The Case Against a Son of Sam Law By Katherine Govier
This article originally appeared in Globe and Mail, Friday, October 17, 1997. It is reprinted here with permission from PEN Canada. To date, the most compelling argument against Liberal MP Tom Wappel's
so-called Son of Sam legislation, which has been passed by the Commons
and is sitting in the Senate, derives from Clause 2(b) of the Canadian
Charter of Rights and Freedoms: Writing or speaking about a crime
is not, in itself, a crime. Therefore, advances or royalties are
not "proceeds of crime." Moreover, it follows that a law
which restricts payment or confiscates copyright for published accounts
of crime violates the right to freedom of expression by discriminating
on the basis of content. This line of reasoning appears to elude Mr. Wappel and the members
of the Uniform Law Commission, an Interprovincial committee of bureaucrats
who continue to push forward legislation that ostensibly seeks to
prevent serial killers like Paul Bernardo and Clifford Olson from
earning royalties from books about their crimes. One such law already
exists in Ontario, having been hastily enacted by the NDP in the
wake of the Bernardo murders. What's more, the legislation covers not only the criminals themselves
but family members, dependents and collaborators, i.e. co-authors.
So that, for instance, two-time Governor-General's Award winner
Rudy Wiebe, about to go to press with a work he co-authored with
a native woman serving time for murder, would lose his right to
control its copyright. But as is often the case with laws that limit speech, the proposed
law is ridiculously broad. It would end up punishing the wrong authors
and stifling all expression about crime and the justice system.
In its brief to Parliament, PEN Canada points out that such a law
- because it includes works produced "within or outside Canada"
- covers books such as The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Thoreau's
Civil Disobedience and Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment. Closer to home, the law would apply to such Canadian books as Roger
Caron's Go-Boy, Patti Starr's Tempting Fate and Kyle
Brown's Scapegoat. It would cover people wrongly accused
of a crime, as well as those who had completed their prison terms.
PEN director Stephen Reid - who wrote his first novel, Jackrabbit
Parole, in prison - will also be directly affected, despite
the fact that he considers the act of writing to be "an expression
of my willingness to participate in orderly society." And, in sweeping family members under the proposed ban, the law
would prohibit Mr. Reid's wife, the distinguished poet Susan Musgrave,
from publishing any work about her relationship with Mr. Reid, his
imprisonment or his crime. Ms. Musgrave, currently chair of the
Writers' Union of Canada, represents this country internationally
through her award-winning poetry as well as her work on behalf of
other writers. There's another consideration here. Published works written by
convicted criminals are few and far between. Mr. Reid observes that
since 1982 there have been just eight books published in English
by prisoners. "None of these stories 'celebrate' the criminal,"
he wrote in a letter accompanying PEN's brief. "Rather, they
illuminate the issues of racism, misogyny, child abuse, substance
addictions, poor choices, bad experiences and harsh confinement." Ultimately, the U.S. experience in this area should serve as a
guide for Canadian legislators. In states like New York, lawmakers
passed such laws to prevent notorious serial killers from becoming
bestselling authors. But the U.S. Supreme Court struck down New
York's Son of Sam law, as well as those enacted by other state legislatures,
for the simple reason that they contravened out rights to free speech. Unnecessary, discriminatory and almost certainly unconstitutional, Bill C-220 would deservedly meet the same fate as its U.S. counterparts. In this light, federal politicians should be asking themselves: Why not just dispense with it now? Author Katherine Govier is the president of PEN Canada.
Published in Sources,
Number 41, Winter 1998.
Sources |