QUID NOVI
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McGill University Faculty of Law Faculté de droit de l’Université McGill
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Vol 44 No 13 14 February 2023
quid.law@mcgill.ca @quidnovi.mcgill
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF RÉDACTRICE EN CHEF Anna McAllister ART DIRECTOR DIRECTRICE ARTISTIQUE Souang Wu LAYOUT EDITOR ÉDITRICE DE MISE EN PAGE Souang Wu COPY EDITORS SECRÉTAIRES DE RÉDACTION Muna Tojiboeva Roxanda Mirzac COLUMNISTS CHRONIQUEURES ET CHRONIQUEUSES Félix Desrochers Nicolas Kamran Sofia Watt Sjöström CONTRIBUTORS TO THIS ISSUE COLLABORATEURS ET COLLABORATRICES Allison J. Bender Members of Professor Mills’ Fall 2022 ILT Class Special thanks to Prairie Koo for designing the layout. ~ The Quid Novi is published weekly by the students of the Faculty of Law at McGill University. Production is made possible through the direct support of students. All contents copyright © 2022 Quid Novi.
Les opinions exprimées sont propres aux auteurs et ne réflètent pas nécessairement celles de l’équipe du Quid Novi. The content of this publication does not necessarily reflect the views of the McGill Law Students’ Association or of McGill University. Envoyez vos commentaires ou articles avant jeudi 17h00 à quid.law@mcgill.ca. Toute contribution doit indiquer le nom de l’auteur, son année d’étude ainsi qu’un titre et un sous -titre pour l’article. Les images doivent être soumises séparément. L’article ne sera publié qu’à la discrétion du comité de rédaction, qui basera sa décision sur la politique de rédaction disponible sur notre Facebook @quidnovi.mcgill.
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QUID NOVI
CETTE SEMAINE...
44 13
Vol 44 No 13 14 February2023
INSIGHTS
COMMUNAUTÉ
5 | MIIGWECH
2 | LETTER FROM THE EDITOR 10 | UN ÉVÉNEMENT FRANCO-
5 | SYMPATHY FOR THE SELL‑OUT
8 | CONFESSIONS OF A CEGEP
Quid Novi (Taylor’s Version)
2 | FROM THE GELBER Love in the Air (and the Law)
KID The Value of Naïveté
4 | ALUMNI FEATURE
11 | CO-EDITORS-IN-CHIEF
4 | BLAST FROM THE PAST
TAKE ON MCGILLHOCKEY NIGHT University Sports: Fun for the Sporty and Non-Sporty Alike
EVENTS PHONE À NE PAS MANQUER Championnat national canadien de débat oratoire francophone
How it Started and How it’s Going
8 | VALENTINE’S GIFT GUIDE
What Law Students Should Get Their Partners
10 | OVERHEARD 11 | MEET THE TEAM
Bilingual Columnist/Chroniqueur bilingue
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Vol 44 ● No 13
LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Quid Novi (Taylor’s Version) Anna McAllister | 2L
Happy Valentine’s and 13th Edition Quid Readers! It is especially romantic that our 13th edition, Taylor Swift’s infamous lucky number, is being published on Valentine’s Day. Of course, as editor this week, I have no choice but to dedicate this edition to Ms. Swift. As someone who exists in the year 2023, Taylor Swift’s discography has undoubtedly been the soundtrack to your love life at some point. Whether it was crying to All too Well after a bad breakup, twirling to Enchanted after a wonderful first date, or swearing off dating all together while screaming New Romantics with your best friends, Taylor has been there for us through it all. To celebrate the songstress of love and our 13th edition, I have prepared a playlist of 13 Taylor Swift songs that are perfect for you to enjoy this Valentine’s season. The playlist is available on Spotify and will be linked in a social media post (a great reason to follow the Quid!). I hope that in the absence of new Quid editions over focus week and reading week, Taylor’s songwriting will comfort you. Enjoy your time off, and be sure to squeeze your Lover(s)! Yours in Swiftie Solidarity, Anna
FROM THE GELBER Love in the Air (and the Law)
QUID NOVI • 14 FEB 2022
Allison J, Bender | 2L
Hello McGill Law students! It’s that time of year – reading week is quickly approaching, the days are beginning to get longer again, and yes – Valentine’s Day is so near to the horizon that we can almost taste it! Whether you’re celebrating a new relationship, enjoying the fruits of long-term commitment, or looking forward to buying discount chocolate on the 15th, it’s nearly impossible to ignore the pinkand-red tinted holiday. Here at the library, we're feeling the love, and – in the spirit of the season – are excited to talk to you about the intersection of love and the law in Canadian legal history (how’s that for a romantic dinner conversation)! A Brief History of Marriage in Canada Love can take many forms, but one of those most commonly legislated and regulated by law is that of marriage. Most recently – recently enough that some of us may remember it – the 2005 federal Civil Marriage Act made samesex marriage legal across the country, but this is just the latest link in a long chain of acts and decisions that have shaped the form and ramifications of marriage for Canadians. Like many Western countries, marriage has historically 2
played a major role in Canadian society. Before World War II, around 90% of Canadians had been married at least once in their lives. For settlers, marriage was commonly understood as both a legal and religious union between a man and a woman. Though Christian Catholics and Protestants disagreed about some of the finer points of this union, they tended to agree on the fundamental principles of what a Christian marriage entailed. There was no single or uniform marriage tradition practiced by Indigenous peoples in Canada, but marriage itself was a relatively common practice. The British North America Act (1867) split up jurisdiction over marriage in Canada: section 91(26) gives exclusive authority over marriage and divorce to the federal government, while section 92(12) gives provinces jurisdiction over marriage ceremonies, marital property rights, and remarriage. Marital property rights – specifically, the property rights of married women – had some of the widest divergences across provinces. In 1872, married women in Ontario were granted the right to earn and control their own wages, whereas before their earnings had legally belonged to their husbands. Similarly, Ontario’s
1884 Married Women’s Property Act gave married women the right to buy and own their own property. Most dire was the situation in Québec, where until 1964 married women who had not signed a special marriage contract were considered “legal incapables” who required their husband’s permission to open bank accounts, sign leases, and otherwise fully engage in adult life. Interestingly, anxieties over the polygamous Mormon groups in Canada, who practiced plural marriage until the 1890s, made the Canadian government desperate to protect the sanctity of monogamous marriage. In 1887, a federal order-in-court officially recognized the validity of traditional indigenous marriage – provided they were monogamous. Falling In and Out of Love Although Canadian marriages have always been shaped by outside forces – economic constraints, social and family pressure, and religion – romantic affection has also played a large part in how Canadians have chosen their spouses. However, while Canadian married couples were often brought together by love, they had very little recourse if they fell out of love while married. Canada had extremely restrictive divorce laws for most of the 20th century, and some of the lowest divorce rates in the Western world up until World War II. Prior to World War I, only Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and British Columbia had divorce courts; Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Ontario created analogous courts in the interwar period. Outside of these courts, unhappy couples could appeal directly to parliament for a statutory divorce, an expensive process that limited access to the wealthy. In the early 20th century, the grounds on which one could apply for divorce were extremely limited. While a husband had only to prove that his wife was committing adultery, for a wife to be granted a divorce she has to prove both that her husband was unfaithful but also that he was committing desertion, bigamy, sodomy, bestiality, or rape. The 1925 New Marriage and Divorce Act relaxed these restrictions, but for couples seeking to split up under less extreme circumstances, the requirement of proving adultery was still a hard obstacle to surmount. Canada’s first unified federal divorce law was passed in 1968 and allowed divorce on the grounds of adultery, mental or physical cruelty, desertion, a spouse in jail, or a separation period of three years spent living apart. For those wishing to shorten the waiting time, proving adultery was still an option – one which led to an industry of private investigators who would stalk suspected cheaters through the streets to collect evidence of the purported adultery. In 1986, Canada finally legalized no-fault divorce, allowing the dissolution of marriage for irreconcilable differences. Law-Cross Lovers? Marriage, like many other social institutions, has a long history of exclusionary and discriminatory practices. The
1867 Indian Act decreed that indigenous women marrying non-indigenous partners would be stripped of their official Indian status, denying them the right to live on ancestral reserves, among other legal and social implications. In 1698, Evelyne St-Onge was exiled from her Innu community after marrying a white Québec man, having been told by elders that she no longer belonged there due to her marriage. After this marriage ended, St-Onge moved to another Innu community and had a child with an Innu man there. Despite their shared heritage, St-Onge was, on account of her previous marriage, legally considered white. As a result, her son was refused vaccination and was told that for him to be legally considered Innu, his biological father would have to adopt him. St-Onge founded Québec Native Women in 1974 to fight the discriminatory clause in the Indian Act, and when it was at last updated in 1985, she re-registered as Innu and regained her status. As previously mentioned, marriage was originally defined as a legal union between a man and a union. The road to inclusion for same-sex couples has been long, beginning in the late 20th century. In 1972, Montreal couple Michel Girouard and Réjean Tremblay signed a personal union contract in Canada’s first widely publicized gay marriage ceremony. Two years later, Richard North and Chris Vogel were married at Winnipeg's Unitarian Universalist Church, though they were denied an official marriage license – and have been denied recognition of their marriage until this day. In 2001, Elaine and Anne Vantour were married in a joint ceremony at Toronto’s Metropolitan Community Church. Rev. Brent Hawkes, who wore a bulletproof vest, officiated the ceremony; cleverly, Hawkes took advantage of a religious holdover found in the Marriages Act to issue a marriage license to both the Vantours and to Joe Varnell and Kevin Bourassa, the other couple married that day. Ontario’s Registrar-General nonetheless refused to certify the Vantour’s license. In 2002, the National Assembly of Québec unanimously voted to amend the Civil Code of Québec to establish civil unions – a partnership that offers largely the same rights as marriage and is available to both opposite- and same-sex couples. This made Québec the first province to offer legal protection to samesex couples. Ontario and British Columbia legally recognized same-sex marriage in 2003. Hours after the Ontario Court of Appeal declared the Canadian law on traditional marriage unconstitutional on June 10th, 2003, Michael Leshner and Michael Stark were married in Toronto. The couple went on to be declared Time Canada’s Newsmakers of the Year. The ways in which law shapes and changes the lives of everyday citizens are particularly apparent when it comes to regulating interpersonal relationships. If this has inspired you to look more deeply into how the law affects your everyday life, the Gelber is here to help with your research needs! Even if it hasn’t, we nonetheless wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day and hope that you have a wonderful day however you’re celebrating. 3
Vol 44 ● No 13
ALUMNI FEATURE How it Started vs How it’s Going
Our wonderful network of McGill Law alumni have reached out to share their experience at McGill Law. Take a look at what brought them to McGill Law, and how their career has taken shape since leaving. Name: Steven P. Hinkley Judge of the Provincial Court of Alberta Judicial District of High Prairie Class: LLB ‘99 “I came to McGill thinking I was going to become a corporate or patent lawyer. I ended up becoming a generalist lawyer, then a defence lawyer, then a crown prosecutor, then legal counsel for the RCMP, then a Chief Prosecutor, and I am now a Judge of the Alberta Provincial Court in Rural Alberta, since May of 2022!”
Name: John Rankin CMG Governor British Virgin Islands Class: LLM ‘85 “I graduated in Scots law at the University of Glasgow and could have settled down to become a Solicitor in Scotland. But I wanted to pursue an international career and was fortunate enough to get a scholarship to study for an LLM in International Law at Mcgill. Studying under the supervision of the inspirational Professor John Humphrey, one of the drafters of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, changed my life. My career since then has been in the UK Foreign Office, serving in Geneva, Dublin, Boston, Sri Lanka, Nepal, Bermuda, and now as Governor of the British Virgin Islands. Despite all my travels, my two years at McGill and all that I learned there have always remained with me.”
Name: Isabelle Daoust Deputy Chief Executive L'Association du Barreau canadien Class: BCL/LLB ‘96 “I didn’t have much clarity in my twenties about what I wanted to do. Something international? Maybe a diplomat? I graduated from McGill Law School in 1996 (BCL/LLB). After articling in a large firm in Montreal, I ended up with the Red Cross for almost twenty years. I was a regional legal adviser in West Africa for the International Committee of the Red Cross. I then moved to Headquarters in Geneva to promote the Ottawa Treaty to ban landmines and work on disarmament issues. I also worked in Canada and in the United States to promote Red Cross legal education programs. After a rich career with the Red Cross, I transitioned to the federal public service, with senior roles at the Department of National Defence and Immigration Canada. I am currently the Deputy CEO of the Canadian Bar Association, a national association of lawyers with 37,000 members.”
BLAST FROM THE PAST QUID NOVI • 14 FEB 2022
Believe it or not, in 1991 Quid Novi had a feature titled “When I Kissed the Teacher.” This feature invited students to submit love letters to their professors. While cringey and essentially unfathomable in 2023, please enjoy these excerpts in the spirit of love.
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MIIGWECH
Members of Professor Mills’ Fall 2022 Indigenous Legal Traditions Class
As Professor Mills’ last lecture ended last fall, many students faced a daunting question – what now? On February 3rd, members of Professor Mills’ ILT took part in a shared lunch, funded through the generous support of the Alumni Student Engagement Fund (ASEF), to reflect on our experience together. The brisk cold winter did not keep us away, and we were reminded that this season was a time to pause, reflect, observe, listen, and be mindful amidst it all. We wanted to take this space to exercise intentional gratitude and to thank you, Professor Mills –
Thank you for starting every class with a smudging ceremony, reminding us of the importance of staying mindful and grounded. Thank you for your vulnerability and for teaching us the importance of leaving your ego at the door.
with regarding them appropriately as we move forward. Thank you for starting the semester with Anishinaabe lifeworld and helping us recognize our place within our own world-building exercises.
Thank you for helping us recognize the importance of slowness and intentionality through your lectures, assignments, and readings.
Thank you for reminding us of the power of silence while ensuring that the space remained inclusive for students to participate as they pleased.
Thank you for imparting us with ways to respect the sacredness of traditional knowledge and for tasking us
Thank you for prompting us to lead with healing and patience, with the world, but most importantly, with ourselves.
Thank you for creating a classroom atmosphere that truly felt different – empowering us to carry forward on our separate paths while staying mindful of the importance of community. Thank you for sharing with us the true depth of Anishinaabe law – and what it means to study it on its own terms. Thank you. Merci. Miigwech.
SYMPATHY FOR THE SELLOUT Nicolas Kamran | 3L
Some take law school as little more than a glorified trade school. From class to class, they repeat a hallowed mantra: ‘teach me the law, give me my degree, and I shall be on my way.’ Others, perhaps of a more academic bent, view their legal education as but one step in a lifelong intellectual, quasi-spiritual journey. In their own way, they too seek illumination. Caricatural depictions aside, what each group may hopefully share is the idea that they form a community together. They go to the same classes, take the same exams, walk the same halls, meet the same people. They share summaries, advice, gossip, fears, aspirations, friends, and even the occasional enemy. Crucially, they also share a dialect. It is not quite legalese, per se. But we use words that we just expect our peers to know by simple virtue of being law students. We say ‘1L’ instead of ‘first-year law student.’ We say ‘gunner’ instead of ‘tryhard,’ ‘showoff,’ ‘shark,’ or ‘teacher’s pet.’ We say ‘course aux stages’ instead of ‘predatorily capitalistic survival of the fittest.’ Well, the last one is admittedly contentious. Another word we use is ‘sellout.’ Be it as a noun (‘X is such a sellout!’) or verb (‘did you hear X sold out?’), you have probably heard it before, and it is unquestionably part of
our little dialect. By this, I am not saying that law students have a monopoly on the term. I am merely suggesting that when law students speak of selling out, we take it to have a meaning that is specific to our community. My hope in this article is to get a better idea of what that meaning entails. Let us start with the basics. We all have some idea of what it means to sell out in law school. The paradigmatic case goes something like this: Having worked in climate activism all throughout high school and undergrad, X applies to law school with an ardent desire to be an international environmental lawyer. On their personal statement, X writes that they want to hold big polluters accountable and marshal the collective will of the international community to build a more just and sustainable future. Corporate law is out of the question. X knows how climate change waits for no one and is confident that they have what it takes to make a positive difference in the world. Somewhere down the line, X starts seeing their friends be wined and dined by big law firms. Around then, they see for the first time the starting salary of a first-year associate at a big law firm—and immediately think of all nice things they can buy and beautiful places they can go. A few years 5
Vol 44 ● No 13 later, X is an associate at a big law firm, serving the same forces they swore to destroy upon entering law school. Is X a sellout? Well, it depends on what we mean by ‘sellout.’ And to get some idea of what that means, we need to ask more questions. Is merely working for a big law firm the same as selling out? Probably not. I can think of several friends who came to law school wanting to do business law at big law firms and are now doing exactly that. I have yet to hear anyone call them sellouts—and it would strike me as odd to label them as such. Does simply changing career interests make someone a sellout? Again, likely not. If someone goes into law school wanting to be a public defender, only to end up as a human rights lawyer, that person will not be called a sellout either. Let us step back from the legal context for a second. What does it mean to sell someone out? From what I understand, we tend to use this sort of expression when speaking of an informant or double agent. Investigators, for instance, will promise the ‘mole’ some benefit if they ‘sell’ their associates out. If we extend this principle to law school, it could mean something like this: selling out means betraying or relinquishing your values in pursuit of personal gain. Under this account, X would be a sellout because they gave up their climate justice values for material wealth. My ‘big law’ friends who came to law school wanting to do ‘big law things’ would not be sellouts because they did not betray their values. The human rights lawyer in the prior example would escape the label for the same reason.
QUID NOVI • 14 FEB 2022
These are straightforward cases—but they are not very instructive. Any reasonable person would probably come to the same conclusions without needing to think too hard. Our lives are rarely ever so simple. Now let us imagine X once more, this time as a first-generation law student from a low-middle-class family and marginalised community. To even attend law school, they have been forced to take out student loans in the five-figure range. Although they remain committed to climate justice as a goal and value, X is confronted with the dearth of career opportunities in international environmental law. All the ecological justice internships offered during the summer, like many human rights or public interest-related jobs, are unpaid. The job prospects after law school are scarce—and those available are so poorly remunerated that X would have to choose between living in squalor and paying back their debts. When they see their friends wined and dined by big law firms, they think about how nice it must feel to simply be wanted. When they see, for the first time, the starting salary of a first-year associate at a big law firm—X figures that if they ever want to have enough money to own a home, start a family, retire their parents in dignity, retire 6
themselves, travel, leave money to their children, or pay their loans off, they will need to go corporate. A few years later, X is an associate at a big law firm, serving the same forces they swore to destroy upon entering law school. Is X a sellout this time? Well, it depends again on what we mean by ‘sellout.’ And this is where it gets uncomfortable: If we still take ‘selling out’ to mean something along the lines of ‘betraying or relinquishing your values for your own personal gain,’ then we could reasonably argue that X is a sellout. But this seems unfair, right? We all have an X in our lives. Would you call them a sellout? Would you condemn them for betraying their values? I hope that I am not presuming too much when I say that you would probably not. Human solidarity would demand that we show X compassion—and therefore hold back on giving them a hard time about what was probably a difficult decision, one driven more by material conditions of existence than a desire to relinquish their values. What I am getting at is this: You will rarely find a happy and willing ‘sellout.’ The people I know who feel as though they are relinquishing their values and beliefs in favour of material gain are not having a great time. To pile on them for being ‘sellouts’ does not strike me as morally righteous nor virtuous—it is misguided and mean. In deconstructing the use of ‘sellout,’ I will raise the three following points. 1) Undue emphasis on personal responsibility Though selling out is ultimately a choice, I question whether it is a particularly meaningful one. By speaking of a ‘meaningful choice,’ I mainly question whether sellouts feel as though they have suitable alternatives—jobs that would enable them to work in conformity with their values while meeting their material needs. Let’s say that you consider yourself a committed anti-capitalist and anti-colonialist: Depending on how seriously you take these commitments, it can be hard to see what is next after graduation. Working for a big law firm is not an option for obvious reasons. I also suspect that working for the Canadian or provincial governments, to the extent that you might be furthering the legitimacy of a colonial enterprise, might also be out of the question. You might even think the same about being a lawyer, to the extent that mere participation in the judicial system legitimises the state. You might choose to not be a lawyer in the first place—which is fine—but you risk foregoing the financial security you may need. Of course, this would be on the assumption that you do not take your anti-capitalist and anti-colonial values as a vow of poverty. By saying all this—I do not want to suggest that selling out is a matter of fate. I maintain that it is ultimately a choice, and that you can always find a way to work in conformity with your values. Groups like RadLaw McGill, for instance, have hosted several events showcasing lawyers
who take their social-justice-rooted beliefs to heart in everything they do. They work in housing, public defence, class actions, all while maintaining a politically engaged critical lens on the law. The public defenders I had the honour of joining in Nunavut were of a similar breed: defending the indigent against the carceral state was not only a job, but an extension of their core values. DALA has also done a fantastic job showing unorthodox ways to use one’s law degree—ones that do not entail abandoning what matters to you. The real issue here is not that these jobs do not exist, nor that that they are impossible to do. The core problem is that these jobs come at personal costs that are simply not feasible for many. In the absence of sufficient and suitable alternatives to ‘selling out,’ I do not feel enthusiastic about condemning those who do.
3) Identity issues The communities and histories in which we are immersed do not suddenly vanish when we decide what matters to us. Without overstating its influence or understating individual agency, identity can play a role in shaping a person’s values. This matters a lot when thinking about selling out. To betray one’s values is never an enjoyable affair—but when one’s values are inextricably tied up in their identity, the stakes of selling out are suddenly much higher. It becomes a question of betraying or relinquishing one’s communities and histories, the hopes and dreams of one’s ancestors.
2) Positionality
Perhaps some of you will intuitively know what I mean. For those who may not, I will offer a personal example. I come from a family of Bahai’is, a minority religious group facing severe persecution in Iran. Like many, I have family that has been arbitrarily detained, tortured, and killed at the hands of the Islamic Republic. I have no family left in Iran—and those who made it out cannot return home for the foreseeable future. As long as I can remember, this persecution has been a defining factor of my family history. The words, ‘human rights,’ ‘persecution,’ and ‘Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’ were in my vocabulary at age six. An animating hope in my life has been to gain the tools to do something about this injustice, and I feel a genuine sense of duty towards my community to use my legal education in furtherance of their human rights.
Labelling someone a ‘sellout’ is something that few should be able to do in good conscience. We have all betrayed our values for personal gain at some point. The severity of the betrayal and the worth of the gain varies—just like the importance we place on our values—but it is bound to happen.
What does this mean, concretely, in terms of selling out? It could mean a lot: By selling out, I feel as though I would not only be betraying my values, but I would be relinquishing a central part of who I am. I would risk disappointing my community and leaving behind the hopes of those who came before me.
In fact, I get the sense that those who do not feel the pressure to sell out usually benefit from certain asymmetries with respect to their positions in life. These asymmetries are obvious, but they bear repeating.
I have friends in law school and beyond who have told me how they have felt similarly with respect to their own communities—but also feel as though it is precisely this history of oppression that gives them the license to sell out. For instance, if you are part of a community that has been historically excluded from higher education and gainful employment, why should you be expected to fight for social justice while everyone else chases financial success? Now that you finally have a seat at the table, why should you be made to feel guilty about it? You are simply taking what was wrongfully denied to you for so long. Going the corporate route does not mean betraying your community’s struggle for social justice—it is the very fulfillment of that struggle.
Instead, we should channel our condemnatory energy towards dismantling the forces and structures that limit our possibilities. Exactly what this entails is admittedly beyond me: it requires more effort and thought than I have at my disposal. I do not have the blueprint for liberation— and I doubt my architectural skills are developed enough to draw anything interesting at this stage. Nevertheless, I can confidently say that I would like to work in a field where upholding corporate interests and/or serving the state are not the sole avenues for eventual homeownership.
(a) Value asymmetry. The question of selling out tends to place a heavy burden on the consciences of those who are inclined to value social and economic justice—and very little on those who uncritically serve the powers that be. A sellout’s guilty conscience is the cost of caring in the first place. (b) Material asymmetry. If your material needs are already met, the pressure to sell out is significantly diminished. You can potentially follow career paths allowing you to live in conformity with your values without the associated worries related to financial insecurity. Of course, these two factors have been oversimplified, and they are by no means exhaustive in terms of illustrating the dynamics inherent to making choices about one’s career. They are simply two general categories of concerns affecting the ease or unease with which one sells out or not.
I feel ambivalent about this discourse, and about my own feelings. I do not want a more diverse ruling class—I want none at all. The unscrupulous pursuit of profit does not suddenly become more just and less exploitative when people with marginalised identities reach the top of the ladder. Still, I would feel strange condemning my friends for seeking the economic empowerment that has been denied to their communities. As much as it goes against my instincts, I have sympathy for the ‘sellout’. 7
Vol 44 ● No 13
VALENTINE’S GIFT GUIDE What Law Students Should Give Their Partners
The only thing more difficult than being a law student is being the partner of a law student. When dating a law student, their late nights are spent in the library instead of on date night. The only curves they seem interested in is the B grade curve. They come home every week from an event called ‘coffeehouse’ smelling like beer, not coffee. They cancel their plans one Friday evening a semester in case they get bad news on grade reveal day, only for the grades not to be revealed after all. Despite these challenges, our partners stand by us through it all. Yeah, it might be because they hope that we land that lucrative big law job and fund their retirement, but I like to think that it is also because they love us. That’s why this Valentine’s Day, I have come up with a list of potential gifts law students can give their partners to reciprocate the love and support they show us all year long.
Couples’ counselling: Chances are, law school has taken a toll on your relationship. If you started dating before law school, they also probably miss your delusions that getting accepted into McGill Law would solve your imposter syndrome. Having a chance to talk it out may be just what you need. Make sure to first explain to them the legal logistics of when your counselor may be compelled to be a witness in a future court proceeding though! MedLaw Ticket: Remind your partner that at least you’re not a med student! Sure, hearing about legal ethics may be boring, but at least dinner conversation doesn’t include gruesome details about a surgery you performed. LSAT Prep Book: If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em! Convince your partner that they should be sad and stressed WITH you, not AT you.
Add them to your network on LinkedIn: While your partner might think coffeehouse is all fun and games, you’ve been busy networking. Show them the fruits of your labour by looping them into your network. Custom McGill Law Crewneck: As your partner, they should also be able to benefit from the one guaranteed benefit of law school – social clout. Get your partner a McGill Law sweater, bonus points if you can somehow embroider the word “partner” on it. While your heart may be cold and jaded after a long day of reading cases exposing the worst of humanity, your partner doesn’t have to be with their new sweater! Dinner for One: You would love to go with them, but let's be honest, you don’t have time, and they should probably get used to eating alone. Jokes aside, I hope that you all get the time this Valentine’s season to shower your support systems in love, we wouldn’t be able to do it without them!
CONFESSIONS OF A CEGEP KID The Value of Naïveté
QUID NOVI • 14 FEB 2022
Sofia Watt Sjöström | 2L
I want to write honestly about something I have been struggling with since Day 1 of McGill Law: imposter syndrome related to my age. Perhaps in doing so, I can help myself overcome it. When people ask me how old I am or what I did before law school, I often feel ashamed. In the past, I have even lied about it by omission. Because this is not a particularly helpful coping strategy, I am working on being upfront about it. Thus, I will start this article with a confession: I came to law school after completing a 2-year liberal arts degree in CEGEP. I recently turned 21. I am a “CEGEP kid.” 8
I struggle daily with the sense that I do not belong here. I had hoped I would have a handle on it after my first year, but it only got worse in 2L. People at McGill are relatively open about imposter syndrome and how normal it is. I can only imagine what it would feel like if we did not talk about these feelings at all. That being said, although people are generally supportive regarding imposter syndrome, it sometimes feels like a different story for my particular situation, coming from CEGEP. Of course, law is intrinsically challenging. I often feel out of my depth, especially in realms like business law, which
I have little background in. Overall, however, I genuinely believe that CEGEP prepared me well to do the reading, writing, hard work and critical thinking that law requires. Academically, I feel okay. There are other challenges too, of course. It can generally feel strange to be at a different stage in my life than many of the people around me, with so many people impatient to start careers. Furthermore, I sometimes fear that without a deeper background in another field, law may be influential in weird ideological ways. Yet I think this is likely something we all have to deal with, immersed as
we are in a vocational discipline with vaguely ideological traits. It is important to question the assumptions that the law sometimes hands to us—a topic I have already discussed in another article. So, no, although law school is hard, I do not think my imposter syndrome is truly about school. In fact, I do not think my imposter syndrome would exist without all the little things people have said. I have been told, albeit usually more subtly, that people coming from CEGEP are simply too immature for law school. Here are two eloquent highlights: “I just feel like CEGEP students haven’t had as many existential crises as we have,” one person claimed. Someone else told me cynically, “Well, those of us who did an undergrad realized that all of us students are just dumb babies who know nothing. Whereas CEGEP students still think they have something worth saying.” Because of our lack of life experience, we have little of substance to contribute. Our expectations are unrealistic. To sum it up, we are immature and naïve. I would question some of these thinly veiled prejudices. Firstly, obviously, CEGEP students are individuals, like everyone else. As such, we offer a range of different perspectives. Some of us are more youthful than others. I know idealists in their late twenties and thirties too. Secondly, though, I want to posit that our youthfulness can be an asset— whether it be to discourse or to careers. When I came to law, I promised myself that I would not lose my idealism. Now, I struggle to hold onto it because I sincerely believe that it is a strength. As demonstrated by the person who told me that we are all dumb babies, knowledge can lead to cynicism. The more you know, the more you know that you do not know. The more you know, the more you are aware of all the barriers preventing meaningful change. As such, it can feel wise to be pessimistic about the world.
Because of this, cynicism can appear knowledgeable. That does not mean it is. It is easier to destroy than to create1— but perhaps it is more meaningful to do what is difficult. Cynicism often leads to apathy, inaction, and complacency. By contrast, I believe wisdom involves hope—and endurance.
It got worse over time. Feeling I had little to say, I began to speak less in class. I became convinced that the people whom I was speaking to did not want to talk to a child like me, I pulled away from conversations. I generally felt the need to apologize for my own limited experience whenever I could.
I am not suggesting that youth is inherently wise, but I do think youth has an important place in law school. Legal knowledge must not be accepted with cynicism; it must be challenged and criticized. It is better to ask naïve questions than none at all. Yes, institutional barriers are not about to change overnight, but this does not mean we should not call them out.
I even had several conversations where, having lied by omission, I accidentally found myself in a tricky situation: the topic of CEGEP students came up, and the other person began to insinuate that CEGEP kids are not ready for law school… Often, this only happened because I surreptitiously encouraged them to discuss this, even bringing the topic up in the first place. I sometimes wonder at my own ability to make life harder for myself.
Later on, when we have finished these degrees, I think it is important to hold onto some idealism. No matter our chosen careers, I believe we should care about what we are doing, and the impact it has on the world. Sometimes, I hear people “settle” for jobs at firms they find despicable. They seem resigned to it. That makes me very, very sad. It also confirms to me that naïveté can be a good thing, insofar as it makes my top career priority “doing something meaningful.” This is a vague, potentially tenuous goal, but I know I will try in earnest to get there. Perhaps, earnestness requires vulnerability. It means putting yourself out there: baring yourself and your capacity for mistakes to the world. Nevertheless, I think it is worth trying. I would rather be an idealist than a cynic. As I mentioned before, I am not sure this is just a question of age. Of course, no one has actually told me “you’re too young” to my face. Most of this imposter syndrome is in my head. A few things people said created a feeling of inadequacy which began to eat away at me. I was looking for a particular quote I like, but could not find the source… Anyway, I obviously cannot take credit for this expression. 1
Looking back on my life, I have dealt with imposter syndrome many times before. I was never Swedish enough when I lived in Sweden. I felt extremely inept when I first set foot in Marianopolis. I guess I am sensitive to feeling out of place. Most of the time, though, I have been able to overcome these things by gaining confidence over time. I recognize that overcoming imposter syndrome is primarily an internal battle, so possibly not the best topic for a persuasive Quid article. However, I decided to write about this because it has been on my mind for a long time. Maybe sharing these reflections will help me deal with my imposter syndrome by holding me accountable. Perhaps, I can even make you think twice about dissing youthful naïveté. Even now, I fear that this was a naïve article to write. I would hate to suggest that I cannot take a good joke about CEGEP kids. That would be far too sensitive of me. Let me reassure you that I have a sense of humour. I particularly love jokes at my own expense… Oh, wait. Well. If I am going to own my own perspective from now on… I guess I should share how I feel about jokes: they are fine, but I would rather not feel mocked. There is a grey area there. My advice is to use your good judgement. 9
Vol 44 ● No 13
UN ÉVÉNEMENT FRANCOPHONE À NE PAS MANQUER! Championnat national canadien de débat oratoire francophone Félix Desrochers | 1L
Avertissement : Les informations qui suivent pourraient varier. Restez à l’affût en suivant la page « Club de débat francophone McGill » sur Facebook. S’il existe une chose que nous, étudiants en droit, savourons par-dessus tout, c’est débattre. Que nous ayons tort ou raison, nous aimons articuler des arguments solides pour défendre les idées qui nous tiennent à cœur. Il ne suffit que l’instant d’une courte promenade le long des couloirs du Chancellor Day Hall pour être submergé par la camaraderie et la ferveur intellectuelle ambiante. Ce n’est pas pour rien que la Faculté est le berceau de grands plaideurs, politiciens et hommes d’affaires. Le débat et l’art oratoire l’habitent. Bien débattre, par contre, ce n’est pas un jeu d’enfants. Pour être en mesure de convaincre son auditoire dans des milieux autant intellectuellement stimulants que le Parlement, l’Assemblée nationale, la Cour suprême ou McGill Law, il faut savoir manier l’art de l’argumentation rationnelle. Indéniablement, cela demande de la pratique, et pour se pratiquer, il faut saisir toutes les opportunités qui s’offrent à nous. La fin de semaine du 18 et 19 mars, l’occasion parfaite se présentera à nos portes. Se déroulera à quelques pas de la Faculté l’édition 2023 du Championnat national canadien de débat oratoire francophone, la plus grande compétition francophone de débat formel au Canada, organisée par le Club de débat francophone de l’Université McGill et la Ligue de débat universitaire et collégiale.
QUID NOVI • 14 FEB 2022
C’est une chance à ne pas manquer!
Renseignements importants Où : les bureaux montréalais de Norton Rose Fulbright, 1 Place Ville Marie, Montréal Quand : les 18 et 19 mars 2023 Comment : s’inscrire en suivant le lien calicotab.com/registration/cn-2023/ Vous ne connaissez pas les rudiments du débat formel et vous voulez en savoir plus? C’est effectivement une excellente idée que de bien s’informer sur cette discipline avant de se lancer droit dans l’arène. Afin que vous puissiez maitriser les notions de base et gagner de l’expérience, le Club de débat francophone de McGill organise des pratiques hebdomadaires, auxquelles tous peuvent prendre part. Veuillezvous référer à la page Facebook du « Club de débat francophone McGill » pour plus d’informations sur l’horaire et l’emplacement des pratiques et contacter l’exécutif au clubdedebatmcgillu@gmail.com si vous avez des questions. Furthermore, participating in the Club’s activities provides you with the best opportunity to improve your speaking skills in French. A significant number of Anglophones and Allophones have already joined its ranks and have seen notable improvements in their mastery of la langue de Molière. Allez, au jeu!
OVERHEARD Prof. Adamski [explaining fiduciary duties in Ethics]: Nothing says you can’t have more than one girlfriend or one boyfriend, all you need is to ensure full disclosure and consent! 2L student definitely paying attention in property: I just don’t think a cheese grater is an appropriate Valentine’s gift.
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MEET THE TEAM Félix Desrochers |1L
Bilingual Columnist/Chroniqueur Bilingue
Where are you from / where have you lived? I have lived all my life on the South Shore of Montreal. If anyone knows the municipalities of Varennes and Boucherville, that is where I am from.
nir avocat, mais j’ai toujours été très intéressé par le milieu juridique. J’étais donc très content quand j’ai reçu la confirmation de mon admission. Qu’aimes-tu faire quand tu n’étudies pas ? Je m’implique dans des initiatives étudiantes ou politiques. Sinon, je regarde des séries/films et je lis des livres en espagnol pour continuer d’en apprendre plus sur cette langue que j’adore.
What drew you to the Quid? I saw the Quid as an opportunity to engage with two subjects that particularly passionate me, namely politics and personal finance. Writing each article enables me to reflect on specific issues and articulate ideas, free from the constraints of legal methodology. It has been a very enjoyable experience thus far.
As-tu un quartier préféré à Montréal? Non. Malheureusement, je n’ai pas eu l’occasion de me faire une tête sur le sujet encore, ayant à peine arpenté les rues du centre-ville jusqu’à maintenant.
What did you do before McGill Law? I studied at Champlain College, St. Lambert. I did a diploma in world studies and math. Quel était ton cours préféré avant de commencer à la faculté de droit? Les cours de mathématiques, ce qui peut paraitre surprenant venant d’un étudiant en droit.
Was law school a dream come true or a happy accident? Do you want to be a lawyer? Je ne sais pas encore si je veux deve-
Où aimerais-tu travailler dans cinq ans? Excellente question. Dans cinq ans, j’aimerais, dans un monde idéal, être à l’étranger en train de faire une maitrise, soit en administration des affaires ou en fiscalité.
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Vol 44 ● No 13
CO-EDITORS-IN-CHIEF TAKE ON MCGILL HOCKEY NIGHT University Sports: Fun for the Sporty and Non-Sporty Alike Anna McAllister| 2L , Zack Goobie| 3L
On February 9th, Mike Waxman and McGill Men’s Hockey organized a hockey night for many faculties across McGill. The McGill Redbirds took on the uOttawa Gee-Gees in an OUA (Ontario University Athletics) regular season matchup. Both Co-Editors-in-Chief are alumni of uOttawa and wanted to share their unique perspectives on their experience. Zack Goobie
QUID NOVI • 14 FEB 2022
Canadian University sports are generally extremely underrated sources of entertainment. Everyone always looks to American college sports, but Canadian University Men’s hockey easily rivals NCAA division 1. Colleges in the United States are just significantly better than Canadian schools at marketing their teams, fostering school pride, and having bigger budgets. Ok enough of ranting, let’s get into the game. This was my third time seeing the Redbirds play at McConnell Arena, and each game hasn’t disappointed. Despite losing 3-2 in overtime, it was a tight matchup throughout. It was nice to see a decent crowd on hand, with many McGill Law students. Events like these where you have an excuse to take out your obligatory McGill sweater that you earned with great grades and a love for transsytemia encourage student pride and make prouder alumni. Admittedly, it was difficult to pick which team I would cheer for after covering the uOttawa Gee-Gees hockey team for close to three years. However, I swallowed my Garnet and Grey pride and pulled out my McGill merch. This game came down to special teams 12
with the Gee-Gees scoring three markers on the man advantage, while McGill countered with two. The Redbirds held a 35-27 advantage in the shots column, but Jean-Philippe Tourigny was solid in net for uOttawa making 33 saves. The Redbirds could not stay disciplined down the stretch, and their two third period penalties cost the home team their 2-1 lead, and ultimately the game. Redbirds’ goals from Mitchell Prowse and Jordan-Ty Fournier were not enough to beat uOttawa as Charles-Antoine Roy scored the game-winner on a nice one-timer feed from Daniel Hardie on a 4 on 3 powerplay in overtime. Anna McAllister While Zack may be our resident sports expert, those who know me can attest to my unabashed pride in being a McGill student. It was a no-brainer for me that I would be cheering for McGill. While I love my alma mater, uOttawa was but a means to an end to get into McGill Law. As such, I love any excuse to be obnoxious about attending McGill because, obviously, we are the best school in Canada. Another thing that may differentiate the way Zack and I perceive university sports is that I, despite not being a sports fan, have attended a number of University of Oklahoma Sooners college football games. You may think that witnessing the enormous production that is American college football would taint my opinion of Canadian university sports. You could not be more incorrect. I am quite fond of the low-stakes and casual atmosphere of Canadian university sports. When I go to a McGill game, I don’t have to get to the game extremely
early, worry about intrusive crowds of people, or comfort my boyfriend for the next two to four business days if the Oklahoma Sooners lose. For me, the university sports experience begins long before the actual game. First, drinks and nachos are had at my house with friends while we catch up on the week. This is essential to the sports experience for someone who doesn’t actually care about sports as A) the drinks make the sports more tolerable, and B) having already had the chance to catch up with friends, you are less likely to distract them with your chatter during the actual game. While I couldn’t tell you who scored or what the final score actually ended up being - I can tell you that it was an incredible atmosphere of McGill pride. It was a fun night out with friends and a wonderful occasion to see my incredible co-editor in his sporty element. I also intend on using this as leverage to get Zack to attend a musical with me for another collaborative piece (he does not know this yet, surprise!). Speaking of Zack, I find it odd he left out that he was the end-of-period entertainment as he attempted to score from center ice (who let him on the ice with no skates and a torn ACL is beyond me). Though I would have preferred to watch him sing the national anthem at the beginning of the game, his performance was certainly a highlight for me as I actually knew one of the ‘players’ on the ice! All in all, I cannot recommend McGill hockey enough to all our readers. For a low-stakes fun night that is a great excuse to get out of the house and let your Martlet flag fly, sports fanatics and sports novices alike will be sure to have an enjoyable time.
WITH MIDTERMS COMING, THE QUID WILL BE TAKING A SHORT BREAK. GOOD LUCK EVERYONE, SEE YOU AGAIN ON MARCH 14TH ! 13
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Vol 44 ● No 13
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