International Journal of Coercion, Abuse, and Manipulation Volume 6 2023 116
However unlikely as it may seem, the data in the Decision
Dataset very strongly indicates Fiscal Arbitrators
operated in the opposite manner. One possible
explanation is that Fiscal Arbitrators is something
of a throwback to earlier pseudolaw communities
where pseudolaw was privileged knowledge, held by
gurus, and then spread in-person via seminars and
other direct contacts (Netolitzky, 2021, pp. 183-184).
However, that recruitment and proselytization scheme
was already falling out of favour in the early 2000s, and,
even then, Canadian “privileged knowledge” Detaxer
gurus usually operated websites (e.g., Netolitzky,
2016a, pp. 617-624), if not online forums, where their
concepts were described and discussed (Netolitzky,
2021, pp. 183-186). The then ascendant Freeman-on-
the-Land community was chiefly built around online
videos (Netolitzky, 2021, p. 184). Fiscal Arbitrators
was therefore much “quieter” than its predecessors and
contemporaries.
A second possibility is that almost all instances
of pseudolaw that are described in academic and
professional writing have an online component
because investigators chiefly look for pseudolaw and
its emanations and expressions online. You only find
targets in locations where you search. If so, then Fiscal
Arbitrators might be an example of an entirely parallel
pseudolaw ecosystem that operates almost entirely
offline. Perhaps Fiscal Arbitrators only came to the
public’s attention because this Detaxing scheme: 1) was
highly successful in recruiting customers 2) involved a
constellation of factors that led to Tax Court of Canada
litigation and 3) this combination of characteristics
resulted in a significant volume of reported Canadian
court judgments. Searches of court decision databases
are what led this investigator and other pseudolaw
trackers to discover Fiscal Arbitrators and its scheme.
This hypothesis is supported by a number of instances
where known pseudolaw schemes promoters have
been the subject of criminal prosecution (e.g., DeMara
Consulting: R v Stancer, 2016 BCSC 192 Dave’s Tax
Reorganization: R c Cardin, 2021 QCCS 930 R c
Paquin, 2021 QCCS 931), but, again, these schemes
seem to have little to no known online presence. Certain
expressions of pseudolaw thus may be “invisible” to
Internet-based research, but will become potentially
detectable via court proceedings where counter-law
concepts come into conflict with “real law,” or perhaps
by other means.
Most commonly described emanations of pseudolaw
have an ideological component: government and
institutions are bad, so authority should be shifted
to individuals (Netolitzky, 2021). These perspectives
lead to “attack” and “get out of jail free” pseudolaw
litigation. However, such resistance and counter-
authority beliefs are comparatively rare among the
general public. Ideologically-driven pseudolaw beliefs
and communities represent “a fringe of a fringe.” How
do persons in “the fringe of a fringe” locate and contact
one another? By the Internet, and, in particular, social
media.
Ideological pseudolaw may be a chiefly online
phenomenon because the Internet is so well suited
to connecting up marginal and extremist persons
with shared interests and perspectives. Viewed in
this context, some kinds of pseudolaw may be chiefly
propagated online because the medium matches the
characteristics of potential customers/participants.
Put another way, an ideological pseudolaw guru will
probably contact more customers with Facebook,
YouTube, and Telegram accounts, than by proselytizing
to coworkers during a coffee break.
However, when a person is selling a “get rich quick”
scheme, almost anyone could be a potential customer.
“Mercenary” customers are everywhere. Without the
requirement to locate potential clients in specialized
ideologically-linked circles, no need exists to expand
advertising and recruitment into Internet-based
mechanisms. All a “get rich quick” or “no taxes for
you” pseudolaw promoter needs is to find gullible and
greedy persons, and they are legion. Fiscal Arbitrators’
dramatic expansion illustrates that point.
This study clearly demonstrates that Fiscal Arbitrators’
customers had a low skepticism threshold before
signing up to questionable processes. Those customers
report they: 1) did not understand the basis for their
tax claims, and 2) simply ignored the content and
implications of the tax returns they signed. Within
only several years, many hundreds of Canadian
taxpayers were willing to participate in the Fiscal
Arbitrators scheme, without any recourse to Internet-
based advertising, recruitment, and communications.
That mode of recruitment may have provided tactical
However unlikely as it may seem, the data in the Decision
Dataset very strongly indicates Fiscal Arbitrators
operated in the opposite manner. One possible
explanation is that Fiscal Arbitrators is something
of a throwback to earlier pseudolaw communities
where pseudolaw was privileged knowledge, held by
gurus, and then spread in-person via seminars and
other direct contacts (Netolitzky, 2021, pp. 183-184).
However, that recruitment and proselytization scheme
was already falling out of favour in the early 2000s, and,
even then, Canadian “privileged knowledge” Detaxer
gurus usually operated websites (e.g., Netolitzky,
2016a, pp. 617-624), if not online forums, where their
concepts were described and discussed (Netolitzky,
2021, pp. 183-186). The then ascendant Freeman-on-
the-Land community was chiefly built around online
videos (Netolitzky, 2021, p. 184). Fiscal Arbitrators
was therefore much “quieter” than its predecessors and
contemporaries.
A second possibility is that almost all instances
of pseudolaw that are described in academic and
professional writing have an online component
because investigators chiefly look for pseudolaw and
its emanations and expressions online. You only find
targets in locations where you search. If so, then Fiscal
Arbitrators might be an example of an entirely parallel
pseudolaw ecosystem that operates almost entirely
offline. Perhaps Fiscal Arbitrators only came to the
public’s attention because this Detaxing scheme: 1) was
highly successful in recruiting customers 2) involved a
constellation of factors that led to Tax Court of Canada
litigation and 3) this combination of characteristics
resulted in a significant volume of reported Canadian
court judgments. Searches of court decision databases
are what led this investigator and other pseudolaw
trackers to discover Fiscal Arbitrators and its scheme.
This hypothesis is supported by a number of instances
where known pseudolaw schemes promoters have
been the subject of criminal prosecution (e.g., DeMara
Consulting: R v Stancer, 2016 BCSC 192 Dave’s Tax
Reorganization: R c Cardin, 2021 QCCS 930 R c
Paquin, 2021 QCCS 931), but, again, these schemes
seem to have little to no known online presence. Certain
expressions of pseudolaw thus may be “invisible” to
Internet-based research, but will become potentially
detectable via court proceedings where counter-law
concepts come into conflict with “real law,” or perhaps
by other means.
Most commonly described emanations of pseudolaw
have an ideological component: government and
institutions are bad, so authority should be shifted
to individuals (Netolitzky, 2021). These perspectives
lead to “attack” and “get out of jail free” pseudolaw
litigation. However, such resistance and counter-
authority beliefs are comparatively rare among the
general public. Ideologically-driven pseudolaw beliefs
and communities represent “a fringe of a fringe.” How
do persons in “the fringe of a fringe” locate and contact
one another? By the Internet, and, in particular, social
media.
Ideological pseudolaw may be a chiefly online
phenomenon because the Internet is so well suited
to connecting up marginal and extremist persons
with shared interests and perspectives. Viewed in
this context, some kinds of pseudolaw may be chiefly
propagated online because the medium matches the
characteristics of potential customers/participants.
Put another way, an ideological pseudolaw guru will
probably contact more customers with Facebook,
YouTube, and Telegram accounts, than by proselytizing
to coworkers during a coffee break.
However, when a person is selling a “get rich quick”
scheme, almost anyone could be a potential customer.
“Mercenary” customers are everywhere. Without the
requirement to locate potential clients in specialized
ideologically-linked circles, no need exists to expand
advertising and recruitment into Internet-based
mechanisms. All a “get rich quick” or “no taxes for
you” pseudolaw promoter needs is to find gullible and
greedy persons, and they are legion. Fiscal Arbitrators’
dramatic expansion illustrates that point.
This study clearly demonstrates that Fiscal Arbitrators’
customers had a low skepticism threshold before
signing up to questionable processes. Those customers
report they: 1) did not understand the basis for their
tax claims, and 2) simply ignored the content and
implications of the tax returns they signed. Within
only several years, many hundreds of Canadian
taxpayers were willing to participate in the Fiscal
Arbitrators scheme, without any recourse to Internet-
based advertising, recruitment, and communications.
That mode of recruitment may have provided tactical
