Why the Federation has been rubbing student associations the wrong way for years

There’s some bad blood between the Canadian Federation of Students and several of their members, KPU included.

The two organizations have been to court a couple of times before—once in 2009 and again in 2015—so it isn’t surprising that tensions remain high. During the first case, the KSA went after CFS-BC for refusing to accept their choice of representative on the CFS-BC executive, Ex-KSA Director of External Affairs Derek Robertson, who had a history of campaigning against the Federation. While that case brought a victory for the Association, the second did not end in their favour. The KSA lost their 2015 case against the CFS, which argued that the Association’s membership in the Federation was made invalid after a bylaw amendment which stripped individual students of their status as members.

The wound from that loss is still fresh, and yet KSA executives continue to attend the CFS’ meetings every year. So, too, do representatives from other institutions that have had a bone to pick with them in the past.

On their website, the Federation states that “over 650,000 students from more than 80 college, undergraduate and graduate students’ unions across Canada belong to the [them],” and based on reports from multiple representatives of local students’ unions, “belong” is the perfect term to employ. Feeling like property is a common complaint made by student union reps from all over the country. One only has to look to the internet to get an idea of how those grievances were handled.

Some of the first results of a Google search for “The CFS” are directions on how to leave the Federation, why a University of Toronto student “knew they were trouble”, and information about their many membership disputes, some of which eventually led to contentious lawsuits. Long story short, when people started voicing their displeasure with the CFS, they made it clear that the little guys were barking up the wrong tree. That conflict is still raging on today.

For that reason, when KSA President Alex McGowan made the trip to their National conference in Quebec earlier this year, he arrived with caution. After one of his fellow union delegates told him about being “followed” by members of the CFS—with them even claiming that the Federation planted some of its members in hotel rooms—McGowan also came prepared for some uneasiness.

A few weeks later, McGowan sits in the sunshine outside of Grassroots Cafe, ready to report on his findings. Clasping his hands on the warm metal table before him, he professes that he wasn’t spied on at the conference as others had claimed to be. At least not in such an obvious way.

“I didn’t have any experience of being followed or feeling like they were keeping tabs on me too much, but for three nights of the conference, I met up with a group of people that were from various other student associations that weren’t necessarily happy with the CFS,” he says. “Every single night, a member of the national executive of the CFS—so your CFS-loyal people—would manage to find where our group was hanging out, which hotel room we were in, and they joined our party to either eavesdrop or prevent us from conspiring, not that we were.”

Although that’s as ominous as their interactions got, he also describes the feeling at the conference as “really weird” and “very exclusive”, and he isn’t the only delegate to feel that way.

President of the University of Toronto’s Students’ Union, Jasmine Wong Denike, says that “it’s very clear which schools are CFS favourites and which ones are not.” Wong Denike has attended seven of the Federation’s events has says that environment of these events have only become more hostile over time.

“There are certain schools that hang out together, that are of the same mindset of not being necessarily the favourites [of the CFS], and those are the schools where you see a lot of [the Federation’s] staff members coming into those spaces to prevent those conversations from happening,” she says. She says she thinks “They’re there to make sure we don’t talk about certain things. Generally, in the plenary room we have people keeping an eye on us.”

McGowan feels that “there wasn’t much of an attempt to bring people in, and it felt very cliquey.”

Adam Pawlak, The University of Manitoba Students’ Union’s Vice President Internal only validates that suggestion.

“We entered into the conference with very open arms, but I would say very strongly that we did not receive the same type of feedback,” he sighs. “The environment wasn’t as inclusive as they had maybe preached it to be, especially for people that have different critical thoughts or processes or values.”

What’s more, Pawlak also recalls an instance where two of his union’s executives were “confronted in a very disrespectful way,” at a CFS conference, when they “went out for a drink of water and were followed out by a [member of a] local” who they felt pressured them to “participate and pay their fees.”

“It really was not friendly, but really hostile, and that’s not how you make amends. That’s not how you built bridges. That’s not how you reap partnerships.”

Whether or not the CFS is interested in making amends with their less amicable members is up for debate. As an organization, they explicitly preach anti-oppression and acceptance, which implies that empathy and equality should be their utmost concerns. The Federation hosts workshops at their events for that very reason, and it runs several campaigns under the name of progressiveness and human rights. In fact, they focus on social justice so much that McGowan feels that it may act as “a bit of a distraction” from what the everyday student wants – for instance, diminishing student debt, an initiative that Pawlak would personally like to see pursued.

As a student, it’s surprising that the Federation does not appear to be listening to their requests, considering how much money they accept from the people these delegates represent. Denike estimates that the University of Toronto’s student body gave just under $800,000 a year to the CFS – $7.77 per student for two semesters annually – for its provincial, national and services components in 2015. McGowan reveals that “KPU students pay over $200,000 every year” to them for the same components, and Pawlak claims that an approximate $300,000 is contributed by the University of Manitoba’s students for the three fields as well.

That’s a lot of dough to give to an organization that is perceived as ostracizing the elected representatives of those student bodies, and the entire trio agrees that they are not seeing it put to use in a way that they consider fair or worthwhile.

Personally, Denike “feels like the money the students are spending would be better spent in their pockets,” due to what she sees as the CFS’ lack of tangible change, consultation, and effective lobbying. As an example of the latter, she references an anecdote from the most recent CFS conference, when “they invited an MP to speak and sort of yelled him out of the room.”

That instance occurred during the conference’s lobbying session with Peter Schiefke, Liberal MP for Vaudreuil-Soulanges and parliamentary secondary to Justin Trudeau. After an audience member brought attention to the unkept promises by his government to completely fulfill the terms in the Post-Secondary Student Support Program, which largely supports indigenous students, the crowd started chanting ‘Shame!’ before urging him to sign a petition mandating that the Liberals follow through on the PSSSP expectations they failed to live up to, according to Wong Denike and McGowan. Of course, Schiefke couldn’t sign the petition, and he left to as the crowd booed and shamed him away.

“It was definitely depressing to see that that’s what our students’ money is going towards,” says McGowan. “What’s really indicative of an organization is how they treat disagreement, and consistently they shut down any debate or discussion with tactics like identity politics and remarks like anyone who disagrees with them isn’t progressive.”

The fact that many students don’t even know about the existence of the CFS—let alone how much money they pay to them every year—acts as a testament to their similar lack of communication with those they claim to serve, and recognizing that the individuals who represent those student bodies feel restricted and ostracized by the Federation only adds insult to injury. Then consider the cherry on top; it’s extremely difficult for a local student union to leave the CFS, due to the stringent legal requirements of its bylaws. That means that dissatisfied members such as KPU, U of T, and U of M feel like they are trapped in an ever-growing money pit by a group that doesn’t seem to consider their concerns.

Their frustration is understandable, but there’s still light at the end of the tunnel. While both McGowan and Denike seem inclined to sever ties with the Federation, that’s only true if they refuse to change their ways, and Pawlak offers a hopeful perspective based on teamwork rather than forfeiture.

“Collaboration and cooperation is how we move forward together,” he says. “If that is refused, then we have to take a hard look as an organization at what is best, really ask our students, and show them the facts.”

The Canadian Federation of Students could not be reached for an interview to comment.