How to Break Up With Canada: A Premier’s Guide to Going It Alone
What Every Provincial Leader Should Know Before Saying Goodbye
Imagine a province voting to break away from Canada. What would happen next? This scenario, once largely associated with Quebec, has resurfaced in talk about Alberta’s future.
To understand how a province (or territory) could secede, we need to unpack Canada’s constitutional and legal framework.
In short: no province can unilaterally leave – but a clear democratic process could set the stage for negotiations, under very strict conditions. This article explains the Supreme Court’s landmark ruling on secession, the Clarity Act that followed, and how these apply today.
We’ll also reflect on lessons from Quebec’s sovereignty referendums and consider Indigenous treaty rights (including under UNDRIP) in any secession debate.
The Supreme Court’s Secession Reference (1998)
In 1998, the Supreme Court of Canada was asked whether Quebec could legally secede on its own. The Court’s answer was definitive: Quebec (or any province) cannot unilaterally secede under Canadian law or international law.1
However, the Court also said a clear expression of a desire to secede – for example, a clear referendum result – would create a “duty to negotiate” secession in good faith by all sides. Importantly, even after a successful referendum, separation would require an amendment to the Constitution of Canada (i.e. a formal change agreed upon by the country as a whole). In other words, a province can’t just declare independence one-sidedly; at best, a yes vote starts a complex negotiation process with the rest of Canada.
The Court grounded its opinion in four fundamental principles of the Canadian Constitution. These principles, it said, must guide any secession process:
Federalism: Canada’s system balances unity with regional diversity. Powers are divided between the federal and provincial governments to accommodate different needs and identities. Any change (like secession) must respect this balance and involve all partners in Confederation.
Democracy: Democratic expression is vital – if a clear majority of a province’s population truly wants secession, that voice must be taken seriously. But democracy is more than a simple 50%+1 vote; it operates within the rule of law and constitutional norms.
Constitutionalism and the Rule of Law: Government must act according to the Constitution, which is the supreme law. There is no shortcut or “legal vacuum” for breaking up the country – the proper legal steps (constitutional amendment, negotiations) are required.
Protection of Minorities: Minority rights (whether linguistic, cultural, or indigenous minorities) must be safeguarded. A majority decision to secede cannot trample the rights of those who do not wish to separate. This principle reminded that Canada’s constitutional order isn’t just majority rule; it’s a pluralistic framework where minority communities have protected status.
Taken together, these principles led the Court to conclude that a unilateral (“one-sided”) secession would violate Canada’s constitutional order. Even a democratic vote in one province “by however strong a majority” cannot by itself break up the country – the rest of Canada and its people have a say as well. Thus, Quebec or any province must negotiate with the federal government (and the other provinces) under the Constitution’s rules, rather than simply declaring independence.
Notably, the Court also examined international law and found no support for Quebec unilaterally seceding under that either. The international right of self-determination, they said, is mainly meant for peoples under colonial rule or extreme oppression, not for provinces in a democratic country with full political rights. So international law wouldn’t force Canada to let Quebec go unilaterally. (In fact, the Court pointed out that international law generally protects existing states’ territorial integrity if the state respects internal self-determination and human rights.) All this reinforced that any secession had to be achieved legally and cooperatively, not by a province acting alone.
In sum, the Supreme Court in 1998 set out the blueprint: a province can vote to leave, but it can’t actually leave without everyone at the table – and without changing the Constitution1.
This ruling pleased both federalists and secessionists in different ways. Ottawa was glad the Court ruled out unilateral breakup, while Quebec’s separatists liked the acknowledgement that a clear vote would oblige negotiations. But how do you ensure a referendum is “clear”? That question led to Parliament’s next step.
The Clarity Act (2000): Putting Principles into Law
After the 1995 Quebec referendum nearly split the country (more on that later), the federal government wanted to avoid any ambiguity in the future. In response to the Supreme Court’s opinion, Parliament passed the Clarity Act in 2000 to “give effect” to the Court’s requirements2. The Clarity Act essentially operationalizes the rules for any future secession attempt by any province.
Key features of the Clarity Act include:
Pre-approving the Question: The House of Commons gets to decide whether a proposed referendum question is clear. If a province’s referendum question is confusing, multi-part, or unclear (for example, mixing in talk of a “partnership” or unclear terms), the federal government can deem it not clear2. The Act explicitly says that a question must refer clearly to secession – no fuzzy wording about mandates or renewed partnerships. This was a direct response to Quebec’s 1995 question, which many found convoluted. Under the Clarity Act, if a question isn’t clear, Ottawa won’t even recognize the referendum result as valid.
Assessing a “Clear Majority”: Even if the question is clear and a majority votes “Yes,” the Act requires the House of Commons to determine whether a clear majority has actually expressed itself2. The law pointedly does not define a specific percentage (it doesn’t say “60%” or any fixed number). Instead, it leaves room to consider factors like voter turnout, the size of the majority, and any regional differences. The principle is that a decision as serious as breaking up Canada shouldn’t rest on a razor-thin result. (The Supreme Court had indicated that more than a simple 50%+1 might be needed for legitimacy.) The Clarity Act empowers Parliament to decide after a vote whether the majority was large enough to be considered a true, clear expression of democratic will2. If, for instance, 50.5% voted to secede, amid high stakes and perhaps irregularities, the government might say that’s not a clear enough majority to proceed – effectively putting things on hold. By contrast, a very decisive majority on a clear question would signal a legitimate mandate to negotiate.
Obligation to Negotiate (and Who’s at the Table): If – and only if – there is a clear question and a clear majority in favor of secession, the Act acknowledges that the federal government “shall enter into negotiations” on the terms of separation. Crucially, it says all provinces and the federal government must be part of those negotiations, as well as consideration of Indigenous peoples’ interests2. This reflects the Court’s view that secession affects the entire country (and particularly any minorities in the seceding province), so everyone’s rights must be represented in talks. It’s not just a deal between the departing province and Ottawa; the other provinces have stakes too (borders, debts, resources, etc., would all need sorting out).
No Negotiation if Conditions Not Met: The Clarity Act makes it clear the federal government shall not negotiate provincial secession unless the referendum question and majority are deemed clear2. In other words, if a province tried to declare independence on a muddy vote or question, Ottawa would refuse to come to the negotiating table. This is essentially Canada’s legal firewall against a chaotic or illegitimate break: without meeting the clarity conditions, a province’s referendum has no effect (legally) and Canada remains intact by default.
Constitutional Amendment Required: The Act reaffirms that any secession would ultimately require amending the Constitution of Canada2. This echoes the Supreme Court – you can’t just have a political agreement; it must be formalized through the constitutional amending formula. Practically, this means getting the consent of other provinces and Parliament in whatever formula the Constitution requires (likely unanimous consent of all provinces for something as fundamental as altering Canada’s boundaries and existence of a province). So, even after a yes vote, and even after negotiations, there is a high legal bar to finalize secession. It would presumably involve drafting constitutional amendments (and possibly even going through provincial legislatures to ratify them, depending on the formula). This step ensures legality and also gives an opportunity for sober second thought and detail ironing.
In essence, the Clarity Act takes the abstract principles from the Court and turns them into a step-by-step political process. It was (and remains) somewhat controversial. Supporters say it guarantees fairness and transparency – no tricks with the question, no losing Canada on a fluke vote. Detractors (especially Quebec sovereigntists) argue it’s a recipe for Ottawa to thwart the will of a province’s people by nitpicking the result. In fact, Quebec’s provincial government at the time (Parti Québécois) passed its own law, Bill 99, rejecting Ottawa’s interference and asserting Quebec’s right to self-determination on its own terms. (That law basically claims Quebecers alone can decide their future – though it doesn’t override federal law in practice2.) Despite the political back-and-forth, the Clarity Act is federal law and would govern any future attempt by any province to hold a separation vote.
The bottom line: if a province wants to leave, it must ask a clear question, win by a clear margin, and even then only enter negotiations toward a constitutional settlement2. Anything less, and the federal government (backed by the Supreme Court precedent) will not consider the result valid. This framework was designed with Quebec in mind, but it applies equally to, say, Alberta, British Columbia, Saskatchewan, or any other province. It even serves as a caution to any territorial aspirations, though territories are constitutionally creatures of the federal government (more on that later).
Alberta and Today’s Talk of Separation
While Quebec’s independence movement has cooled in recent years, Canada’s unity debate hasn’t disappeared. In the 2020s, Alberta has emerged in some discussions as a province with separatist rumblings. Periodically, frustration in parts of Western Canada – over issues like federal energy policy, equalization payments, or political alienation – leads some to question whether their province would be better off outside Confederation. This isn’t entirely new (Western separatist sentiments have ebbed and flowed for decades), but it reached a modern peak after 2019 when a federal election result angered some Albertans. More recently, talk of “Alberta secession” or “#Wexit” (a tongue-in-cheek term likening Western Canada’s exit to Brexit) has entered mainstream conversation, if not mainstream support.
To be clear, the vast majority of Albertans do not favor leaving Canada. But a significant minority does express separatist leanings under certain conditions. For example, a recent poll found roughly one-quarter of Albertans might vote to separate, and that number could rise to about 3 in 10 if a particularly unpopular federal government (e.g. a Liberal government in Ottawa) is in power3. These numbers fluctuate with circumstances (such as economic downturns or perceived slights to the province), but they show that unity isn’t something taken for granted. Similar sentiments exist to a lesser degree in Saskatchewan and parts of British Columbia, often tied to the idea of a western bloc going it alone or even joining the United States.
The legal reality, however, is that Alberta cannot unilaterally declare independence any more than Quebec could. The same Supreme Court ruling and Clarity Act rules apply. So if Alberta’s separatist supporters ever wanted to make it happen, they’d have to follow the playbook: elect a provincial government willing to hold a referendum, craft a crystal-clear yes/no secession question, and then win an unequivocal majority on that vote. Even then, Alberta would face negotiations with Ottawa and all the other provinces, and need constitutional amendments to formalize any departure. In practice, this is a very steep hill to climb. No Alberta government has officially pursued secession; even leaders who loudly defend Alberta’s autonomy stop short of advocating separation. (For instance, Alberta’s current leadership has at times promoted a “sovereignty act” to assert provincial rights within Canada, but insists they want Alberta to remain in Canada – just with more local control.)
That said, Alberta has taken steps that inch closer to the line. In 2025, Premier Danielle Smith’s government introduced legislation to make it easier for citizens to initiate referendums, including one on secession4. This proposal would lower the threshold of public support required to force a referendum vote. The move drew mixed reactions: some saw it as giving voice to grassroots discontent, while others feared it “opens the door” to separatism gaining momentum4. Premier Smith has been careful to say she personally supports a strong Alberta within Canada (not outright independence). Yet, by enabling a referendum process, the provincial government acknowledged that separatist feelings exist and should be addressed through democratic means rather than driven underground.
The reaction from the rest of Canada – and especially Indigenous nations in Alberta – was swift. Indigenous leaders strongly opposed any suggestion of an Alberta secession vote, pointing out that it would violate treaty obligations (we’ll delve more into that in the next section). They warned the province cannot take treaty lands out of Canada without Indigenous consent, bluntly stating that if some Albertans want to “go live in another country…they will not be taking any treaty…lands away with them”4. Federal officials likewise signaled that unity should not be toyed with lightly. Even other Albertans, including business leaders and many politicians, raised concerns that flirting with separation talk could destabilize investment and social cohesion. In short, the “clear majority” threshold in Alberta right now is nowhere close to being met – and any moves toward it would be met with legal and political headwinds.
It’s also worth noting that unlike Quebec (where a provincial party with secession as its main goal held referendums in 1980 and 1995), Alberta’s separatism has never been championed by a majority government. It’s mostly been advocated by smaller parties or grassroots groups. This makes a big difference: having provincial state machinery behind a cause (as Quebec did) is a game-changer. In Alberta, the major parties (United Conservative and NDP) are officially federalist. Thus, the scenario of Alberta actually holding a secession referendum in the near term is remote. However, the legal framework doesn’t change – if it ever got to that point, Alberta would have to follow the same Clarity Act path. And critically, the entire country (and Constitution) would be involved in the outcome, not just Alberta. The notion of a province or territory leaving isn’t a mere provincial project; it’s a national, even international, undertaking.
Lessons from the Quebec Sovereignty Movement
No discussion of secession in Canada is complete without looking at Quebec’s experience. Quebec’s sovereignty movement offers a case study in the political, legal, and social dynamics of trying to leave a country democratically. The province held two referendums on “sovereignty” (in 1980 and 1995), and both times the “No” side (i.e. staying in Canada) prevailed – but under very different circumstances. These events taught Canadians several lessons about clarity, unity, and the risks and challenges of such votes.
1980 Referendum: Quebec’s first referendum on sovereignty was held May 20, 1980. The question put to voters was whether Quebec should pursue “sovereignty-association” – essentially, political independence coupled with an economic partnership with Canada (and with a promise of a second referendum to approve any deal). It was a somewhat convoluted question, and the concept was deliberately softer than outright independence, aiming to attract moderate voters. The result was a decisive No: about 59.6% voted against and 40.4% voted in favor5. For many Canadians, this result was a relief – the country stayed intact by a comfortable margin. Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, a Quebecer himself, had promised constitutional change if the No side won, saying “Nous allons rapatrier la constitution” (we will bring the constitution home). Indeed, in 1982, Canada’s Constitution was patriated (brought under full Canadian control) and a Charter of Rights was added – but notably, without Quebec’s formal consent, which became a source of resentment.
Lesson 1: Clarity and Public Understanding Matter. The 1980 vote showed that how a question is framed can influence support. Many who voted “No” in 1980 might have been unsure what “sovereignty-association” really entailed – it sounded like having cake and eating it too (independence and partnership). The relatively vague proposition likely failed to convince a majority to take the leap. This highlighted the importance of a clear question; voters need to know exactly what they’re choosing. The federal government certainly took note: after 1980, any future question would be scrutinized for clarity. Ultimately this fed into the logic behind the Clarity Act’s requirements. It also showed that a comfortable majority of Quebecers, at least then, weren’t ready to depart – which gave the federal side a strong mandate to proceed with constitutional reforms in 1982 (even if Quebec’s government dissented).
1995 Referendum: Fast forward 15 years. By 1995, feelings in Quebec had changed. Failed attempts at constitutional reconciliation (the Meech Lake Accord in 1990 and Charlottetown Accord in 1992) left many Quebecers feeling rejected by Canada. The Parti Québécois was back in power, and Premier Jacques Parizeau called a second referendum for October 30, 1995. This time the question was still somewhat long and conditional (it talked about sovereignty and a “partnership” offer to Canada), but everyone understood it meant independence. The campaign was hard-fought and emotional. The result came down to the wire: 50.6% voted “No” and 49.4% voted “Yes” – a margin of victory of only about 54,000 votes out of over 4.7 million cast5. It was a near split right down the middle of Quebec society.
The narrow defeat of the secession option in 1995 taught several further lessons:
A country can come perilously close to breakup on a unclear mandate. A swing of a few tens of thousands of votes (or a few percent of turnout) could have given the Yes a win. Parizeau had indicated 50%+1 would be enough for him to declare independence negotiations. The closeness of this call shocked the rest of Canada. It underscored why a “clear majority” matters – many asked, would it have been right to break up a country on such a slim margin? This directly influenced the Supreme Court’s emphasis on a clear majority and the Clarity Act’s qualitative approach to majority. The 1995 experience is essentially why the Clarity Act says 50%+1 might not be sufficient if it seems transient or indecisive2.
Unity efforts and last-minute promises can sway outcomes. In the final days of the 1995 campaign, federalists made passionate appeals to undecided voters. There was a massive Unity Rally in Montreal where Canadians from other provinces flew in to show support for Quebec staying. The federal government (led by Jean Chrétien) also pledged to recognize Quebec as a “distinct society” and to not marginalize the province if it remained. These eleventh-hour moves might have tipped the balance to “No.” After the referendum, the federal side kept some promises (for example, passing a parliamentary resolution recognizing Quebec as a distinct society and offering a regional veto formula for constitutional changes). The lesson here: people respond to both emotional appeals (love for country, fear of uncertainty) and concrete offers when deciding something this important. It’s not purely a rational cost-benefit analysis; identity and reassurances play a big role.
Ambiguity breeds contention. The 1995 question’s reference to a continuing “economic and political partnership” allowed Yes campaigners to say “we’ll have the best of both worlds,” while No campaigners argued “a Yes means a leap into the unknown.” Voters were left a bit unsure what Yes really meant in practice. After the vote, many on the Yes side felt some who voted No might actually have wanted sovereignty but were nervous about the details. This ambiguity arguably cost the Yes side victory, but it also could have caused chaos if Yes had won (“You said partnership – does that mean using Canadian dollars? Open borders? Who knows?”). The clarity rules later imposed were meant to avoid this scenario. The referendum taught that if there is ever a next time, the question must be straight-up (“Do we separate, yes or no?”) and everyone should understand the consequences as much as possible beforehand.
Role of Minorities: The 1995 results revealed sharp splits: francophone Québécois tended to vote Yes in majority, while anglophones, allophones (immigrants and their children), and Indigenous communities voted overwhelmingly No. Parizeau, in his concession speech, controversially blamed the loss on “money and the ethnic vote”5 – referring to business interests and non-French minorities siding with Canada. This remark was widely criticized, but it inadvertently highlighted a key fact: minorities did make the difference. English-speaking Quebecers and minority cultural communities voted almost unanimously to remain in Canada, which was enough to tip the scales given the francophone split. Lesson: Any secession movement must contend with internal minorities who may not share the majority’s view. Quebec’s Anglophone minority (as well as many newer immigrants at the time) felt Canadian and did not want to be cut off from Canada. Their rights and preferences needed consideration. This directly fed into the Supreme Court’s principle about “protection of minorities” – a valid referendum majority can’t simply ride roughshod over nearly half the population and separate them against their will. Any negotiation following a Yes would have had to address minority rights (e.g. perhaps territorial adjustments or guarantees). Indeed, even before the vote, some Anglophone areas mused about not joining an independent Quebec.
Aftermath and Fatigue: After 1995, Quebec did not hold another referendum. The close call instead led to a period of reflection. Federalists worked on “Plan B” (like the Supreme Court reference and Clarity Act to set the ground rules) and also soft “renewed federalism” gestures. In Quebec, the near win energized some but also led to changes in leadership (Parizeau resigned) and strategy. Over time, support for sovereignty drifted down, especially as a younger generation focused on economic and social issues rather than the old constitutional question. One could argue a lesson was that such referendums are profoundly divisive and traumatic. Quebec society, families, and friends were split by the 1995 campaign – it left some scars and weariness. Voter turnout was huge (over 93%) which showed engagement but also perhaps exhausted people on this topic. Since then, many Quebecers have preferred autonomy within Canada (seeking more provincial powers or recognition) over outright secession. The sovereignty movement remains, but with less intensity than in the 80s and 90s.
In summary, the Quebec experience taught Canada the importance of clear questions, solid majorities, and considering the rights of minorities and partners in Confederation. It’s no coincidence that the law now reflects those lessons. It also showed that even a democratic push for independence faces many practical and ethical complexities: economic uncertainty (currency, debt, trade), identity issues, and the reality that you can’t please everyone (any decision will leave nearly half the population aggrieved). These are sobering factors for any province or territory contemplating secession. And, as we’ll see next, Quebec’s referendums also spotlighted the critical role of Indigenous peoples – a factor even more salient today.
What About Treaty Rights?
One major aspect often overlooked in casual secession talk is the status of Indigenous peoples and their treaty rights. Canada is not just a union of provinces and territories; it’s also built on treaties and relationships with First Nations, Inuit, and Métis peoples. Any attempt to break up the country raises the question: How do Indigenous rights figure into this? The short answer: they figure in centrally, and could be a game-changer in any secession scenario.
Indigenous Consent and Participation: The Supreme Court’s secession reference explicitly included the protection of minority (which would include Indigenous) rights as a key principle. It hinted that Indigenous peoples have a say in the process. The Clarity Act too mandates that Indigenous peoples be part of the negotiations if a province were ever to enter secession talks2. This means Canada recognizes that Indigenous nations are more than just another interest group – they have constitutional rights that must be respected. In practice, if a province voted to secede, the Indigenous peoples in that province could claim the right to remain in Canada, or at least to have their treaties honored regardless of the change. Their participation in negotiations would be essential.
This isn’t just theoretical. During Quebec’s 1995 referendum, Indigenous communities in Quebec made their position known loudly and clearly. The Cree of northern Quebec held their own referendum shortly before the provincial one. The question essentially asked if they agreed to Quebec separation – and over 96% of Cree voters said “No,” opting to stay in Canada6. Similarly, the Inuit of Nunavik (northern Quebec) voted overwhelmingly against independence. Cree Grand Chief Matthew Coon Come stated, “We will not be forcibly included in a sovereign Quebec”6. They threatened to use courts and international forums to uphold their choice. The Canadian government backed them, with the Minister of Indian Affairs affirming that Aboriginal peoples had a right to remain in Canada with their lands6. In effect, Indigenous nations signaled that even if Quebec left, large parts of its territory (the James Bay and northern regions covered by treaties) might refuse to go along. This would raise the specter of internal partition – Quebec might not only shrink by leaving Canada, but an independent Quebec might itself be “carved up” if Indigenous areas chose to stay Canadian. Such a scenario would be enormously complicated, potentially messy, and could deter many would-be separatists once they realize the map is not simple. The lesson: Canada’s map is also a map of First Peoples’ homelands, much of which was ceded to Canada by treaties – treaties that a province cannot just snip apart unilaterally.
Treaties and the Law: Provinces don’t own treaty obligations – the federal Crown does. Historic treaties (like the Numbered Treaties on the Prairies) are agreements between First Nations and “the Crown” (i.e. Canada’s federal authority). If Alberta or another province tried to secede, those treaties would still bind the Crown (now essentially the rest of Canada) to those First Nations. Indigenous leaders in Alberta have already pointed this out in response to separatist murmurs: if Alberta left, the land rights under Treaty 6, 7, and 8 (which cover most of Alberta) would remain with Canada, not transfer to an independent Alberta without consent4. This suggests an independent Alberta could find large swathes of its territory in legal dispute, with First Nations insisting that either they stay with Canada or that their treaties be renegotiated from scratch. Either outcome would pose a huge challenge to a new country. Similarly, in Quebec, the James Bay and Northern Québec Agreement (a modern treaty with Cree and Inuit) and other treaties would pose legal barriers to a clean break. In essence, you can’t just redraw borders and ignore the first inhabitants of the land – their rights are entrenched in law.
Moreover, Canada has increasingly committed to Indigenous self-determination principles. In 2021, the federal government passed legislation to implement the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). UNDRIP affirms Indigenous peoples’ right to self-determination and to maintain their distinct political, legal, social and cultural institutions. It also says states should obtain Indigenous peoples’ free, prior, and informed consent before making decisions that affect them (especially about their lands or rights)7. While UNDRIP is not a binding treaty itself, Canada’s endorsement signals that any major change – like a province attempting to secede – should not proceed without Indigenous peoples’ agreement. Otherwise, it would violate those international standards and Canada’s own reconciliation commitments. Practically, this gives Indigenous communities a powerful moral and political lever to insist that their voices be heeded in any secession scenario.
SIDEBAR: International Comparisons – Australia and New Zealand: How would this play out elsewhere? Looking at other countries can be insightful.
In New Zealand, the entire state is founded on the Treaty of Waitangi (1840), an agreement between the British Crown and Māori chiefs. The Treaty of Waitangi is often regarded as New Zealand’s founding document, promising Māori certain rights and a degree of self-determination over their lands and resources, while ceding governance to the Crown8. Because of this, any significant constitutional change in New Zealand (such as hypothetically if one of its regions wanted to break away, or if New Zealand were to become a republic, etc.) involves careful consideration of Māori treaty rights. Māori are considered partners in the nation. In fact, New Zealand’s legal and political framework requires consultation with Māori on many matters, and the “Treaty principles” influence legislation. If a region of New Zealand ever sought to secede (even though NZ doesn’t have states or provinces like Canada), one could imagine Māori in that region or across the country invoking the Treaty to ensure their agreement is required. The key point is: a colonial-era treaty in NZ means the indigenous perspective is central to national decisions. This is analogous to how in Canada, historic and modern treaties mean Indigenous peoples have inherent rights that secessionist plans cannot simply override.
(Correction: The Māori-language version of the Treaty does not explicitly cede sovereignty to the Crown, a key point of difference from the English version and a longstanding source of legal and political tension.)910
In Australia, the situation historically was different – no equivalent single founding treaty was signed with Aboriginal peoples in 1788 or after. However, in modern times Australia is moving toward treaty-making at state levels, and there is growing recognition of Aboriginal sovereignty never ceded. Notably, one Australian state (Western Australia) did vote to secede in a 1933 referendum (and 68% voted Yes)11. But back then, Indigenous Australians had no say at all (they weren’t even counted in the population or allowed to vote in many cases). The secession effort ultimately failed because the British Parliament refused to act on it (Australia’s constitution had no provision for secession, and Britain declined to intervene)9. If such a scenario were to arise today, it’s almost certain that Aboriginal Australians would demand a voice. For example, any state breaking away would have to deal with Native Title rights and unresolved questions of sovereignty of Indigenous peoples. Given Australia’s recent steps like the proposed Indigenous Voice to Parliament and state-level treaty talks, ignoring Indigenous wishes would be both legally and morally untenable. So, just as in Canada, indigenous rights would complicate any secession attempt. In short, whether it’s Treaty rights in Canada and New Zealand, or Native Title and emerging treaties in Australia, modern liberal democracies acknowledge that Indigenous peoples have a distinct stake in the integrity of the state. You can’t restructure the country without addressing their rights and claims.
In Canada’s case, what this all means is that even if a province wanted out, many Indigenous nations might choose to stay. We could end up with a patchwork map or at least protracted negotiations to sort it out. Practically, this is a powerful deterrent against casual secession efforts – it raises the question “What borders are you actually voting on?” If half of Quebec’s landmass (the north) or a large chunk of Alberta (reservations and treaty lands) might not go along, voters have to consider the very real possibility that separation would not be neat and clean.
Finally, Indigenous self-determination cuts both ways. Just as a province’s people have the right to self-determination internally (to express their will in a referendum), Indigenous peoples have that right as well. Some have noted that if Canada ever were truly to break up, Indigenous nations might even seek their own form of self-determination – whether that’s remaining with Canada, forming their own autonomous regions, or negotiating their status anew. The conversation would no longer be just about provinces and Canada, but about Canada’s third founding pillar – the First Peoples. In that sense, any secession negotiation would be three-way (seceding province, the rest of Canada, and the Indigenous peoples concerned), not simply two-way.
Before You Go: What Every Premier Should Remember
Secession isn’t a slogan — it’s a constitutional, political, and moral gauntlet. Any province dreaming of going it alone must contend not only with the letter of Canadian law, but with the lived reality of shared history, overlapping jurisdictions, and treaty obligations that predate Confederation itself. The Supreme Court and the Clarity Act make one thing crystal clear: there is no legal shortcut to leaving Canada.
A referendum may spark a conversation, but only clarity, consensus, and constitutional amendment can turn that into action.
For Premiers, citizens, and anyone watching these debates unfold, the message is simple — talk of separation might stir headlines, but in Canada, unity isn’t undone by noise. It’s protected by law, shaped by negotiation, and grounded in a deeper respect for the communities that call this country home.
Sources
Supreme Court of Canada. (1998). Reference re Secession of Quebec, [1998] 2 S.C.R. 217.
https://scc-csc.lexum.com/scc-csc/scc-csc/en/item/1643/index.do
Parliament of Canada. (2000). Clarity Act, S.C. 2000, c. 26.
https://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/eng/acts/C-31.8/page-1.html
Johnson, L. (2025, May 1). Alberta Premier Smith punts suggestions she’s stoking separatism talk. Canadian Press.
https://www.cp24.com/news/alberta-premier-smith-punts-suggestions-she-s-stoking-separatism-talk-1.6861712
Canadian Press. (2025, May 1). Indigenous leaders slam Alberta's proposed referendum threshold change.
https://www.ctvnews.ca/politics/indigenous-leaders-slam-alberta-s-proposed-referendum-threshold-change-1.6861625
Élections Québec. (1995 & 1980). Referendum results: 1995 and 1980.
https://www.electionsquebec.qc.ca/english/provincial/referendum-results-1995.php
https://www.electionsquebec.qc.ca/english/provincial/referendum-results-1980.php
Trueheart, C. (1995, October 25). Quebec's Natives 'Almost Unanimous' in Opposition to Secession from Canada. The Washington Post.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/politics/1995/10/25/quebecs-natives-almost-unanimous-in-opposition-to-secession-from-canada/11e2687a-3e9d-4b14-a91d-5e897c0b1e04/
Morse, D. (2022, July 6). Australia begins bilateral talks with New Zealand on treaty and reconciliation with First Nations people. ABC News Australia.
https://www.abc.net.au/news/2022-07-06/treaty-reconciliation-new-zealand-australia/101210648
Taylor, J. (2016, September). A Separate Australia. History Today, 66(9).
https://www.historytoday.com/archive/months-past/separate-australia
Kawharu, I. H. (Ed.). (1989). Waitangi: Māori and Pākehā Perspectives of the Treaty of Waitangi. Auckland, NZ: Oxford University Press.
https://natlib.govt.nz/records/22011704
Waitangi Tribunal. (2014). He Whakaputanga me te Tiriti: The Declaration and the Treaty – Te Paparahi o Te Raki Inquiry, Stage 1 Report. Wellington, NZ: New Zealand Government.
https://waitangitribunal.govt.nz/news/statement-on-the-treaty-of-waitangi-and-sovereignty/
United Nations General Assembly. (2007). United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.
https://www.un.org/development/desa/indigenouspeoples/declaration-on-the-rights-of-indigenous-peoples.html