UNTIL recently Canada was not known for the type of nutty anti-government movement that is a staple of life in the United States. That has changed because of a bizarre and protracted dispute between a landlord and a tenant in Calgary, Alberta.

It started as an ordinary row. The tenant, Andreas Pirelli, refused to pay his rent. But then, said his landlady, he declared that he was a “Freeman-on-the-Land”; that the house was now the First Nations Sovran Embassy of Earth; and that she no longer had any rights to it. Reporters were told they could interview Mr Pirelli if they produced C$5m ($4.8m) in gold. In the end he was arrested and she got her property back.

Mr Pirelli is one of a growing number of Canadians who try to avoid financial obligations by claiming to be Freemen, Detaxers, followers of Moorish Law, members of the Church of the Ecumenical Redemption International or of other assorted groups. The Law Society of British Columbia, which represents lawyers in the province, estimates that 30,000 Canadians now share these allegiances. Each group has its own peculiarities, but all contend that the government has no authority over them (including the power of arrest).

Although violence is rare, the Canadian Security Intelligence Service considers these people to be domestic extremists. Police, judges, lawyers and notaries are all taking steps, including tightening security, to deal with them. Their biggest impact has been on the courts, where disruptive behaviour and unusual arguments result in long delays as judges attempt to sort through what one called “a hotch-potch of irrelevancies”.

One member of the Church of the Ecumenical Redemption International argued that her car was not subject to motor-vehicle laws because it was “an ecclesiastical pursuit chariot”. A Freeman wanted to pay his child support by tapping into a secret government account kept by the Bank of Canada, the central bank. Some put a trademark symbol after their name and then demand payment—C$1m in one case—if it appears in legal documents. Others seek ludicrous damages in civil suits. Alberta’s justice minister was sued for C$108 quadrillion (case dismissed).

John Rooke, associate chief justice of the Court of Queen’s Bench of Alberta, became so tired of sorting through the gibberish to see if there was a real case to be heard that last year he wrote a 183-page opinion detailing these ruses and the legal arguments against them. It has since been cited in 23 decisions from courts across Canada.

Why this obscurantist surge? Stephen Kent of the University of Alberta says some of it is spillover from the United States, but some is rooted in disorientation cause by the global financial crisis. The internet has made it easier for gurus to spread their views and sell DVDs, often to badly educated and unemployed young men in rural areas. Similar movements have popped up in Britain, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand.

In trying to make sense of the various movements, Justice Rooke grouped them together as “Organised Pseudolegal Commercial Argument litigants”. Freeloaders would do just as well.