 How does one broach such a man, particularly as someone who did not have the honor of meeting him in person? Professor Christie was born and raised in Nova Scotia. He started his academic career at Queen's University in 1964, the ability of strikers and the law of torts, a book of continuing importance from which the Supreme Court of Canada has learned a thing or two. In 1971, he returned to Nova Scotia and took up a post very thankfully for us at the housing law school, where he taught full time until 2003 and then part time until 2007. He served as our dean from 1985 to 1991. His teaching interests were wide, labor employment law, poverty law, municipal law, administrative law, contracts, commercial law, and professional ethics. He had a leading role in law reform. He was engaged in the Woods Task Force on Labor Relations in Canada in 1967, drafted the Nova Scotia Trade Union Act in 1973 with former Dean Reed, and the Nova Scotia Labor Standards Code in 1972. He changed the way employment law is taught in law schools in part through the influential employment law in Canada. He served in the 1970s as a member of the Canadian Anti-Inflation Appeal Tribunal, was counsel to the Nova Scotia Labor Standards Tribunal, and was chair of the Nova Scotia Labor Relations Board. In addition, he was deputy minister in the Nova Scotia Department of Labor and served as a member and chair of the Nova Scotia Workers Organization Board. Additionally, he served as a part time member of the Federal Public Service Staff Relations Board and the Canada Human Rights Commission Tribunal. Professor Christie's career was of the sort that we all aspire to. He taught, mentored, and inspired generations of labor law students across Canada and his contributions to academic labor law, to public policy formation and administration, to labor arbitration and adjudication, and to legal education are broad, deep, and enduring. The Innis Christie Symposium in Labor and Employment Law honors his life and work. The gift that provides support for the symposium was initiated by the firm of Pink Larkin and driven in large part by the leadership of Ron Pink. Ron, however, had a willing group of friends, including at the significance, a great significance of missing someone, Peter McCulloch, John McPherson, Terry Rohn, Brian Johnson, Brian Langill, and Larry Snyberg. And the response to the proposal to create the symposium in honor of Innis Christie was swift and tremendous. Many thanks to those of you who have ensured that we have a substantive and rich way of continuing to honor Professor Christie's contributions here at the school. I was delighted this week that Mrs. Christie took the time to come and meet me. My delight was marked slightly by my embarrassment in not having found her first. I understand, though, that this was somewhat typical of their family arrangement. The faculty owes Mrs. Christie a good deal of thanks for her time, commitment, and general sociability. It sounds like the Christie home has served as a welcoming place for the Schulich School of Law and in some ways as a second-welded building. Many welcomes to the Christie family who have joined us here today. A final look of thanks. A lively group of people have been instrumental in organizing the two days that comprise this year's symposium. My thanks to them for their contributions to the intellectual life of our community. My special thanks to Bruce Archibalds who took on chairing the committee with enthusiasm and to Elizabeth Sandford who has agreed to serve as the point person charged with ensuring that no detail was left undone. I'll turn the podium now to Brian, who's from the class of 1975 and a professor of U of T who will introduce tonight's speaker. Thank you. This is a real honor, not to mention, a bit of real treat and a real thrill to be asked to introduce to you Harry Arthur, who says the first Innis Christie visiting professor in labor and employment law. Delivering the first Innis Christie lecture in labor and employment law. On the first day of the first Innis Christie symposium in labor and employment law. This is a simple task for me for neither Harry nor Innis need any introduction to this audience where we all recognize both as giants in our field. But for me there is more, there is something personal. Innis was my teacher, later my colleague, here at Dow. He was always my mentor and my friend. He is the reason I became a labor lawyer. He's the reason I became a labor academic. He supported me at every turn. I owe him so much. I know that many in this room and many who are not here also stand profoundly in Innis's debt. And I feel very honored to be asked to stand before you today and say what many could say with equal conviction. We all wish Innis was still here, still being here, but he is not. Given this truth, what we can do and what we should do is try to live by the example he set and try to carry forward the enterprise to which he dedicated his working life, labor and employment law. That is why we are gathered here today. It is also why it's so appropriately wonderful that Dow has created the Innis-Christy visiting professorship in labor and employment law and this symposium in labor and employment law and why it is simply perfect that Harry Arthur's be the first Innis-Christy visiting professor in labor and employment law. Harry William Arthur's is president emeritus and university professor emeritus of York University. He's a graduate of university college and faculty of law at the University of Toronto and of the Harvard Law School. He holds many honorary degrees from many universities including McGill, Montreal and Toronto. Before being appointed to the presidency of York University, he was the dean of Oxford Hall of Law School and he oversaw that school's rapid ascent to the ranks of Canadian law faculty. He has taught in many places, including U of T, McGill, Oxford, Cambridge and the University of London. He's an officer of the Order of Canada, a member of the Order of Ontario, a fellow of the Royal Society, a corresponding fellow of the British Academy, a killer and a laureate in the social sciences and for those of you who don't follow these things, the Kilham Prize is a sort of MVP award for all of the social sciences, not just alone. He also has won the Mondale Medal, another MVP award this time for legal writing. Much more, including being the first winner of the Bore-Alaskin Prize in Labor Law, a prize that Innis also won. In his spare time, he writes major reports for the federal government on labor standards and for the Ontario government on pensions. Most of us here think of and know Harry as a Canadian labor lawyer of the very first place, but we should keep in mind that Harry's career and interests have taken into leadership roles in other areas of the law, in administrative law, in the legal profession. Harry was, for example, a venture of the Law Society of Upper Canada in legal education. One of Harry's first major reports was on legal education in Canada entitled Law and Learning, which was issued in 1983. In legal history and in legal theory, where his scholarship is vital to what is called the Law and Society Movement and in particular to a school of thought called Law and Pluralism, which, as its name implies, insists that there's much more to law than the formal legal system contemplates or can acknowledge. He is a deep believer in the indigenous, informal, implicit, and local law that people create for themselves, the law of workplaces, for example. Here's his experience in his early days of going down to Spadina Avenue in Toronto to the garment district and dealing with issues of disputes in the shop floor. It stood him in good stead. It also provided him later on with a perspective from which to criticize the legalizational labor arbitration as we now know. We should also recall, as we claim and celebrate Harry as one of our own, that his reputation is global. His work and his name are recognized around the world. He still travels white, he writes a lot, he lectures everywhere, and he generally hangs out with a global intellectual elite. Yes, here in Canada, he was the winner of the Boral Aston Prize in labor law, but on the global stage, he was also the first recipient of the International Labor Organization's Decent Work Prize, an honor he shared with Joseph Stickles, Nobel laureate in 2008. The ILO Prize is meant to be a sort of Nobel Prize for labor, Harry deserved it. But for our purposes, the key point is this. Harry is, and has been for many years, a daughter of the important labor lawyer in Canada. I can think of no other legal field in which a single person has so justified and dominated the landscape and for so long. I tell my students that Boral Aston essentially invented labor law as a discipline in Canada. Harry was Borra's student, and I tell my students, Borra begat Harry. As Harry will tell us in a moment, he in us has some things in common and some things not. What they share is what is important. And all too rare. Both of them were, to be sure, terrific scholars, teachers, mentors, academic administrators, arbitrators, and public figures, and so on. But more important to me, and I think to many people, is something beyond the CV and the list of accomplishments. Something more basic that made all of that possible is the content of their character. This is what inspired generations of their students to become labor lawyers. It was the way they lived. First, they demanded a lot from the cells, and they expected the same from others. When it really mattered, Innis was better. So was Harry. Second, Innis was also fiercely independent of Mara. He hated bullshit, pretentious, intellectual laziness, in law in particular and in life in general. This too, Harry shares with Innis, and he's about to prove it. By honoring Innis, in the way Innis would have expected and have won. That is by taking Innis' ideas seriously. This means not merely invoking them or paying homage to them. That would be the shallowest thing in Innis' view. Rather, by challenging them and pushing them to new limits. There he goes. I never realized what a talent Bryant had for understatement. I'm sure I don't need to tell people here, but I will anyway. What an honor it is to deliver the first Innis Christi lecture in labor law. As you've heard, Innis' career and mine developed in parallel. Our very first publications dealt with tort liability for strikes. Our early research dealt with collective labor law. We worked together on a labor law casebook. We both shuffled sideways from labor law into administrative law and lurched from there into legal ethics. We both became labor mediators and then a logical progression, deans of law. Finally, we both worked on government policy studies starting with the Woods Task Force in the mid-60s. Though Innis became far more extensively involved with government than I did. On the other hand, in several important respects, our pads diverged. I tried to light a fire under my law school. Innis burned his down. Innis was a passionate golfer. I wrote an article called The Right to Golf. He was an intrepid sailor. I exhausted my nautical ambitions on the ferry across Toronto Harbor. But the biggest difference, the real difference, between us was this. I got round to thinking about the plight of individual unorganized workers just five or six years ago. Innis taught Canada's first ever course in employment law in the early 70s. And in 1980, he published the first ever Canadian academic treatise on the subject. It's precisely Innis pioneering work on the rights of unorganized workers that inspires the title of my talk this evening, charting the boundaries of labor law. By discovering an unexplored continent of individual employment law, a notion away from the known world of collective labor law, Innis opened up for debate. The whole question of how to redraw the map of labor law so as to accommodate this new and important discovery. I'm going to address that question. Then I will suggest that we need a map that is more ambitious yet. One that can accomplish a multiplicity of, that can accommodate a multiplicity of continents as yet undiscovered, a plethora of tectonic forces as yet unimagined. What we need, I argue, is a map of the law of labor market regulation. It's easy to understand why collective labor law preoccupied Canadian labor policy makers, practitioners, and scholars right through the 1980s when Innis, sorry, through the 60s when Innis and I began our academic careers. Conflict raged over labor's claim to a fair share of wealth and power over the right of workers to organize over the implications of collective bargaining for the national interest in war and in peace. The conflict, bitter, emotional, ideological, sometimes violent conflict, ultimately provoked a major if incomplete experiment in labor market regulation, our system of compulsory collective bargaining. Given this great societal drama, given the legal and policy challenges of introducing a new regulatory system, how could politicians and lawyers and legal academics not be interested in not be consumed by collective labor law? However, just when collective bargaining seemed to be entering its golden age, it seemed also to lose its appeal. Or more accurately, changes in technology, in management strategy, in working class consciousness, in global political economy. Brought the post war expansion of trade unionism to a halt and launched collective bargaining on what has turned out to be 40 years of gradual but uninterrupted decline. Over time, this decline contributed to the restructuring of labor law practice, the repudiation by legislatures of many promising experiments in collective labor law, and ultimately the redeployment of scholarly energies to other aspects of labor law. In this, of course, was way ahead of the rest of us in detecting this shift, or at least in noticing the tenuous grip that collective bargaining had on Canadian workplaces and the consequent need to supplement or to complement it with what we now call employment law. Now, in fact, I had an early encounter with employment law myself. One of the first letters I drafted as an articling student, read roughly as follows. Dear sir, you have wrongfully dismissed our client, Mr. A. Unless we receive the sum of $1 million by Monday next, we will be obliged to initiate legal proceedings. To my astonishment, not a penny was received by Monday next, nor were legal proceedings initiated by our firm for obvious reasons. Aggrieved employees like poor Mr. A. could seldom afford to sue, and if they could, they were generally well-advised not to. Common law doctrine heavily favored employers. Common law remedies did not include reinstatement of wrongly discharged employees, and damage awards were generally very modest indeed. Well into the 20th century, magistrates courts and small claims courts, the lowest level of criminal and civil courts, still dealt with what was then called master and servant law. However, no lawyer ever made much of a living in those courts. Their decisions were seldom if ever reported, and until recently, they received scant attention from scholars. Thus, for Innis to launch a new law school subject called employment law in the 1970s was pretty much like making bricks without straw. In each decade of the 40s and 50s, only about 60 employment law cases in total were decided by all Canadian superior courts. That is about six cases per year. In the 60s, this number grew somewhat to about 100 over the decade. Still on average, only one case per province per year. And even in the 70s, when Innis began to work in the field, only about 600 cases were decided across the whole country over an entire 10 year period on average half a dozen cases per year per province. The pace really only picked up in the 80s when more than 300 employment law cases were decided, and of course, the number has continued to climb ever since. During the 70s, and especially the 80s, it became clear that changes were taking place that were qualitative as well as quantitative. Common law doctrine became more favorable to employees. Judges began to read worker friendly terms into employment contracts to hold employers to higher substantive and procedural standards when terminating employees for cause and to provide employees with more generous damage awards if these standards were violated. These developments were, excuse me, were chronicled in and to some extent prompted by an outpouring of publications over employment law. Practitioners' texts, guides and handbooks, law school and continuing education, teaching materials, government and think tank studies and of course, academic treatises and articles. Just to cite one more set of statistics. In the entire 60 years, from 1900 to 1960, less than a dozen books and articles on employment law were published in Canada. Less than two per decade. In the 60s and 70s, the pace picked up a little to a dozen publications per decade. But since 1980, things have changed dramatically. There are now about a hundred publications on some aspect of employment law per decade. Innis, his students, his co-authors, made a crucial contribution to these developments by proposing a new regime of protection for Canadian workers and they did so just at the moment when it was becoming clear that collective bargaining had gone into decline. In fact, as we all know, collective bargaining never covered as many workers as individual employment law. Even in its heyday in the 60s and 70s, collective labor law embraced less than 40% of the Canadian workforce. The rights of the other 60% were determined by individual employment law and this disparity grew as union membership shrunk to its current level well below 30%. But it would be wrong for me to suggest that employment law itself has lived up to its promise. The common law of the employment contract, the heart and soul of what we have come to call employment law never provided rank and file workers with satisfactory protection and it still doesn't. Rather, it appears primarily to benefit a relatively thin stratum, a relatively highly paid professional managerial sales and technical employees. This is hardly surprising. Such people can afford to sue unlike my poor Mr. A. They make higher salaries and therefore stand to recover higher damages if they win their case and they also benefit from an odd common law doctrine that entitles them to calculate their losses using a more generous formula than rank and file workers are entitled to use. Still, if developments in the common law of employment provided little practical benefit for ordinary workers, they certainly created a whole new market niche for lawyers. On the one hand, lawyers identified a new affluent clientele to whom they marketed their services through publications and conferences and newsletters and on the other, they helped to reshape the contractual provisions, the legal doctrines, the conventions of compensation that constitute the substantive norms of this field of law. I wish I could also report that employment law flourished as rapidly amongst academics as it did amongst practitioners. However, I'm afraid that we were slower off the mark. In part, the reluctance of law professors to teach or write about employment law can be explained by a near consensus that the best way to protect workers was to help them gain access to collective bargaining. Only when the promise of collective bargaining began to fade did we legal academics begin to look seriously at the alternatives, in particular, at employment standards, health and safety, workers' compensation, and anti-discrimination statutes enforced by labor ministries, inspectorates, and tribunals. Until then, as Judy Fudge memorably observed with the honorable exception of Innis and a small group of his colleagues and his former students, legal academics generally treated employment law as what she called labor law's little sister, an unsexy field unworthy of the attention of serious scholars. Despite the fact that it provided the only protections available to women, immigrants, the unskilled and poorly educated and other vulnerable worker populations. However, a second more mundane consideration also delayed the growth of an academic discipline of employment law. Law professors tend to teach subjects only if they can find teachable cases or other thought-provoking materials. However, few such employment law cases were decided until the 70s and hardly any Canadian secondary literature was published until the 1980s. Whatever the reasons then, it's clear that employment law only emerged as a field of professional practice in the 70s and as an academic sub-discipline in the 80s, thanks largely, of course, to Innis. What relation employment law bore to the rest of labor law is the question I want to pose next. In the preface to the first edition of employment law, Innis defined his subject as, quote, the non-collective aspect of what standard English texts refer to as labor law. This definition appears to sharply differentiate the individual from the collective aspects of labor law. However, as Innis made clear elsewhere, this differentiation was driven by editorial considerations rather than a desire to keep the various elements of labor law analytically or functionally distinct. Not only are there points of intersection and overlapping between collective and individual law, not only are the two do the two inform and influence each other, but as Innis' former student and then colleague, Brian Langell, argued in a very important article, labor law is a subset of employment law. Like Brian, Innis himself strongly endorsed the proposition that collective and individual labor law are both indispensable to the larger project of ensuring justice in employment relations. In this part of my lecture, I aim to explore the implications of their shared insight. Let me start this way. Labor law is about workers. However, workers do not possess a gene or antibody that guarantees them. They will remain employees rather than become self-employed or unemployed. Nor do they arrive on the labor market with individual or collective stamped on their foreheads. Thus in the 1950s and 60s, many workers governed by individual employment contracts joined unions and became subject to collective bargaining agreements. Since 1970, as union density is declined, flow has been in the opposite direction. And since the 1980s, there's been a significant shift from full-time long-term standard employment arrangements to part-time short-term agency and other non-standard arrangements, many of which provide workers with fewer rights and lower entitlements. Because of this volatility and the status and rights of workers, labor law must be able to manage transition, reconcile anomalies, cope with ambiguities, but it can do none of these things. If its administrators and beneficiaries inhabit different policy domains and are regulated by separate legal regimes, a second fact of equal or greater importance. Disparities and discontinuities amongst common law, collective bargaining and statutory employment regimes create incentives for employers to game the system to the prejudice of workers. By resisting unionization, employers can hire people more cheaply under individual contracts. By not offering them standard employment conditions, they can hire them more cheaply yet. And by sending work down the supply chain to a contractor or offshore, they can avoid hiring workers altogether, escape all forms of labor regulation and achieve even lower labor costs, which is why employers have been doing precisely all these things with increasing frequency. Understanding labor law as an integrated system, I argue, might go some way towards preventing such tactics. Finally, the persistence of distinct regimes of labor law, common law, collective bargaining, statutory labor law, the existence of these distinct regimes helps to obscure and thus to reinforce inequality amongst groups of workers. To overstate only slightly, high status managerial and professional workers benefit considerably from employee friendly rulings of the Supreme Court. Private sector, construction, transportation and manufacturing workers and public sector workers are able to secure reasonably favorable wages and working conditions through collective bargaining. But many Canadian workers, unskilled, casual, part-time workers, service workers, clerical workers, these workers must settle for the minimal protections they receive from under-resourced labor inspectors charged with enforcing often outdated labor standards legislation. And parenthetically, domestic and agricultural workers must settle for none of the above. Now the key point, the demography of each of these groups of workers differs considerably. White males predominate in managerial and professional cadres and male semi-skilled workers in most private sector unions are predominant. Women are prominent in public sector unions, but along with people of color and immigrants are over-represented in the service sector and of course in the non-waged work of social reproduction. Thus because different groups of workers are covered by labor law regimes of differing ambition and efficacy, labor law may operate to reinforce gender, racial, and class inequality in Canadian society. To say that labor law is a subset of employment law is to remind ourselves that we must measure our system of employment regulation by what it does to help the weakest, not the strongest members of the workforce. An integrated approach to employment law would enable us to see this more clearly. Against this background, I can now sum up what I conceived to be in this great achievement. By exploring the common law of employment and the statutory regimes that regulate employment relations and by charting their relationship to collective labor law, he redrew our mental map of this whole legal domain. But Ennis was a pragmatic person, not a grand visionary. He effectively redrew our map of labor law in much the same way as say the Basque fishermen who fished for cod off the coast of Newfoundland revised everyone's knowledge of the Atlantic. Until the publication of Ennis' book on employment law in Canada, academic and professional lawyers operated with a map on which the law governing individual employment relations was essentially located in a blank space labeled here be monsters. Ennis removed that label and by sketching in the main features of that space reminded us that it was inhabited by flesh and blood workers who needed and deserved the law's attention. Without this initiative, we could neither identify the winds and reefs and cross currents that made labor policy so problematic nor find our way to our ultimate destination, justice and workplace. But in case you think I have arrived at my ultimate destination, the end of this lecture, I have to ask you to be patient for a few more minutes. Like most great explorers and cartographers, like Columbus say or Captain Cook, Ennis enlarged the boundaries of the known world but he did not explore it in its entirety. In this next part of my lecture, I want to describe three recent attempts to complete or at least to compliment Ennis' work by filling in the remaining unknown spaces in the map of labor law. The first such attempt began by altering the scale of the map. Instead of charting hemispheres and continents and oceans and mountains, this new map began by minutely describing workplaces. There was a certain logic to this new approach. Workplaces are where all forms of state labor law intersect individual and collective labor law, constitutional norms and regulatory statutes, formal contracts and quotidian customs. However, the results of this intersection are unpredictable and vary from one workplace to another. Sometimes, no doubt, workers and employers behave precisely as legislators, regulators, courts and labor lawyers imagine they will. However, this is relatively rare. Almost always, there will be an overlay, a private of informal and often implicit understandings about how everyday life is to be conducted in that workplace. Quite frequently, these understandings will transgress the formal requirements of state law, though sometimes they will replicate, reinforce or extend those requirements. This notion that the parties to an employment relationship create their own, what's called, web of rule. This notion is well known in the literature of industrial relations is the central insight of a theory called legal pluralism that Brian mentioned, one of the most important post-modern legal theories. And the same notion is in fact supported by all regimes of state labor law because they allow space for the parties to negotiate and administer the terms of their relationship. But for all its descriptive power, the law of the workplace lacks normative analytical or explanatory power. It doesn't tell us whether prevailing workplace norms are just or unjust. It doesn't explain why one particular hierarchy of norms has come to prevail in any given workplace rather than another. And it doesn't offer an overall account of the formative influences that shape employment relations and labor law in our society. In the end, the virtues of small scale and close attention to detail turn out to be its greatest weaknesses. The same cannot be said of the next attempt to locate labor law on the large map of the juridical world. Old maps I think many of you will recall used to color whole continents pink in order to signify that they belong to the British Empire. Likewise, contemporary maps of social and legal relationships tend to regard many of them as possessions or dependencies of constitutional law. But it's no more useful in my view to comprehend labor law as a mere province of constitutional law than it was to understand, say, India as a colony of the United Kingdom. Of course one can understand the appeal of coloring labor law constitutional. Those who favor this approach mean to convey that the most cherished values of our society, equality, dignity, security, freedom of assembly and association should permeate the workplace where most of us spend most of our lives. Moreover, they intend that those values should be translated into constitutional rights legally enforceable by aggrieved workers. And finally, they hope and believe that if we follow this approach, the courts will be able to transform employment from a relationship of power to a relationship of justice and to do so without the unpleasantness that accompanies political struggle, social mobilization or economic redistribution. If only that's what a map of labor law looked like. But alas, it doesn't. Put aside notorious expense, uncertainty and inefficacy of constitutional litigation, those these are all good reasons to resist the constitutionalization of labor law. Consider only what I'm going to suggest is a fair if unnuanced summary of Canada's constitutional texts and the Supreme Court's labor law jurisprudence. There's a bunch of bullets if I had my slides here, you'd see all the bullets in my notes. So first bullet, under our Charter of Rights and Freedoms, workers enjoy the procedural freedoms of association and expression. But their rights do not include substantive rights to a job, to receive decent remuneration or to have a voice in the management of the enterprise. The Charter also protects workers against abuses by state as opposed to private actors. However, in the employment context, most abuses are perpetrated by private and not state actors. Workers enjoy quasi-constitutional protection under human rights law, not to be discriminated against on a variety of enumerated and analogous grounds. But neither the Charter nor human rights law protects against the one ground of discrimination that is endemic to all workplaces, discrimination on the ground of subordinate economic status. The judicature provisions of our constitution require that courts control the interpretation and application of labor laws and the procedure of labor tribunals. But courts have been consistently unable or unwilling to acknowledge the unique dynamic of employment relations or to tolerate interpretations and procedures that deviate from the judicial model. Under the federalism provisions of our constitution, employment is presumptively local, private and contractual in nature. Only by exception does it become a matter of national concern, engage societal interests and warrant regulatory intervention. And finally, under our unwritten constitution, which is similar in principle to that of the United States, labor markets are deemed to operate rationally, naturally, optimally when they are unregulated and enterprises to operate similarly when management enjoys maximum flexibility to deploy and direct the workforce as it sees fit. These unwritten constitutional principles of free markets and unfettered managerial discretion. Are similar to the principles of parliamentary government that derive from the fact that we have a political constitution similar in principle to that of the United Kingdom. No one is quite sure where these principles came from, precisely what their content is, how they can be revised or why they are understood to be quasi-binding despite being unwritten and non-justiciable. But they are very hard to ignore. One would be ill-advised, I think, then to use the constitutional map to navigate the turbulent seas of labor law and policy. This brings me to a third attempt to map labor law, one that borrows its coordinates, not from sociology or constitutional law, but from political economy. The argument runs this way. Like all law, labor law has its foundations in the deep structures of political economy. Consequently, how power is organized and wealth is distributed, significantly determine the main direction and material outcomes of labor law if not its detailed content and form. Or to put this point the other way around public policies and legal strategies that ignore the realities and assumptions of wealth and power are unlikely to succeed. Let me offer a few examples. The explosion of employment law litigation in the 80s can best be understood not as a response by powerless employees to the offer of new, judicially created rights, but rather as a response by judges to the demands of a new, affluent, assertive, and influential class of privileged knowledge workers. Another example, we can understand the widespread failure to comply with, enforce, or update employment standards legislation as confirmation of the fact that ordinary unorganized blue and white-collar workers lack individual market power and collective political influence. And yet another, we can attribute the obsolescence of collective bargaining law, not simply to the lack of expert advice or to legislative inattention, but rather to the failure of the labor movement to maintain working class solidarity, to build strong political alliances with other groups, or to invent new direct action strategies to counter the advantages that employers gained through globalization. If these examples persuade you that political economy may indeed help us to understand labor law, to draw a more accurate map of labor law, what might such a map look like? Its aim would be to chart the plate tectonics of dynamic labor markets, rather than the small-scale detail of individual employment relations, the local topography of workplaces and enterprises, or the wins and currents of laws and constitutions, though of course there would be room for all of these as well. And why labor market tectonics? Because labor markets are regulated by powerful forces of political economy that are invisible or at least unmarked unconventional maps of labor law. International trade and investment law, for example, has fundamentally restructured our economy by facilitating the export of Canadian corporate head office jobs to the United States and the manufacturing jobs to developing countries with lower labor standards, as well as the importation into Canada of foreign goods, capital, corporate HR practices, and neoliberal policy prescriptions. Tax law, tax law also regulates the labor market in important ways. For example, it provides incentives and disincentives for job creation in the private sector, permits corporations to minimize their contributions to the social welfare state, allows government to hire or forces it to fire large numbers of workers, subsidizes pension provision and job training by employers, and provides incentives for workers to become self-employed and renounce their coverage under protective labor legislation. Social welfare laws that establish entitlements to publicly funded healthcare, housing, pensions, daycare, and education obviously affect the well-being of workers and their families. Without such schemes, workers would have to buy these services at market prices from their own earnings, leaving them increasingly vulnerable to employer pressure. Immigration law is important to labor market regulation because Canadian businesses rely heavily on skilled workers from abroad because Canada uses immigration law to regulate the wages and working conditions of domestic, agricultural, and other workers who come to this country on temporary work permits. And one last example, corporations, security, intellectual property, and insolvency laws define important aspects of the employment relation, not least whether workers' interests must be taken into account in the calculus of corporate decision-making. How workers' long-term intellectual and physical investments in an enterprise will be valued and protected and how the savings they accumulate in pension and benefit plans will be used or not to ensure worker-friendly outcomes in capital markets. I've tried to show how the individual and collective bargaining power of workers is profoundly affected, not just by labor law, not by the entire system but by the entire system of political economy that shapes labor market outcomes and not just labor market outcomes but political outcomes as well. The most important labor law decision of the US Supreme Court in the past 50 years, I argue, was its recent holding that Congress cannot limit political expenditures by corporations. Laws are made by elected legislators. The judges who interpret them are appointed by elected presidents or prime ministers. If corporations can dominate the electoral process through their control of campaign financing, labor will have little chance of securing favorable labor legislation and little prospect of winning cases before sympathetic judges. I believe I've made a persuasive case for constructing a new map of labor law. However, I'm sure I'll be told that such a project is both conceptually flawed and impractical to execute. Let me respond to these objections. The conceptual flaw first. If everything is labor law, someone will say, then nothing is. That's fairly easy to answer. What I'm suggesting is that we replace labor law not with a totally open-ended subject, the law of everything, but with one I propose to call the law of labor market regulation. There are other titles I could think of, European scholars talk of social law, for example, or one might imagine a subject called the law of economic power and subordination. But to me, the law of labor market regulation does the job well enough. If legal concepts, rules or institutions affect labor market outcomes in some material way, and if those outcomes ultimately influence the rights and interests of workers, then their influence should be documented by labor scholars, understood by labor law students, litigated by labor law practitioners, and especially, especially taken into account by those who design public policies and enact the laws that give them effect. And now the practical objection to my proposal. Lawyers practice student study and scholars publish in an economy where time is scarce and resources are limited. It's therefore unrealistic to insist that the hallmark of professional due diligence, success in law school examinations, and excellence in legal scholarship, is whether we've skillfully used the coordinates of political economy in order to navigate the new map of labor law. And my critics will continue even admitting that immigration or insolvency law or trade or tax law do influence labor market outcomes and ultimately the rights and interests of workers. Labor lawyers should stick to what they know best and leave these other areas to people who have a different sort of expertise. These are compelling practical arguments. However, if we insist on using the old map of labor and employment law, rather than the new map of labor market regulation, we risk pervading legal remedies to clients who in fact are in need of economic power. We risk investing in legal strategies no one can afford rather than in more cost effective forms of political and social action. We risk teaching students about twigs, branches and trees when they need to understand forests and ecosystems. And we risk proposing band-aid statutory improvements or clever tricks of constitutional magic when only fundamental changes in our political economy will make a difference. No legal advice can ultimately be useful, I argue. No legal recourse can be effective. No intellectual insight can be valid. No change in law and policy can be justified if it does not rest on a broad and deep comprehension of the issues in all their complexity. That's why we need to redesign our new map of labor law around the concept of labor market regulation. I'm not sure whether Innis would agree with much of what I've said this evening. In fact, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't. He was a sensible and fair person who did a great deal of practical good in the world and he was a sharp thinker who stimulated a lot of fine young minds and kept his friends and colleagues on their toes as many here this evening can testify. But Innis never published anything resembling a manifesto. He seldom nailed his theoretical colors to the mast and he generally undertook navigational tasks in order to get from here to there not to make his reputation as a cartographer. Nonetheless, and perhaps despite himself, it was Innis who made the crucial discovery. After he published employment law in Canada, the rest of us had to face up the fact that our old map of labor law had to be withdrawn. My lecture has been intended to trace the steps in that process and to honor Innis for the intrepid and intuitive seamanship that launched us on the voyage of discovery that hasn't ended yet and likely never will. Thank you so much.