Robocalling is largely unregulated in Canada.
by Geoffrey Stevens
Robocalling is a relatively new phenomenon in Canada. More correctly, it's been around for a while, but has only recently become a political issue — what with "Pierre Poutine" and his throwaway cell phone in Guelph and growing evidence that automated telephone calls were used in efforts to mislead voters or to suppress turnout, or both, in many ridings in the 2011 federal election.
We know the robocalling reached far beyond Guelph. Protests were being held yesterday across the country. Elections Canada, RCMP and possibly the CRTC (which regulates telecoms) are investigating, at last count, 31,000 complaints. We don't know how long these investigations will take. (Given the measured pace at which such investigations customarily unfold, one could speculate that Stephen Harper and his ministers will be holding their cabinet meetings in a home for aged privy councillors long before the investigators' reports disturb their slumber.)
But we do know that, in addition to reaching far, the use of robocalls reaches high. I have seen some invoices and correspondence from Alberta that show several prominent Conservatives, including cabinet ministers Rona Ambrose, Jason Kenney and, yes, Prime Minster Harper himself, did business with RackNine, the outfit at the centre of the Guelph affair, in last year's election.
I am not suggesting there was anything improper or illegal in their use of RackNine. As far as I can tell, they used it to conduct virtual town hall meetings with constituents or to remind party supporters to get out and vote. There's nothing wrong with that.
The problem occurs when political operatives cross the line between informing and reminding on one side of the line and misdirecting and misleading on the other.
As the investigators in Ottawa poke through the thousands of complaints, they may detect a pattern. A voter — perhaps an older one — receives a phone call from a real person. The caller may say they represent a polling firm or a political party. In the course of the interview, the caller asks whether the voter intends to support the Conservative candidate. If the answer is no, the same voter later receives an automated call, a robocall, advising him or her that the location of their polling station has been changed (when, of course, it hasn't).
South of the border in this presidential election year, legislators in some states are trying to combat the epidemic of robocalling and its insidious cousin, the "push poll." A push poll is also known as a "negative persuasion" poll. A voter receives a brief phone call, generally an automated one. Disguised as a legitimate public
We do know that, in addition to reaching far, the use of robocalls reaches high.
Lying about opposing candidates (or leaders, for that matter) may be bad form, but it is not illegal in Canada. Some US states have enacted laws. New Hampshire, for example, has an anti-push poll law that carries a maximum penalty of $1,000 per phone call, to an apparent maximum of $1.4 million. (I say "apparent" because offenders, and some have been caught, tend to draw per-call fines in the range of $30 to $40.)
One approach in the US is to require
It's not as simple as it may seem. US telemarketers may succeed in invoking the First Amendment to the Constitution (freedom of speech) to liberate political robocalls from legal constraints. In Canada, the Constitution is not likely to be an insurmountable obstacle. A law that would require robocall users to identify, up front, themselves and their purpose — with their address and phone number — could go a long way to stamp out a pernicious practice.
About Geoffrey Stevens
Cambridge resident Geoffrey Stevens, an author and former Ottawa columnist and managing editor of the Globe and Mail, teaches political science at Wilfrid Laurier University and the University of Guelph. He welcomes comments at the address below. This article appeared in the Waterloo Region Record and the Guelph Mercury.
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