Trudeau and the SNC-Lavalin Scandal: Ethics Breached, but Not a Crime: The Story Liberals Want You To Forget.

By Justin Heath

In the annals of Canadian political controversies, few have stirred as much debate as the SNC-Lavalin scandal that engulfed Prime Minister Justin Trudeau in 2019. At its core, the affair raised a critical question: Did Trudeau break the law? The answer, based on official findings, is a nuanced one—yes, he violated a law, but no, it wasn’t criminal. This distinction has fuelled both outrage and defense, underscoring the complex interplay between ethics and legality in public office.

The scandal erupted when allegations surfaced that Trudeau and his senior staff had pressured then-Attorney General Jody Wilson-Raybould to intervene in the criminal prosecution of SNC-Lavalin, a Quebec-based engineering giant. The company faced charges of fraud and corruption linked to its dealings in Libya, and a conviction could have barred it from lucrative federal contracts for a decade—a blow that threatened thousands of jobs. Trudeau’s team pushed for a deferred prosecution agreement (DPA), an alternative to trial that would impose fines and oversight without the crippling ban. Wilson-Raybould resisted, viewing the pressure as an assault on prosecutorial independence.

Canada’s Conflict of Interest and Ethics Commissioner, Mario Dion, delivered the definitive verdict in August 2019. His report concluded that Trudeau had indeed violated Section 9 of the Conflict of Interest Act. This law forbids public office holders from using their influence to improperly advance the private interests of a third party. Dion found that Trudeau’s actions—both directly and through proxies like his chief of staff and the Clerk of the Privy Council—were “improper” and aimed to “circumvent, undermine and ultimately attempt to discredit” Wilson-Raybould’s authority as Attorney General. The intent, Dion argued, was to shield SNC-Lavalin’s economic interests at the expense of judicial integrity. This breach was clear: Trudeau had crossed an ethical line enshrined in law.

Yet, the story doesn’t end with handcuffs or courtrooms. The Conflict of Interest Act is an ethics statute, not a criminal code. Its penalties are limited—fines up to $500 or public reprimands, though neither was applied here beyond the report’s stinging rebuke. Violating it doesn’t equate to a criminal offense like obstruction of justice or bribery, which carry far graver consequences. Recognizing this, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) launched a review to assess whether Trudeau’s conduct crossed into criminal territory. In 2021, they closed the file, citing insufficient evidence to pursue charges. The RCMP noted obstacles, including limited access to cabinet confidences protected by secrecy laws, but ultimately found no smoking gun of criminality.

Wilson-Raybould’s own testimony bolstered this divide. She described the pressure—persistent meetings, veiled threats about her job, and appeals to political consequences—as “inappropriate” and “political interference.” Yet, she stopped short of calling it illegal; emphasizing that she rebuffed the push and let the prosecution proceed. Her stance, coupled with the RCMP’s findings, cemented the conclusion: Trudeau’s actions were unethical and unlawful under the Conflict of Interest Act, but they didn’t meet the threshold for criminal prosecution.

The fallout has been predictably polarized. Critics, including opposition leaders and ethics watchdogs, decry a double standard, arguing that any citizen facing similar accusations of meddling in justice would face harsher scrutiny. They point to the RCMP’s constrained investigation as evidence of systemic protection for the powerful. Trudeau’s defenders, meanwhile, frame his actions as a pragmatic bid to safeguard Canadian jobs, a misstep in judgment rather than a malicious plot. The Prime Minister himself has leaned into this narrative, accepting Dion’s findings as a lesson learned while steadfastly refusing to apologize, insisting his focus was on the public good.

This duality—yes to law-breaking, no to criminality—lies at the scandal’s heart. It exposes the gray zone where political expediency collides with legal boundaries. The Conflict of Interest Act violation is a black-and-white fact, etched in Dion’s 63-page report. But the absence of criminal charges leaves room for interpretation, ensuring the SNC-Lavalin affair remains a lightning rod in Canada’s political discourse. For Trudeau, it’s a blemish on his progressive image, a reminder that even well-intentioned leaders can stumble into legal quicksand—just not deep enough to sink into a jail cell.

In the annals of Canadian political controversies, few have stirred as much debate as the SNC-Lavalin scandal that engulfed Prime Minister Justin Trudeau in 2019. At its core, the affair raised a critical question: Did Trudeau break the law? The answer, based on official findings, is a nuanced one—yes, he violated a law, but no, it wasn’t criminal. This distinction has fuelled both outrage and defense, underscoring the complex interplay between ethics and legality in public office.

The scandal erupted when allegations surfaced that Trudeau and his senior staff had pressured then-Attorney General Jody Wilson-Raybould to intervene in the criminal prosecution of SNC-Lavalin, a Quebec-based engineering giant. The company faced charges of fraud and corruption linked to its dealings in Libya, and a conviction could have barred it from lucrative federal contracts for a decade—a blow that threatened thousands of jobs. Trudeau’s team pushed for a deferred prosecution agreement (DPA), an alternative to trial that would impose fines and oversight without the crippling ban. Wilson-Raybould resisted, viewing the pressure as an assault on prosecutorial independence.

Canada’s Conflict of Interest and Ethics Commissioner, Mario Dion, delivered the definitive verdict in August 2019. His report concluded that Trudeau had indeed violated Section 9 of the Conflict of Interest Act. This law forbids public office holders from using their influence to improperly advance the private interests of a third party. Dion found that Trudeau’s actions—both directly and through proxies like his chief of staff and the Clerk of the Privy Council—were “improper” and aimed to “circumvent, undermine and ultimately attempt to discredit” Wilson-Raybould’s authority as Attorney General. The intent, Dion argued, was to shield SNC-Lavalin’s economic interests at the expense of judicial integrity. This breach was clear: Trudeau had crossed an ethical line enshrined in law.

Yet, the story doesn’t end with handcuffs or courtrooms. The Conflict of Interest Act is an ethics statute, not a criminal code. Its penalties are limited—fines up to $500 or public reprimands, though neither was applied here beyond the report’s stinging rebuke. Violating it doesn’t equate to a criminal offense like obstruction of justice or bribery, which carry far graver consequences. Recognizing this, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) launched a review to assess whether Trudeau’s conduct crossed into criminal territory. In 2021, they closed the file, citing insufficient evidence to pursue charges. The RCMP noted obstacles, including limited access to cabinet confidences protected by secrecy laws, but ultimately found no smoking gun of criminality.

Wilson-Raybould’s own testimony bolstered this divide. She described the pressure—persistent meetings, veiled threats about her job, and appeals to political consequences—as “inappropriate” and “political interference.” Yet, she stopped short of calling it illegal; emphasizing that she rebuffed the push and let the prosecution proceed. Her stance, coupled with the RCMP’s findings, cemented the conclusion: Trudeau’s actions were unethical and unlawful under the Conflict of Interest Act, but they didn’t meet the threshold for criminal prosecution.

The fallout has been predictably polarized. Critics, including opposition leaders and ethics watchdogs, decry a double standard, arguing that any citizen facing similar accusations of meddling in justice would face harsher scrutiny. They point to the RCMP’s constrained investigation as evidence of systemic protection for the powerful. Trudeau’s defenders, meanwhile, frame his actions as a pragmatic bid to safeguard Canadian jobs, a misstep in judgment rather than a malicious plot. The Prime Minister himself has leaned into this narrative, accepting Dion’s findings as a lesson learned while steadfastly refusing to apologize, insisting his focus was on the public good.

This duality—yes to law-breaking, no to criminality—lies at the scandal’s heart. It exposes the gray zone where political expediency collides with legal boundaries. The Conflict of Interest Act violation is a black-and-white fact, etched in Dion’s 63-page report. But the absence of criminal charges leaves room for interpretation, ensuring the SNC-Lavalin affair remains a lightning rod in Canada’s political discourse. For Trudeau, it’s a blemish on his progressive image, a reminder that even well-intentioned leaders can stumble into legal quicksand—just not deep enough to sink into a jail cell.

Justin Heath is a  freelance writer for Veritas Expositae

You can reach him at justin.heath@veritasexpositae.com