Quebec’s Draft Constitution Shows the Perils of Illiberal Governance

Two months after its unveiling, Quebec’s draft constitution pitched as a proud statement of shared values has instead exposed deep fractures within the province. What was meant to unify Quebecers has quickly become a lightning rod for controversy, drawing criticism from legal experts, academics, doctors, and civil society groups who see in it the unmistakable signs of a state drifting toward illiberalism.

At the heart of the backlash is a simple contradiction: a law that claims to defend rights and freedoms but simultaneously limits citizens’ ability to challenge the government. The bill includes a striking provision that bars publicly funded organizations from using that money to contest legislation deemed to protect “the fundamental characteristics of Quebec.” On paper, it sounds like fiscal responsibility; in practice, it amounts to shielding the government from accountability.

Justice Minister Simon Jolin-Barrette insists taxpayers shouldn’t foot the legal bill for challenges to laws such as Bill 21 Quebec’s secularism law, now headed for the Supreme Court. But critics ask: if universities, nonprofits, and community groups cannot use public funds, what resources are realistically left? Marcel-Olivier Nadeau, president of the Quebec bar, posed the blunt question: “What money are they going to use?” The chilling effect is hard to deny. A government confident in its principles should not fear scrutiny in court.

The repercussions extend far beyond secularism. Universities warn that the bill could stifle challenges to laws that affect academic freedom, leading to self-censorship and institutional caution the opposite of a vibrant democratic society. And while the government touts the entrenchment of abortion rights as a progressive move, hundreds of physicians have raised alarms. Their argument is compelling: once a right is codified, it becomes a legal target. What begins as protection can quickly become a limitation. As more than 400 doctors wrote in Le Devoir, “Any law on abortion ultimately becomes a law against abortion.” The government’s intention may be noble, but the unintended consequences could be profound.

This is not to say the legislation is without supporters. Some groups, like Droits collectifs Québec, argue the bill strengthens Quebec’s autonomy and advances the province’s constitutional identity. Even they, however, note the lack of transparency in its drafting a complaint echoed across nearly every sector. The rushed, closed-door process has only amplified public distrust.

Perhaps most startling is that the Quebec chapter of the International Commission of Jurists has taken the rare step of appealing to the United Nations. Their warning is stark: the bill elevates collective identity above individual rights, particularly those of minorities and Indigenous peoples. When respected jurists begin sounding the alarm on an international stage, it signals more than academic concern it suggests democratic norms are at risk.

The government maintains a comfortable majority, and many observers fear the consultations beginning this week are more performance than persuasion. Constitutional scholar Stéphane Beaulac put it plainly: “I’m very pessimistic that there will be anything changed.” When lawmakers appear unwilling to engage meaningfully with dissent, they reinforce the very criticisms they seek to dispel.

At best, the draft constitution is a misguided attempt to solidify Quebec’s cultural self-confidence. At worst, it represents a quiet but deliberate shift toward authoritarian tendencies limiting dissent, weakening civil liberties, and concentrating power under the guise of national pride.

If Quebec truly wants a constitution that unifies, it must embrace open dialogue, not restrict it. It must strengthen rights, not endanger them. And above all, it must trust its people enough to let them question their own government.

Anything less is, indeed, a rabbit hole one from which it may be difficult to climb back.