When Canada’s federal government launched its consultation on the proposed Modern Slavery Act in January 2020, few expected the volume—or the complexity—of feedback that would pour in from corporate actors, industry groups, and civil society. The submissions portal, opened with the goal of soliciting practical views on due-diligence thresholds and reporting requirements, quickly became a repository of sometimes cautious, sometimes bold positions that reflected both genuine concern and, at times, strategic hedging by businesses seeking to shape future legislation.
Among the early themes that emerged, one stood out with striking consistency: the call for clarity. Retailers and mining firms in particular stressed the need for precise definitions—of what constitutes forced labor, of how far down the supply chain reporting obligations should extend, and of what size or type of entity ought to be covered by mandatory disclosures. Several large companies, while nominally supportive of the Act’s aims, hinted at their worries that poorly drafted thresholds could result in an unmanageable compliance burden, particularly for firms with complex global supply networks. This tension between aspirational goals and operational realities surfaced repeatedly, often framed in careful, diplomatic language but unmistakable in its intent.
For economists and policymakers watching this process unfold, the consultation period offered a valuable, if incomplete, window into the dynamics of corporate self-interest and public accountability. The submissions—at least those that were made public—suggested a range of approaches to balancing ethical commitments with economic constraints. Some companies advocated tiered due-diligence thresholds, linked perhaps to annual revenues or employee counts, as a way to avoid over-regulating small or medium-sized enterprises. Others floated the idea of sector-specific guidelines, arguing that risk profiles and monitoring capacities differ too greatly between, say, a clothing retailer and a mining conglomerate to be governed by the same blanket rules.
One of the more interesting, if understated, strands of feedback came from industry lobbies urging the government to facilitate the creation of open feedback summaries. The logic here was subtle but not without self-interest. By collating corporate positions into a digestible, transparent form, these groups hoped not only to influence policymakers but also to preempt criticism that businesses were acting in bad faith or seeking to dilute the law’s intent. Such summaries, if executed well, could help frame the debate, highlighting areas of consensus while downplaying points of contention that might otherwise dominate media narratives or advocacy campaigns.
Constructing these summaries, however, proved no simple task. For retail and mining lobbies, the first step typically involved a meticulous review of public submissions—not merely scanning for headline positions but also parsing the underlying reasoning and, where possible, reconciling apparent contradictions. This exercise required more than clerical diligence; it demanded a nuanced understanding of legislative language, sectoral priorities, and the shifting politics of human rights compliance. Drafting a truly representative summary meant resisting the temptation to oversimplify or cherry-pick points that aligned most neatly with a given lobby’s position.
For firms or associations looking to influence the legislative process through transparency, assembling a “pre-legislative draft” report became a core activity. While no single format dominated, effective reports generally shared certain characteristics. They tended to open with a statement of purpose, setting out the rationale for compiling stakeholder input and acknowledging the limitations of the exercise. Next came the substantive analysis—often organized by theme rather than by contributor name—to reduce the risk of individual companies being singled out for criticism. Categories might include due-diligence thresholds, supply chain scope, reporting frequency, enforcement mechanisms, and proposed penalties. Where possible, points of agreement were highlighted, not just as a show of unity but as a way to give policymakers a foundation for consensus building.
Technically, assembling these reports often involved integrating submissions data with open government or industry-held records. Some organizations leveraged basic data tools—spreadsheets, database queries—to group similar feedback and flag outliers. Others went further, experimenting with lightweight text analysis software to identify recurrent phrases or concerns. However, the interpretive work of synthesizing these inputs remained deeply human. No algorithm could capture the subtlety of a firm’s tone or the strategic nuance behind a carefully worded position.
Retail and mining groups that took the initiative in publishing such reports often did so on their websites or through dedicated consultation portals, framing the exercise as a gesture of good faith. The underlying hope, of course, was that transparency would buy them a seat at the table when the final drafting of the Modern Slavery Act took shape. But this openness also carried risks. Once in the public domain, summaries could be scrutinized by activists, journalists, and rival firms, all of whom might see in them evidence of either constructive engagement or subtle obstructionism.
In practice, then, the early corporate feedback on Canada’s Modern Slavery Act consultation reflected the messy reality of policymaking in an era of heightened supply chain scrutiny. Firms sought to balance reputational imperatives with commercial priorities, often walking a fine line between constructive input and self-preservation. The creation of open, accessible pre-legislative reports was part of this dance—a tool for shaping debate, but one that required care in both design and execution. For those tracking the evolution of supply chain due diligence in Canada, these documents offered not just a snapshot of corporate thinking, but also a case study in the complex interplay of law, business, and ethics.