On the evening of June 9, the nine-member city council of Terrasse-Vaudreuil, Quebec, voted unanimously to adopt a resolution in support of the Universal Declaration of the Rights of the Tree. The action made this community of roughly 2,000 people, situated on the south shore of the Lake of Two Mountains west of Montreal, the first municipality in Canada — and the first governing body of any kind — to sign on to that international instrument.

The vote drew little immediate attention outside environmental circles. But the declaration's ambitions are not modest. Its three core articles hold that trees are living beings and a common human good, that terrestrial life depends on their existence, and that people must act in "fraternity and solidarity" with them. The resolution adopted by the council adds that trees hold "the right to life, to natural growth, to integrity and to regeneration."

What the Declaration Actually Requires

The resolution is not purely symbolic. According to CBC News, Terrasse-Vaudreuil has committed to reviewing its existing bylaws to ensure that trees are either protected in place or replaced if they must be removed. Mayor Michel Bourdeau said he plans to expand the town's canopy further by making trees available to residents who want to plant them on their properties.

"Trees are a true green infrastructure," Bourdeau told reporters. "They help reduce urban heat islands, improve air quality, manage precious water resources, and protect biodiversity." He added, with a more philosophical note: "A tree is like a human being. It breathes, it lives, it takes in water. It protects us."

What the resolution does not do is grant trees legal standing to sue in court, or create criminal penalties for cutting one down without permission. Enforcement will depend on whether and how the town rewrites its municipal code in the coming months — the harder, and more consequential, work still lies ahead.

A Document With Roots in Paris

The Universal Declaration of the Rights of the Tree was first drafted in Paris in November 2018 by environmental advocates, then substantially expanded at a symposium held at the French National Assembly the following April. That gathering was convened by French lawmaker Delphine Batho in collaboration with the organization A.R.B.R.E.S and a collective of legal scholars, scientists, and foresters. The Montreal-based International Observatory on the Rights of Nature, led by president Yenny Vega Cardenas, has since been instrumental in promoting the declaration internationally and providing legal guidance to governments that wish to adopt it.

The observatory was also a key actor in a landmark 2021 action closer to home: helping the Innu Council of Ekuanitshit and the Minganie Regional County Municipality jointly recognize the legal personhood of Quebec's Magpie River. That resolution, which gave the river rights including freedom from pollution and the ability to be represented in legal proceedings, was the first of its kind in Canada and placed the province in a small global cohort of jurisdictions willing to rethink what, or who, the law protects.

A Growing Global Movement

Terrasse-Vaudreuil's vote is the latest chapter in a rights-of-nature movement that has been building for nearly two decades. Ecuador became the first country to enshrine nature's rights in its constitution, in 2008, recognizing Pachamama — the Andean concept of the living earth — as an entity with enforceable rights. In 2017, New Zealand's parliament granted the Whanganui River legal personhood, following decades of advocacy by the Maori people for whom the river holds deep ancestral significance. Colombia's Supreme Court extended similar recognition to the Colombian Amazon in 2018.

What unites these cases — and what distinguishes the Terrasse-Vaudreuil action — is the shift in underlying legal logic: away from nature as property to be used, and toward nature as a subject with interests that can be represented and defended. Critics of the movement argue that the concept is too vague to be enforced consistently, and that existing environmental regulation, if properly funded and applied, can protect ecosystems without rewriting the foundations of property law. Bourdeau acknowledged that he did not anticipate major conflicts with developers in a town of Terrasse-Vaudreuil's size, suggesting the practical stakes there may be modest.

What Comes Next

The declaration's supporters hope the Terrasse-Vaudreuil vote serves as a proof of concept that other, larger municipalities will follow. Quebec filmmaker André Desrochers, whose documentary work on trees helped inspire the local initiative, has been among those arguing that the moral case for tree rights does not need to wait for legal consensus to be useful — that even a symbolic resolution changes how officials think when they face a development permit or a road-widening project.

For now, Terrasse-Vaudreuil will need to translate its unanimous council vote into revised bylaws before anyone can assess how much practical protection the declaration actually provides. The global rights-of-nature movement has learned, from Ecuador to New Zealand, that recognition on paper and enforcement on the ground are two distinct achievements — and that the distance between them can be considerable.