I have been spending a good portion of my time outside of my regular duties with mooting competitions and writing a paper. One task is seemingly very practice minded while one purely academic. I see it differently. Engaging in an analysis of a case decision produces a repository of creative and imaginative arguments, which can have practical impact in court. To understand a case decision is to embark on a legal and literary adventure that serves as the inspiration, the creative spark, for new unknown approaches to old known areas of the law.
To be sure, at first glance, doing a theft under case in provincial court has little to do with a Supreme Court of Canada decision on s 8privacy rights. Or does it? Theft is a public law offence yet by its very nature it is about private rights. This is mine not yours. It is about territory and possession. But hidden within the weeds, within the legal structure of theft, is the conflict between public and private which s 8 engages. This conflict can be seen, for instance, in the defence of colour of rightthat is embedded into the elements of theft. Although mistake of law is generally no excuse, when it comes to believing what is mine is mine, it provides a complete answer to a theft charge. That shows private rights abound in criminal law, but privacy, as a personal motif, is an entirely different matter.
Private rights are not necessarily privacy rights. Yet, there are distinct parallels. In by-gone days when a phone was static, involved a dial, and could not fit in your pocket, the privacy concepts protected by s. 8 were territorial and oriented around the immediacy of personal space. Although s. 8 was in place to protect the person and not a place, it did protect the person’s personal territorial space. Territorial space may not be as solid as territory as land, but it has density to it and can be visualized. Picture the street view of Google mapand the Pegmanwho can be plucked up, carried, and placed into a circle of space. We are that Pegman when it comes to s. 8. Every placement serves to define our s. 8 rights with a property-like quality. This is my space not yours. That is until modernity arrived to displace the solidity of territory. And with that newness came a totally different conception of privacy, cut free from the shackles of Google. Or, maybe more accurately, detached from the map that is Google to be re-imagined in the same cyberspace of Google, the internet platform.
How this new formulation of privacy impacts old considerations of property interests me. Section 8 search and seizure law has kept pace with modernity and changing societal values, but property law seems to lag far behind. Theft, for instance, involves the taking or conversion of “anything” under s. 322 of the Criminal Code. This taking deprives of the owner of that “anything.” Although, the “anything” is typically a tangible thing, it may consist of a conversion of an intangible, as is the case of a taking of a bank credit for instance. However, even this unseen anything is seen in the inner eye. We can all visualize and objectify a bank credit into money in our wallet. The solidity of which cannot be denied.
The difficulty arises when the “anything” of theft is an idea or better yet as in R v Stewart, a 1988 decision of the Supreme Court of Canada, the theft of confidential information. There, a document containing confidential information, was copied, and therefore not considered a taking of “anything.” The information was still available to the original owner of the information and there was no deprivation. Policy dictated that such wrongs be righted through the civil law not underlined by the condemnation of the criminal sanction. This narrow view of what can be stolen may be driven by policy or even, as Justice Lamer suggested, by the desire to let the lawmakers in parliament create such crimes, but it is nevertheless an antiquated approach to what a person “owns” or “possesses.”
The decision in Stewartcertainly does not wear well when viewed in the s. 8 context. It also confirms that in the property crime world tangibles, or those things that can be objectified, matter most. In today’s connected world, it is mind over matter as tangibles dissolve into a web of technology. Parliament, at least, paid Stewartsome heed and did legislate crimes relating to the misuse of computer images and data. But these new offences seem to be a concession to Stewart, not in defiance of it. True, confidential information can be memorized and copied leaving the information still available to the original owner or originating source of that information. It is not, however, the availability of such information that impacts the deprivation resulting from the taking of that information. By taking the confidential information, through cutting and pasting or through storing it in the Cloud, the original owner or source of that information is deprived of control of that information and deprived of choosing when, how and in what format that information would be released and used.
We can push the property envelope even further if we look at “taking” through s. 8 Charter REP (reasonable expectation of privacy) eyes. A taking of confidential information would be considered a search and seizure pursuant to s. 8 of the Charter. In s. 8, we see a movement away from the castle-like solidity of territorial privacy to the ephemeral empty cyber spaces where we build castles in the wires. It’s in s. 8 where the full expression of privacy as a virtue is protected and nurtured. Ideas, thoughts and confidences do not just reflect an attitude (despite thoughts to the contrary in R v Benson,2009 ONSC 1480) but form an individual’s biographical core. It is that taking of data, that deprivation of choice in terms of when and how we disclose our secrets, which gives property perhaps a new and different meaning under the criminal law.