Auswahl der wissenschaftlichen Literatur zum Thema „French-Quebec comparative law“

For historic reasons — legal traditions, language issues and lawyers' inhibitions — there has never been an authoritative, monolingual French legal dictionary in Canada. Since the publication in 1985 of the first edition of the Dictionnaire de droit privé by the Quebec Research Centre on Private and Comparative Law, this gap is now being filled. The interdisciplinary team engaged in this far-reaching lexicographic project is comprised of both legal and linguistic experts. Problems arising from the interaction of the French and English legal traditions in Canada are discussed. This paper outlines the principles and methods involved, derived primarily from a Canadian-based jurilinguistics, and the uses to which they are put.

A study of conflicts of interest in Canadian health care law supposes that Canadian law contains features that distinguish it from law in any other jurisdiction. There was a time when law applied in the Canadian Common Law jurisdictions lacked these features. The law and legal process of the Common Law jurisdictions derived directly from England, whereas the Civil Law of Quebec was fashioned on the French Code Napoléon. Indeed, as recently as 1959, a distinguished Canadian academic commentator observed that “a perusal of Canadian law reports … conveys the impression that most of the opinions reported there are those of English judges applying English law in Canada, rather than those of Canadian judges developing Canadian law to meet Canadian needs with guidance of English precedent.” However, modern developments in Canadian society in general, and in its health care system in particular, now justify the claim that Canadian law is sufficiently distinctive to warrant its inclusion in comparative studies of legal regulation of health care professionals’ conflicts of interest.

The article is devoted to the problem of the inconsistency of the Russian imperative model of active legal capacity, according to which the content of active legal capacity in case of its restriction due to mental disability of a person is prescribed by the law, to the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities ratified by Russia in 2012. The purpose of the paper is to demonstrate the shortcomings of the imperative model, the main of which is the lack of authority of the Russian court to individually determine the consequences of restriction of active legal capacity of a person due to mental disorder, taking in account degree of actual decrease of his cognitive and volitional abilities. This purpose is achieved by the consistent implementation of the following tasks. First of all, characteristic of the Russian imperative model of active legal capacity is given. Secondly, the French dispositive model of legal capacity is described. In this model the forms of legal protection, but not the categories of active legal capacity, incapacitation and restricted active legal capacity are the backbone concepts for the legal regulation of this group of relationship. It is noted that under the influence of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities the more progressive, from the point of view of international law, forms of this model are stipulated in many foreign countries. Thirdly, the evolved form of the French dispositive model of active legal capacity, implemented in the Bill 18 «An Act to amend the Civil Code, the Code of Civil Procedure, the Public Curator Act and various provisions as regards the protection of persons», that was adopted by the National Assembly of Quebec in 2 June 2020, is analyzed. The main advantage of the latter is that the court, establishing the form of protection, is not bound by the legal norms that imperatively determine the content of active legal capacity of a person with mental disorder. The court is able, based on the cognitive and volitional abilities of particular person, to individually determine which acts person can perform by himself, alone or with the assistance of the tutor, and which one can be performed by the tutor only. The objectives of the study determine the leading role of the comparative legal method in its implementation. The provided research makes possible to assess the perspectives of borrowing of French or Quebec dispositive models of active legal capacity of people with mental disorder by the Russian legislator.

The article is devoted to the problem of the inconsistency of the Russian imperative model of active legal capacity, according to which the content of active legal capacity in case of its restriction due to mental disability of a person is prescribed by the law, to the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities ratified by Russia in 2012. The purpose of the paper is to demonstrate the shortcomings of the imperative model, the main of which is the lack of authority of the Russian court to individually determine the consequences of restriction of active legal capacity of a person due to mental disorder, taking in account degree of actual decrease of his cognitive and volitional abilities. This purpose is achieved by the consistent implementation of the following tasks. First of all, characteristic of the Russian imperative model of active legal capacity is given. Secondly, the French dispositive model of legal capacity is described, in which the forms of legal protection, but not the categories of active legal capacity, incapacitation and restricted active legal capacity are the backbone concepts for the legal regulation of this group of relationship. It is noted that under the influence of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities the more progressive, from the point of view of international law, forms of this model are stipulated in many foreign countries. Thirdly, the evolved form of the French dispositive model of active legal capacity, implemented in the Bill 18 «An Act to amend the Civil Code, the Code of Civil Procedure, the Public Curator Act and various provisions as regards the protection of persons», that was adopted by the National Assembly of Quebec in June 2, 2020, is analyzed. The main advantage of the latter is that the court, establishing the form of protection, is not bound by the legal norms that imperatively determine the content of active legal capacity of a person with mental disorder. The court is able, based on the cognitive and volitional abilities of particular person, to individually determine which acts person can perform by himself, alone or with the assistance of the tutor, and which one can be performed by the tutor only. The objectives of the study determine the leading role of the comparative legal method in its implementation. The provided research makes possible to assess the perspectives of borrowing of French or Quebec dispositive models of active legal capacity of people with mental disorder by the Russian legislator.

Abstract Background Mitochondrial diseases, also known as oxidative phosphorylation (OXPHOS) disorders, with a prevalence rate of 1:5000, are the most frequent inherited metabolic diseases. Leigh Syndrome French Canadian type (LSFC), is caused by mutations in the nuclear gene (2p16) leucine-rich pentatricopeptide repeat-containing (LRPPRC). It is an autosomal recessive neurogenetic OXPHOS disorder, phenotypically distinct from other types of Leigh syndrome, with a carrier frequency up to 1:23 and an incidence of 1:2063 in the Saguenay-Lac-St Jean region of Quebec. Recently, LSFC has also been reported outside the French-Canadian population. Patient presentation We report a male Italian (Sicilian) child, born preterm at 28 + 6/7 weeks gestation, carrying a novel LRPPRC compound heterozygous mutation, with facial dysmorphisms, neonatal hypotonia, non-epileptic paroxysmal motor phenomena, and absent sucking-swallowing-breathing coordination requiring, at 4.5 months, a percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy tube placement. At 5 months brain Magnetic Resonance Imaging showed diffuse cortical atrophy, hypoplasia of corpus callosum, cerebellar vermis hypoplasia, and unfolded hippocampi. Both auditory and visual evoked potentials were pathological. In the following months Video EEG confirmed the persistence of sporadic non epileptic motor phenomena. No episode of metabolic decompensation, acidosis or ketosis, frequently observed in LSFC has been reported. Actually, aged 14 months corrected age for prematurity, the child shows a severe global developmental delay. Metabolic investigations and array Comparative Genomic Hybridization (aCGH) results were normal. Whole-genome sequencing (WGS) found a compound heterozygous mutation in the LRPPRC gene, c.1921–7A > G and c.2056A > G (p.Ile686Val), splicing-site and missense variants, inherited from the mother and the father, respectively. Conclusions We first characterized the clinical and molecular features of a novel LRPPRC variant in a male Sicilian child with early onset encephalopathy and psychomotor impairment. Our patient showed a phenotype characterized by a severe neurodevelopmental delay and absence of metabolic decompensation attributable to a probable residual enzymatic activity. LRPPRC is a rare cause of metabolic encephalopathy outside of Québec. Our patient adds to and broaden the spectrum of LSFC phenotypes. WGS analysis is a pivotal genetic test and should be performed in infants and children with hypotonia and developmental delay in whom metabolic investigations and aCGH are normal.

Why do politicians wear what they wear? Social conventions and parliamentary rules largely shape how politicians dress. Clothing is about power, especially if we think about clothing as uniforms. Uniforms of judges and police are easily recognised as symbols of power. Similarly, the business suit of a politician is recognised as a form of authority. But what if you are a female politician: what do you wear to work or in public? Why do we expect politicians to wear suits and ties? While we do expect a certain level of behaviour of our political leaders, why does the professionalised suit and tie signal this? And what happens if a politician challenges this convention? Female politicians, and largely any women in a position of power in the public sphere, are judged when they don’t conform to the social conventions of appropriate dress. Arguably, male politicians are largely not examined for their suit preferences (unless you are Paul Keating wearing Zenga suits or Anthony Albanese during an election make-over), so why are female politicians’ clothes so scrutinised and framed as reflective of their abilities or character? This article interrogates the political uniform and its gendered contestations. It does so via the ways female politicians are challenging gender norms and power relations in how they dress in public, political, and parliamentary contexts. It considers how rules and conventions around political clothing are political in themselves, through a discussion on how female politicians and political figures choose to adhere to or break these rules. Rules about what dress is worn by parliamentarians are often archaic, often drawn from rules set by parliaments largely made up of men. But even with more women sitting in parliaments, dress rules still reflect a very masculine idea of what is appropriate. Dress standards in the Australian federal parliament are described as a “matter for individual judgement”, however the Speaker of the House of Representatives can make rulings on members’ attire. In 1983, the Speaker ruled dress was to be neat, clean, and decent. In 1999, the Speaker considered dress to be “formal” and “similar to that generally accepted in business and professional circles”. This was articulated by the Speaker to be “good trousers, a jacket, collar and tie for men and a similar standard of formality for women”. In 2005, the Speaker reinforced this ruling that dress should be “formal” in keeping with business and professional standards, adding there was no “dignity of the House for Members to arrive in casual or sportswear” (“Dress”). Clothes with “printed slogans” are not considered acceptable and result in a warning from the Speaker for Australian MPs to “dress more appropriately”. Previous dress rulings also include that members should not remove their jackets in parliament, “tailored safari suits without a tie were acceptable, members could wear hats in parliament but had to remove them while entering or leaving the chamber and while speaking”. The safari suit rule likely refers to the former Foreign Affairs Minister Gareth Evans’s wearing of the garment during the 1980s and 1990s. The Speaker can also rule on what a member of the federal parliament can’t do. While in parliament, members can’t smoke, can’t read a newspaper, can’t distribute apples, may not climb over seats, and can’t hit or kick their desks. Members of parliament can however use their mobile phones for text messaging, and laptops can be used for emails (“Dress”). These examples suggest an almost old-fashioned type of school rules juxtaposed with modern sensibilities, positing the ad-hoc nature of parliamentary rules, with dress rules further evidence of this. While a business suit is considered the orthodoxy of the political uniform for male politicians, this largely governs rules about what female politicians wear. The business suit, the quasi-political uniform for male MPs, is implicit and has social consensus. The suit, which covers the body, is comprised of trousers to the ankle, well cut in muted colours of blue, grey, brown, and black, with contrasting shirts, often white or light colours, ties that may have a splash of colour, often demonstrating allegiances or political persuasions, mostly red or blue, as in the case of Labor and Liberal or Republicans and Democrats. The conventions of the suit are largely proscribed onto women, who wear a female version of the male suit, with some leeway in colour and pattern. Dress for female MPs should be modest, as with the suit, covering much of the body, and especially have a modest neckline and be at least knee length. In the American Congress, the dress code requires “men to wear suit jackets and ties ... and women are not supposed to wear sleeveless tops or dresses without a sweater or jacket” (Zengerle). In 2017, this prompted US Congresswomen to wear sleeveless dresses as a “right to bare arms” (Deutch and Karl). In these two Australian and American examples of a masculine parliamentary wear it is reasonable to suppose a seeming universality about politicians’ dress codes. But who decides what is the correct mode of political uniform? Sartorial rules about what are acceptable clothing choices are usually made by the dominant group, and this is the case when it comes to what politicians wear. Some rules about what is worn in parliament are archaic to our minds today, such as the British parliament law from 1313 which outlaws the wearing of armour and weaponry inside the chamber. More modern rulings from the UK include the banning of hats in the House of Commons (although not the Lords), and women being permitted handbags, but not men (Simm). This last rule reveals how clothing and its performance is gendered, as does the Australian parliament rule that a “Member may keep his hands in his pockets while speaking” (“Dress”), which assumes the speaker is likely a man wearing trousers. Political Dress as Uniform While political dress may be considered as a dress ‘code’ it can also be understood as a uniform because the dress reflects their job as public, political representatives. When dress code is considered as a uniform, homogenisation of dress occurs. Uniformity, somewhat ironically, can emphasise transgressions, as Jennifer Craik explains: “cultural transgression is a means of simultaneously undermining and reinforcing rules of uniforms since an effective transgressive performance relies on shared understandings of normative meanings, designated codes of conduct and connotations” (Craik 210). Codified work wear usually comes under the umbrella of uniforms. Official uniforms are the most obvious type of uniforms, clearly denoting the organisation of the wearer. Military, police, nurses, firefighters, and post-office workers often have recognisable uniforms. These uniforms are often accompanied by a set of rules that govern the “proper” wearing of these items. Uniforms rules do not just govern how the clothing is worn, they also govern the conduct of the person wearing the uniform. For example, a police officer in uniform, whether or not on duty, is expected to maintain certain codes of behaviour as well as dress standards. Yet dress, as Craik notes, can also be transgressive, allowing the wearer to challenge the underpinning conventions of the dress codes. Both Australian Senator Sarah Hanson-Young and US Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, to name just two, leveraged social understandings of uniforms when they used their clothing to communicate political messages. Fashion as political communication or as ‘fashion politics’ is not a new phenomenon (Oh 374). Jennifer Craik argues that there are two other types of uniform; the unofficial and the quasi-uniform (17). Unofficial uniforms are generally adopted in lieu of official uniforms. They generally arise organically from group members and function in similar ways to official uniforms, and they tend to be identical in appearance, even if hierarchical. Examples of these include the yellow hi-vis jackets worn by the French Gilets Jaunes during the 2018 protests against rising costs of living and economic injustice (Coghlan). Quasi-uniforms work slightly differently. They exist where official and unofficial rules govern the wearing of clothes that are beyond the normal social rules of clothing. For example, the business suit is generally considered appropriate attire for those working in a conservative corporate environment: some workplaces restrict skirt, trouser, and jacket colours to navy, grey, or black, accompanied by a white shirt or blouse. In this way we can consider parliamentary dress to be a form of “quasi-uniform”, governed by both official and unofficial workplaces rules, but discretionary as to what the person chooses to wear in order to abide by these rules, which as described above are policed by the parliamentary Speaker. In the Australian House of Representatives, official rules are laid down in the policy “Dress and Conduct in the Chamber” which allows that “the standard of dress in the Chamber is a matter for the individual judgement of each Member, [but] the ultimate discretion rests with the Speaker” (“Dress”). Clothing rules within parliamentary chambers may establish order but also may seem counter-intuitive to the notions of democracy and free speech. However, when they are subverted, these rules can make clothing statements seem even more stark. Jennifer Craik argues that “wearing a uniform properly ... is more important that the items of clothing and decoration themselves” (4) and it is this very notion that makes transgressive use of the uniform so powerful. As noted by Coghlan, what we wear is a powerful tool of political struggle. French revolutionaries rejected the quasi-uniforms of the French nobility and their “gold-braided coat, white silk stockings, lace stock, plumed hat and sword” (Fairchilds 423), and replaced it with the wearing of the tricolour cockade, a badge of red, blue, and white ribbons which signalled wearers as revolutionaries. Uniforms in this sense can be understood to reinforce social hierarchies and demonstrate forms of power and control. Coghlan also reminds us that the quasi-uniform of women’s bloomers in the 1850s, often referred to as “reform dress”, challenged gender norms and demonstrated women’s agency. The wearing of pants by women came to “symbolize the movement for women’s rights” (Ladd Nelson 24). The wearing of quasi-political uniforms by those seeking social change has a long history, from the historical examples already noted to the Khadi Movement led by Gandhi’s “own sartorial choices of transformation from that of an Englishman to that of one representing India” (Jain), to the wearing of sharecropper overalls by African American civil rights activists to Washington to hear Martin Luther King in 1963, to the Aboriginal Long March to Freedom in 1988, the Tibetan Freedom Movement in 2008, and the 2017 Washington Pink Pussy Hat March, just to name a few (Coghlan). Here shared dress uniforms signal political allegiance, operating not that differently from the shared meanings of the old-school tie or tie in the colour of political membership. Political Fashion Clothing has been used by queens, female diplomats, and first ladies as signs of power. For members of early royal households, “rank, wealth, magnificence, and personal virtue was embodied in dress, and, as such, dress was inherently political, richly materialising the qualities associated with the wearer” (Griffey 15). Queen Elizabeth I (1558-1603), in order to subvert views that she was unfit to rule because of her sex, presented herself as a virgin to prove she was “morally worthy of holding the traditionally masculine office of monarch” (Howey 2009). To do this she dressed in ways projecting her virtue, meaning her thousands of gowns not only asserted her wealth, they asserted her power as each gown featured images and symbols visually reinforcing her standing as the Virgin Queen (Otnes and Maclaren 40). Not just images and symbols, but colour is an important part of political uniforms. Just as Queen Elizabeth I’s choice of white was an important communication tool to claim her right to rule, Queen Victoria used colour to indicate status and emotion, exclusively wearing black mourning clothes for the 41 years of her widowhood and thus “creating a solemn and pious image of the Queen” (Agnew). Dress as a sign of wealth is one aspect of these sartorial choices, the other is dress as a sign of power. Today, argues Mansel, royal dress is as much political as it is performative, embedded with a “transforming power” (Mansel xiiv). With the “right dress”, be it court dress, national dress, military or civil uniform, royals can encourage loyalty, satisfy vanity, impress the outside world, and help local industries (Mansel xiv). For Queen Elizabeth II, her uniform rendered her visible as The Queen; a brand rather than the person. Her clothes were not just “style choices”; they were “steeped with meaning and influence” that denoted her role as ambassador and figurehead (Atkinson). Her wardrobe of public uniforms was her “communication”, saying she was “prepared, reliable and traditional” (Atkinson). Queen Elizabeth’s other public uniform was that of the “tweed-skirted persona whose image served as cultural shorthand for conservative and correct manner and mode” (Otnes and Maclaren 19). For her royal tours, the foreign dress of Queen Elizabeth was carefully planned with a key “understanding of the political semantics of fashion … with garments and accessories … pay[ing] homage to the key symbols of the host countries” (Otnes and Maclaren 49). Madeline Albright, former US Secretary of State, engaged in sartorial diplomacy not with fashion but with jewellery, specifically pins (Albright). She is quoted as saying on good days, when I wanted to project prosperity and happiness, I'd put on suns, ladybugs, flowers, and hot-air balloons that signified high hopes. On bad days, I'd reach for spiders and carnivorous animals. If the progress was slower than I liked during a meeting in the Middle East, I'd wear a snail pin. And when I was dealing with crabby people, I put on a crab. Other ambassadors started to notice, and whenever they asked me what I was up to on any given day, I would tell them, “Read my pins”. (Burack) Two American first ladies, Hillary Rodham Clinton and Michelle Obama, demonstrate how their fashion acted as a political uniform to challenge the ideal notions of American womanhood that for generations were embedded in the first lady (Rall et al.). While modern first ladies are now more political in their championing of causes and play an important role in presidential election, there are lingering expectations that the first lady be the mother of the nation (Caroli). First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton’s eclectic style challenged the more conservative tone set by prior Republican first ladies, notably Barbara Bush. Rodham Clinton is a feminist and lawyer more interested in policy that the domesticity of White House functions and décor. Her fashion reflects her “independence, individuality and agency”, providing a powerful message to American women (Rall et al. 274). This was not that much of a shift from her appearance as the wife of a Southern Governor who wouldn’t wear makeup and kept her maiden name (Anderson and Sheeler 26). More recently, as Democratic Presidential nominee, Rodham Clinton again used fashion to tell voters that a woman could wear a suit and become president. Rodham Clinton’s political fashion acted to contest the gender stereotypes about who could sit in the White House (Oh 374). Again, the pantsuit was not new for Rodham Clinton; “when I ran for Senate in 2000 and President in 2008, I basically had a uniform: a simple pantsuit, often black” (Mejia). Rodham Clinton says the “benefit to having a uniform is finding an easy way to fit in … to do what male politicians do and wear more or less the same thing every day”. As a woman running for president in 2016, the pantsuit acted as a “visual cue” that she was “different from the men but also familiar” (Mejia). Similarly, First Lady Michelle Obama adopted a political uniform to situate her role in American society. Gender but also race and class played a role in shaping her performance (Guerrero). As the first black First Lady, in the context of post-9/11 America which pushed a “Buy American” retail campaign, and perhaps in response to the novelty of a black First Lady, Obama expressed her political fashion by returning the First Lady narrative back to the confines of family and domesticity (Dillaway and Paré). To do this, she “presented a middle-class casualness by wearing mass retail items from popular chain stores and the use of emerging American designers for her formal political appearances” (Rall et al. 274). Although the number of women elected into politics has been increasing, gender stereotypes remain, and female representation in politics still remains low in most countries (Oh 376). Hyland argues that female politicians are subject to more intense scrutiny over their appearance … they are held to higher standards for their professional dress and expected to embody a number of paradoxes — powerful yet demure, covered-up but not too prim. They’re also expected to keep up with trends in a way that their male counterparts are not. Sexism can too easily encroach upon critiques of what they wear. How female politicians dress is often more reported than their political or parliamentary contributions. This was the case for Australia’s first female Prime Minister Julia Gillard. Jansens’s 2019 research well demonstrates the media preoccupation with political women’s fashion in a number of ways, be it the colours they choose to wear, how their clothing reveals their bodies, and judgements about the professionalism of their sartorial choices and the number of times certain items of clothing are worn. Jansens provides a number of informative examples noting the media’s obsession with Gillard’s choices of jackets that were re-worn and tops that showed her cleavage. One Australian Financial Review columnist reported, I don’t think it’s appropriate for a Prime Minister to be showing her cleavage in Parliament. It’s not something I want to see. It is inappropriate to be in Parliament, it is disrespectful to yourself and to the Australian community and to the parliament to present yourself in a manner that is unprofessional. (Jansens) The media preoccupation with female politicians’ clothing is noted elsewhere. In the 2012 Korean presidential election, Geun-hye Park became the first female president of Korea, yet media reports focussed largely on Park’s fashion: a 2013 newspaper published a four-page analysis titled “Park Geun-hye Fashion Project”. Another media outlet published a review of the 409 formal function outfits worn by Park (Oh 378). The larger focus, however, remains on Park’s choice to wear a suit, referred to as her “combat uniform” (Cho), for her daily parliamentary and political duties. This led Oh to argue that Korean female politicians, including Park, wear a “male suit as a means for benefit and survival”; however, with such media scrutiny “female politicians are left under constant surveillance” (382). As Jansens argues, clothing can act as a “communicative barrier between the body and society”, and a narrative that focusses on how clothes fit and look “illustrates women’s bodies as exceptional to the uniform of the political sphere, which is a masculine aesthetic” (212). Drawing on Entwistle, Jansens maintains that the the uniform “serves the purpose in policing the boundaries of sexual difference”, with “uniforms of gender, such as the suit, enabl[ing] the repetitious production of gender”. In this context, female politicians are in a double bind. Gillard, for example, in changing her aesthetic illustrates the “false dichotomy, or the ‘double bind’ of women’s competency and femininity that women can be presented with regarding their agency to conform, or their agency to deviate from the masculine aesthetic norm” (Jansens 212). This was likely also the experience of Jeannette Rankin, with media reports focusing on Rankin’s “looks and “personal habits,” and headlines such “Congresswoman Rankin Real Girl; Likes Nice Gowns and Tidy Hair” (“Masquerading”). In this article, however, the focus is not on the media preoccupation with female politicians’ political fashion; rather, it is on how female politicians, rather than conforming to masculine aesthetic norms of wearing suit-like attire, are increasingly contesting the political uniform and in doing so are challenging social and political boundaries As Yangzom puts it, how the “embodiment of dress itself alters political space and civic discourse is imperative to understanding how resistance is performed in creating social change” (623). This is a necessary socio-political activity because the “way the media talks about women affects the way women are perceived in society. If women’s appearances are consistently highlighted in the media, inequality of opportunity will follow from this inequality of treatment” (Jansens 215). Contesting the Political Uniform Breaking fashion norms, or as Entwistle argues, “bodies which flout the conventions of their culture and go without the appropriate clothes are subversive of the most basic social codes and risk exclusion, scorn and ridicule” (7), hence the price may be high to pay for a public figure. American Vice-President Kamala Harris’s penchant for comfy sneakers earned her the nickname “the Converse candidate”. Her choice to wear sneakers rather than a more conventional low-heel shoe didn’t necessarily bring about a backlash; rather, it framed her youthful image (possibly to contrast against Trump and Biden) and posited a “hit the ground running” approach (Hyland). Or, as Devaney puts it, “laced up and ready to win … [Harris] knew her classic American trainers signalled a can-do attitude and a sense of purpose”. Increasingly, political women, rather than being the subject of social judgments about their clothing, are actively using their dressed bodies to challenge and contest a range of political discourses. What a woman wears is a “language through which she can send any number of pointed messages” (Weiss). In 2021, US Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez wore a ‘Tax the rich’ dress to the Met Gala. The dress was designed by social activist designers Brother Vellies and loaned to Ocasio-Cortez to attend the $30,000 ticket event. For Ocasio-Cortez, who has an Instagram following of more than eight million people, the dress is “about having a real conversation about fairness and equity in our system, and I think this conversation is particularly relevant as we debate the budget” (“Alexandria”). For Badham, “in the blood-spattered garments of fighting class war” the “backlash to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s … dress was instant and glorious”. At the same event, Congresswomen Carolyn Maloney wore an ‘Equal Rights for Women’ suffragette-themed floor length dress in the suffragette colours of purple, white, and gold. Maloney posted that she has “long used fashion as a force 4 change” (Chamlee). US Senator Kyrsten Sinema is known for her “eccentric hipster” look when sitting in the chamber, complete with “colourful wigs, funky glasses, gold knee-high boots, and a ring that reads ‘Fuck off”’ (Hyland). Simena has been called a “Prada Socialist” and a “fashion revolutionary” (Cauterucci). Similarly, UK politician Harriet Harmen received backlash for wearing a t-shirt which read “This is what a feminist looks like” when meeting PM David Cameron (Pilote and Montreuil). While these may be exceptions rather than the rule, the agency demonstrated by these politicians speaks to the patriarchal nature of masculine political environments and the conventions and rules that maintain gendered institutions, such as parliaments. When US Vice-President Kamala Harris was sworn in, she was “not only … the first woman, Black woman, and South Asian-American woman elected to the position, but also … the first to take the oath of office wearing something other than a suit and tie”, instead wearing a feminised suit consisting of a purple dress and coat designed by African-American designer Christopher John Rogers (Naer). Harris is often photographed wearing Converse sneakers, as already noted, and Timberland work boots, which for Naer is “quietly rebellious” because with them “Harris subverts expectations that women in politics should appear in certain clothing (sleek heels, for instance) in order to compete with men — who are, most often, in flats”. For Elan, the Vice-President’s sneakers may be a “small sartorial detail, but it is linked to the larger cultural moment in which we live. Sneakers are a form of footwear finding their way into many women’s closets as part of a larger challenge to outmoded concepts of femininity” as well as a nod to her multiracial heritage where the “progenitors of sneaker culture were predominantly kids of colour”. Her dress style can act to disrupt more than just gender meanings; it can be extended to examine class and race. In 2022, referencing the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez 2021 Met dress, Claudia Perkins, the wife of Australian Greens leader Adam Bandt, wore a “white, full-length dress covered in red and black text” that read “coal kills” and “gas kills”, with slick, long black gloves. Bandt wore a “simple tux with a matching pocket square of the same statement fabric” to the federal parliament Midwinter Ball. Joining Perkins was Greens Senator Sarah Hanson-Young, wearing an “hourglass white dress with a statement on the back in black letters” that read: “end gas and coal”. The trim on the bottom was also covered in the same text. Hanson-Young posted on social media that the “dress is made from a 50-year-old damask table cloth, and the lettering is made from a fast fashion handbag that had fallen apart” (Bliszczyk). Federal MP Nicolle Flint posted a video on Twitter asking a political commentator what a woman in politics should wear. One commentator had taken aim at Flint’s sartorial choices which he described “pearl earrings and a pearly smile” and a “vast wardrobe of blazers, coats and tight, black, ankle-freezing trousers and stiletto heels”. Ending the video, Flint removes her black coat to reveal a “grey bin bag cinched with a black belt” (Norman). In 2018, Québec politician Catherine Dorian was criticised for wearing casual clothes, including Dr Marten boots, in parliament, and again in 2019 when Dorian wore an orange hoodie in the parliamentary chamber. The claim was that Dorian “did not respect decorum” (Pilote and Montreuil). Dorian’s response was “it’s supposed to be the people’s house, so why can’t we look like normal people” (Parrillo). Yet the Québec parliament only has dress rules for men — jacket, shirt and ties — and has no specifics for female attire, meaning a female politician can wear Dr Martens or a hoodie, or meaning that the orthodoxy is that only men will sit in the chamber. The issue of the hoodie, somewhat like Kamala Harris’s wearing of sneakers, is also a class and age issue. For Jo Turney, the hoodie is a “symbol of social disobedience” (23). The garment is mass-produced, ordinary, and democratic, as it can be worn by anyone. It is also a sign of “criminality, anti-social behaviour and out of control youth”. If the media are going to focus on what female politicians are wearing rather than their political actions, it is unsurprising some will use that platform to make social and political comments on issues relating to gender, but also to age, class, and policies. While this may maintain a focus on their sartorial choices, it does remind us of the double bind female politicians are in. With parliamentary rules and social conventions enamoured with the idea of a ‘suit and tie’ being the appropriate uniform for political figures, instances when this ‘rule’ is transgressed will risk public ridicule and social backlash. However, in instances were political women have chosen to wear garments that are not the conventional political uniform of the suit and tie, i.e. a dress or t-shirt with a political slogan, or a hoodie or sneakers reflecting youth, class, or race, they are challenging the customs of what a politician should look like. Politicians today are both men and women, different ages, abilities, sexualities, ethnicities, religions, and demographics. To narrowly suppose what a politician is by what they wear narrows public thinking about a person’s contribution or potential contribution to public life. 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En matière de protection de l'enfance, parler de participation du mineur à sa propre protection c'est envisager celui-ci comme un sujet de droit actif et non seulement comme un objet de protection. En ce sens, la Convention Internationale des Droits de l'Enfant a affirmé la capacité de l'enfant à participer à sa propre protection, garantie par son droit à l'expression. Dès lors, l'enfant à protéger n'est plus simplement perçu comme un être humain vulnérable nécessitant une aide de l'État (sujet de droit passif), avant le placement, pendant et après celui-ci. Le mineur est reconnu en tant que citoyen en devenir (sujet de droit actif) auquel une série de droits sont conférés tels que le droit de participer aux décisions qui le concernent selon son âge et son degré de discernement, le droit à la liberté de penser, de conscience et de religion ou encore le droit d'accéder à une information diversifiée et visant à promouvoir son bien-être physique, mental et social. Par conséquent, c'est par le biais de l'exercice de ses droits que l'enfant protégé peut devenir l'acteur de sa propre protection
As regards child protection, speech of participation of the minor in his own protection is to consider this one like a subject of active right and not only like one object of protection. In this direction, the International Convention of the Children's rights affirmed the capacity of the child to be taken part in his own protection, guaranteed by its right to the expression. Consequently, the child to be protected is not simply any more perceived like a vulnerable human being requiring a State aid (passive subject of right), before the placement, during and after this one. The minor is recognized as a citizen in becoming ( active subject of right) to which a series of rights are conferred such as the right to take part in the decisions which relate to it according to its age and its degree of understanding, the right to freedom to think, of conscience and religion or the right to reach information diversified and aiming at promoting its wellness physics, mental and social. Accordingly, it is by the means of the exercise of its rights that the protected child can become the actor of his own protection

Le droit des règlements pécuniaires entre époux consécutifs au divorce a pendant longtemps été fondé sur l’idée de sanctionner le conjoint responsable de la rupture que ce soit en France, au Canada ou dans la province canadienne de Québec. Bien que de traditions juridiques différentes, les droits français et canadien reconnaissaient ainsi un rôle central à la faute dans leur droit du divorce. Face à l’évolution concomitante des sociétés française et canadienne vers un individualisme plus marqué et une volonté croissante de pacifier les conflits, ces droits ont dû tendre vers une plus grande objectivation du divorce et de ces conséquences. Parallèlement à un mouvement de quasi-disparition de la faute, de nouvelles institutions sont apparues dans les droits étudiés, institutions fondées sur des idées de compensation, d’équité mais aussi de solidarité avec la survie ou l’apparition d’obligations alimentaires. Aujourd’hui, les droits étudiés sont marqués par une diversité d’institutions avec pour certaines des fondements multiples et des intitulés qui, malgré la différence de tradition juridique, peuvent se répondre comme, par exemple, la pension alimentaire non compensatoire canadienne qui n’est pas sans rappeler la prestation compensatoire que nous qualifions d’alimentaire française. Cette diversité amène alors à s’interroger sur la nécessité de repenser et de rationaliser les institutions existantes pour les rendre tout à la fois plus compréhensibles mais aussi plus accessibles par les futurs ex-époux. Cette simplification doit en effet s’accompagner d’une plus grande liberté contractuelle permettant aux conjoints divorcés de se réapproprier leur séparation avec l’aide d’un avocat, d’un médiateur ou encore du juge. Le divorce pacifié, se pose alors la question de la pacification de la rupture des autres couples que sont les unions libres ou encore les PACS et union civile. Ces unions hors mariage se développant, il est nécessaire aujourd’hui de prendre en considération les conséquences de leur dissolution voire d’envisager un droit commun des règlements pécuniaires consécutifs à toute séparation
Historically post-divorce laws between spouses was based in France, Canada and Quebec on penalizing the responsible party of the separation. Although from different law traditions, Canadian and French law recognized an important place to the fault in their divorce laws. However, the tendency of the French and Canadian societies to be more individual and to pacify conflicts, divorce law had to change to become more objectivized. The movement of removing the fault in divorce permitted the creation of new institutions based on compensation, equity and solidarity which is symbolized by spousal support and alimony. The studied laws are characterized by diverse institutions, are founded on different grounds. These institutions inspired by different law traditions are thus very similar such as the Canadian on compensatory spousal support and the French compensatory obligation that we call "alimony compensatory obligation". This diversity impose us to think about the possibility of a renewal and rationalization of the existent institutions in order to be simplified and comprehensible for the future divorce spouses. A greater freedom of contract should also ensure the appropriation of the divorce's consequences by the divorced spouse with help of lawyers, mediators and judges. Once the divorce humanized, the question of the pacification of the dissolution/ ruptures of other types of union such as common law marriage or civil partnership. The increasing number of those new couples, it is becoming a necessity to take in consideration the consequences of their dissolution and draw a new common law for their dissolution