A menace to animal welfare

Andy Lamey
National Post
Wednesday, September 22, 2004

As I write, one of the most talked about films on the planet is a
documentary about cat torture. The movie Casuistry examines a well-known
case in Toronto in which three young sadists dismembered a helpless cat with
dental tools and other instruments before beheading it. When the film was
unveiled at the Toronto International Film Festival, it attracted the
attention of animal-rights protesters, who denounced it for glorifying the
original crime. The massive controversy has since attracted the attention of
national and global media, ranging from the Star in South Africa to the BBC
and CNN.

What a pathetic spectacle. Whatever their intentions, the protesters
served only to transform the screening of an amateur film, normally a minor
and forgettable event, into an international sensation. The mutilators
themselves must have loved all the attention (one of them even showed up for
the film's premiere), and no doubt they can't wait until the film hits other
cities. But the controversy over the documentary is a distraction from a
much larger scandal involving animal cruelty. Only this one doesn't feature
petty hoodlums in downtown Toronto: It features political hoodlums in
Canada's undemocratic Senate.

Long before anyone heard of the cat torture case, the federal
government introduced a bill to improve Canada's animal cruelty laws. Bill
C-22, as it is now known, enjoys the support of three broad groups. One is
the coalition of humane societies and animal welfare organizations that
first pushed for a new law. They note that Canada's current animal-cruelty
statutes are laughably weak -- which is hardly surprising, given that they
were drafted in 1892 and meant to apply to carriage horses. The bill also
has the support of hunting and farming groups who voiced concerns about a
previous version of it, but have since come on board following some minor
amendments.

Finally, there is a large group of supporters who recognize that
people who commit violent crimes against animals often go on to act
violently toward human beings. When it came out at the Washington sniper
trial that Lee Malvo once enjoyed killing cats, it was yet another case of a
dangerous individual who showed warning signs in his treatment of animals.

These three groups represent a large cross-section of society. Little
wonder, then, that C-22 has generated more letters of support than any other
legislation in recent history. For most people, the bill's provisions, such
as raising the maximum sentence for animal cruelty to five years, are simply
common sense (the current maximum is six months plus two years probation --
practically no punishment at all). When the latest version of the bill was
passed in the House of Commons, it was supported by MPs in all parties.

But that's not good enough for Canada's Senate. The legislation has
been sent to the upper chamber four times. On each occasion, a group of
senators -- constituting no more than two dozen of the body's 100 members --
has found increasingly implausible ways to stymie the bill, to the point
that its passage is in serious doubt. Different senators have made different
objections, but Charlie Watt, an Inuit hunter, has been the most outspoken.
He claims the cruelty laws will somehow be used to persecute aboriginal
hunters.

Watt couldn't be more mistaken. The bill does not criminalize hunting
or any other legal activity -- it increases the punishment for actions that
are already crimes, such as the Toronto cat torture case. As an extra
safeguard, the legislation is littered with clauses noting it only applies
to people who "negligently" or "wilfully or recklessly" harm animals.
Ironically, native Canadians may be the least likely group to be affected by
C-22, given that their traditional hunting practices are enshrined in treaty
law and the Charter of Rights. But Watt has nonetheless said that unless a
sweeping aboriginal exemption clause is added, the legislation will result
in "cultural genocide" against native people.

Another enemy of the bill is Senator Serge Joyal. Joyal fancies
himself a constitutional theorist, and has edited a book called Protecting
Canadian Democracy: The Senate You Never Knew. But Joyal's obstructionism on
the animal cruelty file cast doubt on his authority in this area. In his
view, the Senate functions as "the house of minorities, the house that
represents Canadians who are disadvantaged." He, too, has demagogued the
cruelty bill, playing up the non-existent threat to natives in keeping with
his conceit that an unelected Senate is a legitimate guardian of minority
rights.

The result of such misguided "minority protection" has been maddening
for those who seek to protect animals from undue suffering. The bill was
first proposed five years ago, yet is still in limbo thanks to the Senate,
where the votes of two dozen senators have at times been enough to prevent
the bill's passage. Give the whole process one more election, which could
see a new lower house that simply drops the legislation, and a handful of
appointed senators will have effectively killed a bill that a majority of
elected MPs have now endorsed on four separate occasions.

No wonder the Canadian Federation of Humane Societies has said the
senators are acting "in blatant violation of democratic process." Our Senate
is no longer functioning as a chamber of sober second thought, if it ever
did: Its performance on this file shows it to be a body in thrall to a small
set of eccentric, poorly informed men and women.

The bill has one last chance when Parliament reconvenes in October. It
will be a minority Parliament, so who knows how long it will last. But an
early, sustained effort by Paul Martin to bring the senators (many of whom
are Liberals) to heel could break the impasse.

Martin won't do anything unless the public compels him to. So forget
the circus in front of the Toronto theatre. All the outrage, protest and
media attention badly needs to be redirected toward Ottawa. If the
senatorial obstructionists had received one-tenth the attention the
documentary has, our country would have had decent cruelty legislation long
ago.

Who knows, maybe the cunning old oligarchs will win in the end, and
defeat the democratic will. But if they do, let the record show they aren't
just a menace to animals. They are undermining the spirit and letter of
democracy, which makes them a menace to Canada's 32 million (human)
citizens.

More information about Bill C-22 is available at www.cfhs.ca.

© National Post 2004