Everything is political—but not everything should be policed. This is the tension that sits at the heart of a recent decision in Nova Scotia, in which the judiciary ruled that court staff must seek the presiding judge’s permission to wear the Remembrance Day poppy, terming it a ‘symbol of support’ and therefore a potential threat to judicial integrity. By treating a symbol of remembrance as a potential source of bias, the ruling reflects an increasingly expansive understanding of neutrality—one that risks conflating civic expression with a threat to impartiality.
There is a crucial distinction between the appearance of bias and the presence of meaning; this ruling treats them as one. Judicial ethics rightly guard against symbols that relay allegiance to a litigant, a cause under adjudication, or an ideology that could shape ruling. A poppy, however, does not inherently function this way—its meaning is diffuse and collective rather than targeted. Treating it as inherently biased collapses the difference between symbols that influence outcomes and ones that simply coexist alongside them.
The poppy is political, but labelling it as such is not the same as calling it partisan. Politics refers to how power, identity, history, and the state are organized—it does not refer to a specific party or platform. The poppy embodies narratives of sacrifice, national memory, and wartime identity. That alone makes it a political symbol, even if it is not an overtly partisan one.
Under the same definition, flags are political, as are national holidays, military commemorations, and remembrance in general. Courts themselves are political spaces as well; they interpret laws, settle constitutional disputes, and issue decisions that can shape public policy. Their rulings directly determine how power is distributed and how collective identities are recognized or constrained. Acknowledging this political dimension should reinforce a proportionate approach to neutrality within procedural obligations—such as appropriate attire and use of symbols—in the courtroom. Treating the objective of neutrality as being the omission of all political meaning not only misunderstands both the nature of the courts and the purpose of the civic symbols, but also applies a selectively drawn standard for defining political expression.
The core issue here is not whether to call the poppy apolitical; it is how far the principle of judicial neutrality should be extended. Judges hold unique decision-making power, and their impartiality must be protected. But instead of clarifying neutrality, this ruling blurs the line between legitimate safeguards and excessive policing of symbols.
The ban sets a precedent where neutrality becomes hyper-sanitized, erasing shared civic or cultural expressions. The judiciary risks creating an environment where staff cannot express any identity or memory, even shared ones. A similar dynamic plays out in Quebec under Bill 21, which prohibits certain public servants—including judges, police officers, prosecutors, and teachers—from wearing religious symbols. The bill targets items such as crosses, hijabs, turbans, and yarmulkes. When certain symbols, often those tied to minority communities, are singled out for removal, neutrality stops being a shield for fairness and becomes a tool that shapes whose identities are acceptable in public life.
The poppy has never meant one thing to everyone, and its meaning has shifted over time. Originally a symbol of mourning after the First World War, it later evolved into a symbol that honours veterans, and in some circles, it is critiqued as a marker of militarism. That evolution alone reflects a broader conversation about how nations remember conflict; the symbol’s plurality is precisely why calling it ‘apolitical’ flattens its history. Recognizing the political complexity behind the poppy is not disrespectful—it is honest. Yet complexity does not automatically justify restriction. Extending judicial neutrality rules to court staff and banning all political symbolism is a reductive approach that overlooks how ubiquitous and unavoidable political meaning is in public life.
If neutrality demands the erasure of all political meaning, then it becomes indistinguishable from a void. It asks people to shed their histories at the courthouse door. Justice does not become more legitimate when those who deliver it appear stripped of identity. That is neither realistic nor desirable.
The poppy’s politics are real, but they are not inherently dangerous. What is dangerous is a fragile conception of neutrality that cannot withstand a symbol of remembrance. A justice system confident in its own impartiality should not fear the influence of the poppy nor the people who choose to wear it. The court’s goal should be to prevent real bias, not to pretend political meaning can ever be fully removed from public institutions.
