s constitutional order, informed by the injustices of wartime internment and the use of the War Measures Act during the FLQ Crisis in Quebec, intended the mechanism as an exceptional safeguard. Its contemporary proliferation signals a regression toward discretionary governance in which fundamental rights are sacrificed on the altar of political expediency.
At the core of this democratic deficit lies Parliament, the institution designed to translate popular sovereignty into accountable administration. In principle, it functions as the primary arena for executive oversight, where rank-and-file legislators interrogate policy, compel evidence, and, if necessary, withdraw confidence to precipitate governmental collapse. The 1873 Pacific Scandal, in which parliamentary censure over railway corruption toppled Sir John A. Macdonald’s administration, exemplifies an era when Members of Parliament were able to exercise independent judgment unconstrained by party directives. By contrast, the contemporary House of Commons, comprising 343 members following the 2025 redistribution, operates within a rigid disciplinary party structure that prioritizes caucus cohesion and party loyalty over constituent representation. Informal yet coercive party protocols brand nonconformists as outliers and even traitors, and consign them to irrelevance. In the recent federal election the prime minister sustained a narrow electoral plurality, retains exclusive authority over cabinet formation, committee placements, and ancillary benefits such as international travel or remunerated parliamentary roles. Policy direction largely originates not from elected colleagues but from an insulated “palace guard” within the Prime Minister’s Office and the Privy Council Office—apparatchiks whose primary allegiance is to the executive. Empirical analyses reveals that members adhere to the party line in 99.6 percent of recorded votes, rendering their contributions perfunctory.
This structural weakness arises from the imperatives of minority or slim-majority governance and a leader-centred political approach, where the leader tolerates no internal dissent that might jeopardize legislative stability. Career advancement—parliamentary secretaryships, committee chairmanships, or cabinet portfolios—function as an incentive for compliance, while resistance invites sanction. Consequently, the House of Commons, intended to constrain executive overreach, has devolved into a compliant assembly where rigorous examination atrophies and democratic accountability is limited. Without a credible check on prime ministerial authority, the system ceases to embody representative democracy as was originally intended.
The Canadian combatants who fell at Juno Beach, Kapyong, or Panjwai did not sacrifice themselves for this faded silhouette of self-governance. They confronted totalitarian regimes to defend a society where freedom and democracy is the norm, where dissent is a catalyst for reform rather than repression, and where elected officials serve the public rather than entrenched elites. Their legacy is undermined not by external adversaries but by internal erosion—federal surveillance regimes that intrude upon personal autonomy, municipal ordinances that stifle public expression, provincial suspensions of constitutional rights, and legislatures shackled by partisan discipline.
Reforms of the inadequacies of society requires deliberate intervention. Legislation should mandate conscience votes on ethical issues and insulate committee assignments from leadership discretion. Judicial oversight of Section 33 invocations before they are implemented should become the norm, restricting its use to genuine existential emergencies. Bubble-zone bylaws and the IHRA definition’s overboard applications should be rescinded to restore unencumbered forums for critique. Border-security and cybersecurity initiatives must incorporate robust transparency and warrant requirements. Most critically, statutory reforms should affirm that Members of Parliament owe their primary duty to constituents, not party hierarchies.
Remembrance transcends ritual commemoration; it demands active reclamation of the democratic legacy. We honour the fallen not through ephemeral tributes but by reinvigorating the liberties they secured. Only through such renewal can their sacrifice resonate as the foundation of an enduring, resilient Canada. In their memory, we are compelled to act, before the principles they defended dissolve into oblivion.
© 2025 The View From Here. © 2025 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.
