Category: Uncategorized

Sample Essay: Canadian Indigenous Law

The Crown’s Fiduciary Duty and Enforcing Good Faith Contractual Negotiations

The Crown has a special fiduciary duty owed to First Nation communities which is commonly understood as a public law power. This creates a lacuna in the Crown’s duty with respect to private law dealings between corporations and First Nations, particularly contractual negotiations. More specifically, private corporations can opportunistically dictate negotiations and push First Nations to consent to unfavorable deals.  The Crown’s fiduciary duty must expand to protect First Nation peoples in negotiations with corporations by enforcing a duty of good faith in negotiations between corporations and First Nation peoples. The current status of the duty of good faith in Canadian contract law is burgeoning and is silent on negotiations. What is certain is that the private law of contracts is not concerned about distributive justice and background conditions of injustice, and therefore the Crown’s public law power needs to have a role in private law negotiations to address background injustices specific to First Nation communities.

The main upshot of the Crown enforcing a duty of good faith in negotiations among corporations and First Nations is that it ensures that First Nations are consenting to agreements in a more robust manner and shifts the onus of attaining this robust consent to corporations. This would mitigate corporations from opportunistic practices and provide First Nations with stronger claims for damages. More theoretically, this line of argumentation can be used to illustrate the general utility of private law principles for developing jurisprudence around indigenous law.

Fiduciary Duty of the Crown

The historical context of the Crown’s fiduciary duty appears in the context of analyzing Aboriginal rights.[1] As John Borrows explains,[2] it is important to note that Aboriginal rights are understood as sui generis or of its own kind. In Guerin,[3] the Supreme Court of Canada (“SCC”) described the nature of Aboriginal title as conceptually distinct from other common law rights; in other words, while they are a part of Canadian common law, they maintain their own separate existence. Aboriginal title predated Crown sovereignty and are inherent, and it does not depend on an affirmation by the Crown or have to be understood in terms of common law doctrines.[4] In Delgamuukw,[5] Justice Lambert of the appeal court observed that “the jurisprudential analysis of the concepts underlying ‘rights’ in common law or western legal thought is of little or no help in understanding the rights now held by aboriginal peoples…”[6] This special category of rights arose because First Nations’ treaty rights were trivialized and narrowly understood to be at the sole discretion of the Crown.[7] This undermined the role of indigenous normative orders in determining Aboriginal rights. As Bruce Ryder argues, the SCC repeatedly fails to apply the “same rigour to the question of extinguishment of Aboriginal self-government as they did to their analysis of the extinguishment of Aboriginal title.”[8] Sui generis Aboriginal rights are ideally supposed to bridge two legal regimes and give “equal weight” on each perspective.[9]

The current contours of the fiduciary duty of the Crown remains open textured. In Calder,[10] pre-Charter Aboriginal rights was understood by reference to common law, which looked to analogues in private law. In the private law context, fiduciary obligations are typically understood to arise “where there is a relation in which the principal’s interests can be affected by, and are therefore dependent on, the manner in which the fiduciary uses the discretion which has been delegated to him.”[11] In Sparrow,[12] the Crown’s fiduciary duty is understood as a constraint in Crown power in interfering with Aboriginal rights. More specifically, after an Aboriginal right is established, there is a further justificatory step for a possible infringement, and one must ask whether the infringement is consistent with the Crown’s fiduciary duty. In Gladstone,[13] the Court similarly elaborates the Crown’s fiduciary duty in terms of minimal infringement, fair compensation, and consultation. Kent McNeil describes the Crown’s fiduciary duty to “arise in circumstances where the Crown has assumed discretionary control over Aboriginal peoples and their interests.”[14] The Crown’s fiduciary duty depends on indigenous land interest being inalienable except upon surrendering it to the Crown. The surrender to the Crown must happen before transferring any land interest to a third party.  The content of the fiduciary duties has often been understood in the context of purchases of First Nations’ lands and expressed in the forms of a duty to consult and accommodate. The rationale is to protect First Nations people from unfavorable, coercive, or fraudulent deals.

Fiduciary Duty in Negotiation

There is a need for a more robust notion of the Crown’s fiduciary duty, particularly in contractual negotiations between private corporations and First Nations. Dayna Scott demonstrates this point by exploring the question of consent in extraction contracts.[15] Economically, Canada is heavily reliant on mineral and resource extraction, which are often on First Nation lands. Scott focuses on extraction contracts which includes references to “mutual benefit agreements,” specifically “impact benefit agreements” (“IBA”) and similar “relationship agreements.”[16] Private corporations have had the most to gain from contractual laws and effectively control negotiations. Interestingly, the Crown, a non-party to IBAs are “not only tangentially involved in the negotiations, [they] basically [set] the terms”[17] Scott argues that consent by contract produces a market for consent to gain control over resource extraction on First Nation lands. The state has a covert and key role in this process, and it is ultimately at the detriment of First Nations.

By questioning the veracity of consent in such contracts, Scott identifies the failure of the Crown in acting as a fiduciary for First Nations. The question of consent is a core issue in contract law. Scott draws upon critical legal studies literature, particularly the contractual realist observation that contracts ultimately benefits the wealthier party. A part of a legally enforceable contract is that there are no impediments to consent and that consent is freely given.[18] There is a crude assumption that IBAs are equated with a First Nation community’s consent and represent the will and assent of the entire First Nation community. Ideally, expressions of the expectations of parties and arising contractual obligations inform the proper remedies available upon breach. Remedies often inform economic calculations of efficient breach or investment into further compliance. Notably, Scott argues that remedies are rarely invoked in the IBA context. Without a right to redress, it appears that the putative contractual rights of First Nations have little substance. The pre-contractual dealings are clearly partial towards corporations and there needs to be greater protection for First Nations in the negotiation process. Yet the role the state currently plays is merely alleviating any controversy by acquiring superficial consent, and this is inconsistent with the honor of the Crown and fails to act in the best interest of First nations.

The private law framework may offer more advantages for Aboriginal rights and empowerment than the current public law regime. It provides a more flexible regime for parties to negotiate and mitigate risks. For IBAs, as some argue, the private law of contracts has a gap-filling function for inadequate public law regulatory and constitutional regimes.[19] For instance, companies may mitigate the risk of reputation harming disputes and litigation driven delays, and First Nations parties may mitigate the adverse effect of projects and secure enhanced environmental protection beyond public law standards. Scott, however, argues that this picture “paints the state into too passive a role” whereas the reality is that the state actively influences contractual outcomes; more sharply, Scott argues that the private law regime “facilitates the state’s provision of access to First Nation lands for extractive capital.”[20]

For corporations, IBAs are a tool to manage risks associated with extracting on First Nation lands. To this end, corporations may push consent into onerous terms, such as an obligation for Chiefs to deter protesters.[21] Of course, these are common within the M&A world between corporations and sophisticated parties. In these contexts, corporations with more power have more negotiating leverage; a more balanced ground would be a merger of equals. However, between corporations and First Nations, consent is almost already assumed and the only room for negotiation is the compensation package.[22] IBAs, the rationale goes, are understood as the best option to get resources back into First Nation communities. It is possible to question whether this is a paternalistic view based on liberal notions of capitalism that does not consider the internal objectives and priorities of First Nation communities. Even factually, it is not clear that the economic benefits have lasting future results and can harm communities in their reliant on the temporary revenue stream.[23] In this light, IBAs are a part of a larger agenda of colonialism and a way of complacency with the failures of the pubic law scheme in empowering Indigenous sovereignty.

The issue of attaining substantive consent can be addressed through a number of ways. One possible way is addressing bad faith negotiations by corporations; as a corollary, the solution is enforcing good faith negotiations. This can be accomplished by expanding protections of First Nation communities in negotiations through expanding the Crown’s fiduciary duty whereby the Crown’s fiduciary duties are triggered in circumstances of negotiating private agreements. Similar to the justification animating Geurin, the Crown’s failure to mitigate bad faith would be a failure of their fiduciary duty.

Good Faith Negotiations

There is currently no duty of good faith enumerated with respect to the Crown’s fiduciary duty for negotiations between First Nations and other parties. To be clear, the Crown’s duty is cast as a public law power and, even in a private law context, there is privity of contracts which gives the Crown no basis to interfere in private agreements unless they are acting as an agent for First Nations. However, as earlier indicated, the Crown factually plays a background role in shaping negotiations through its regulatory powers. Arguably, the rationale behind the Crown’s fiduciary duty to protect the interests of First Nations is consistent with using its powers to enforce a duty of good faith in negotiations between corporations and First Nations. For instance, in Haida Nation,[24] the Crown’s fiduciary obligation is triggered even before an Aboriginal rights claim is crystalized—as long as the claim is reasonable, the Crown must act in accordance with their fiduciary duty. The suggestion is that the Crown’s fiduciary duty can be expanded as long as it is consistent with the rationale of protecting indigenous interests. To return to the negotiation context, it would amount to an operationalization of the Crown’s fiduciary duty by using the current contractual duty of good faith as an analytic aid or loose analogy.

The current doctrine of good faith in Canadian contract law is embedded in Bhasin.[25] In short, the SCC concluded that a non-renewal clause was exercised in bad faith because it was contrary to its purpose and carried out dishonestly. In general terms, a duty of good faith goes beyond strict contractual rights. A duty of good faith prevents conduct “while consonant with the letter of a contract, exhibits dishonesty, ill will, improper motive or similar departures from reasonable business expectations.”[26] The SCC explicitly acknowledge good faith in order “to develop the common law to keep in step with the “dynamic and evolving fabric of our society” where it can do so in an incremental fashion.”[27] In Bhasin, four specific doctrines flowed out of the “general organizing principle” of good faith: a duty of cooperation between the parties to achieve the objects of the contract;[28] a duty to exercise contractual discretion in good faith;[29] a duty not to evade contractual obligations in bad faith;[30] and a duty of honest performance.[31] The main takeaway from good faith is analyzing the shared purpose of an agreement, which goes towards the wellbeing of First Nations. This would mean that enforcing a duty of good faith in negotiations between First Nations and corporations would obligate corporations scrutinize how the contract would substantially contribute to the wellbeing of First Nations.

Good faith can be used to inform the Crown’s role in negotiations between corporations and First Nations—that is, to ensure good faith negotiations between corporations and First Nation peoples. An analogy is the lawyer who negotiates plea deals on behalf of their client. The lawyer is a fiduciary to the client and has a role in ensuring that the best deal is struck with the prosecutor. Ideally, this entails ensuring that all negotiations from the prosecutor, which ultimately only impacts the client, are conducted in good faith. A prosecutor may try to use, for example, the client’s lack of resources for a strong defense or try to intimidate the client by seeking a maximum penalty. This would be bad faith negotiations since the prosecutor is abusing their discretion.[32] At this point, the lawyer, as a fiduciary of the client, should step in and address this bad faith negotiations: perhaps they will move forward with a trial, perhaps they will report the prosecutor, and so forth. The analogy breaks here since the Crown has much more power to ensure that corporations negotiate with First Nations in good faith.

The current doctrine of good faith clearly does not apply to pre-contractual negotiations.[33] There are rules in contract law against misrepresentation and unconscionability, but there are no rules sensitive against background injustices or protecting against bad bargains. Thus, corporations have no duty of good faith when negotiating with First Nations, and this leads to a number of unjust contracts to the disadvantage of First Nations. Scott also argued that the state also has an active role in these unjust agreements. If this is true, the state can instead change their role into ensuring that there are good faith negotiations between corporations and First Nations. Contract law is about corrective justice and regulates interactions between parties. It does little to correct background injustices, which would be the domain of public law and distributive justice. However, the sui generis nature of the fiduciary duty of the Crown can go beyond the strictures of contract law.

To be clear, the idea here is not that the fiduciary duty of the Crown necessitates good faith between the Crown and First Nations in contractual dealings. There is clearly already a duty of good faith couched in the Crown’s fiduciary duty. The argument here is that the fiduciary duty of the Crown extends to using public law powers to ensure that private negotiations between corporations and First Nations are being done in good faith. On the face of it, this is a radical violation of private law, especially the core contract law principle of the freedom to contract. Traditional views on the separation of public law and private law understand the purpose of public law to govern relations between states and the citizens, and private law to govern relations between citizens. Many legal realists challenge and collapse the distinction between public law and private law.[34] Contract law is often understood to be the purest expressions of the autonomy of private citizens to order affairs with one another.

To return to the problem Scott outline, allied with legal realists, Scott challenges the idea that consent represents free and informed consent or that mere consent represents a legitimate ground for contentious extraction projects. State actors use public law to influence private negotiations, the terms of the contract, and facilitate the agreement process. Ultimately, this is not favorable to Indigenous land interests. Public law of the settler state determines. for instance. the approval of permits. According to Scott, what is problematic about IBAs is that communities do not actually hold veto rights and this brings to disrepute whether there is actual consent to these projects. The background conditions of injustice and imbalances in power are important for true notions of consent. Contracts are not sufficient to capture the autonomy or the self-determination of First Nation communities, especially in the background context of inequality in negotiations. In this light, contracts are powerful devices for shirking the duty of the Crown by attaining thin forms of consent from First Nation people. A richer form of consent is needed, and Scott argues that contracts cannot provide this, rather it is the place of new constitutional orders.

However, to depart from Scott, it may be possible to appeal to the tools of private law to address this issue. The state needs to be held accountable for its fiduciary duty in the negotiation process to ensure that negotiations are held in good faith. This can mean that public law powers of regulatory or permit approval are used to empower First Nation communities by acting as an incentive for corporations to act in good faith. Moreover, without permits, the extraction process cannot continue and this can act as a functional veto right. The state is currently doing the opposite of acting as a fiduciary: they are using public law powers to act in favor of corporations and facilitating extraction agreements. The state might be acting under the faulty assumption that extraction contracts are beneficial for First Nation communities by injecting more money into the community; more cynically, the state might be siding with corporations for general policy aims of stimulating the state economy without giving much thought to First Nation communities. In any case, the Crown’s fiduciary duty should include ensuring that consent from First Nation communities is more robust. To this end, good faith negotiations between corporations and First Nations must reflect the true autonomy of First Nations. This includes, among others, veto rights, sensitivity to assent as conceptualized by Indigenous legal orders, and a view to mutually beneficial terms that actually contribute to the long-term benefit of First Nations. 

The upshot of this is that there can be more robust forms of consent and stronger claims for damages. The example of extraction can be contentious because they are governed by conflicting norms. For instance, there are clearly numerous Canadian regulatory laws relating to the environment, but there are also Indigenous normative orders that must be considered. Yet with a Crown-backed duty of good faith negotiations, the burden shifts to the corporations to ensure that negotiations are approached in good faith. This would shift the existing power towards First Nations. A practical step is having lawyers who are both sophisticated in indigenous norms and needs, and also sophisticated with commercial norms of negotiation.

The Utility of Private Law and Objections

Private law theory is imaginative and diverse in its development of legal concepts and methods of analysis. However, much of the scholarship in this area remains siloed and esoteric for discrete doctrines in areas of contracts, torts, property, and fiduciary law. There are some glimpses of using the theoretical toolkit of private law theory for indigenous law, but there is no clear conceptual link between these areas of law. While there are certainly points of fundamental incommensurability between English legal traditions and Indigenous legal traditions, this does not imply an absolute bar on fruitful comparative analyses.

There are some remaining loose threads which need to be addressed. One might object that private law is rooted in western or liberal normative assumptions. It is certainly true that indigenous normative frameworks are vastly different principles and methodologies, but there are shared areas of overlap. For instance, although it is possible to come to the conclusion in different ways, there might be overlap in the idea that sharp business practices are not permitted in negotiations. Still, there is much more research to be done into Indigenous normative frameworks if we are to understand areas of compatibility.

Separately, one may object to the idea that private law concepts are applicable to a public law problem. The Crown’s relationship with First Nations is certainly the domain of public law, but theoretical and abstract concepts from private law are widely applicable. Indeed, the notion of sui generis Aboriginal rights is made with reference to the differences in property law concepts, and the Crown’s fiduciary duty is understood with reference to trust law. Moreover, one might object that such an analysis of private law is too abstract and has no practical application. But we have seen that theory guides practice, and a theory of good faith can have significant practical application in changing current practices of negotiations.

We have seen that the fiduciary duty of the Crown is a public law power that draws on parallels in private law. This sui generis duty is open textured and can be broadened to accommodate modern circumstances. Scott illustrates a need for further protection for First Nations through commercial contract negotiations. I argued that this protection can be achieved under the Crown’s fiduciary duty and operationalized through an analysis of a duty of good faith. This duty of good faith is different from its private law counterpart but can draw on its insights. The principles underlying good faith in contracts aims to prevent manipulation, enhance party rights, and promote contractual relations. This serves to illustrate the utility of private law in issues in indigenous law and how the conceptual tools of private law can assist in addressing public law issues.


[1] Peter W. Hogg & Daniel Styler, “Statutory Limitation of Aboriginal or Treaty Rights: What Counts as Justification” (2015) 1:1 Lakehead LJ 3.

[2] John Borrows & Leonard I Rotman, “The Sui Generis Nature of Aboriginal Rights: Does it Make a Difference” (1997) 36:1 Alta L Rev 9 [Borrows].

[3] Guerin v. The Queen, [1984] 2 SCR 335 [Guerin].

[4] Ibid at 190.

[5] Delgamuukw v. British Columbia, [1997] 3 SCR 1010 [Delgamuukw].

[6] Delgamuukw v. British Columbia, (1993) 104 D.L.R. (4th) 470 at 643-44 (B.C.C.A.).

[7] St. Catharines Milling and Lumber Co. v. R., (1887) 13 SCR 577 at 649.

[8] See Bruce Ryder, “Aborginal Rights and Delgamuukv v. the Queen,” Constitutional Forum. Volume 5, Number 2 (1994), p 43-48.

[9] R v Van der Peet, [1996] 2 SCR 507 at 202 [Van der Peet].

[10] Calder et al. v. Attorney-General of British Columbia, [1973] SCR 313 [Calder].

[11] Ernest J. Weinrib, “The Fiduciary Obligation” (1975) 25:1 U Toronto LJ 1 at p 7.

[12] R v Sparrow, [1990] 1 SCR 1075 [Sparrow].

[13] R v Gladstone, [1996] 2 SCR 723 [Gladstone].

[14] Kent McNeil, “The Crown’s Fiduciary Obligations in the Era of Aboriginal Self-Government” (2009) 88:1 Can B Rev 1 at p 6.

[15] Dayna Nadine Scott, “Extraction Contracting: The Struggle for Control of Indigenous Lands” (April 2020) 119:2 The South Atlantic Quarterly 269 [Scott].

[16] Ibid at p 270-271.

[17] Ibid at p 271.

[18] Ibid at p 271.

[19] Ibid at p 271.

[20] Ibid at p 272

[21] Ibid at p 284.

[22] Ibid at p 278

[23] Ibid at p 280.

[24] Haida Nation v. British Columbia (Minister of Forests), 2004 SCC 73 [Haida Nation]

[25] Bhasin v. Hrynew,2014 SCC 71 [Bhasin].

[26] Ibid at para 29.

[27] Ibid at para 40.

[28] Ibid at para 49.

[29] Ibid at para 50.

[30] Ibid at para 51.

[31] Ibid at para 73.

[32] Palma Paciocco, “Proportionality, Discretion, and the Roles of Judges and Prosecutors at Sentencing” (2014) Can Crim L Rev 18:3.

[33] Neil Finkelstein et al., “Honour among Businesspeople: The Duty of Good Faith and Contracts in the Energy Sector” (2015) 53:2 Alta L Rev 349.

[34] John Henry Merryman, “The Public Law-Private Law Distinction in European and American Law” (1968) 17:1 J Pub L 3.

M&A Workshop: Sample Term Sheet

TERM SHEET

SELLER:Cineflix Ltd. (“Targetco”)
PURCHASER:Salem Film Studios Ltd. (“Acquireco”)
DEFINITIONS:Acquisition Proposal” means, other than the transaction contemplated by this Agreement, any offer, proposal, or inquiry from any Person(s) (other than any agreement to which Acquireco is a party) after the date hereof relating to any liquidation, dissolution, recapitalization, merger, amalgamation, or acquisition or purchase of at least 20% of the assets of or securities in Targetco. “Material Adverse Effect” means any change, event, violation, inaccuracy, circumstance, or effect that is or would reasonably be expected to be materially adverse to the business, financial condition, prospects, or results of operations of Targetco other than as a result of: (i) changes adversely affecting the Canadian economy; (ii) changes adversely affecting the industry in which Targetco operates; (iii) changes in laws or accounting principles; (iv) any future outbreak of COVID-19 affecting the industry in which Targetco operates as a whole; (v) the announcement or pendency of the transactions contemplated by this Agreement; provided that paragraphs (i) through to and including (iv) shall not have a disproportionate effect on Targetco relative to other comparable companies and entities. “Superior Proposal” means any unsolicited bona fide written Acquisition Proposal to acquire all or substantially all of the assets or securities of Targetco that is not subject to any financing or due diligence conditions, did not otherwise result from a breach of this Agreement, is reasonably capable of being completed without undue delay, and, in the Board’s good faith judgment after receiving advice from outside counsel and financial advisors, would, if consummated in accordance with its terms, but without assuming away the risk of non-completion, result in a transaction which is more favourable financially to Targetco shareholders than this Arrangement.
TARGETCO CIRCULAR AND RECOMMENDATION OF THE BOARD:(1) Targetco shall, as promptly as reasonably practicable, apply for and diligently pursue the Interim Order and send the Targetco Circular. (2) Targetco shall ensure that the Targetco Circular contains a statement that the Board has unanimously determined that the Arrangement is in the best interests of Targetco and recommends that Targetco Shareholders vote in favour of the Arrangement.
NOTIFICATION OF ACQUISITION PROPOSALS:Targetco shall notify Acquireco immediately of any future Acquisition Proposal.  
NON-SOLICITATION(1) On and after the date hereof, Targetco shall not, directly or indirectly, through any officer, director, employee, advisor, representative, agent or otherwise (i) make, solicit, initiate, or encourage any inquiry, proposal, or offer that constitutes or may reasonably be expected to constitute or lead to an Acquisition Proposal, (ii) participate in any discussions or negotiations regarding, or furnish to any person any information other than a copy of this Agreement with respect to, or otherwise cooperate in any way with, or assist or participate in, facilitate or encourage, any effort or attempt by any other person to do or seek to do any of the foregoing, (iii) withdraw the Board’s recommendation of the Offer or change such recommendation in a manner that has substantially the same effect as a withdrawal thereof, or (iv) approve or recommend any Acquisition Proposal or enter into any agreement related to any Acquisition Proposal made by a third party after the date hereof.   (2) Targetco shall immediately cease and cause to be terminated any existing discussions or negotiations with any parties (other than Acquireco) with respect to any potential Acquisition Proposal.   (3) If an Acquisition Proposal is received and the Board determines it not to be a Superior Proposal, the Board shall immediately publicly reaffirm its recommendation to accept the Arrangement.   (4) Targetco represents and warrants that it has not waived any confidentiality, standstill, or similar agreement in effect as of the date of this Agreement to which Targetco is a party, and further covenants and agrees   (i) that Targetco shall take all necessary action to enforce each such agreement, and   (ii) not to release any Person from, or waive, amend, suspend or otherwise modify such Person’s obligations respecting Targetco under any such agreement.
FIDUCIARY OUT:(1) The Board shall not be prevented from receiving, considering, negotiating, approving, implementing, and recommending to Targetco shareholders any Superior Proposal if the Board determines in good faith (after receiving advice and a written opinion from outside legal counsel) such that a failure to do so would be inconsistent with the Board’s fiduciary duties.   (2) If a Superior Proposal is received, then, and only in such case, Targetco may provide the Offeror of the Superior Proposal with access to information as was made available to Acquireco subject to the execution of confidentiality and standstill agreements which are no less onerous and no more favourable to the offeror of the Superior Proposal than those between Acquireco and Targetco.   (3) Notwithstanding sections (2) and (3) above, the Board shall submit the Arrangement to Targetco shareholders for a vote and shall not terminate the Agreement upon receipt of a Superior Proposal.
RIGHT TO MATCH:(1) If a Superior Proposal is received, the Board shall deliver to Acquireco a copy of the agreement and a written notice of the financial value of the proposal.    (2) Targetco covenants to refrain from entering any Superior Proposal for at least 10 business days from the day on which Acquireco receives notice and all required documentation respecting the Superior Proposal. During this 10-day period, Acquireco has the right to amend the terms of this Agreement to provide at least the financial equivalent of the Superior Proposal. If the Board determines that the amended Agreement is at least financially equivalent, Targetco covenants    (i) not to enter or support in any way the proposed agreement with the third party,    (ii) not to withdraw, modify, or change any recommendations regarding Acquireco’s offer, and    (iii) to enter into an amending agreement to so amend this Agreement and publicly reaffirm its recommendation of the Arrangement.    (3) Targetco agrees that each successive modification of any Acquisition Proposal shall constitute a new Acquisition Proposal.
CONDUCT OF BUSINESS BY THE COMPANY:Targetco covenants that, during the period in which this Agreement is in effect, except with express prior written consent from Acquireco, Targetco   (i) shall conduct its business in the Ordinary Course and only take measures that seek to maintain and preserve intact Targetco’s current business organization, assets, and properties, keep available services of the present employees and agents, and maintain good relations with suppliers, customers, landlords, creditors, and all other Persons having business relationships with Targetco, and   (ii) shall not, directly or indirectly, sell, pledge, lease, dispose of, surrender, lose the right to use, mortgage, license, encumber or otherwise dispose of or transfer any assets of Targetco other than inventory sold in the Ordinary Course.
REGULATORY APPROVAL:(1) Targetco and Acquireco shall cooperate in good faith to obtain the Regulatory Approvals and do so as promptly as practicable. Acquireco shall have the final and ultimate authority in respect of obtaining Regulatory Approval.   (2) Acquireco shall use its commercially reasonable efforts to obtain Regulatory Approvals. For greater certainty, commercially reasonable efforts shall not require any action that would result in a material negative impact on Targetco or Acquireco.
CONDITIONS PRECEDENT TO THE OBLIGATIONS OF ACQUIRECO:Customary conditions precedent for the type of transaction proposed, including:   (1) Acquireco shall have entered into irrevocable lock-up agreements with Major Shareholder, Steven Scorcese, and the Canada Pension Plan Investment Board in which each of the foregoing shareholders covenant and agree to vote their shares in favour of the Arrangement.   (2) There shall not have been or occurred a Material Adverse Effect at closing.   (3) All required Regulatory Approvals shall have been obtained.   (4) Sufficient financing shall have been obtained.
TERMINATION This Agreement may be terminated prior to the Effective Time by:    (1) the mutual written agreement of the Parties,   (2) either Acquireco or Targetco if   the arrangement resolution is not approved by Targetco shareholders or   the Effective Time does not occur on or prior to the Outside Date   provided that, in either of subsections (2)(a) or (2)(b), a Party may not terminate this Agreement if the failure to obtain shareholder approval or of the Effective Time to occur on or prior to the Outside Date has been caused by, or is a result of, a breach by such Part under this Agreement, or   (3) Acquireco if   (a) Targetco breaches any representation or warranty or fails to perform any of its covenants;   (b) the Board fails to unanimously recommend or fails to publicly reaffirm its recommendation as required or withdraws, amends, modifies or qualifies, or publicly proposes or states an intention to withdraw, amend, modify or qualify, the Board Recommendation;    (c) Conditions Precedent are not capable of being satisfied by the Outside Date;    (d) Targetco enters a written agreement with respect to a Superior Proposal.
TERMINATION FEES(1) If a Termination Fee Event occurs, Targetco shall pay Acquireco the Termination Fee.   (2) For the purposes of this Agreement, “Termination Fee” means $607,500,000 and “Termination Fee Event” means the termination of this Agreement pursuant to   (a) section (3) of Termination, other than Regulatory Approval and conditional financing; and   (b) subsections (2)(a) or (2)(b) of Termination and within 365 days after such termination, Targetco shall have consummated or entered into a definitive agreement with respect to an Acquisition Proposal.
ASSET OPTION If a Termination Fee Event occurs, Aquireco shall have the option to purchase Targetco’s online streaming business at fair market value plus 35%. 
EXPENSE REIMBURSEMENTIf this Agreement is terminated by Acquireco or Targetco pursuant to subsection 2(a) of Termination, then Targetco shall reimburse Acquireco for all expenses incurred by Acquireco in connection with the Arrangement.
CONSIDERATION(1) Targetco shareholders shall elect as consideration either, or a combination of, cash and Acquireco shares, the number of Acqiureco shares per Targetco share being fixed such that Targetco shares are valued at a 35% premium as of the date hereof.   (2) The maximum number of Acquireco shares issuable pursuant to this Arrangement shall not in the aggregate exceed 25% of Acquireco’s issued and outstanding shares on a non-diluted basis. 
INDEMNIFICATIONTargetco acknowledges that an award of money damages would be inadequate for any breach of this Agreement and that such breach would cause Acquireco irreparable harm. Accordingly, Targetco agrees that in the event of any breach or threatened breach of this Agreement, Acquireco will also be entitled to equitable relief and specific performance. Such equitable remedies will not be the exclusive remedies for any breach of this Agreement but will be in addition to all other remedies available at law or equity.   Acquireco shall not be liable for loss of profits or incidental, indirect, exemplary, punitive, special or consequential damages of any kind, including but not limited to, loss of synergies.

Sample Essay: A Comparative Look at the Developing Capital Markets Regulation for ESG Disclosure

Introduction

Environmental, social and governance (“ESG”) has had a rise in popularity in recent years. This paper will focus primarily on the “E” in “ESG,” or, more specifically, environmental policies and disclosure. There is a longstanding issue with the policy aims of ESG disclosure, especially when they are not closely connected to the aims of securities regulations. This issue has become more salient with the recent developments in the United States of America’s (“U.S.”) Securities and Exchange Commission (“SEC”) climate related disclosure framework. But it is equally an issue for other jurisdictions, like Canada. While new climate-related disclosure may contribute to some of the aims of securities regulation (e.g., mitigating systemic risks by addressing the “existential” threat of climate change) an alternative explanation is that securities regulations are being instrumentalized for other policy aims that are largely unrelated to capital markets. If the alternative explanation is correct, then this can lead to problems when the policy aims conflict, especially in the form of inefficiencies in the market. To be clear, materiality standards are less adept at accommodating moral or political aims, such as climate change, and therefore such aims are frequently cast under the guise of financial value. There needs to be a demarcation between policy rationale based on ethics or other political benefits (e.g., ESG vis-à-vis combatting climate change and doing good in the world), and policy rationale based on financial value (e.g., ESG vis-à-vis risk-adjusted returns and valuable financial information for investors). I argue that it is important to identify and distinguish policy aims because it informs how materiality standards should be shaped for ESG disclosure; moreover, securities regulators must be explicit and clear about their policy aims and not guise one policy aim under another.

In the first part of this paper, I provide an overview of the root of ESG and trace how it arose to its current popularity. I also locate ESG within securities regulations and outline some of the challenges with integrating ESG into traditional disclosure regimes. Second, to provide further context of securities regulation, I provide a brief sketch of the securities landscape in both Canada and the U.S., and how each jurisdiction has started to deal with ESG. I suggest that the distinction between financial materiality and moral or political materiality is crucial for our analysis. Third, I take a closer look at the justification securities regulators have put forth with respect to ESG and how this aligns with the policy objectives of these regulatory bodies. I take a particularly close look at the new U.S. climate-related disclosure framework. Finally, I shift to a look at the lessons Canada might learn from the U.S. disclosure framework with respect to ESG.

What is ESG, and where does it fit into securities regulations and disclosure?

ESG has its roots in the related concept of corporate social responsibility (“CSR”). CSR arose in the US in the 1970s by the Committee for Economic Development.[1] ESG arose out of the socially responsible investing movement in the 1980s whereby investors grew sensitive to the moral consequences of their investing, such as divesting from South Africa’s apartheid regime.[2] While the aims are similar, ESG is can be distinguished from CSR by its focus on measurable criteria and specific targets. CSR is more about general accountability in the form of high-level mission statements or business commitments, and sometimes ESG is understood as a subset of CSR. ESG has steadily grown in popularity and some early critiques have suggested that ESG was a temporary fad. However, the recent years suggest that ESG is here to stay, and ESG has had a profound impact on capital markets worldwide.

There has been a recent growth in ESG investing and institutional investors have come out in favor of ESG. In 2020, there were an estimated 300 ESG funds which focus their investment portfolios on ESG-based criteria.[3] Even absent any legal requirement, it is becoming market practice among companies to voluntarily disclose ESG information to meet market demand. For instance, companies have been pledging to be climate-neutral have doubled since COVID-19.[4] Companies largely track and respond to investor attitudes towards ESG and it is not clear that there is a pattern with ESG focused investors becoming more concerned with the moral or political aims of ESG. For example, instead of arguing that investing in fossil fuel is inconsistent with environmental ethical obligations, an ESG investor may argue that fossil fuel increases long-term regulatory or litigation risks and thereby has worse risk-adjusted returns or affects on financial performance. One meta-study noted that 88% of sources find that companies with robust sustainability practice have increased operational performance translating into cashflows.[5] The fact that renewable energy avoids such risks and is also the morally preferably choice might be understood as a happy coincidence. However, some scholars have even attributed the increase in ESG to institutions tracking sentiments to attract millennial investors who are increasingly taking ethical considerations into their investment decisions.[6] Even if there is no pattern in the morality of corporations, there might be an evolution or shifting of attitudes among retail investors which can have upstream effects on the moral behavior of corporations. Increased ESG transparency certainly has wider benefits beyond investors, including its impact on employees, customers, communities, and other stakeholders.

John Coffee argues that U.S. capital markets have underdone three changes which triggered to the recent explosion in the popularity of ESG.[7] First, large institutional investors now dominate trading and stock ownership over retail investors. Second, ownership of stocks has been concentrated, and the largest institutional investors hold much of the shares and voting power in S&P 500 companies. Third, institutional investors have been diversified and have been more sensitive to systematic risk. The increased attention to systematic risk overlaps with ESG and it is therefore rational that such diversified institutional investors would demand increased ESG.[8] Coffee essentially attributes the recent popularity of ESG to institutional investors over the influence of retail investors, and this seems like a more plausible thesis. For example, Blackrock had a pivotal role in pushing for more ESG transparency, which had a ripple effect on other large funds.[9] Indeed large institutional players in the capital markets, independent of retail investors, have emphasized the correlation between mitigating ESG risks and increased profit.  

More cynical views on ESG question its role and function in the capital markets. There is some legitimacy to these concerns. ESG has colloquially become a buzzword in business discussions, and it is often put forth in imprecise and nebulous terms. To take a closer look at the concept of ESG, there is no strong conceptual tie between “environmental,” “social,” and “governance.” Although one might tie these concepts together by ascribing a shared aspiration of morality or ethics, they are distinct categories of concerns which focus on independent issues. The legal framework around ESG can be understood as operationalizing ESG as a tool used to nudge corporations towards aspirational aims through incentives of penalties and punishments. To be clear, most policies work with incentives and assume corporations are egoistic or interested in maximizing profit. Even under a principles-based approach, it is difficult to force a conscience onto corporations and make them moral or discretely altruistic. For instance, Canadian corporate law promotes the care for a plurality of stakeholders beyond the shareholder, including the environment, the community, and employees. Yet Canada still struggles to get corporations to independently care about the aspirational aims of ESG. Accordingly, the skeptic argues, as market forces die down, the financial creation will also die down; as such, tying the morality of ESG to its value creation is ultimately a fleeting and ineffective way of achieving moral policy objectives such as combatting climate.[10] In any case, the use of incentives should inform how materiality standards in securities law should be shaped for ESG.

Interestingly, with the rise in popularity of ESG, firms have been voluntarily disclosing their ESG. This is surprising because ESG disclosure is costly and resource intensive, and companies must have some outweighing incentive after a cost-benefit analysis. The possible incentives for companies to voluntarily disclose their ESG include responding to investors, bolstering public relations, and strategically addressing climate-related risks. Again, cynical attitudes towards ESG argue that ESG evolved out of a fad that made ESG extremely profitable for those involved in it (e.g., consultants, rating agencies, specialists, etc.) while failing to produce positive financial outcomes or contributing minimally to ESG’s aspirational goals.[11] If there really is no financial benefit for companies, companies might also deem it is less costly to take on the risks of regulatory penalties than comply with expensive ESG changes and disclosure. Even worse, companies may try to “greenwash” and manipulate their company’s ESG metrics to appear to be more compliant than they really are. On an more optimistic note, one meta-study noted that 88% of sources find that companies with robust sustainability practice have better operational performance translating into cashflows.[12] The hope is that the moral considerations of ESG and the financial considerations of ESG are compatible and complementary.[13] Still, others have taken a more attenuated approach and argue that ESG as an investment strategy is too variegated to be commensurable and that ultimately something must be sacrificed from profit maximization in order to accommodate moral ESG considerations.[14]

From a policy perspective, the prime worry for capital markets regulators is indeed deceptive ESG practices that amount to fraud. While sophisticated investing decisions are largely determined by financial analysis and modelling, retail investors often take a more subjective approach which includes personal morality. Due to their lack of sophistication, retail investors are susceptible to misinformation, manipulation, and misdirection, and their vulnerability needs to be protected.[15] Without consulting technical details and poring over disclosure documents, retail investors are much more susceptible to green washing.[16] Companies may deceive investors with an empty claim of ESG and lure vulnerable investors. This can take more subtle forms of equivocal language and vague commitments which creep into the lines of dishonesty and deception. Deceptive practices which prey on an investor’s moral sentiments, information asymmetry, and false perception of competitive advantage needs to be penalized. This is where the need for a robust disclosure framework for ESG becomes necessary for securities regulators.

A core issue for tracking both quantitative and qualitative information on ESG is the problem of metrics. Metrics must accurately track some standard that is consistently applied and widely applicable across variations in market industries. The common analogy for accounting metrics is GAAP and it is difficult to find an analogue for ESG. The problem for ESG is that the categories of ESG have varied goals and it is not clear that these goals can be harmonized or are even internally consistent. Any conceivable standard must track onto the existing legal frameworks for disclosure and materiality, and it remains an open question whether the existing frameworks are flexible enough to absorb the complexities of ESG or whether a new standard altogether is needed. There are many prominent ESG rating agencies that claim to provide a standardized ESG rating, similar to credit rating agencies, with varying degrees of veracity.[17] Many institutions are working on standards for ESG criteria in the investment process, such as the Sustainability Accounting Standards Board, the Global Reporting Initiative, and the United Nation Sustainable Development Goals.[18] Moreover, regulatory bodies are increasingly sharpening its views on ESG with respect to its place in the capital markets regulatory framework, such as the Task Force on Climate-Related Disclosures.[19]

The question of materiality is a central question for regulating ESG disclosure. It is not clear that all ESG information is directly relevant to investment decisions or share price. It might be beneficial for many stakeholders to have transparency into a firm’s ESG impact, but some information simply does not fall into the scope of capital markets policy aims. It may therefore be odd to require firms to disclose information that is not relevant for assessing value and instead contributes towards an entirely different policy aim, such as environmental reform or social justice initiatives. In other words, there is a gap is disclosing what shareholders might care about and what corporations are required to disclose as material.

As then chair of the SEC Jay Clayton noted, “Disclosure is at the heart of our country’s and the SEC’s approach to both capital formation and secondary liquidity. As stewards of this powerful, far reaching, dynamic and ever evolving system, a key responsibility of the SEC is to ensure that the mix of information companies provide to investors facilitates well-informed decision making. The concepts of materiality, comparability, flexibility, efficiency and responsibility (i.e., liability) are the linchpins of our approach.”[20] Capturing ESG under the current framework is certainly challenging for a number of reasons, and these reasons apply to both the U.S. and Canada. First, it is not clear that ESG information is material under the traditional definition of “materiality.” If regulators must go beyond traditional conceptions of materiality to capture ESG, then regulators face a corollary issue of whether it is consistent with the regulator’s policy mandate and whether they have the authority to implement such changes. Second, as noted above, even if ESG fell under traditional frameworks of materiality or the question of expanding materiality was moot, it is not clear how to formulate a consistent disclosure framework around it. There must be some metric to track and it is not clear that regulators are best positioned to pick the correct metric. Nevertheless, even if there is some degree of arbitrariness in the metric used to track ESG, it may ultimately be better than having no standard whatsoever. Third, as Cynthia Williams notes, “there seems to be a blind spot in place that either mistakenly assumes issuers already operate under an affirmative disclosure obligation when ESG information is material”[21] This last point is at the crux of the debate between a principles-based approach versus a rules-based approach. Williams critiques the principles-based approach in that it assumes ESG is already material and issuers already have an obligation to disclose ESG information. Williams has largely been proven correct in that the principles-based approach led to substandard ESG disclosure and issuers facing unclarity with ESG disclosure requirements. It is clear that the current disclosure regime is not self-regulating material ESG information effectively. Further regulatory guidance is needed.

How do U.S. and Canada securities disclosure regimes differ?

            Thus far, I have set out some issues around ESG disclosure that is generally applicable to both Canada and the U.S. Let us now take a closer look at the nuances in each of the disclosure regimes. A brief and preliminary background on the disclosure regimes is necessary as the foundation for suggesting an ESG scheme. Additionally, understanding the differing approaches to ESG between the U.S. and Canada can illuminate lessons that one can learn from the other.

            To start, Canadian securities laws do not have specific requirements for disclosing ESG, but some material aspects of disclosure may overlap with the purview of ESG. By way of background, despite some substantial attempts for a fully national body, the current securities regulation in Canada is not harmonized. That is, each of the provinces and territories regulate their capital markets: in the words of the Supreme Court of Canada (“SCC”), “It is open to the federal government and the provinces to exercise their respective powers over securities harmoniously, in the spirit of cooperative federalism.”[22] The SCC notes that federal bodies may work with each province to exercise their combined powers to collaboratively create a national cooperative capital markets regulatory system.[23] The harmonization is, in principle, possible. For now, there are partially harmonised securities national instruments as well as guiding national policies (approximately 130 national instruments, 11 multilateral instruments, and 800 local rules), and the Canadian Securities Administrators (“CSA”) provides some national cooperation. In 2020, Ontario’s Capital Markets Modernization Taskforce recommended to implement a single piece of legislation to apply across Canada.[24]

            Let us take a closer look at the province of Ontario as a case study of a securities disclosure framework in Canada. Any public issuer must file a prospectus with the Ontario Securities Commission or rely on an enumerated exception. A prospectus must provide “full, true and plain disclosure of all material facts relating to the securities issued.”[25] Any new material changes must be disclosed in a press release and a corresponding “Material Change Report” must be filed on the System for Electronic Document Analysis and Retrieval (the equivalent system in the U.S. is the Electronic Data Gathering, Analysis, and Retrieval system).[26] The test for material information depends on what would be reasonably expected to have a significant effect on the market price of securities.[27] Therefore, a prospectus by a public issuer must include a description of risk factors in the issuer and its business; in other words, a company must give investors accessible, accurate, and timely information that may have a significant impact on the prices of securities.[28] Nevertheless, market practices have picked up on this and companies have often voluntarily disclosed information beyond what is legally required in order to attract new investors. This suggests that securities laws around ESG disclosures is not the proper incentive for companies; rather, the best incentive for enhanced ESG disclosure must track the market sentiments of shareholders and investors.

In the U.S., the Biden administration announced the appointment of a “Senior Policy Advisor for Climate and ESG” for the SEC, and a Climate and ESG Taskforce. Interestingly, the broad political issue of climate change is being implemented through capital markets regulation. This kind of politicization of securities laws is not uncommon. In May 2020, the SEC’s Investor Committee recommended that the SEC start updating reporting requirements to include ESG factors,[29] and, in December 2020,[30] the ESG Subcommittee proposed recommendations on the disclosure of ESG risks. The acting chair announced, in March 2021, a chance to comment on climate change disclosure.[31] The issues were around the disclosure of the internal governance of climate issues and risks, and whether disclosure standards should be comparable to financial disclosure. In March 2022, the SEC ratified its new climate-related disclosure framework.

Let us now shift to an overview of the disclosure regime in the U.S. By and large, the U.S. federal securities law provides transparency and disclosure intended to allow investors to make reasonably informed investment decisions. Required disclosures therefore function to provide adequate information to investors rather than influencing corporate conduct. But influencing corporate conduct is well within the authority of the SEC. The Securities Act of 1933 focuses on public offerings of securities and requires issuers to provide investors with full disclosure of material facts in their registration statement. [32] The Securities Exchange Act of 1934 adds periodic reporting requirements on publicly held companies, including annual reports on Form 10-K, quarterly reports on Form 10-Q, and interim reports on Form 8-K; moreover, further details of line-item disclosures are found in the SEC regulation S-K and S-X. [33] There are many similarities to the Canadian securities regime as Canada transplants many elements of U.S. securities law into its own regime.

Contrary to the Canadian regime, U.S. materiality depends on whether there is a “a substantial likelihood that a reasonable shareholder would consider [a misstatement or omission] important.” [34] It is a test of a reasonable investor and highly fact-driven by what a reasonable investor would consider significant. Notably, the test is not whether the reasonable investor would have acted differently or found the information of particular interest. The U.S. Supreme Court also made it clear that disclosure is not required simply because a fact is material.[35] There must be some disclosure requirement enumerated in securities law for a material omission or misstatement for a public company to be considered offside of disclosure obligations.

The policy aims of securities regulators are clear. In both Canada and the U.S., there are broad aims that are shared under the umbrella of investor protection, maintaining fair and efficient capital markets, and the facilitation capital formation. However, it is important to clarify how ESG disclosure is being justified and which umbrella(s) of policy it may fall under. Generally, the U.S. (and Canada) are also lagging behind the rest of the world in terms of climate disclosure. Overseas, the European union began a comprehensive mandatory ESG disclosure regime.[36] Still, it is important to appreciate that their capital markets have significant differences with the capital markets in North America. The “EU Taxonomy Climate Delegated Act” introduced disclosure obligations for companies based on expert criteria on contributors of climate change,[37] and the “Corporate Sustainability Reporting Directive” is supposed to act as a uniform reporting standard for sustainability disclosure. The European Union also aims at targeting fiduciary duties and corporate governance regulations to promote sustainability. European Union securities regulators have adopted a scheme of mandatory disclosure through the “Sustainable Finance Disclosure Regulation” and called for increased oversight of ESG ratings to directly combat green washing.[38] Others have pursued their own scheme of mandatory ESG disclosure, such as the United Kingdom[39] and New Zealand,[40] which have slightly longer timelines. Australia also has had some interesting developments, such as its June 2021 ASIC targeted surveillance of green washing.[41] Additionally, there have been several examples of litigation based on climate-risk disclosure, which can serve as an important lesson for other jurisdictions.[42] The U.S. and Canada can look to these oversea examples for guidance in developing their own ESG disclosure regime.

What are the policy aims of ESG disclosure?

With an overview of the securities disclosure regimes, we can now assess the policy aims which regulators are employing. It is important to understand the scopes of policy aims. A broad political-based policy aim might overlap with the specific policy aims of regulating capital markets, but these aims can conflict. There is certainly much overlap between policy aims and this can be a source of confusion. We might ask whether policy aims really overlap or promote one another, or if this is purely rhetoric and a guise to promote some other political agenda.

The current chair of the SEC, Gary Gensler, remarked that “investors with $ 130 trillion in assets have requested that companies disclose their climate risks.”[43] The primary justification that the SEC purports for the new climate disclosure is that most companies have already been preparing sustainability reports to meet a demand for this information, but the reports lacked rigor, controls, and oversight. The SEC is responding and providing guidance to the lack of reliability, consistency, and comparability. According the Williams, “This shift has occurred because institutional investors have realized the financial value of ESG data integration.”[44] The SEC claims to be responding to the demands of the market. Investors are recognizing the relevance of ESG data for long-term risk and integrating it into their investment analysis, and companies are responding to these investors and voluntarily disclosing ESG information to remain competitive. The SEC’s role in ESG is not unprecedented. Material information around environmental risks in particular were on the SEC’s radar since the 1970s, and further guidance was provided in 2010 on how existing disclosure requirements may include climate-related risks.[45]

The evidence indeed supports Gensler’s claim that there is a need for more ESG-related disclosure. The Investor Advisory Committee Relating to ESG disclosure came to five observations: first, investors need reliable ESG disclosure for informed investment decisions; second, public companies should provide material ESG disclosures; third, standardized ESG disclosures by the SEC would level the playing field; fourth, ESG standardization would encourage capital formation in the U.S. capital markets; and, fifth, mandating ESG disclosure should be principles-based rather than rules-based.[46] These recommendations are consistent with the authority and mandate of the SEC. There is certainly a problem with climate-related disclosure in the capital markets that needs regulatory intervention. The Sustainability Accounting Standards Board revealed that climate disclosure in the 10-Ks of the ten largest companies found that 27% do not identify climate risks and 40% have boilerplate disclosures; moreover, the material risks from climate change represented $27.5 trillion. [47] Thus far, the policy aims of the SEC with respect to ESG seem relatively straightforward.

A crucial question that arises is whether including ESG information as “material” under securities law would change the traditional conception of materiality. In the affirmative, materiality might be properly understood as a strict financial term that focuses on the value of the company, and this inevitably is reflected in information that is reasonably important for share price and the decision to purchase shares. Others, like Williams, have argued that the scope of information that reasonable investors require go beyond strictly financial information; more specifically, Williams understands social and political policy aims to be tied to the securities laws and Congress’s intention to have a broad understanding of disclosure.[48] She writes, “Congress had broader accountability goals in enacting the Securities Act and the Exchange Act, and even investor protection was not simply a financial construct going to the investment decision […] Congress saw fundamental public purposes in having well regulated financial markets, ascribing responsibility for the Great Depression to the Wall Street crash. Those purposes included empowering shareholders in their exercise of voting rights, improving the ‘morals’ of company directors, and promoting the well-being of the economy.”[49] This is an important insight because it is often thought that materiality only has to do with financial information. Williams explains that the concept of materiality and the ultimate authority or mandate of the SEC can include political or moral policy aims. If Williams is correct, materiality includes at least two dimensions: the traditional financial understanding of materiality as well as a political or moral understanding of materiality. These two concepts of materiality will be central to our discussion going forward.

To digress to Canadian law for a moment, there is a similar push to make corporations more sensitive to moral or political considerations. However, in Canada, the origins are not from securities law but from corporate law and fiduciary duties. By targeting the duties of directors, corporations can be more sensitive to a plurality of considerations in their disclosures. The SCC’s decisions in BCE Inc. v. 1976 Debentureholders[50] as well as Peoples Department Stores Inc. (Trustee of) v. Wise[51] marked a shift from a director’s duty to shareholder primacy to acting in the best interest of a plurality of stakeholders, such as employees, retirees, creditors, consumers, the government, the environment, and the long-term interests of the corporation. A duty of care held by directors and corporations could also extend to be owed to the environment and investors interested in information on the corporation’s stance on environmental issues. The disclosure of morality can be tied to ESG and one might argue that shareholders ought to know about the moral decisions of a company. This moral dimension might be initially introduced through ESG by its relationship to increasing the value of a firm and mitigating risks. Furthermore, directors may have a duty to disclose such information if it is relevant for investors and tied to the health of the corporation.

To return to the U.S., the 2022 climate disclosure rules are aimed at helping both investors and issuers.[52] The primary policy rationale is that investors would have more consistent and reliable information, and issuers would know exactly how and what is required information to disclose. To provide a brief overview, the climate disclosure rules aim at green house gas emissions of varying scopes. The green house gas emissions are a relatively stable and uncontested metric, and represents a good starting point for integrating ESG into the securities disclosure framework. Scope 1 are direct emissions from operations that are owned by registrants. Scope 2 are indirect emissions from the generation of acquired electricity, heat, steam, or cooling that is consumed by operations owned by the registrant. Scope 3 are all other indirect emissions that are upstream or downstream of the registrant’s value chain. Companies are required to disclose total annual Scope 1 and Scope 2 emissions, and must disclose Scope 3 emissions if they are material or a part of their reduction targets. Notably, Canadian issuers filing under the Multijurisdictional Disclosure System are not required to include these climate-related disclosures in their Form 40-F. We see that the scopes are differentiated by how much the green house gas emissions are within the control of the registrant and therefore reflects how onerous disclosure obligations would be.

There is certainly overlap between climate-related risks and traditional financial understandings of materiality, especially in terms of risk-adjusted returns. Mitigating climate-related risks can be financially prudent and tie into the above notion of financial materiality. However, it is not clear that the 2022 rules fit into financial understandings of materiality and it seems to go beyond the current materiality standard. At this point, we may need to appeal to notions of political or moral materiality. Green house gas emissions are more contingently connected to financial materiality and there is no strict necessary connection. One may argue that green house gas emissions may pose some risk of environmental litigation that may inform financial materiality, but a stronger argument is that green house gas emissions is information that serves the investors who are sensitive to making investments based on moral or political views. This is a clear broadening of materiality into the political and moral conceptions of materiality whereby green house gas emissions, even if not directly financially relevant, is considered material information for the reasonable investor.

Commissioner Hester Peirce has a number of counterarguments to the 2022 climate disclosure rules.[53] Some may dismiss her as a vocal minority, but it is important to take objections seriously and understand them in a charitable light. Peirce launched several distinct points, but there are select arguments to attend to for our purposes here. First, environmental disclosures are not material under the current framework and environmental disclosures are not material for investors. It is clear that Peirce is talking about financial materiality and understands this to be the only way to interpret the existing conception of materiality. Peirce is correct that the new disclosure rules would go beyond the traditional notions of materiality, but, as Williams forcefully argues, broadening materiality is well within the scope and authority of the SEC. Moreover, while some investors may find environmental disclosure immaterial just as some people may not particularly care about climate change, the empirical data shows that a vast number of market participants do care about environmental information. Ultimately, the reasonable investor would consider such information material for their investing decision. Second, Pierce argues that standardizing is not feasible and the putative increase in reliability is just as speculative as any other standard out there. Granted, rules can be nebulous when different models lead to different results, but this is an empirical question that has yet to be tested. Still, a uniform standard, even if imperfect, can be better than no standard whatsoever. Again, it would at least cut down on conflicting standards and bring some clarity for investors. The SEC’s current focus on green house gas emissions is better tested, but it remains to be seen as to whether other measures of ESG will be ratified in due course. Third, environmental disclosures are not directed at investors, rather they are intended for other stakeholders. This last point deserves a deeper analysis.

On first glance, the idea that environmental disclosures are not directed at investors may seem obviously untrue; as Gensler noted, investors representing trillions of dollars in the markets overwhelming say they want more clarity on environmental risks. However, to put Pierce’s argument in its strongest light, we should consider again the distinction between financial materiality and moral or political materiality. If investors are actually demanding climate-related risks for financially material purposes, then it would be spurious to devise a framework that is actually responsive to moral or political materiality. There are certainly overlaps between the two—for instance, disclosure of green house gas emissions by a company can be morally or politically material to an investor while also collaterally having the benefit of determining risk-adjusted returns and being integral to financial materiality. But the problem arises when these two kinds of materiality conflict, and purporting to offer financial materiality to investors under the guise of trying to promote political or moral ends is indeed problematic.

The point can be made sharper by considering regulatory burdens by environmental disclosures. Implementing this new scheme will certainly be costly for companies, especially with the costs of consultants, experts, and monitoring environmental risks. These costs will be priced into the company’s shares and the burden will ultimately fall on investors. Now, imagine an investor who only cares about financial materiality and does not care about the moral or political dimensions of environmental disclosure. If the disclosure regime is even partly motivated by moral or political conceptions of materiality, then this investor is paying an extra premium for something they do not care about. Even worse, they are being deceived by regulators who are claiming to offer this disclosure information for this investor’s financial benefit. Even in investing, for example, fiduciaries are not allowed to rely on ethical considerations in most circumstances unless such goals will financially advantage their beneficiaries. The problem is that this is an inefficiency in the market. To illustrate, regulators and firms may devote considerable resources to climate change disclosure yet this might have little or no impact on investor protection or capital formation. One might object that this is not an inefficiency as it is the cost of controlling climate change or reducing emissions. Yet this implies that climate change or reducing emissions is a part of securities law and the primary policy aim for capital markets regulators instead of, say, regulating the efficiency of markets or protecting investors. This counterargument can be put forth, but it is certainly contentious. It is not obvious how moral or political aims can be pushed under securities laws without also having some financial justification.

Even on the part of the SEC or other regulators, this rules-based regulatory approach is inefficient and requires high costs to enforce. The premium for moral or political aims is difficult to justify on its own, and it is clear that the SEC seeks to buttress its position with some form of financial justification. For example, commissioner Allison Lee repeatedly refers to the “systemic risk” of climate change and how “steering the capital that drives global economies need consistent, comparable, and reliable climate data in order to accurately price risk and efficiently allocate capital.”[54] It is possible to underlie any moral or political justification of environmental disclosure and its inefficiencies to the market with the threat of a systemic risk, like the Global Financial Crisis. But this needs to be an explicit policy choice. There are differing policy goals between financial materiality and moral or social materiality, and crossing these wires leads to inefficiencies for both goals. Finding thin financial justifications for policies that are actually motivated by morality or politics is not an appropriate posture for regulators. If combatting climate change is the goal, it may be more efficient to make explicit climate change policies instead of using capital markets to achieve these ends.

Should Canada follow the U.S. in ESG disclosure?

In Canada, the existing ESG disclosure framework is outlined in CSA Staff Notice 51-333 (Environmental Reporting Guidance)[55] and CSA Staff Notice 51-358 (Reporting Climate Change-related Risks).[56] There factors of materiality for climate disclosures are highly context sensitive and discretionary. The CSA noted there is no bright-line test for materiality, and both quantitative and qualitative factors are vaguely considered. The CSA adds that issuers should be advised that environmental disclosure is only required insofar as it relates to material risks. Beyond this, material information relating to ESG can be a part of a number of securities disclosure forms. Some material risks might be disclosed in an issuer’s Manage Discussion and Analysis, especially as it relates to consumer preferences, supply chain management, or carbon allowances. Material risks can also be a part of an issuer’s Annual Information Form, especially as environmental and social policies can affect operations and influence the price of securities.  This gives companies a high amount of discretion and little guidance insofar as what is material enough to be disclosed.

The current ESG disclosure framework in Canada has been largely ineffective. Boards often only make vague representations about ESG. The CSA reported that, despites the guidance provided in NI 51-333, 22% of sampled issuers made no climate-related disclosure at all and 22% included only boilerplate disclosure.[57] The Ontario’s Capital Markets Modernization Task Force’s final report recommends a mandatory ESG disclosure for all non-investment fund issuers (the final report contains 74 recommendations and is the product of consulting with over 110 stakeholders and 130 comment letters). Moreover, Canada, through the Responsible Investment Association, is looking to lead the world’s charge for managing climate risks and reaffirm Canada’s place in the global capital markets through establishing the International Sustainability Standards Board in Canada.[58]

The CSA also proposed National Instrument 51-107: Disclosure of Climate-related Matters.[59] Under this instrument, reporting issuers would be required to disclose their governance around climate risks and opportunities in the management information circular (alternatively, this can be in the AIF or MD&A.). Specifically, the recommendation starts with the largest issuers (500 million in market capitalization) to comply within two years and smaller issuers (150 million in market capitalization) to comply within five years. The disclosure requirements would apply to all reporting issuers and entail governance, strategy and risk management; additionally, similar to the U.S., there would be varying scopes of green house emissions, except it is reported on a comply-or-explain basis. [60] Unlike the U.S., the Canadian approach is principle-based and does not prescribe granular rules with respect to climate-related disclosure obligations. The task force also called on the CSA to impose a harmonized standard of ESG across Canada.

The existing disclosure regime gives companies a high amount of discretion and little guidance insofar as what is material enough to be disclosed. As we shall see, this is problematic for ESG disclosure. However, the rationale behind the current framework addresses the variability in companies in terms of industry, size, and business type. On the other hand, too little guidance can have the effect of companies innocently failing to identify material risks. More explicit and clear regulation can also assist in offsetting information costs for companies; by providing guidance, companies do not need to waste resources in trying to discern the requirements for disclosure. Recall that the materiality threshold in Canada is based on a test of significant impact of market price and not what would affect a reasonable investor’s choice to purchase a security. There is a disconnect between what impacts market price and what impacts an investor’s decision. For example, an investor might want to know information about a company’s position on climate change, but this information might be irrelevant to market price and thus a company would have no obligation to disclose this information to the investor. The primarily rationale for the new changes is that disclosure is that climate-related disclosure, especially green house gas emission disclosure, is already widely accepted, but the current voluntary disclosure may not be enough for investors to make informed decisions. It might not be entirely accurate to paint this in terms of investor protection, but this kind of information is clearly very important to investors. If policy rationale is meeting investors’ demands, then we must separate investors wanting material financial information and investors wanting environmental justice aims.

It is important to keep in mind that Canadian capital markets are dominated by smaller companies; moreover, the dominant industries, such as oil or mineral extraction, already include climate disclosure since it is obviously material to their industry. A generally worry with stricter ESG disclosure policies is that it will add to costly over-disclosure that may obscure useful information.[61] Overcomplexity is definitely counterproductive for ESG, especially for relatively smaller markets like Canada. However, it remains that under-disclosure is currently the problem and tilting the scales slightly towards increased disclosure is necessary. The aim of investor protection should make disclosure as accessible as possible, yet information must first be adequately disclosed before we look at the problem of accessibility. Still, the worry is that stricter securities regulations may undercut Canada’s competitive edge on the international stage, and it may push more public companies to go private.

            Unlike the U.S., Canada may in fact benefit from principle-based regulation; specifically, aiming at high-level rules rather than more detailed prescriptions can be an effective approach for reform.[62] Canada has less resources for regulation and rule-based regulation can be intensely resource heavy, and it is also costly for issuers. Rules that are designed by market participants rather than regulators would be more efficient and have stronger rates of compliance. This can accommodate for some of the differences in size between U.S. and Canadian capital markets.  For Canada, principle-based regulation can be a natural fit for ESG reform rather than the rules-based approach to regulation.[63] It recognizes the variability in businesses in terms of size, sector or industry, and it is more cost-effective to enforce. We can look at the success of principle-based regulation through an outcomes-based approach. An onerous disclosure regime with prescriptive rules can be inefficient if market participants are already voluntarily disclosing with similar outcomes. Despite the minority of bad players, the majority will establish a norm of ESG disclosure and create a penalty of reputational risk. Regulator should certainly still act to protect consumers or protecting against market failure and systemic risks, but they should only implement prescriptive rules when there is clear evidence of harm.[64] This would assist in the growth of Canada’s capital markets and reduce limits of the speed or volume of transactions. Prescriptive regulations always lag a bit behind innovations and changes in the market, so it is important to have a more flexible approach to regulation.

Conclusion

Climate change is undoubtedly an existential threat and we should endorse every initiative towards combatting this threat. Critiques here against the new U.S. climate disclosure rules should not be understood as undermining the SEC’s attempt to address climate change. This is certainly a step in the right direction. However, the policy aims must be made explicit and clear, and the SEC seems to be taking an ambivalent posture. In any case, the new climate change disclosure is going to be litigated and it will be years before going into effect.

Securities regulators in Canada and the U.S. are struggling to integrate ESG into the traditional disclosure framework. The policy aims inform the core concept of materiality by either aiming at information that is financially material or information that is morally or politically material. Depending on which policy aims are pursued, there is a potential for inefficiencies in the capital markets. There are multiple policy aims at play and the SEC must strike the appropriate balance, but I have argued that it is important for securities regulators to distinguish policy aims in informing materiality standards. ESG is certainly here to stay, but the data and research around ESG is still in its nascency. Further research is needed to see the effects of the rules around greenhouse gas emissions on the capital markets. This represents an incremental step towards implementing ESG, but ESG encompasses much more than just green house gas emissions. It remains to be seen if capital markets regulators will seek to implement other, more ambitious elements of ESG.


[1] Ina Freeman, “The Meaning of Corporate Social Responsibility: The Vision of Four Nations” (2011) J Bus Ethics 100, 419–443.

[2] John H Langbein & Richard A Posner, “Social Investing and the Law of Trusts” (1980) 79:72 Mich L Rev.

[3] John Hale, “Sustainable Fund Flows in 2019 Smash Previous Records” (2020) online Morningstar: https://www.morningstar.com/articles/961765/sustainable-fund-flows-in-2019-smashprevious-records.

[4] Ecosystem Marketplace, “EM Global Carbon Hub” (2021) online: https://www.ecosystemmarketplace.com/carbon-markets/.

[5] Gordon L Clark, Andres Feiner, & Michael Viehs, “From the Stockholder to the Stakeholder: How Sustainability Can Drive Financial Outperformance” (2015), online: SSRN <https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=2508281&gt;

[6] Michal Barzuza, Quinn Curtis & David H. Webber, “Shareholder Value(s): Index Fund ESG Activism and the New Millennial Corporate Governance” (2020) 93 S. CAL. L. REv. 1243, 1250.

[7] John C. Coffee Jr., “The Future of Disclosure: ESG, Common Ownership, and Systemic Risk” (2021) 2021:2 Colum Bus L Rev 602.

[8] Ibid at p 6.

[9] Larry Fink, 2022 Chairman’s Letter, online: BlackRock <https://www.blackrock.com/corporate/investor-relations/larry-fink-chairmans-letter >

[10] Bradford Cornell & Aswath Damodaran, “Valuing ESG: Doing Good or Sounding Good?” (2020) online: SSRN <https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3557432&gt;

[11] Ibid. Cornell and Damodaran note that increased value should be reflected through higher cash flows or a lower discount rate, but none of these are increase solely by ESG. Rather, they argue that there is a false correlation between profitability and the perceived “goodness” of ESG. They attribute the ESG and increased valuation correlation to the gamification of ESG by large companies.

[12] Gordon L Clark, Andres Feiner, & Michael Viehs, “From the Stockholder to the Stakeholder: How Sustainability Can Drive Financial Outperformance” (2015), online SSRN: <https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=2508281&gt;

[13] Tamas Barko, Martijn Cremers, & Luc Renneboog, “Shareholder Engagement on Environmental, Social, and Governance Performance” (2021), J Bus Ethics (forthcoming).

[14] Dana Brakman Reiser & Anne Tucker, “Buyer Beware: Variation and Opacity in ESG and ESG Index Funds” (2020) 41:5 Cardozo L Rev 1921.

[15] Aaron A. Dhir, “Shadows and Light: Addressing Information Asymmetries through Enhanced Social Disclosure in Canadian Securities Law” (2009) 47:3 Can Bus LJ 435.

[16]Magali Delmas & Vanessa Cuerel Burbano. “The Drivers of Greenwashing” (2011) California Management Review 54: 1 64-87.

[17] Florian Berg, Julian F Kolbel, & Roberto Rigobon, “Aggregate Confusion: The Divergence of ESG Ratings” (2020), online SSRN: <https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3438533&gt;

[18] Shearman & Sterling LLP, Corporate Governance and Executive Compensation 2021 (2021), online: <https://digital.shearman.com/i/1425392-corporate-governance-and-exec-compensation-2021/&gt;

[19] Task Force on Climate-Related Financial Disclosures, About, online: <https://www.fsb-tcfd.org/about/&gt;

[20] Jay Clayton, Meeting of the Investor Advisory Committee (Dec. 13, 2018), online: <https://www.sec.gov/news/public-statement/clayton-remarks-investor-advisory-committee-meeting-121318&gt;

[21] Cynthia A. Williams & Donna M. Nagy, “ESG and Climate Change Blind Spots: Turning the Corner on SEC Disclosure” (2021) 99:7 Tex L Rev 1453 at 1455-1456 [Williams & Nagy].

[22] Reference Re Securities Act, 2011 SCC 66, at para 9.

[23] Reference re Pan-Canadian Securities Regulation, 2018 SCC 48.

[24] As of the end of 2021, it remains to be seen whether this recommendation will be realized.

[25] Securities Act, R.S.O. 1990, c. S.5, s. 56(1).

[26] Moreover, National Instrument 51-102 requires periodic disclosure of material information in its “Annual Information Form” (“AIF”), including risk factors influencing an investor’s decision to purchase securities; and, “Management Discussion and Analysis” (“MD&A”), including risks or uncertainty for the business’s future performance.

[27] Mary G. Condon, Anita I. Anand & Janis P. Sarra, Securities Law in Canada: Cases and Commentary (Toronto: Emond Montgomery, 2005).

[28] Moreover, National Instrument 51-102 requires periodic disclosure of material information in its Annual Information Form (including risk factors influencing an investor’s decision to purchase securities) and Management Discussion and Analysis (including risks or uncertainty for the business’s future performance).

[29] U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, Recommendation of the SEC Investor Advisory Committee Relating to ESG Disclosure (2020), online: <https://www.sec.gov/spotlight/investor-advisory-committee-2012/esg-disclosure.pdf&gt;

[30] U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, Asset Management Advisory Committee Potential Recommendations of ESG Subcommittee (2020), online: <https://www.sec.gov/files/potential-recommendations-of-the-esg-subcommittee-12012020.pdf&gt;

[31] U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, Public Input Welcomed on Climate Change Disclosures (2021), online: <https://www.sec.gov/news/public-statement/lee-climate-change-disclosures&gt;

[32] Thomas Lee Hazen, “Social Issues in the Spotlight: The Increasing Need to Improve Publicly-Held Companies’ CSR and ESG Disclosures” (2021) 23 U. Pa. J. Bus. L. 740.

[33] See Act of May 27, 1933, c. 38, Title I, §1, 48 Stat. 74, codified in 15 U.S.C. §§ 77a et seq; Act of June 6, 1934, c. 404, Title I, § 1, 48 Stat. 881, codified in 15 U.S.C. §§ 78a et seq.

[34] See TSC Industries, Inc. v. Northway, Inc., 426 U.S. 438, 449 (1976); Accord Matrixx Initiatives, Inc. v. Siracusano, 563 U.S. 27 (2011).

[35] Basic, Inc. v. Levinson, 485 U.S. 224, 239 n. 17 (1988).

[36] European Securities and Markets Authority, ESMA Calls for Legislative Action on ESG Ratings and Assment Tools (2021), online: <https://www.esma.europa.eu/press-news/esma-news/esma-calls-legislative-action-esg-ratings-and-assessment-tools&gt;

[37] Robert G Eccles, “Mandatory Environmental, Social, and Governance Disclosure in the European Union” (2012) Harvard Business School Accounting & Management Unit Case No 111-120.

[38] European Securities and Markets Authority, ESMA Calls for Legislative Action on ESG Ratings and Assment Tools (2021), online: <https://www.esma.europa.eu/press-news/esma-news/esma-calls-legislative-action-esg-ratings-and-assessment-tools>

[39] HM Treasury, A Roadmap towards mandatory climate-related disclosures (2020), online: <https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/933783/FINAL_TCFD_ROADMAP.pdf&gt;

[40] David Clark, Financial Sector (Climate-related Disclosures and Other Matters) Amendment Act 2021 (2021/39) (2021), online: <https://www.parliament.nz/en/pb/bills-and-laws/bills-proposed-laws/document/BILL_109905/financial-sector-climate-related-disclosures-and-other&gt;

[41] Australian Securities & Investments Commission, 21-295MR ASIC and ATO engage with directors as part of ASIC’s Phoenix Surveillance Campaign (2021), online: <https://asic.gov.au/about-asic/news-centre/find-a-media-release/2021-releases/21-295mr-asic-and-ato-engage-with-directors-as-part-of-asic-s-phoenix-surveillance-campaign/&gt;

[42] For example, in Mark McVeigh v Retail Employees Superannuation Pty Ltd (REST), McVeigh claimed that REST failed to disclose risks which prevented him from making an informed decision about the fund’s performance. This case was settled and REST undertook to adopt TCFD reporting recommendations. In Australian Centre for Corporate Responsibility v Santos Ltd, a shareholder advocacy group alleged misleading and deceptive conduct in Santos’s 2020 report claiming natural gas as a “clean fuel.” They also claimed that Santos’s plan to achieve net zero emissions by 2040 is misleading because it was based on undisclosed assumptions about carbon capturing.

[43] Gary Gensler, Statement on Proposed Mandatory Climate Risk Disclosures (March 21, 2022), online: <https://www.sec.gov/news/statement/gensler-climate-disclosure-20220321&gt;

[44] Williams & Nagy, supra note 20.

[45] Ibid.

[46] U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, Recommendation from the Investor-as-Owner Subcommittee of the SEC Investor Advisory Committee Relating to ESG Disclosure (May 14, 2020), online: <https://www.sec.gov/spotl ight/investor-advisory-committee-2012/recommendation-of-the-investor-as-owner-subcommittee-on-esg-disclosure.pdf?

[47] The Sustainability Accounting Standards Board, online: < https://www.sasb.org/ >

[48] Cynthia A. Williams, “The Securities and Exchange Commission and Corporate Social Transparency” (1999) 112 HARv. L. REV. 1197, 1237-38, 1245-46.

[49] Williams & Nagy, supra note 20.

[50] BCE Inc. v. 1976 Debentureholders, 2008 SCC 69.

[51] Peoples Department Stores Inc. (Trustee of) v. Wise, 2004 SCC 68.

[52] U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, The Enhancement and Standardization of Climate-Related Disclosures for Investors (2022), online: <https://www.sec.gov/rules/proposed/2022/33-11042.pdf&gt;

[53] U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, Government in the Sunshine Act, Pub. L. 94-409 (2022), online: <https://www.sec.gov/files/33-11042-fact-sheet.pdf&gt;

[54] Allison Herren Lee, Speech by Commissioner Lee on Action on Climate (2021), online: <https://corpgov.law.harvard.edu/2021/10/21/speech-by-commissioner-lee-on-action-on-climate/&gt;

[55] Canadian Securities Administrators, Staff Notice 51-333 Environmental Reporting Guidance (October 2010), online: <https://www.osc.ca/sites/default/files/pdfs/irps/csa_20101027_51-333_environmental-reporting.pdf&gt;

[56] Canadian Securities Administrators, Staff Notice 51-358 Reporting of Climate Change-Related Risks (August 2019), online: <https://www.osc.ca/en/securities-law/instruments-rules-policies/5/51-358/csa-staff-notice-51-358-reporting-climate-change-related-risks&gt;

[57] Canadian Securities Administrators, Consultation Climate-related Disclosure Update and CSA Notice and Request for Comment Proposed National Instrument 51-107 Disclosure of Climate-related Matters (October 18, 2021), online: <https://www.osc.ca/sites/default/files/2021-10/csa_20211018_51-107_disclosure-update.pdf&gt;

[58] Ontario Securities Commission, “Canadian securities regulators strongly support the establishment of the International Sustainability Standards Board in Canada” (2021) online: <https://www.osc.ca/en/news-events/news/canadian-securities-regulators-strongly-support-establishment-international-sustainability-standards&gt;

[59] Canadian Securities Administrator, CSA Staff Notice 51-358 – Consultation Climate-related Disclosure Update and CSA Notice and Request for Comment Proposed National Instrument 51-107 Disclosure of Climate-related Matters (October 18, 2021).  

[60] Scope 1 refers to direct GHG emissions, Scope 2 refers to indirect GHG emissions from purchased energy. and Scope 3 refers to indirect GHG emissions not covered by Scope 2.

[61] Virginia Harper Ho, “Disclosure Overload? Lessons for Risk Disclosure & ESG Reform from the Regulation S-K Concept Release” (2020) 65:1 Vill L Rev 67.

[62] Julia Black, Martyn Hopper, & Christa Band, “Making a success of principles-based regulation” (2007) 1:3 Law and financial markets review 191-206.

[63] Brigitte Burgemeestre, Joris Hulstijn, & Yao-Hua Tan, “Rule-based versus principle-based regulatory compliance” (2009) Legal Knowledge and Information Systems IOS Press 37-46.

[64] Richard E. Mendales, “Intensive Care for the Public Corporation: Securities Law, Corporate Governance, and the Reorganization Process” (2008) 91:4 Marq L Rev 979.

Sample Memo: M&A

Introduction

You have asked me to prepare a memorandum that compares a plan of arrangement and a takeover bid, and outline the advantages and disadvantages of each to Mammoth. I highlight key considerations that further determine what is important to the client. I then provide, all things considered, a final recommendation.[1]

Facts

The client, Mammoth Interactive Inc. (“Mammoth”), is looking to acquire Legend Games Inc. (“Legend”) for an asset, Absurd Engine. Others are also interested in acquiring Legend. Mammoth discretely acquired 11M shares (9.27%) of Legend over two months. Mammoth’s shareholders do not want to issue more shares for this transaction.[2]

Legend’s CEO (“Sweeney”) holds 1M shares (0.83%) and controls Sweeney Holdings Corporation holding 9M shares (7.50%). He is looking to retire and has a change of control payment in his employment contract. The other senior officers of Legend (“officers”) hold an aggregate of 10M share options (8.33%), and half are in-the-money; they also hold less than 1% of common shares.

Omega Capital Bank (“Omega”) is willing to loan cash to Mammoth, but this would not be enough cash for Mammoth to acquire Legend. Omega is also willing to acquire a few million shares of Legend in support.

RPG Capital Corp. (“RPG”) holds 10M convertible bonds (8.33%) at a fixed conversion price that is out-of-the-money. They also hold 5M common shares (4.17%) and want to sell their shares before any acquisition is complete. They would also oppose transactions that would leave their bondholder highly leveraged.

8Bit Industries Limited (“8Bit”) holds 21M common shares (17.50%). They are willing to support a transaction if Legend agrees to renew their license for Absurd Engine.

Hyrule Ventures Inc. (“Hyrule”) holds 8M shares (6.67%). Hyrule also holds 20% of Mammoth shares.

Short Conclusion

The main issue here is identifying a transaction structure that has the right balance of maximizing speed, minimizing costs, and ensuring that the transaction is successful. A one-step takeover bid could maximize speed and minimize costs, but there are factors that would make a one-step transaction unfeasible; as such, a second-step, going-private transaction is a likely outcome. A plan of arrangement has a higher chance of success and friendly negotiations can make it a flexible and superior alternative to a second-step hostile bid. Therefore, I would recommend a plan of arrangement.

Analysis

Plan of Arrangement

Advantages

It is a friendly transaction. Friendly negotiations mitigate the risk of a deal falling apart, especially in combination with voting support agreements. There are a number of things that can be built into an arrangement support agreement to further mitigate risk, like diligence, regulatory approvals, no-shops, termination fees, or fiduciary outs.[3] Although friendly offers do not require a significant premium like a hostile bid, costs may increase if they do not like the friendly offer and opt for an auction process, and this is possible since others are interested in Absurd Engine.

It is a one-step acquisition with a lower acceptance threshold. A special resolution vote of 2/3 of the target shareholders is needed to acquire all of the shares.[4] In contrast to the 90% threshold for a takeover bid, a lower threshold eliminates the need for financing and the associated risks that short-term bridging loans may carry. A voting support agreement with significant shareholders can help ensure that the lower threshold is met. However, beyond estimating pre-transaction support, there is still the need for a majority-of-the-minority vote since arrangements are considered business combinations.[5]

There is also the option to offer different consideration among securities, but we should keep the fairness hearing in mind. [6] Moreover, interested parties cannot vote in the majority-of-the-minority vote and collateral benefits would make any party in the voting support agreement an interested party.[7] We should be wary of any possible dissenters who is a significant shareholder.

It is possible to get close to the 662/3% threshold using a voting support agreement. Sweeney and his holding company account for ~8.3%, and he is incentivised by retirement and the change of control payment in his contract. 8Bit accounts for ~17.5%, and, since this is a friendly transaction, we may negotiate with the board of Legend to agree to renew their license for 8Bit’s support. Hyrule accounts for ~6.8%, and they may be incentivised to support this arrangement since it can increase the value of their 20% holding in Mammoth. Along with Mammoth’s ~9.2%, this puts us at ~41.8%. Additionally, the senior officers hold 10M in share options, and it is possible to give these options voting rights, whether it is as a part of common shareholders or as a separate class. Similarly, if RPG’s bonds are given voting rights (~8.3%), and we choose to purchase their ~4.2% common shares ahead of the acquisition, this accounts for another ~12.5%. This can potentially push us up to ~62.6%, and we still have the support of Omega to purchase additional shares. Nevertheless, we should remember there is a public interest power to act is the spirit of the law and that there can be no benefit to vote in favor of a plan of arrangement if it does not benefit the entire corporation.[8]

Pre-transaction purchases, or attaining a “toehold” on the target, are excluded from the majority-of-the-minority vote.[9] The 11M common shares acquired by Legend over two months falls under this exclusion since they are an interested party. Additionally, RPG wants to sell their shares before the acquisition, which means their ~4.2% would also be excluded. Nevertheless, toehold purchases can have advantages: it might provide leverage when negotiating with Legend’s board, it can deter third-parties, and it can give more certainty for the acceptance threshold. It is possible to acquire up to 19.9% without triggering a takeover bid, but at 10% a press release and early warning report are required.[10] I would advise limiting any further toeholds to ensure the success of the majority-of-the-minority vote.

There is flexibility with structuring the transaction. There are no prohibitions against financing conditions, differential treatment of shareholders, or collateral benefits. This opens the opportunity to offer a benefit to significant shareholders in order to incentivise their support of the arrangement—still, there are business combination requirements we should be wary about.[11]

Even if we cannot fund the entire purchase price with a loan from Omega, we can still move forward with an offer of cash as consideration and try to secure more funding later from other creditors. Since we can issue shares below 25% without shareholder approval, we can offer a mix of shares and cash.[12] Since Mammoth’s market capital doubles Legend, shares of Mammoth can be an attractive incentive for Legend’s outstanding shareholders.

There is also flexibility when it comes to convertible securities. If convertible securities are in-the-money, we should allow them to be exercised for the underlying common share, exchanged for the cash value, or exchanged for Mammoth’s convertible securities.[13] This is applicable for RPG and the senior officers who have unvested options, and we use their underlying shares to count towards the vote.

The flexibility also allows for more tax planning. The forms of consideration are often informed by tax consequences. Cash or combinations of cash would mean no rollover, so share consideration can be preferable; to defer capital gains, we should offer common shares through a subsidiary.[14] The target shareholders should get choices of considerations for tax objectives. If they want a rollover, shareholders would take common shares. If they want cash, which is taxable, and they should get preferred share of the resulting corporation which are redeemable for share after closing.[15]

If shares are being offered as considered, we must account for the outstanding shareholders in the US/ We can rely on the registration exemption which allows us to offer our new shares as consideration to US shareholders without having to register them with the SEC. [16]

Disadvantages

It requires the target board’s cooperation. The circular is controlled by the target and the target largely drives the deal; unlike a takeover bid, it is not possible to proceed without the board’s consent and go directly to shareholders. Negotiations can drag on and the timing is less within our control, especially with respect to court and shareholder approval. The proxy solicitation and court proceedings can be especially cumbersome and time-consuming. The entire process—from announcement to closing—can take over two months. This can lead to increased costs.

It requires a fairness hearing. An interim order establishes the procedural aspects of the arrangement, but the final order scrutinizes the substantive aspects of the arrangement to the standard of it being “fair and reasonable.”[17] The test for this standard is (1) whether the arrangement has a valid business purpose, and (2) the objections of those whose legal rights are being arrange are resolved in a fair and balanced way.[18] The first part of the test is fact-driven and depends on the positive value the arrangement has to the corporation as a whole in relation to the impacted rights.

For the fair and balanced part of the test, we should assess some of the following factors: level of approval by securityholders, proportionality of the comprise between securityholders, the securityholder’s positions before the arrangement, the reputation of the directors endorsing the arrangement, the endorsement of a special committee, a fairness opinion from an expect, and dissent or appraisal remedies.[19] This fairness hearing also gives securityholders a chance to voice their objections. There is nothing particularly worrisome about this transaction, but I would advise getting a fairness opinion anyway—it can be expensive but sometimes crucial, and courts have rejected applications for a plan of arrangement due to a lack of a fairness opinion.[20] More generally, it is difficult to speculate on the current facts if this transaction would be problematic.  

There are additional business combination requirements. This can increase costs and time.

A formal valuation by an independent committee is required if an interested party is acquiring the issuer which applies to us.[21] Also, enhanced disclosure is needed, especially for conflict-of-interest transactions in regards to board’s review and approval process, and an independent committee of directors is also required. [22] Minority approval of business combinations (“majority-of-the-minority vote”) is required, and this calls for a deeper analysis.[23]

Sweeney, as the CEO, is deemed a related party to Legend and his holding company is also deemed to be beneficially owned.[24] His change of control payment is a collateral benefit and the carveout is not available to him because his beneficial ownership in the holding company pushes his ownership of common shares beyond one percent.[25] Since this is a collateral benefit, this makes him an interested party and he cannot participate in the majority-of-the-minority vote.[26]

The senior officers are also deemed a related party.[27] Depending on how their share options are treated, they may be considered an interested party. Notably, half of their share options are out-the-money and it would not be commercially viable; as such, cash payments would be a collateral benefit since they are a consequence of the transaction.[28] Fortunately, we can rely on a carve out since it is a benefit resulting from their employment, they hold less than one percent shares, and the value of the benefit is less than five percent of what they are receiving for their shares.[29] Alternatively, we can purchase them for their Black-Scholes value or give them replacement options. In any case, they can participate in the majority-of-the-minority vote.

We can purchase RPG’s shares ahead of time but they will be excluded from the majority-of-the-minority vote. RPG’s 10M convertible bonds are out-the-money and it would be a collateral benefit to exchange them for a cash payment; since no carveouts apply, they would become an interested party and would not be able to participate in the majority-of-the-minority vote.[30]

Omega would be considered a joint actor since they are a lender to Mammoth.[31] Therefore, any shares they purchase would not be part of the majority-of-the-minority vote.[32]

8Bit holds 21M shares which is above the 10% threshold to make them a related party of Legend.[33] Whether or not they will be a joint party is a question of fact, but an agreement to get their license renewed for a vote would certainly count as a collateral benefit. We certainly do not want them to oppose the transaction since their opposition in a majority-of-the-minority vote could be detrimental. However, it would be better to give them a collateral benefit and have them not participate in the majority-of-the-minority vote than have them participate and dissent to the transaction.

Hyrule’s 20% holding of Mammoth shares does not make them a joint actor. Mammoth is an associate of Hyrule, but Hyrule is not an associate of Mammoth.[34] Since Hyrule is not a joint actor, they can vote in the majority-of-the-minority vote.

Takeover bid[35]

Advantages

It is possible to go directly to shareholders. Takeover bids are triggered by acquiring 20% or more of the target’s securities.[36] If within 120-days of the bid, the bid is accepted by 90% of voting shares other than ones held by the bidder, the bidder can trigger a compulsory acquisition and require the hold-outs to sell at the same price).[37] With a hostile bid, we can go directly to shareholders without negotiating with the board or requiring their consent.[38]

A pre-bid toehold purchase of shares can mitigate the risk of failing the meet the takeover threshold,[39] but this can prematurely disclose the intention for a bid.[40] At 10%, a press release and early warning report are required.[41]A toehold can be useful because there is no premium on these shares.[42] However, any securities acquired 90-days preceding the bid will not count for the 90% compulsory acquisition, or 50% minimum tender condition.[43]

The 11M common shares acquired by Legend over two months would not count towards the compulsory acquisition or minimum tender conditions.[44] We also cannot acquire shares of the employees ahead of the bid due to insider trading prohibitions which applies to the officers.[45] Indirect offer restrictions also apply to holding companies, like Sweeney’s 9M shares or the senior officer’s in-the-money securities.[46] These restrictions further limit our ability to meet the acquisition threshold.


The principal exemption from takeover bid rules is the private agreements exemption, which can be used to acquire shares without triggering the takeover bid requirements.[47] While there is the possibility of offering a 15% premium through this exemption, there are pre-bid integration rules which would effectively mean that this “premium” must be offered to all shareholders for the bid. Moreover, due to these securities being excluded from the acquisition thresholds, the private agreement exemption is not appropriate for us if we are planning a one-step transaction.[48]

A lock-up agreement with significant shareholders can be used to ensure the takeover threshold.[49] This is the primary device we should be using. Shareholders must be offered identical consideration and there cannot be any collateral benefits or “side-deals” or post-bid benefits.[50] As such, we cannot offer any additional incentive to agree to a lock-up. However, the deal may be too risky to move forward without some of the significant shareholders agreeing to a lock-up—let us analyze each party in turn.

RPG wants to sell their shares now, which can be problematic. This would also mean that if we meet RPG’s demand and RPG’s shares are purchase ahead of time, then they could not be counted for the acquisition threshold. However, this can be more cost effective than purchasing them under a likely premium that comes with the takeover bid.

There are some added rules to note about options.A hostile bid must be for voting shares, but some convertible bonds may count.[51] An acquirer is deemed to own beneficial securities underlying 60-day convertible securities.[52] Acquisition of convertible securities, especially those in-the-money, can be an indirect offer for underlying securities and subject to anti-avoidance rules.[53] RPG hold 10M convertible bonds that are out-of-the-money and the senior officers also have share options that are half out-the-money—I would recommend excluding them out from the bid since converting them would result in a loss.  

The bid rules require a tender threshold of a majority excluding the bidder and its joint actors.[54] As such, while it is possible to ask Omega to purchase as many shares up to 19.9% and agree to a lock-up, it is not advisable for this transaction since they are a joint actor in virtue of their lending money to Mammoth.

We also want Hyrule to agree to a lock-up. They are incentivised to assist us since they hold 20% of Mammoth shares, which can increase with a successful acquisition.

We really need 8Bit to agree to a lock-up. We know they would support the transaction if Legend agrees to renew their license for 20 years. However, we cannot promise that we will do this after acquiring Legend because this would be contrary to offering equal consideration to all shareholders. This is problematic for a hostile, one-step transaction because we cannot meet the 90% threshold without their shares. As such, we may need to consider a friendly bid or deliberately planning for a second-step transaction.

It can be faster and less expensive. Nonetheless, speed can sometimes conflict with minimizing costs and having control over the transaction.[55] While Mammoth is worried about others who are interested in Legend, Mammoth also has financial constraints and shareholders of Mammoth likely will not issue more shares. Since Mammoth does not have enough cash for the deal, even with a loan from Omega, a cash bid is doubtful since cash bids have to be fully financed in advance.[56] Offering share consideration for US securityholders will be challenging and expensive because we would have to register an offering with the SEC or find some other exemption.[57]

If the aim is to have a one-step transaction, we should put the minimum tender condition threshold at 90%. But we should assess the feasibility of a one-step transaction. If a second-step transaction is inevitable, we should be plan around the restriction on pre-bid shares for the majority-of-the-minority vote.  The shares of the bid can be counted for the going private transaction in the 662/3% vote, but only if it is disclosed in the bid circular.[58] If we do end up with a second-step transaction, we would need to follow the additional rules around a business combination.[59]

There is a fallback of a second-step, going-private transaction. Even if the target of 90% fails, it is still possible to move forward with a takeover bid with 662/3% through a second-step, going-private transaction. This opens the possibility to start friendly negotiations with the intention to go hostile if things do not go our way (or a “bear hug”). However, on the current facts, it is unlikely that the 90% threshold will be met; as such, if a hostile bid is absolutely necessary, I would advise planning for a second-step.[60]

Disadvantages

There is a risk of failing to acquire altogether. The threshold for the one-step transaction is challenging in many circumstances, and a second-step transaction is costly and time-consuming. However, there is a risk of failing to meet the minimum tender for control of 50%—although the risk of this is low, it can result in a loss of time and money.[61] One way to mitigate this risk is through a friendly bid.[62]

There is less flexibility in structuring the transaction. The stringent regulatory restrictions can make planning challenging. Having to offer equal consideration offers little incentive to significant shareholders to enter into a lock-up agreement. Additionally, for a hostile bid, there are little negotiations with the target board and this can add risks, such as the potential lack of diligence review of Absurd Engine.

There are also added costs that are not immediately obvious. For example, the lack of flexibility limits tax planning.[63] Moreover, if there are any securityholders in Quebec, the takeover circular must be translated in French, and this is not a requirement for arrangements or amalgamations.[64]

There are restrictions on financing and cash consideration. Fully cash bids must be fully financed in advance.[65] Institutional buyers will generally prefer cash while the insiders of Legend may prefer shares for a tax deferred roll-over. Directors can generally issue shares at their discretion and Mammoth can issue shares below 25% without shareholder approval.[66] Offering a choice between cash or shares might be the only feasible option given the limited cash. Since Mammoth’s market capital doubles Legend, I assume that issuing less than 25% shares will be enough to cover the Legend shareholders who prefer shares.[67]

If a fully cash bid is the only way, we can try to find other creditors for bridge financing, but this brings additional risks and costs. There are other ways to finance this bid, but they are generally not suitable for this transaction. For example, a leveraged buyout is unwanted by RPG because RPG would oppose any transaction that would leave the bondholder highly leverage. If we go around RPG, they would be a dissenter and make the majority-of-the-minority vote difficult. However, if we are confident that we do not need their common shares for the majority-of-the-minority vote and can proceed with their opposition, then it is possible to proceed with a leveraged buyout.

Any proposed transaction of this size should be assessed for compliance with the Competition Act and the Investment Canada Act. We should examine whether the parties of the transaction have assets exceeding $400M and the target’s assets exceed 93M; additionally, we should check if the acquisitions of voting shares have a threshold of 20%. If so, we are required to notify the Competition Bureau.

A worry with the Investment Canada Act is that Absurd Engine may trigger national security concerns. Since it is a technology that can be used for missile tracking in the Canadian Artic, it is possible that the federal government interferes with this transaction for its own assessment, which can take up to 200 days. Moreover, Hyrule, a foreign company, and its 20% holding of Mammoth can further cause scrutiny from the federal government.

Conclusion

While a one-step, takeover bid would be ideal, financial constraints make it unlikely that Mammoth will reach the 90% threshold. This is mostly due to Mammoth’s lack of cash and Mammoth shareholder’s reluctance to issue shares to finance a takeover. Moreover, the fallback of a second-step transaction is not suitable because of the longer timeline, added costs, and legal constraints.

Deliberately planning for a second-step transaction is preferrable to a failed one-step transaction because it adds some more flexibility. Friendly negotiations can also ensure the lock-up of key shareholders, particularly 8Bit—having 8Bit dissent to the majority-of-the-minority vote can be fatal to the transaction.

Nevertheless, a plan of arrangement is the most feasible transaction structure on these facts. It offers flexibility to plan around Mammoth’s financial constraints, and friendly negotiations can also offer opportunities to mitigate risks. Still, the business combination requirements must be carefully navigated to ensure a successful majority-of-the-minority vote, especially with respect to any collateral benefit used to entice significant shareholders into a voting support agreement. Above all, a plan of arrangement provides the right balance of maximizing speed, minimizing costs, and ensuring that the transaction is successful.


[1] I assume that I am writing to a sophisticate audience. Therefore, I will not provide a descriptive outline of the law and assume readers are equipped with a background in transactional law, particularly securities and corporate law. I have tried to minimize redundancies between takeovers and arrangements in this comparative analysis.

[2] The “M” beside the numerical value represents million(s). The percentages are based on Legend’s total of 120 million share.

[3] This can also benefit Legend’s board since shareholder and court approval can protect them from liability going forward. Also, the market capital of Mammoth doubles Legend and this can sometimes give more negotiating power, especially with symmetry of terms in the agreement since this is not a merger of equals.

[4] CBA s 181, 182, 185, 186.

[5] NI 61-101 s 1.1 “business combination”.

[6] I assume there are no separate class or series of shares, but if there are they would get separate votes if they are affected differently.

[7] NI 61-101 s 8.1(2). E.g., the officers of Legend and 8bit are related parties, and offering them any collateral benefit would exclude them from the minority vote.

[8] NI 61-101 Companion Policy s 2.1(5).

[9] In the case of a negotiated transaction, toehold acquisitions can be restricted under the terms of a standstill provision.

[10] NI 62-103 s 3.1.

[11] See the business combination requirements for each party outlined below.

[12] TSX Company Manual s 611(c); in case the shareholders of Mammoth refuse to issue more shares, we can issue bonds or promissory notes.

[13] The TSX and institutional shareholders usually do not like convertible securityholders to be given a vote; if they are given a vote, they can be lumped in with common shareholders, or allow them to vote separately only on the treatment of convertible securities. We should consider the risk of an oppression remedy being sought by outstanding non-convertible security holders as well.

[14] Income Tax Act s 87.

[15] Income Tax Act s 85. This is used more frequently. Each shareholder (selling and buyer) must jointly elect and fill out form. They can get some cash in addition to share and get a rollover only if it does not exceed adjusted cost base of shares (if it does exceed the adjusted cost base of the share, you realize some gains). Section 85.1 is automatic and generally only applies in all share deal, and offering any cash in the transaction would blow up the rollover.

[16] Securities Act of 1933 s 3(a)(10).

[17] BCE v. 1976 Debentureholders, 2008 SCC 69 [BCE]. The fairness hearing is not just a rubber stamp and there is a fair amount of case law around the approval process.

[18] Ibid.

[19] Ibid.

[20] Re: Interoil Corporation, 2017 YKSC 16.

[21] NI 61-101 s 4.3. Exceptions include business combination carried out on previous arm’s length negotiations, auctions, or second-step transactions (this can be relevant for a second-step takeover bid: NI 61-101 s 4.4).

[22] NI 61-101 s 6.2.

[23] NI 61-101 s 4.5.

[24] MI 61-101 s 1.6(2).

[25] MI 61-101 s 1.1 “collateral benefit” (c).

[26] MI 61-101 s 8.1(2)(b).

[27] MI 61-101 s 1.1 “related party” (e).

[28] MI 61-101 s 1.1 “collateral benefit”.

[29] MI 61-101 s 1.1 “collateral benefit” (c)(iv)(B); NI 62-104 s 2.25; OSA s 97.1(2).

[30] MI 61-101 s 8.1(2). Although, it is not clear if the accelerated options are provided by Mammoth, and if it is not, then it would not be a collateral benefit between us and RPG.

[31] NI 62-104 s 1.9.

[32] MI 61-101 s 8.1(2)(d).

[33] MI 61-101 s 1.1 “related party” (d).

[34] MI 61-101 s 1.1 “associate entity” (a).

[35] I focus on the details around a hostile, one-step transaction. I do not elaborate in any detail on friendly bids or second-step transactions.

[36] NI 62-104 s 1.1; OSA s 89(1).

[37] OBCA s 188; CBCA s 206(2).

[38] This gives us control of the bid circular and we can strategically put pressure on the board.

[39] There are also ordinary course exemptions for open market purchases for up to 5% (NI 62-104 s 4.1). During the bid, we can also purchase up to 5% on a stock exchange, but must state its intention in the takeover bid circular or press release—however, this too will not count for the 90% threshold, so this is not advisable (NI 62-104 s 5.4(1)).

[40] It is possible to combine the option to buy 5% on the stock exchange in the normal course of business as long as it is below 20%, and then exercise the private agreement exemption (NI 62-104 s 2.6). The investment funds, like Omega, can use reporting delay to strategically help us (NI 62-103 s 4). Still, I would not recommend using the ordinary course exemption to purchase more shares of Legend on the stock exchange (NI 62-104 s 2.6; OSA s 93.2). This can increase the costs and risks if this transaction is not completed.

[41] NI 62-104 s 5.2(1); OSA s 102.1(1). There is a purchase moratorium which prevents purchases for another day.

[42] And it can help to mitigate some financial risk by selling the pre-bid shares to the new bidder can help recoup some costs.

[43] MI 61-101 s 8.1(2). There is also an exclusion for the majority-of-the-minority vote in a second-step, going-private transaction.

[44] MI 61-101 s 9. Since they are an interested party, they cannot use these shares for the majority-of-the-minority vote.

[45] Once a person “is considering, evaluating or proposing to make a takeover bid,” any special relationship with target may not trade securities until the transaction is announced (OSA s 76(3)).

[46] NI 62-104 s 1.10.

[47] For five vendors and consideration not exceed 115% of a 20-day average closing price. More specifically, the value of the consideration paid (including brokerage fees and commissions) cannot not exceed 115% of the market price of the securities at the date of the bid. If we intentionally make use of this exemption with a seller who buys the shares to be protected under this exemption from a third party, then we have to include the third party in our limit of five (NI 62-104 s 4.2).

[48] We are limited on cash and we need as many shares to count towards the 90% threshold as possible, but it may be useful if we believe there is a good chance of a second-step, going-private transaction.

[49] They are typically filed with security regulators and could trigger early warning disclosure duties.

[50] NI 62-104 s 2.24; OSA s 97.1.

[51] MI 62-105 s 1.10.

[52] NI 62-104 s 1.8.

[53] NI 62-104 s 1.10.

[54] CSA Staff Notice 62-305.

[55] By offering a significant premium that is undeniably attractive to all of Legend’s shareholders and making concession to the board, a friendly negotiation can speed up the process to around two months. Usually, a hostile bid takes around 120 days, but there is a risk of an additional six to eight weeks if there is a second-step.

[56] NI 62-104 s 2.27(1).

[57] We could try to carve out the US securityholders, but that would lead to less than 100%. There may also be additional MJDS requirements.

[58] MI 61-101 s 8.2.

[59] See business combinations requirements in arrangements below.

[60] In brief, an amalgamation would be the most cost efficient second-step method. This second-step transaction would be considered a business combination and subject to MI 61-101 requirements. A statutory amalgamation can squeeze out the minority shareholders and make the target a wholly own subsidiary of the purchaser. We must incorporate a special-purpose corporation through the target’s governing (i.e., CBCA since two amalgamating corporations must be incorporated under the same statute; alternatively, a continuance is possible but it gives rise to the additional risks of dissent rights) and use it to purchase two-thirds of shares in the target. The board of each corporation proposes the amalgamation, and shareholder approval is a given since the special-purpose corporation holds the majority shares. The minority shareholders can exercise their dissent and appraisal rights, and will cease to be shareholders before the amalgamation.

[61] NI 62-104 s 2.29.1(c).

[62] While it is possible to have a friendly bid and negotiate with the target of the board, this creates a risk of alerting the market and triggering an auction, which could raise the price of the deal. On the other hand, once a hostile bid starts, the board might get on the defensive and subsequent negotiations or alternative deal structures requiring board consent will be nearly impossible; moreover, a hostile bid may increase bidder’s cost and risk if a transaction is not consummated. Since the client did not want to buy more shares to alert the market, I assume they want to be discrete about this transaction and does not want to solicit Legend. And even if negotiations are friendly and discrete, there is a risk of a leak—intentional or not—which can push up the trading price of stocks even before it is officially announced.

[63] Any cash payments to Legend securityholders would mean that they receive no tax rollover and realize an immediate capital gain.

[64] NI 62-104 s 3.1.

[65] NI 62-104 s 2.27.

[66] TSX Company Manual s 611(c).

[67] If the bidder’s shares are offered, the bidder must provide prospectus disclosure for the securities as a part of its take-over bid circular (which can be short-form, if eligible).

Sample: M&A Workshop Reflection

The facts in this dramatization, “Going Public about Going Private: Scenes from the Boardroom,” are generally similar to the Ontario Securities Commission’s decision on Sears Canada Inc. Here, Sears Holdings Corporation similarity bid to buyout minority shareholders of a subsidiary which raised questions or disclosure, improperly benefits, and abusive transactions. By and large, the most salient lesson I took from the dramatization is that mastering the legal elements of M&A is just a starting point for being a good M&A lawyer. Throughout law school, I was under the impression that being a master of the law and legal aspects of, say, an M&A transaction was the only metric for making a good lawyer (along with legal ethics). This dramatization illustrated the skills which complement legal knowledge. As such, this reflection will focus on the non-legal skills identified through the dramatization and why these non-legal skills add to a lawyer’s legal arsenal.

To start, it was clear from the different characters represented archetypes of people in transactions. While I initially thought this was for humorous effect, I began to appreciate the significance of a lawyer’s role in navigating through these archetypes. The Good Old Boy had the role of somebody favored by Canco and well experienced from years of practice. There were multiple times that legal experience was deferred to and there was a question of whether any lawyer had previous experience with a particular type of deal, situation, or issue. The norms of collegiality are not apparent until you interact with lawyers, and it is surprisingly different from the norms of collegiality in law school among peers. It is important to appreciate the subtle norms of each interaction and adroitly navigate through them in a professional manner. Moreover, there are some assumptions that must be made due to the lack of context. Unlike law school, the division of parties are more radical and there are clear demarcations of differing interests (whereas in law school, it came down to grades, jobs, and perhaps some sort of social capital). For instance, in the dramatization, Experienced Lawyer might have a long-standing relationship with Good Old Boy and it might inform how they make decisions insofar as presenting a unified front. Even if they disagreed with each other on specific matters, they may on principle try to come to a common answer. This point was made sharper with Trouble Maker, who came as a packaged deal with Takeover Talent. It is crucial to track different relationships above and beyond the legality or business factors. Decisions with real life consequences are more open-textured than fact patterns we find on exams or isolated questions found in academic journal articles. The lesson I learned is that such decisions are not made in a vacuum and, in contrast to academia, there are more contextual consequences to consider than the theoretical legal or business decision.

Still, as a lawyer in a business setting, stepping on eggshells only goes so far. It is important for lawyers to sometimes say “no.” For example, it was crucial to reject Managing Bully’s suggested composition of the independent committee. Lawyers need to track risks and let some things go, yet at the same time draw some threshold for interfering. Given the social and relational factors, it adds complications. There is no bright-line legal test for taking social norms into consideration. This informs the various “styles” of lawyering that one might present. This issue was discussed in the aside with respect to being counsel for a committee. As an outsider, the lawyer must establish their reputation, but they must also not immediately take control and start being overly controlling. There is a spectrum to navigate between being overly zealous and strict about the law and being a complete pushover. Much like a politician, lawyers must take control of their “ethos” or the particular character and influence they present to others. Takeover Talent demonstrated one type of balance on this spectrum of zeal and passivity. In my mind, I believed that being zealous and playing the role of the rulebook was the entire role of the lawyer. However, it seems that being more flexible and finding creative solutions is a more accurate description of the role of a lawyer in M&A transactions. Yet this presents a new challenge of discerning how much to give and how much to take.

The independent committee is a key issue and illustrates the challenging of having to navigate both from the legal and interpersonal perspective. By way of reminder, in Sears, the OSC questioned the good faith of the independent committee of directors. A director’s fiduciary duty includes a duty to monitor management of the corporation to address risk and misconduct, a duty to treat stakeholders fairly, and a duty to act ethically. The purpose of an independent committee is to prevent conflicts or misconduct, and to impartially act in the best interest of stakeholders. As BCE established, stakeholders are varied and include employees, retirees, creditors, consumers, the government, the environment, and the long-term interests of the corporation—importantly, one set of stakeholder interests does not override another. Crucially, and consistent with the “business judgment rule,” the fiduciary standard is not about outcome but the process of rationally accounting for relevant issues and the circumstances of the information available. The business judgement rule covers such decisions by the director provided they act on an informed basis, in good faith, and in the best interest of the corporation.  If directors breach their duty, shareholders might bring an oppression claim for a broad range of remedies. A duty to treat stakeholders fairly includes being fair to minority shareholders. Moreover, a duty to act ethically implies a director should go beyond mere compliance with laws.

What was interesting about the dramatization was that it gave more context to how duties can be broken which is largely missing from merely reading the cases. The dialogue suggested that parties were looking to accomplish their objective even if it meant bending their legal or ethical obligations. While some, like Business Professor, was particularly sensitive to obligations and their reputations, others were flippant towards the interests of potentially dissenting parties or minority shareholders. We might understand this to mean that directors need to be sensitive to moral considerations affecting the “goodness” of corporations and its place in contributing positively to the norms of society. As the Osler lawyer who played Business Professor mentioned in the intermission, we might draw on analogous ethical principles of utility maximization versus rule-based rights protection for insights. What is insightful about this observation is that legal ethics can be uncertain and derive from differing views on what constitute a right action in a particular circumstance.

To return to the lawyer’s role as a liaison and managing interpersonal issues along side the legality, it is difficult to weigh all these factors and give advice under conditions of uncertainty. Despite the many caveats and stipulations that are common with legal advice, clients often push for a “yes” or “no” answer. There are many nuances to consider, especially levels of risks. Yet, ultimately, assessing levels of risks are, at best, educated guesses. For example, the seventy percent chance of litigation against the client might be acceptable, whereas the one percent chance of the deal not going through might be catastrophic if it is realized. The lawyer may also consider other self-interested factors, like receiving a referral from the client or being hired back. These factors do not come through when reading case law, but it appears to be a large part of the legal profession. My understanding of the legal profession is broadened by the uncertainties and ambiguities that exist beyond the law and in the realm of negotiations and business interactions.

I am left wondering how much of this dramatization is exaggerated and how much occurs in real life M&A deals. What I enjoyed most about the dramatization was the interactions between the lawyers as they worked through the questions in the intermissions. The top M&A lawyers in Toronto were cracking jokes, sharing intimate experiences, and stepping out of their professional persona. For the better, it shattered my image of sharp, intimating corporate lawyers—perhaps a cliché derived from Hollywood or drummed up by whispers in halls of law schools. As I am in my final year of law school, I often wonder what it means to develop of “style” of being a lawyer. It became a bit clearer through the negotiation exercise. I found myself trying to replicate what I admired from the lawyers I respected most. It went beyond mastery of the law or being able to synthesize complex arguments on the spot. I respected emotional intelligence; the ability to defuse conflict and emphasize with others. As somebody quipped at the start of the dramatization, the performers’ billable hours for the duration of the performance are astronomical, but I am sincerely grateful for the lessons I learned through it.

Sample Essay: Good Faith and Contract Law

Markovits: good faith in the U.S

In this section, we will face the theoretical issue head on through a comparative look at the doctrinal developments of good faith in U.S. contract law. This comparative look will further elucidate the varying paths to interpreting Bhasin and why the SCC is headed in the wrong direction with Callow and Wastech. I illustrate the SCC’s conceptual unclarity through their discussion of remedies for a breach of good faith. I suggest that Markovits’s theory of good faith can vindicate Bhasin, and I then highlight some strengths and weaknesses of Markovits’s view.

The English common law can trace good faith to Lord Mansfield in Boone v. Eyre,[1] which was adopted into American jurisprudence in Kirke La Shelle Co. v. Paul Armstrong Co.[2] The Uniform Commercial Code adopted a duty of good faith in performance for all contracts within its scope,[3] and it understands this duty to mean “honesty in fact and the observance of reasonable commercial standards of fair dealing.”[4] In other words, “the range of permissible variation is limited by what is commercially reasonable.”[5] The Restatement of Contracts echoes this and “imposes upon each party a duty of good faith and fair dealing in its performance and its enforcement.”[6] The policy rationale is to stop conduct that “violate community standards of decency, fairness or reasonableness.”[7] Examples include, “evasion of the spirit of the bargain, lack of diligence and slacking off, willful rendering of imperfect performance, abuse of a power to specify terms, and interference with or failure to cooperate in the other party’s performance.”[8] Of course, this is a non-exhaustive list and good faith only serves to “effectuate the intentions of the parties, or to protect their reasonable expectations.”[9] In fact, it may be futile to attempt to generalize the duty of good faith to capture all fact patterns. Reasonable expectations and contractual intentions are often incomplete and nebulous, and therefore the nature of good faith being rooted in these concepts makes it difficult to boil down to a rigid test. Put differently, “An account that understands good faith as a rule of decision, thus commits a circle.”[10]

The idea of reasonable expectation and not abusing discretion is a common thread between Canada and the US. Broadly, good faith looks at the purpose of the contract and protects against sharp practices that are manipulative or exploitative or “advantage taking.”[11] When parties fail to foresee some outcome ex ante, they must make good faith arrangement to address this unforeseen gap.[12] But it does not obligate parties to alter their agreements and good faith is “not a principle of substantive fairness even just in the face of new contingencies that arise within the contract relation.”[13] Substantive fairness is irrelevant for good faith even to the point where “one side to a contract has leveraged undeserved bargaining advantages in contract formation, so that the substantive terms of an exchange unfairly favor her over the other, she may perform her contract in good faith.[14] Good faith prevents parties from exploiting a strategic vulnerability to secure a private advantage. The strategic vulnerability arises from a rigid interpretation of contractual obligations and shirking an obligation that may not be expressly stated. Nevertheless, “even after you have signed a contract, you are not obliged to become an altruist toward the other party.”[15] 

Markovits is keenly attuned to the problem of navigating between the two poles of fraud-like egoism on the one side and fiduciary-like altruism on the other. The common illustration to make this point is that if a beneficiary asks their fiduciary to walk a kilometre with them, the fiduciary has a duty to walk two kilometres if it is in the beneficiary’s best interest; in contrast, in contractual relations, a party that agrees for self-interested reasons to walk with another party for one kilometre, then they must walk one kilometre and not a metre more. As Markovits puts it, “The inner and outer bounds of good faith are thus easy to discern.”[16] While the current law states a duty to abide by the community’s standards of reasonableness in contracts, good faith does not “require contracting parties to adopt even an attitude of substantive impartiality between their contractual interests and the interests of their contracting partners.”[17] Good faith permits self-interested behavior so long as parties honor the terms of their agreements. It is clear that contract law does not try, “in the name of good faith, to make every contract signatory his brother’s keeper.”[18] However, again, the intentions of the parties and the emergent reasonable expectations are often unclear and a matter of interpretation, so we cannot derive a duty of good faith from the reasonable expectations of parties since it is the very subject of interpretation and construction. It is therefore difficult to see how good faith could be understood as a substantive contractual obligation implied ex ante.

Markovits’s conception of good faith is tied to his larger project of understanding contracts as “collaboration.”[19] Ambitiously, he understands the duty of good faith as “the core doctrinal expression of freedom of contract.”[20] In short, he understands the altruism in fiduciary relations as partly paternalistic just as “lawyers must override the choices of their clients” if their client is “self-destructive or even just imprudent client initiatives.”[21] In contrast, contractual relationships are necessarily anti-paternalistic, which is “just another facet of freedom of contract.”[22] He explains that, unlike beneficiaries in a fiduciary relationship, promisees must not be at the “mercies of her promisor’s paternalism” as it would deprive the promisee of a “reliable mechanism for pursuing her own purposes” within the contract.[23] He continues, “Good faith thus underwrites a distinctive form of recognition in which contracting parties recognize one another’s expressed intentions, at face value. When they do so, the parties to contracts recognize one another as sovereign wills, whose freedom and hence also choices must be respected. Fiduciary relations lack this variety of respect, not in spite but rather because of the substantive other-regard that they involve.”[24] For Markovits, the impartiality of contractual relationships is key to the freedom of contract which is understood as freedom from paternalism or the imposition of the will of others. On this view, the duty of good faith must necessarily be thin and formal because anything more substantive would no longer be an arm’s length contractual relationship. The contractual relationship is different in kind to fiduciary relationships, and good faith in contracts cannot cross the line into the kind of altruism in fiduciary relationships or else it collapses the core of the institution of contract law. In Markovits’s words, good faith is a “distinctively contractual notion.”[25] While fascinating, we need not concern ourselves with the entire story Markovits tells about good faith as collaboration.

The lesson we can take from Markovits is that good faith is more of an interpretive tool or “a practical analog to the principle of charity in interpretation of theoretical communications.”[26] To be clear, good faith must be connected to the actual intentions of the parties, that is, according to Markovits, “their actual joint plan.”[27] This is in contrast to idealizing good faith to what parties may have ideally agreed to or “what they would have agreed ex ante had they known then what they have discovered ex post.”[28] This is the familiar worry of post hoc judicial scrutiny or judges interpreting the intentions of the parties instead of tending to the parties’ actual intentions. The upshot is that good faith is taken to be an exercise of looking at counterfactuals only insofar as it relates to the joint intentions of the parties and not scrutinizing the mind of a single party or some abstract rational agent. Markovits understands good faith among parties as an attitude of respect, but he also understands good faith as an interpretive tool for judges to what is ex ante reasonable (although not perfect) interpretation of the parties’ intentions.

Reinterpreting Bhasin a la Markovits

In Bhasin, the SCC seems to be aligned with Markovits in understanding good faith as an “organizing principle” and not a “free-standing rule.” The SCC can be understood to be expressing what good faith means among contracting parties. The SCC is stating, similar to Markovits, that there is no explicit rule of good faith that parties can point to; rather, good faith is a general attitude parties are expected to have towards one another when contracting and it expresses a mutual respect between arms-length parties. The specific four doctrines of the duty of good faith that is derived from the general principle of good faith can be understood as the interpretive tools which judges use to analyze the intentions of the parties. The intentions of the parties and their reasonable expectations must be understood as objective or else it would undermine the arms-length nature of contracts that is critical to the freedom of contract, which Markovits takes to be the raison d’être of contract law. My exegesis of Bhasin vis-à-vis Markovits requires further unpacking.

The SCC intentionally avoids a conceptual debate as to “whether a good faith obligation is being imposed as a matter of law, as a matter of implication or as a matter of interpretation.”[29] This was a missed opportunity for the SCC to provide some much-needed clarity.[30] This debate sheds light on how to properly conceptualize good faith and how to understand its role for parties and its utility for judges. Understandably, this is a vexed topic that is more theoretical than having practical guidance. The American jurisprudence seems equally ambiguous as some suggest that good faith should be “an implied covenant that neither party shall do anything which will have the effect of destroying or injuring the right of the other party.”[31] Others suggest that good faith is a interpretative tool or “that the doctrine of good faith merely directs a court towards interpreting contracts within the commercial context in which they are created, performed, and enforced, and does not create a separate duty of fairness and reasonableness which can be independently breached.”[32] Markovits identifies this as “very similar to that which jurisdictions in the United States have imposed through substantive unconscionability.”[33] Economic theorists, like Richard Posner, understand good faith as to perfecting the imperfect intentions of the parties to “give the parties what they would have stipulated for expressly if at the time of making the contract they had had complete knowledge of the future and the costs of negotiating and adding provisions to the contract had been zero.”[34] On this view, idealizing the intentions of parties would ultimately be more efficient since it would conceive of contracts as if parties reasoned perfectly and take away inefficient transaction costs. Markovits is against the view of implying terms of good faith into a contract and teaches us that it “does not establish affirmative duties of other-regard so much as articulate respect among parties who remain at arm’s length.”[35]

As argued by Markovits, the most plausible account seems to be a thinner account of good faith such that it regulates the attitudes of contracting parties and functions as an interpretive tool for judges. This interpretive tool must be constrained by the realities of the intentions of the parties. Good faith does not add substantive contractual obligations because that would paternalistically interfere with the actual intentions of the parties and undermine their freedom to contract. Similarly, good faith cannot be understood as modifying the substantive terms according to some ideal of reasonableness or efficiency because this would again fail to tend to the actual intentions of the parties. The reasonable expectations of parties are decided between the parties and it is the parties that generate the norms of reasonableness within their particular contractual relation. Imposing idealized norms from outside of the norms established by the parties, whether through judicial scrutiny or ideals of substantive fairness, would thus undermine the freedom of parties to plan and structure their own contractual relations. Good faith must instead be understood as a thin attitude of respect between parties and the reasonable expectation among parties is to respect the autonomy of the other party. It is therefore not possible to contract out of good faith since it animates the existence conditions of a legally enforceable contract. The contents of what constitutes mutual respect among parties is furnished by the norms established between the parties when forming the contract.[36] The duty of good faith “thus expresses a commitment to a particular normative (and indeed legal) relation” and to reject good faith is “to deny the contractual obligation to which good faith attaches.”[37]

Markovits’s approach seems consistent with the Canadian general principle of good faith not being a “free-standing rule,” but, on first glance, it seems contrary to the four specific doctrines of good faith; although, it is still not clear that Canada understands the four doctrines as “affirmative duties.” Moreover, while the principle of good faith is not freestanding, the four doctrines are and can be used as a cause of action.  The SCC is supposedly agnostic to how a duty of good faith is generated—whether implied through law, intention, or by facts—but it seems that there are additional “thick” obligations of good faith.[38] Perhaps the four doctrines of good faith are a useful guide to the “attitude” Markovits refers to and does not add any new obligations. The attitude can be too abstract and spelling out distinct doctrines can be a useful heuristic or guide for future cases. This is a possible way to interpret the SCC even more narrowly, especially because the four doctrines have not been elucidated in any great detail, but it would be a view that is compatible with Markovits’s view of good faith.

Even understood narrowly, it seems that in Callow that the duty of honest performance problematically modifies the substantive terms relating to discretionary powers. The SCC specifies that the duty of honesty has “a limiting function on the exercise of an otherwise complete and clear right because the duty, irrespective of the intention of the parties, applies to the performance of all contracts and, by extension, to all contractual obligations and rights.”[39] The SCC inferred what was a reasonable expectation or what was only an expectation in the mind of one party, and subsequently thrusted a new obligation on both parties. Reasonable expectations may foresee something that is not explicitly mentioned in the wording, but it does not go contrary to the wording or spirit of the parties’ intentions. Trying to idealize the agreement strays away from the actual, imperfect intentions of the parties. In trying to perfect an imperfect contract ex post, courts violate the contract and does the party a disservice in constraining their freedom of contract. Good faith only “steps in to require contracting parties to respect each other’s contractual intentions even where they, preferring manipulation, are disinclined to do so.”[40] Even if it one party regrets what they contracted, they need to be held to their agreement and the court’s job is to enforce the actual intentions of freely entered contracts.

Critique of Markovits and the future of good faith in Canada

Despite the strengths of Markovits’s view, his account of remedies with respect to a breach of good faith is not convincing. On this front, I believe both Markovits and Bhasin get remedies wrong. There is a conceptual question as to the relationship between the duty of good faith and the corresponding remedy for a breach of good faith. Markovits understands expectation damages to be the proper remedy as it “vindicates the promisee’s reasonable contractual expectations.”[41] His gripes are with those who insist good faith implies specific performance and illustrates his point through the justification of efficient breach. He explains that, in cases of efficient breach, “it would be bad faith for a promisee to insist on specific performance, as this would give the promisee a benefit that he did not pay for and deprive the promisor of one of the benefits that the contract expressly gave her.”[42] This assumes that the expectation is for the value and that there is nothing beyond the fungible value contractual performance. Moreover, Markovits argues that it is implied in fact that a promisor has an ex ante entitlement to gains from efficient breach, and this possibility is priced into the agreement to the benefit of the promisee. As such, a promisee asking for specific performance ex post would be clawing back the value of what was previously negotiated. However, it is not clear that efficient breach is an implied in fact or implied in law, especially when dealing with non-sophisticated parties.

In Callow, the SCC was split on the measure of damages. Similar to the result in Bhasin, the majority awarded expectation damages.[43] However, the counterargument was that damages should be “measured against a defendant’s least onerous means of performance, the least onerous means of performance in this case would have been to correct the misrepresentation once Baycrest knew Callow had drawn a false inference.”[44] This measure would be reliance damages and the loss of Callow securing another contract for the winter. The non-majority judgments did not think expectation damages are appropriate. This can differ with the doctrinal subcategories of good faith, say, between a duty of honest performance and duty to exercise discretion in good faith.[45] For a duty of honest performance, there is argument that misleading conduct is independent of the termination provision and that reliance on the misleading conduct is the proper measure of damages.[46] The idea is that the defendant did not fail to perform the contract and defeated the plaintiff’s expectations, rather that the loss was due to a “dishonest extra-contractual misrepresentations concerning that performance, upon which the plaintiff relied to its detriment, and there is no “lost value of performance, but detrimental reliance on dishonest misrepresentations.”[47] There is a similar confusion amongst the SCC around what the appropriate remedy is for breaches of good faith.

At this point, we might question if the categories of common law damages can be the correct framework to address good faith. Awarding expectation damages would sometimes lead to a windfall, and perhaps then a better way to frame the damages is in terms of restitution or unjust enrichment. This question of remedies opens the door for a critique of Markovits’s view of good faith. In what follows, I offer a brief sketch of an alternative view to Markovits that largely draws on a promissory view of contracts.

Markovits understands the duty of good faith as inextricably embedded into the contractual obligations negotiated among parties at the formation of a contract. For the judge, the duty of good faith expands the scope of interpretating the contractual obligations of parties to capture exploitative behavior that is consistent with the reasonable expectations of the parties. Practically, acting in bad faith just means to breach contractual obligations and thereby giving the right to expectation damages to the innocent party. But this can sometimes lead to windfalls when performance is not at issue but there is a successfully claim of bad faith. We can see this in Callow whereby expectation damages were awarded because Baycrest failed to correct Callow’s impression that providing gratuitous services would lead to a renewal of their contract. It is hard to see how Baycrest’s bad faith and putative breach of an obligation is anyway related to a failure of performance on the part of Baycrest. Again, at the most, Callow is entitled to restitution on a quantum meruit basis. I take this absurd result of remedies to be a weakness in both the SCC and Markovits’s view.

There might be an alternative picture of good faith that makes better sense of good faith remedies. Instead of understanding good faith as an ex post interpretive tool to patch contractual obligations so it leaves bad faith actors with a breach of the original agreement, we might understand good faith to be an extra-legal or second-order obligation to not discharge contractual obligations in an exploitative manner. The theoretical backdrop to such a view would not be Markovit’s collaboration view, rather it would fit with a promissory view of contracts.[48] The justification for this view of good faith is that we are sensitive to the normative force of something above and beyond the words of the contract, namely a norm or duty not to use the institution of contract to undermine the spirit of a promise. Good faith is not only an attitude animating legal relations, it also has a constitutive role in creating promissory relations between strangers free from exploitation, deception, or coercion. Markovits is correct to identify contractual obligations as sui generis and not owed to anybody else other than the parties involved, but they do not arise out of a normative vacuum and contractual obligations carve out select norms from a landscape of extra-legal promissory norms between the parties. To be clear, reasonable expectations between parties are not objective in the sense that they refer to a community’s norms that are external to the parties. Rather, reasonable expectations must be relative to the norms set by the contracting parties but it remains objective in the sense it does not refer to the subjective mental states of one party. For example, sophisticated parties might find themselves in a community of commercial norms and thereby structure their contractual obligations within this commercial backdrop to allow, for example, efficient breach (whereas the norms of other communities may find efficient breach morally repugnant); yet, they may also set their own novel and granular contractual obligations, such as requiring specific performance in cases of a global pandemic. These extra-legal norms do not necessarily have to appeal to ideals of substantive fairness, but they can attend to background conditions of injustice and gives latitude to the judges to discern the entitlements of a wronged party.

Extra-legal obligations can impose new, ex post rights to remedies, similar to the remedial constructive trust. This obligation is triggered when first order contractual obligations are used to unjustly (i.e., through advantage taking that is contrary to the intention of the parties and undermines a party’s autonomy) deprive someone of a good. This view does not try to reinterpret the contractual obligations of the parties to infer that the intentions of the parties (ex ante) precluded the bad faith behavior; rather, it acknowledges the failure of the parties to foresee circumstances that are disadvantageous to one party and (ex post) corrects the entitlements of the disadvantaged party. We would then think that a breach of good faith is not a breach of a contractual obligation, yet it calls for some remedy. In this vein, good faith fits better with equitable doctrines such as unjust enrichment.

The difference between these views of good faith is mostly theoretical. However, I think my view better fits with moral intuitions. Extra-legal norms are important for understanding what kind of behavior should be legally prohibited, such as contracts for organs or other morally repugnant acts. Both Canadian and American jurisprudence seem sensitive to extra-legal norms: they understand the duty of good faith to prevent conduct “while consonant with the letter of a contract, exhibits dishonesty, ill will, improper motive or similar departures from reasonable business expectations.”[49] Consider, again, the doctrine of efficient breach. On my view, good faith may preclude some cases of efficient breach if they undermine the spirit of the promise, such as when parties negotiate against efficient breach or establish a reasonable expectation against it. To be clear and to address the more obvious objections, I take good faith to be important but not as a core contractual concept. I agree that it is morally important, but I think it is important to remain pluralistic for other contractual considerations, like efficiency. In this vein, I would think good faith is secondary to contractual obligations and good faith attaches to some types of contractual obligations, specifically obligations generated within promissory norms. In contrast, efficiency concerns or sophisticated parties like corporations may not follow the structures of promissory norms, and good faith may not be needed since everything should be explicitly spelled out in the contract (e.g., commercial contracts). Moreover, I concede that my appeal to promissory morality and extra-legal norms requires a larger justificatory story about contract law, but it is sufficient for my purposes to appeal to the shared intuitions of morality and the phenomenology of commonplace promissory practices.

Conclusion

Good faith is central to contractual relations and any analysis of good faith must say something about the nature of contractual relations. Much of the discussions of good faith here have been mostly explanatory in the sense that it tries to make sense of good faith rather than coming up with some legal test or defining the contours of the duty. This is no coincidence. The analysis of good faith reveals that it is conceptually thin, has strong commitments to formal equality, and it is a mistake to try to understand it as a substantive duty.

I have argued that good faith in Canada has gone awry since Bhasin. Markovits provides a view of good faith that is thin and essentially functions as an interpretive guide. Markovits’s view of good faith is consistent with Bhasin and makes sense of good faith better than the subsequent Canadian cases. Still, Markovits’s view of good faith has an odd view of remedies that I suggest is better understood by looking to extra-legal norms. The resultant view of good faith understands the remedial aspect as akin to equitable doctrines. More work is required to flesh out a view of good faith as a coherent equitable doctrine which fits into an account of the law of equity. For instance, it is not clear how rights-based theories of private law can accommodate good faith. By and large, the critique here of Markovits may be too ambitious and require a deeper analysis, but this paper can stand on its more modest thesis that Markovits offers a vindication of Bhasin and good faith in Canada.


[1] (1777) 126 Eng. Rep. 160 (K.B.); 1 H. Bl. 273.

[2] 188 N.E. 163, 167 (N.Y. 1933).

[3] Uniform Commercial Code § 1-304 (2003)

[4] U.C.C. §§ 1-201, 2-103.

[5] U.C.C. § 2-311 cmt. 1.

[6] Restatement § 205 cmt.

[7] Restatement § 205 cmt. [a].

[8] Restatement § 205 cmt. [d].

[9] Sessions, Inc. v. Morton, 491 F.2d 854, 857 (9th Cir. 1974); Ryder Truck Rental, Inc. v. Cent. Packing Co., 341 F.2d 321, 323–4 (10th Cir. 1965); Perkins v. Standard Oil Co., 383 P.2d 107, 111–12 (Or. 1963) (en banc).

[10] Markovits, supra note 4, at 278.

[11] Ibid at 274.

[12] For example, a party seeking to terminate an agreement must give “reasonable notification” or “reasonable time to seek a substitute arrangement.” U.C.C. § 2-309 cmt. 8.

[13] Markovits, supra note 4, at 278.

[14] Ibid at 291.

[15] Mkt. St. Assocs. Ltd. P’ship v. Frey, 941 F.2d 588, 595 (7th Cir. 1991) at 594.

[16] Markovits, supra note 4, at 278.

[17] Ibid at 278.

[18] Ibid at 593.

[19] Daniel Markovits, “Contract and Collaboration” (2004) 113:7 Yale LJ 1417.

[20] Markovits, supra note 4, at 282.

[21] Ibid at 283.

[22] Ibid.

[23] Ibid.

[24] Ibid at 284.

[25] Ibid at 292.

[26] Ibid at 288.

[27] Ibid at 285.

[28] Ibid.

[29] Bhasin, supra note 1, at para 48.

[30] The trial judge understood the agreement between Can-Am and Bhasin as analogous to a franchise or employment agreement, so good faith was understood as an implied term. Good faith is built into the statutes for employment, franchise, and insurance contracts. The rationale is that Bhasin is in a position of inherent vulnerability to Can-Am. The trial judge noted that, in the alternative, good faith can be implied by the intentions of the party. Significantly, the contract contained an “entire agreement clause” stipulating that no other express or implied contracts applied to the parties’ agreement.

[31] Kirke La Shelle Co. v Paul Armstrong Co., 188 N.E. 163, 167 (N.Y. 1933).

[32] U.C.C. § 1-304 cmt.

[33] Markovits, supra note 4, at 277.

[34] Mkt. St. Assocs. Ltd. P’ship v. Frey, 941 F.2d 588, 595 (7th Cir. 1991) at 596.

[35] Markovits, supra note 4, at 281.

[36] Consider the analogy of a marriage. We might think that every marriage carries an objective obligation of mutual respect and care, and that each party to a marriage can reasonably expect this from their partner. However, this objective obligations of mutual respect and care is a thin and formal notion that acts as the scaffolding, and it is the parties in the marriage that actually build out the substantive norms of respect and care. For example, one marriage might establish that doing the laundry for their partner is an act of respect and care; for another marriage, they might establish this as an act of disrespect and grounds for divorce. What is important to note is that even if there is an objective standard of respect and care among all marriages, it is still important to look at the specific norms of each relationship. This analysis of marriage largely draws from Eric Rasmusen and Jeffrey Evans Stake. See Eric Rasmusen & Jeffrey Evans Stake, “Lifting the Veil of Ignorance: Personalizing

the Marriage Contract” (1998) 73:2 Ind LJ 453.

[37] Markovits, supra note 4, at 284.

[38] Bhasin, supra note 1, at para 52.

[39] Callow, supra note 3, at para 53.

[40] Markovits, supra note 4, at 276.

[41] Ibid at 281.

[42] Ibid.

[43] Callow, supra note 3, at para 107.

[44] Ibid at para 114.

[45] Ibid at para 181.

[46] Ibid at para 139.

[47] Ibid at para 142.

[48] Seana Valentine Shiffrin, “The Divergence of Contract and Promise” (2007) 120:3 Harv L Rev 708.

[49] Bhasin, supra note 1, at para 29.

Sample Factum: Indigenous Law

This factum focuses on the first part of the analysis of Section 35(1) of the Constitution Act.[1]The analytic framework draws mostly from Van Der Peet,[2] and the relevant legislation in Ontario’s Forestry Act.[3] In order to establish an Aboriginal right, the activity must be an element of a practice, custom, or tradition integral to the distinctive culture of Ninaatig First Nation (“NFN”).[4]

Characterization of the Aboriginal right?

First, the nature of the practice in question derives from the practice of collecting maple sap and processing it to create maple syrup for the purpose of subsistence and trade. Consistent with the norms of mutual aid, trade was integral for the interdependence between communities of First Nations’ people. The distinct roles and specialization in survival goods among different First Nation has been a longstanding practice prior to European contact, and the specialization among First Nations of producing syrup is distinctive to NFN.

Second, the nature of Forestry Act is regulating the extraction and commerce of tree products. Preserving a natural resource would be a valid legislative objective as conservation benefits all communities. Flowing from this objective is ensuring the fair access to syrup among the population through a system of licensing. In short, nobody has a right to extract and trade tree products without first attaining approval.

Third, the nature of the modern activity by the NFN can be a source of contention. To be clear, the modern practice is extracting birch sap through modern means, selling it and making excess profit; this is inspired by the historical practice of extracting syrup and trading it for survival goods. While the practice has evolved, the corresponding right has remained substantively the same. Nevertheless, the scope of the Aboriginal right must be expanded to accommodate the modern practice, and this expansion can be contentious.  

Integral to the distinctive culture?

Let us now turn to the question of whether the practice is integral to the distinctive culture. Even by the highest jurisprudential standards for a practice being integral, we can see there was no alternative available to the NFN to extracting sap for surviving the winters. Minimally, the general practice of extracting sap existed prior to European contact. This practice was crucial for the survival of winters as it provided a source of sustenance as well as a commodity to trade for other items needed for survival. The NFN’s identity is tied to this practice as it was necessary for their existence since the syrup was tied to their survival in the winter.

The current practice does not have the same significance of survival or basic subsistence, but survival need not be the threshold for a practice being integral. The syrup presently provides the basis of funding subsistence and promoting the wellbeing of the society.  Additionally, the central significance of the syrup is to meet the needs of the community and there is no intrinsic significance in the type of syrup, the mode of extraction, or the amount that was traded. The syrup has always been instrumentalized as a commodity to meet the needs of their own community members. In modern times, a step is added of commodifying the syrup into the contemporary currency system and this currency is used to meet the needs of the community.

While there is no pan-indigenous approach, the rationale or the normative order common to many indigenous perspectives must inform our justificatory analysis. The NFN’s governance procedures uphold mutual aid and kinship relationship with the birch trees. For example, the birch trees are not sparse but there is a substantial grove, and this was clearly a factor in the NFN’s decision. The mode in which the Forest Act’s uses to achieve the end of conservation is licensing. There is a shared objective of conservation.

However, the Forest Act derives from a liberal perspective which assumes that actors are egoistic and must be constrained from violating the rights of others. This assumption does not hold throughout indigenous perspectives. If it is not true that individual actors are self-interested and would not, say, extract sap for their own benefit to the point of harming the tree or harming others who are dependent on the sap, then we can question why licensing would be an effective mode of conservation. If we instead consider that actors respect the interdependence of humans with natural resources, then a scheme of licensing would be largely superfluous. In this vein, from the indigenous perspective, the analogous right to extract tree products is limited insofar as it continues to preserve the kinship with the natural world; as soon as it becomes overly harmful to the natural world, indigenous norms would put an end to the extract of sap.

The indigenous perspective may not have the strict empirical approach to conservation that is common with western epistemologies. Instead, the relationship of mutual aid with the natural world may allow a higher degree of extraction for periods of higher need, such as the need for a long-term care facility. While western perspectives may be more sensitives to exact thresholds, boundaries, and numerical figures, as per the licensing process, the indigenous approach can be more flexible and permissive depending on the circumstances. This is consistent with the relaxed rules of evidence, not only in terms of the onus of historical evidence, but also for establishing measures of conservation and markers for establishing harmony with the natural world.

In response, Ontario government may raise several arguments that the practice is not distinctive or integral to the NFN. First, the NFN only restarted the practice when they wanted to raise money. The fact that the NFN was not engaging in the practice to meet their general subsistence needs suggests that this is not integral to NFN culture and only incidental. Second, integrality can be challenged on the basis that there is no significance of extracting sap to survive winters in modern times because surviving winter is no longer an issue for the NFN.

Next, a possibly stronger thread of arguments can be launched for challenging the distinctiveness of the practice. The modern-day NFN practice uses industrial equipment and online trading, which is only due to European influence. Ontario may allow the practice as it existed without technology, but the modern evolution of the practice has become diluted by European influence. Separately, Ontario can argue that extracting syrup is not a distinctive practice since many cultures extra syrup; more generally, all cultures use resources around them to facilitate trade and survive harsh conditions, so there is nothing that separates the NFN’s practice from the European industrial practice of chopping down trees.

In the alternative, a more modest challenge would be against the excess profit reserved for the long-term facility. The Aboriginal right is extraction for survival, full-stop, although some limited forms of trade are permissible. The right does not cover wellbeing through commercial profit. If NFN wanted commercial profit, they should have applied for a license consistent with the Forest Act, as per the rule of law and Canadian sovereignty. More specifically, attaining something beyond one’s rights is unjust enrichment and they must return their excess profits to Ontario.

Continuity?

Let us shift to analyzing whether there is a reasonable degree of continuity between the pre-contact practice and the modern practice. Granted, the NFN are not collecting the same type of sap as the traditionally did as birch was not on the land then. Arguably the type of tree is irrelevant for the purpose of the act since it serves the same function and does not change the practice in any meaningful way. Moreover, but-for the modern effects of climate change, the NFN would have continued to produce maple instead of birch syrup. Aboriginal rights must be interpreted flexibly in its contemporary context.

The modern practice has evolved logically to incorporate technological advances. The new methods are more efficient by saving time and labour, but it is not clear that this changes the core of the practice. There were no traditional limitations placed on the amount of sap extracted, and any limitations were either a result of time and labour constraints or through principles of caring for the natural world. These considerations, along with other adverse consequences to affected parties, were already contemplated by NFN’s internal policies.

The modern practice has a broader commercial use and moved away from personal use. Traditionally, the NFN kept a percentage of the syrup for their own personal use and traded the rest in order to acquire the goods to survive winter. Still, the variance in the ratio of what was kept versus what was sold suggests that the syrup is a mere instrumentalized commodity and keeping some portion is not traditionally significant. However, the commodification and trading of the syrup remains essential since the NFN would not have survived without the goods from other First Nations. What is significant is that there is still the shared general purpose of using the proceeds of syrup for subsistence—namely, for food and basic living expenses.

Granted, this is possibly different from the additional monies used for the long-term care facility, as the purpose expands from subsistence to the wellbeing of the community and the needs of community members; nevertheless, the additional profit aimed at caring for the elders through the new facility is defensible. The extended scope of the use of the monies from the commercial production of syrup is consistent with the interest of all Canadians and the aims of reconciliation. NFN laws are governance procedures are an exercise of sovereign authority, and Canada musts respect indigenous self-determination and the right of self-governance. The NFN nation assessed the impact of this modern activity through the governance procedures, and Aboriginal rights inherently exists through indigenous legal orders. Moreover, the long-term care facility promotes the social and cultural wellbeing of the NFN and this is a partial step towards reconciliation with indigenous peoples. It is crucial to show deference to internal governance procedures, especially since they are sensitive to the shared objective of conservation.

Ontario may respond that the modern practice expands Aboriginal rights to an unacceptable degree. The claim can become too general if we allow it to turn from extracting syrup from maple trees to any kind of trees. Allowing NFN to broaden the scope of their right could open the floodgates and allow NFN to eliminate all potential access to non-Aboriginal right holders.

Even if we grant that extracting sap is a protected Aboriginal right, the extraction of sap for commercial practices are incidental and is too remote from the original practice. In other words, there is no logical continuity from the pre-European practice to NFN’s current practice. Modern commercial practices of selling syrup online bears no resemblance to the purpose of surviving the winter, and the dimension of retaining some for personal use has dissipated. We may permit small scale trades or transactions as was the case prior to European contact, but selling online for hundreds of thousands in excess profits goes well beyond what was contemplated.

In the alternative, Ontario may again focus their challenge to the excess profits for the facility. The Aboriginal right may be defensible even with the expanded use of modern technology but only insofar as it is used to meet basic needs of subsistence. Additional proceeds must be returned as it is beyond the scope of subsistence.

Which argument is more persuasive for courts?

Interpretations must be generous and liberal, consistent with the Crown’s fiduciary duty and any “doubt or ambiguity must be resolved in favour of aboriginal peoples.”[5] Courts are likely to side with NFN’s argument because environmental protection is a shared objective with the NFN community.

Ontario’s strongest argument is against the excess funds being considered for the facility. Notably, courts leave open the possibility of expanding the scope of Aboriginal rights beyond land claims, which suggests that wellbeing or health can in principle be protected. But it is more likely that courts will defer to NFN governance procedures to facilitate reconciliation.


[1] Constitution Act, 1982, being Schedule B to the Canada Act 1982 (UK), 1982, c 11.

[2] R v Van der Peet, [1996] 2 SCR 507 [Van Der Peet].

[3] Forestry Act, R.S.O. 1990, c. F.26.

[4] Van Der Peet, supra note 2 at para 46.

[5] Van Der Peet, supra note 2 at para 23.

Sample Presentation Notes: BCE & the Supreme Court of Canada

I’ll be focusing on two things from BCE: the test for determining whether an arrangement is fair and reasonable, and the threshold considerations for an oppression claim.

I’ll give some brief context, a bit of the rationale behind the analysis, and say a little bit about the application to the specific facts of BCE.

To start with the oppression claim, the analysis follows two steps, and it’s important to distinguish these steps.

First: does the evidence support the reasonable expectation asserted by the claimant? There’s a number of factors outlined in the case law which I’ll go through in the next slide, but it’s important to note that “reasonable expectation” is an objective and contextual assessment. Think here about first year contracts: what’s actually in the minds of the parties or what their actual expectations were is not conclusive; it’s really dependent on the facts.

Moving on to the second step of the analysis: does the evidence establish that the reasonable expectation was violated by conduct falling within the terms “oppression”, “unfair prejudice” or “unfair disregard” of a relevant interest? Here, once you establish a reasonable expectation from step one, you have to show that they failed the reasonable expectation in a way that’s oppressive or unfair to a relevant interest. To be clear, it’s not enough that the reasonable expectation fails, it has to fail a relevant interest (the most obvious is a legal right or entitlement) and it has to fail in an unfair way. More to come on this.

Returning to the first step of establishing a reasonable expectation, there are a number of factors the Court noted from case law. I noted the paragraph references for each one, but feel free to ask questions on any of these and I can elaborate.

73 Commercial practice plays a significant role in forming the reasonable expectations of the parties. A departure from normal business practices that has the effect of undermining or frustrating the complainant’s exercise of his or her legal rights will generally (although not inevitably) give rise to a remedy

74 The size, nature and structure of the corporation are relevant factors in assessing reasonable expectations:

75 Reasonable expectations may emerge from the personal relationships between the claimant and other corporate actors. Relationships between shareholders based on ties of family or friendship may be governed by different standards than relationships between arm’s length shareholders in a widely held corporation

76 Past practice may create reasonable expectations, especially among shareholders of a closely held corporation on matters relating to participation of shareholders in the corporation’s profits and governance

78 In determining whether a stakeholder expectation is reasonable, the court may consider whether the claimant could have taken steps to protect itself against the prejudice it claims to have suffered.

79 Shareholder agreements may be viewed as reflecting the reasonable expectations of the parties:

82 The cases on oppression, taken as a whole, confirm that the duty of the directors to act in the best interests of the corporation comprehends a duty to treat individual stakeholders affected by corporate actions equitably and fairly. There are no absolute rules. In each case, the question is whether, in all the circumstances, the directors acted in the best interests of the corporation, having regard to all relevant considerations, including, but not confined to, the need to treat affected stakeholders in a fair manner, commensurate with the corporation’s duties as a responsible corporate citizen.

What’s important to note about these factors is that they’re fact driven and there’s no definitive answer by completely satisfying one factor while partially satisfying another. It’s a holistic analysis. And the interpretative guide is that it’s a objective, contextual analysis.

It’s really important to carry this interpretative approach to the second step. The two quotes on the screen outline the animating rationale behind these two steps: namely, as an equitable remedy. Recall first year contracts again, and think about doctrines of conscionability or estoppel (and Lord Denning), and the way that they identified unfairness or oppressive circumstances—the analysis was driven by the specific facts of the case.

As we move to a closer look at the second step, it’s important to keep close to the statutory language. The Court emphasizes that “oppression” and “unfairness” is not completely open-ended and it’s reined in by how these concepts are used within section 241.

In the facts of BCE, the Courts said that there was a reasonable expectation that the directors would consider the interests debentureholders, but the debentureholders failed to prove that this reasonable expectation protected their economic interest. The directors gave sufficient consideration to the debentureholders’ legal interest, which amounted to the adequate attention to the contractual rights of the debentureholders. Since their legal interests were considered, the directors satisfied their duty and didn’t show any oppressive or unfair disregard.

Before we move onto section 192, are there any questions? Anything I can clarify? You can also save them for the end.

The Court really emphasizes the distinctness of sections 241 and 192, especially because conflating the two is the main error that the Court of Appeals made.

Note the quote: “The oppression remedy is a broad and equitable remedy that focuses on the reasonable expectations of stakeholders, while the s. 192 approval process focuses on whether the arrangement, objectively viewed, is fair and reasonable and looks primarily to the interests of the parties whose legal rights are being arranged.”

I think it’s helpful to understand some of the legislative history around section 192 to get a sense of what “fair and reasonable” is supposed to mean. In 1923, there was a Companies Act Amending Act designed to permit corporations to modify their share capital and permit changes to shareholders’ rights while offering shareholders protection. In 1974, plans of arrangements were omitted from the CBCA because Parliament considered them superfluous and feared that they could be used to squeeze out minority shareholders. Upon realizing that arrangements were a practical and flexible way to effect complicated transactions, an arrangement provision was reintroduced in the CBCA in 1978: Consumer and Corporate Affairs Canada.

So, there is a persistent policy goal of protecting minority shareholders, but section 192 also protects other stakeholders, like debentureholders.

On these appeals, it is conceded that the corporation satisfied the first two requirements. The only question is whether the arrangement is fair and reasonable.

How do we understand the third branch of “fair and reasonable”? (a) the arrangement has a valid business purpose, and (b) the objections of those whose legal rights are being arranged are being resolved in a fair and balanced way.

This is another fact driven test. There are a variety of relevant factors, including the necessity of the arrangement to the corporation’s continued existence, the approval, if any, of a majority of shareholders and other security holders entitled to vote, and the proportionality of the impact on affected groups. The procedure involved in coming to the arrangement is less important than the consequences of the arrangement on the rights of the parties and what’s in the best interest of the coproration as a whole.

Courts may consider whether an intelligent and honest business person, as a member of the class concerned and acting in his or her own interest, might reasonably approve of the plan. Courts on a s. 192 application should refrain from substituting their views of the “best” arrangement, but should not surrender their duty to scrutinize the arrangement. This isn’t the business judgement rule.

…the fact that the business judgment test referred to here and the business judgment rule discussed above (at para. 40) are so similarly named leads to confusion. The business judgment rule expresses the need for deference to the business judgment of directors as to the best interests of the corporation. The business judgment test under s. 192, by contrast, is aimed at determining whether the proposed arrangement is fair and reasonable, having regard to the corporation and relevant stakeholders. The two inquiries are quite different. Yet the use of the same terminology has given rise to confusion. Thus, courts have on occasion cited the business judgment test while saying that it stands for the principle that arrangements do not have to be perfect, i.e. as a deference principle… (para 140)

Again, some indicia of fairness include voting, proportionality of the compromise, and the impact on securityholders’ rights. Other factors include a special committee of independent directors, fairness opinions from experts, and access of shareholders to dissent and appraisal remedies.

In the facts of BCE:  Since only their economic interests were affected by the proposed transaction, not their legal rights, and since they did not fall within an exceptional situation where non-legal interests should be considered under s. 192, the debentureholders did not constitute an affected class under s. 192, and the trial judge was correct in concluding that they should not be permitted to veto almost 98 percent of the shareholders simply because the trading value of their securities would be affected.

It was well known that alteration in debt load could cause fluctuations in the trading value of the debentures, and yet the debentureholders had not contracted against this contingency.

Sample Reflection: Law and Lived Experience

I want to begin this reflection with some lessons I learned through my lived experience which I find myself meditating on throughout this course. Escaping loan sharks in [redacted], my family sought refuge in Canada. We remained undocumented as risking deportation meant risking our lives. Our home was the product of charity by the grocery store owner below us. My parents were forced into jobs that precariously paid under the table. Pushed to desperation, they appealed to our unique circumstances to apply for permanent residency on “Humanitarian and Compassionate” grounds. We did not have to return to danger; our status was finally ratified in 2011. The years prior, however, left us financially depleted. The moment I saw the eviction notice on our apartment door, I realized my parents were too ashamed to tell me the financial realities of being undocumented for over 10 years.

I did not realize how much of my thinking was shaped by the premise of survival and assimilation. When we landed in Canada, my parents gave me an anglicized name so that I would fit in. I started out in English as a Second Language programs, but slowly lost my ability to speak my native tongue – only now am I trying to relearn it. Still, I am one of the lucky ones. My privilege as a settler meant that I had the choice to integrate into this society and try to quietly advance within Canadian socio-economic institutions. I chose an undergraduate degree that was less demanding so that I could juggle three part-time jobs. Incidentally, my choice to study philosophy was deeply formative on my worldview, but now I wonder if it was just one more step in trying to assimilate into Western society.

As a student of the Anglo-American tradition and was taught to think of questions relating to law and morality through the lens of analytic philosophy. While the historical roots of this tradition are rooted in a Judeo-Christian worldview, more “modern” developments have secularized theories of law and divorce themselves from “natural law.” Such “legal positivists,” most notably HLA Hart, have conceptually separated law from morality. Others working within this Anglo-American tradition draw on a politically neutral form of morality to structure their theory of law, which found influence in the works of Ronald Dworkin; others still, like John Finnis, push for more controversial forms of morality being at the centre of thinking about the questions of “what is law.” All of these thinkers subscribe to the analytic method of deriving at truth through deduction, conceptual analysis, and the like. Let us call these “Western” approaches (granted, areas like critical theory and continental philosophy do not follow these methods yet are commonly placed under Western philosophy).

What is striking about Indigenous approaches to law is that law and morality appear to be a continuum. Western approaches understand law as having a distinct function from morality, so there is a conceptual starting point for thinking about law and another starting point for thinking about morality. The Western writers mentioned above dedicate their lives to looking at areas where they overlap and try to make sense of what the relationship between law and morality. The Indigenous approach is a more cohesive enterprise that collapses these sharp divides between law, morality, and metaphysics. It is this all-encompassing picture that I have trouble getting a handle on.

My education in Western philosophy taught me to breakdown the meaning of concepts and then apply them to syllogistic arguments of a single conclusion following from premises. This is not always appropriate to employ for Indigenous approaches to law. Leroy Little Bear notes the holistic and cyclical view of the world through Aboriginal philosophy. Trying to reconcile these views with Eurocentric values of objectivity, linear social organization, and reliance on static collective agreements leads to a fragmentation or “jagged” Aboriginal worldview. Indeed, as seen through the lens of Canadian history and current legality, Indigenous culture is only partially developed and preserved.

I am grateful for this critical eye towards Western approaches, especially to its subtle language and presuppositions. It has pushed me to try to learn about non-Western approaches that are more focused on the community and relational values. Western approaches promote the individual’s power for choice and self-determination, as well as their intrinsic dignity and rationality which must be piously guarded. This approach neglects the interdependence of people for their well-being – social attachments, like family or a community, are crucial to thrive and flourish. Ironically, this point was emphasized by Aristotle, a philosopher who is arguably the most influential Western thinker.

As we dive deeper into the nuances of international law and claims of genocide, I keep reflecting on the underlying tensions between worldviews. There is no doubt that the Western approach is the dominant power and the approach that is employed in the language of the laws, reasoning, and moral justifications. I think about what this approach neglects. The lacuna in Western approaches is interestingly at the forefront in Third World Approaches to International Law.

I want to conclude this reflection with a recent story. Despite my engrossment in being educated in Western approaches, I discovered that I carried one value that was not very Western: filial piety. This showed up in my discussions with my mentors, peers, and intimates around my career decisions. I was challenged by those around me to choose a path in law that I was passionate about, that made me happy, and that promoted my own self-actualization. It was difficult to explain why pragmatic considerations of finance were so important to me – my parents do not have their own retirement plan, that is, I am their retirement plan. I cannot afford to pick a career that I am passionate about at the cost of a small starting salary. Some have diagnosed this as a lack of a backbone, having “tiger” parents, or being to driven by money. Granted, I loathe business law. But after all that my parents have done for me, I can learn to like business law. My prioritization of finances as a symbol of gratitude to my parents is not pathological. Rather, I believe it is honorable and moral – although, self-doubt is still a daily occurrence.

Sample Research Chart: Contractual Estoppel

SOURCEPOSITION  THESISARGUMENT STRUCTURECOMMENTARY
E Cooke, The Modern Law of Estoppel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000).Introductory textbook on the historical developments of estoppel.Attempts to find a unified (although not seamless) account of estoppel, along with practical guidelines for application (especially raising a party’s expectation); moreover argues estoppel “should never be static” and must evolve to address injustices.Is “estoppel in one area of law or several”; is it “possible to construct a unified doctrine”; how do we explain “estoppel within a law of obligations”…? (4)Explicitly excludes estoppel per rem judicatam; includes “formal estoppels” in chapter 2; looks at the history and doctrinal evolution in latter chapters; categorizes estoppel as “formal” and “reliance-based.”   There are a lot of useful case references (mostly English). There are a number of other interesting “departures from the norm” (155).   The author also devotes a chapter to addressing the question of “too many labels” (54) and the number of types of estoppel.
Larissa Katz, “Blowing Hot and Cold: The Role of Estoppel” in Paul B Miller & John Oberdiek, ed, Civil Wrongs and Justice in Private Law (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020) 131.Estoppel from a private law procedure theory lens.It argues that a principle of estoppel is a central component of a decentralized and popularized form of public administration, in which private rightsholders— alongside of judges and other public officials— participate in forming and stabilizing the private law order.The author frames the principle of estoppel as having a regulative function with respect to the “authority rights-bearers have to determine how in fact things stand between themselves and others.” (132) This authority is used by private actors to govern their own rights.Estoppel is understood thinly (“pure” estoppel) as a “principle against self-contradiction” and “a basic principle of private law procedure.” (131)   The author also distances the principle of estoppel from other common ideas related to unconscionability. Estoppel has a more basic function in embedding the private actor into the courts through authoritative declarations of their rights (and stopping them from “blowing hot and cold at the same time”).
Juliet P Kostritsky, “The Rise and Fall of Promissory Estoppel or is Promissory Estoppel Really as Unsuccessful as Scholars Say It Is: A New Look at the Data” (2002) 37:2 Wake Forest L Rev 531.Empirical approach to promissory estoppel.Responds to the argument that promissory estopped in unimportant (Robert Hillman and Sidney De Long), and claims that estoppel can promote efficiency.Gilmore (1974) suggested the central role of promissory estoppel, but empirical challenges (Hillman and De Long) showed that courts rejected estoppel claims. The author argues that the rejection of estoppel claims have a different explanation: weak evidence (and a failure to control for qualitative factors).An interesting upshot of this paper is the suggestion that promissory estoppel is efficient and courts have been using efficiency as reasons to hold in favor of estoppel claimants.
Charles L Knapp, “Rescuing Reliance: The Perils of Promissory Estoppel” (1998) 49:Issues 5 & 6 Hastings LJ 1191.Doctrinal argument for reliance based promissory estoppel.A doctrinal/historical look reveals a common thread of reliance which supports promissory estoppel.The author provides a historical overview of promissory estoppel. The author finds reliance to support promissory estoppel as a doctrine; moreover, the author further suggests that equity is crucial for contract law.This article is over 100 pages, but offers a close look at the early debate on estoppel in the 80s. It is a good starting point for diving into the literature. It is interesting to see the enormous influence of Gilmore (1974) in sparking such debates.
Douglas Lichtman, “Rethinking Prosecution History Estoppel” (2004) 71:1 U Chicago L Rev 151.Empirical assessment of prosecution history estoppel for patents (in a US context).Prosecution history estoppel has evidentiary presumptions that favor parties based on arbitrary criteria; as such, a better rule would take a more attenuated approach.The author starts with a definition of prosecution history estoppel (153) and raises empirical issues based on the arbitrariness of examiners and the categorization of technologies.  Patent prosecution often involves changes to the language, but there is a question of how these changes ought to be considered as evidence in a claim.This article is a bit esoteric in that its notion of estoppel is within the US patent law context. Notably, Canada does not follow the US in this regard
Knapp, Charles L. “Reliance in the Revised Restatement: The Proliferation of Promissory Estoppel.” Columbia Law Review, vol. 81, no. 1, January 1981, p. 52-79. HeinOnline.A doctrinal analysis of reliance and promissory estoppel in Restatement (Second) of Contracts.The Restatement (Second) and its broadening of promissory estoppel is a step towards reliance theories/The author looks closely at the Restatement (Second), specifically sections 87, 90, and 139.The author further suggests other reliance-based principles, like good faith and unconscionability, will further evolve. 
Avery Katz, “When Should an Offer Stick–The Economics of Promissory Estoppel in Preliminary Negotiations” (1996) 105:5 Yale LJ 1249.An economic (rational choice) look at promissory estoppel during bargaining and formation.“…the efficiency of promissory estoppel in preliminary negotiations depends in large part on which party holds the bulk of the bargaining power ex post. If the original offeror holds the bargaining power, then the modem doctrine that holds her to her offer is likely to provide the more efficient rule, other things being equal.” (1256-7)“The level of reliance that is privately profitable for the parties will coincide with the socially optimal level under two conditions: The person who controls the reliance must enjoy its marginal benefits, and he or she must also pay the costs when it is wasted. Since in preliminary negotiations both parties control the reliance and the party with the ex post bargaining power gets the gains, it is that party who should also bear the costs.” (1257)Interestingly, this article looks at promissory estoppel in the precontractual setting. The main economic problem is wasted reliance and how to ensure reliance is overall socially optimal.
Daniel A Farber & John H Matheson, “Beyond Promissory Estoppel: Contract Law and the Invisible Handshake” (1985) 52:4 U Chicago L Rev 903.A survey of promissory estoppel cases to support the doctrinal expansion of promissory estoppel as its own distinct contractual obligation (and not reliance-based). A survey of courts shows that promissory estoppel is being transformed into a distinct contractual obligation that is congruent with economic and moral ends.Courts have moved away from reliance in promissory estoppel and whatever exists of it is merely a formality; as such, estoppel cannot be properly said to be a reliance-based recovery. Their main conclusions from their survey are in four parts (907-915).An interesting part of the authors’ survey is how promissory estoppel is being expanded to include awards of expectation damages and specific performance (see starting on 907).   They also seem to be expanding what counts as consideration.
Juliet P Kostritsky, “A New Theory of Assent-Based Liability Emerging under the Guise of Promissory Estoppel: An Explanation and Defense” (1987) 33:3 Wayne L Rev 895.A doctrinally analysis of promissory estoppel and a proposal for a unifying theory for its place in contract law.“This Article posits that promissory estoppel, together with other orthodox doctrines, are merely substitute doctrinal methods for showing the assent required for an enforceable consensual exchange.” (902)“This new approach to contract suggests that liability obtains when either (1) complete contracting is possible and an explicit bargain or a bargain plus formalities is reached, or (2) persuasive barriers to, or explanations for the parties dispensing with, explicitly reciprocal or formalized contracting exist and a plausible benefit to the promisor can be identified.” (905-6)Promissory estoppel is not reliance-based, rather it is bargain-based. Promissory estoppel should not be thought of as an independent source of obligations, but merely as extending obligations. Estoppel is employed in most cases where there are “barriers to bargain,” like differences in knowledge and having a history of prior dealings, and it seeks to compensate parties for the barrier.
Randy E Barnett & Mary E Becker, “Beyond Reliance: Promissory Estoppel, Contract Formalities, and Misrepresentations” (1987) 15:3 Hofstra L Rev 443.A doctrinal look into promissory estoppel and how courts have treated estoppel in relation to liability.“In this article, we suggest that promissory estoppel serves two of the functions served by traditional contract and tort remedies available to parties in consensual relationships: the enforcement of some promises intended as legally binding and the imposition of liability to compensate for harm caused by some misrepresentations.” (445-6)“In section I, we discuss promissory estoppel cases which can be understood as contractual in the broad sense that the promisor apparently intended to be legally bound by the promise, though some formal requirement for an enforceable contract may be missing. In section II, we discuss those cases in which liability cannot be understood as entirely contractual. In these cases, courts have used promissory estoppel to afford a remedy for some promissory misrepresentations not remedied by traditional contract and tort doctrines.” (448)An interesting point the authors explains is that, contrary to interpretations of the Restatement (Second), the damages in promissory estoppel cases are often expectation damages. Moreover, promissory estoppel is appropriately a part of contracts, although some parts can be understood as being a part of torts.   We also see Barnett’s consent theory dealing with promissory estoppel: while a promisor might not have met the formal requirements, they still intended to be bound to a promise.
Michael Gibson, “Promissory Estoppel, Article 2 of the U.C.C.,and the Restatement (Third) of Contracts” (1988) 73:3 Iowa L Rev 659.A critique of reliance-based theories, mainly arguing that Llewellyn excludes promissory estoppel in the UCC (and more generally in the commercial context).  “This Article will argue that Karl Llewellyn consciously rejected the theory of promissory estoppel when he drafted Article 2, and that he believed reliance should play only a minimal role in both the law of sales and the law of contract.” (661)“This Article has three purposes. The first is to explore the relationship of promissory estoppel and reliance to the formation sections of Article 2 of the Uniform Commercial Code.’ 7 The second is to analyze what effects that relationship should have on judicial use of promissory estoppel in transactions concerning the sale of goods, and to determine whether modem judicial application of promissory estoppel to goods transactions-an application which is far more common than one might expect’ 8-has been proper. The third purpose is to discuss what effect experience with promissory estoppel under Article 2 should have on common law use of that doctrine.” (661)An interestingly claim by this author is that the expansion of promissory estoppel needs to be contained.
Edward Yorio & Steve Thel, “The Promissory Basis of Section 90” (1991) 101:1 Yale LJ 111.Promissory estoppel based on enforcing promissory obligations instead of reliance-based protection.“As this Article shows, however, these commentators are wrong about the way courts have decided Section 90 cases. Rather than using Section 90 to compensate promisees for losses suffered in reliance, judges use it to hold people to their promises by granting specific performance or by awarding expectation damages.” (112)The authors take a close look at the historical developments of Section 90 of the Restatement, and shows that specific performance and expectation damages are the routine remedy. Courts have not been primarily concerned with remedies or protecting reliance; rather, they focus on the enforcement of the right promises.The authors conclude that, like consideration doctrines, reliance should be thought of as a tool for determining serious promises.
Jay M Feinman, “Promissory Estoppel and Judicial Method” (1984) 97:3 Harv L Rev 678.A doctrinal look at the history of promissory estoppel and an argument for bargain theory.The author argues for bargain as the unifying principle (with reliance having a secondary role); while reliance is important, expectation damages suggest that bargain is the core.“Part I chronicles the evolution of promissory estoppel against the backdrop of the classical conception of contract law and the attack on that conception. Part I then examines the ways in which courts have applied the elements of the doctrine of promissory estoppel and suggests that such applications pose continuing problems for contract law. Part HI explores and criticizes the doctrinal applications as manifestations of competing methods of contract adjudication.” (679) 
Jay M Feinman, “The Meaning of Reliance: A Historical Perspective” (1984) 1984:5 Wis L REV 1373.A historical, interpretive look at reliance.Promissory estoppel as a doctrine has a multitude of sources and its source cannot be pinned down to one.The author traces the history of how protections of reliance (like promissory estoppel) developed.The author makes the point that the historical analysis contributes to critical legal studies, and possibly expanding reliance to offer greater protection.
Jay M Feinman, “The Last Promissory Estoppel Article” (1992) 61:2 Fordham L Rev 303.A rejection of promissory estoppel and its developments, especially reliance theories.The author suggests that the focus on promises as the source of liability needs to change; instead, relationships need to be the starting point.The author rejects the Yario & Thel (1991) suggestion that promissory estoppel is based on either promise enforcement or reliance protection. Instead, we should shift our focus to relational obligations.A short but rich article.  It also engages Bernett & Becker(1987), Kostritsky (1987), and Farber & Matheson (1985).
Randy E Barnett, “The Death of Reliance” (1996) 46:4 J LEG EDUC 518.A version of consent theory: promissory estoppel should be enforced in relation to a promisor’s intention to be legally bound to a promise.Contrary to reliance theories, promissory estoppel is not about detrimental reliance, rather it is about picking which promises to enforce.The discussion starts with Fuller and Gilmore, and their influence on the “new consensus” (522) in the 80s. The author then moves to suggest a reform of reliance theories (527). 
Eric Mills Holmes, “Restatement of Promissory Estoppel” (1996) 32:2 Willamette L Rev 263.A US state-by-state look at promissory estoppel proving its relevance.Contrary to the prediction of critics, promissory estoppel is not dead.The author offers a four-stage doctrinal evolution of promissory estoppel (same as below: Holmes 1996), then dives into US jurisdiction.A very long (over 250 pages) article and a fastidious look into American caselaw on promissory estoppel.
Eric Mills Holmes, “The Four Phases of Promissory Estoppel” (1996) 20:1 Seattle UL Rev 45.The author looks at the development of promissory estoppel from broader principles in equity.The doctrinal evolution of estoppel can be understood in four phases: estoppel, contract, tort, and equity. Understood as such, promissory estoppel is distinct from contract or tort (and deflationary views are wrong).The author tackles four questions (49) which coincide with the four phases of promissory estoppel. In short: “Is estoppel from equit the basis of promissory estoppel, as its name suggest?”; “With its basis in promise and assent, is promissory estoppel a contract doctrine”; “Is the root foundation of promissory estoppel grounded in the tort of detrimental reliance?”; “Is modern equity the “mother mold” of promissory estoppel with the doctrine’s basis grounded in the equitable principles of good faith and conscience?”The author is great at distilling from a large volume of literature (see footnote on promissory estoppel on 50).
Andrew Robertson, “Situating Equitable Estoppel within the Law of Obligations” (1997) 19:1 Sydney L Rev 32.A doctrinal look into estoppel in Australia. “The central thesis of this article is that equitable estoppel is, and should be, a doctrine which is organised around the concept of detrimental reliance and which is part of the law of wrongs.” (33)This article looks at the development of reliance-based doctrines of estoppel, then looks at the debate on how this doctrine fits within the law of obligations (i.e. between theories of promise, conscience, and reliance).The Australian cases cited suggest a reliance-based view.