One of the most common questions I get is about recording conversations. Can you do it? Is it legal? And maybe just as importantly … is it a good idea?
The answer is … complicated. And sometimes, even if it’s legal, it can be hostile or problematic.
A quick production note: I started a privacy law blog in 2004, and then started a YouTube channel at the end of 2021. In order to make this as accessible across multiple media, I’ve started a podcast that takes the audio and makes it available via Apple Podcasts, Spotify and the others. If you’d like privacy content while in the car or mowing the lawn, just look for “privacylawyer” in your favourite podcast app.
Now back to recording conversations and the law in Canada …
I’ll try to break it down.
Before we get into the traditional scenarios, let’s start with something very new: AI wearables.
You might have heard of something called the “Humane Pin”. The Humane AI Pin was a screenless, AI-powered wearable device designed by the American startup Humane. They somehow thought it could replace smartphones. After shipping in April 2024 to overwhelmingly negative reviews, Humane was acquired by HP, which discontinued the device's service in February 2025. Famously, Marques Brownlee - an incredibly influential YouTuber and product reviewer called it the worst product he’d reviewed. The Humane Pin flopped, but that wasn’t the end of “AI wearables.”
A more recent device is a thing called “Bee”. It’s a small wrist-worn gadget with microphones built in. The idea is kind of simple and a logical extension of a lot of what generative AI has to offer: You slap it on your wrist and it listens to what’s going on, it transcribes, and it helps you keep track of what’s said throughout your day. Think of it as a memory assistant. You can review conversations later, get reminders of “to-dos,” or even have it summarize meetings.
That sounds useful for productivity and accessibility. Imagine if English isn’t your first language, or if you’re hard of hearing, have a bad memory or if you simply want a perfect record of a complex meeting.
I’ve had relatives dealing with dementia, and something like this could be helpful, assistive technology when memories are fading and failing.
The catch is that they’re “always listening.” They’re not just catching your thoughts — they’re catching the people around you, likely without their knowledge. And that can raise privacy concerns.
Now, the law hasn’t changed because of gadgets like these. The same rules apply (which I’ll get into in greater detail): if you’re a party to the conversation, recording isn’t automatically illegal. But the scale and permanence are different. Instead of someone taking really detailed notes, now you have a verbatim transcript — stored in the cloud, maybe analyzed by AI, and potentially vulnerable to misuse or breach.
You may recall Google Glass, originally launched in 2014. It was pretty cool and likely ahead of its time. What caused privacy regulators heartburn was that it had an integrated camera. Though it was not recording all the time, the regulators really wanted it to have a red light on the front so that people around would at least be aware of whether it is recording. These new wearables are even less conspicuous and people whose voices can be captured likely have no knowledge that they’re being picked up.
Let’s dig into the law that applies to recording conversations in Canada, whether you do so on an old timey reel-to-reel recorder, your smartphone or an AI wearable. And these rules are the same whether you’re face-to-face, on a phone call or in a Teams meeting.
If we’re talking about conversations that begin and end in Canada, the first place to look is the Criminal Code of Canada. Part VI of the Code is actually titled “Invasion of Privacy,” and it makes it illegal to intercept a private communication unless you have authorization — like a warrant — or unless one of the legitimate parties to the conversation consents.
The Criminal Code makes it a hybrid offence (meaning that it can be prosecuted either as an indictable offence or a summary offence) to “knowingly intercept a private communication”. The maximum penalty is up to five years in prison. There’s a saving provision which says the offence does not apply to “a person who has the consent to intercept, express or implied, of the originator of the private communication or of the person intended by the originator thereof to receive it”.
This is often called “one-party consent.” In simple terms, if you’re part of the conversation, you can record it. But if you’re not part of the conversation, you can’t secretly bug the room, leave a phone recording on the table, and walk away. That would be illegal eavesdropping.
You’ll note that consent can be implied. I haven’t seen any cases on this point, but I’d think having a loud conversation in a public place within earshot of others may be “implied consent” for the conversation to be “intercepted.” But I would not want to be the test case.
While you might see CCTV surveillance cameras all over the place, they should NOT be recording audio. This would likely be illegal “interception of a private communication” and I don’t think signs like this one will get the requisite consent. Many consumer grade surveillance cameras that we’re now seeing all over the place also have a capability to record audio. If you’re using one of these cameras and they’re positioned where someone might be having a conversation, disable the audio collection.
So, if you’re a lawful participant in the conversation, the Criminal Code is not triggered. But if it’s someone else’s conversation, you can’t intercept it or record it.
But that’s not the end of the story. In Canada, we also have privacy laws: PIPEDA federally, plus provincial laws in Alberta, BC, and Quebec.
Here’s the key: these laws don’t apply to purely personal or domestic activities. So if you’re recording a conversation for your own memory, or for journalistic purposes, or to make a record of something for your own personal purposes, you’re not subject to PIPEDA when you’re doing that. The same applies for the provincial privacy laws of Alberta, BC and Quebec. Those laws generally apply to businesses and “organizations”.
But if you’re recording for commercial purposes — say, recording customer service calls — then privacy law kicks in. In those cases, you generally need to tell the person and get their consent. You’ll notice most companies start their customer service lines with: “This call may be recorded for quality assurance and record keeping purposes.” That’s why. The idea is that you’re on notice that it will be recorded and if you stay on the line, your consent to the recording is implied.
(Technically, the company has to list all the purposes for the recording and I think many are not doing a full job. For example, you can’t just say it’s for “quality assurance” purposes when you’re also keeping the recordings for record keeping purposes.)
And there’s more: even if a recording doesn’t violate the Criminal Code or privacy statutes, you may still face claims under provincial privacy torts, or common law actions for unreasonable invasion of privacy. This is a bit of a stretch for a conversation that the recorder is lawfully a part of, but I can certainly see a possible claim if the conversation was clearly of a private nature and the recording is made public.
Now let’s shift to the workplace. This is where the issue gets interesting — and frankly, tricky.
I was at a labour and employment law conference not long ago, and almost everyone in the room had a story about employees secretly recording conversations. Sometimes they recorded meetings with their supervisors, sometimes with colleagues. And in every anecdote I heard, it was a case where the other party to that conversation would not have agreed to the recording and people got really upset when the recording became known.
If the employee is a lawful party to the conversation, it’s not illegal under the Criminal Code. But does that make it okay? Not really.
Secretly recording a conversation is almost always seen as a hostile act. It signals distrust, it poisons the relationship, and it creates a “gotcha” culture.
Employers are within their rights to regulate this. I’ve heard of cases where an employee steps out of a meeting, but leaves their phone in the room, recording. The employee may be wondering if their colleagues talk about them when they’re not around. Well, that’s eavesdropping and a crime. If they secretly record meetings they’re attending, it may not be criminal — but it can still be problematic, and it may be against workplace policy. Employers should have policies about this.
Beyond ordinary workplaces, I’ve advised hospitals and health authorities about audio recording. Doctors and psychologists often feel uneasy when patients pull out a recorder. It can feel adversarial.
But sometimes recording is legitimate — even helpful. I remember when my father was diagnosed with cancer, my mother took detailed notes at every doctor’s appointment. There was so much information and all of it was overwhelming. If smartphones had been as common then as they are now, I would have suggested that she record these conversations, just to make sure she captured all the important information in such a stressful moment.
I’ve also spoken with psychologists where patients wanted to record therapy sessions. At first, practitioners felt uneasy. But when we explored it, recording actually improved therapy in some cases: patients could revisit the conversation, reinforce insights, and strengthen the therapeutic relationship. Once this was understood, the psychologists were concerned about whether the patients would adequately protect the recordings of these very sensitive conversations. Once the client walks about, that’s not really on the psychologist, but they can talk to their clients about this. I think in this scenario, it’s important for everyone to be on the same page.
So it’s not always hostile. Sometimes it’s accommodation. Sometimes it’s simply practical.
There’s also a new one that’s come up a lot recently: AI-enabled recording and transcription services that are built into or added onto video calls. You’ve probably seen them in Zoom or Microsoft Teams — a little box pops up saying “Recording and transcription is on.” I’ve seen people send their little ai companions to calls that they can’t attend personally.
These tools can be fantastic. They create a really good record of meetings, which can help with minutes, accountability, or accessibility — for example, if someone in the meeting is hard of hearing, or if English isn’t their first language. I’ve used automatic captions in a number of cases because it can be very helpful, and this is enabled by AI “interception.” Automatic transcription can also let people go back and confirm exactly what was said.
But they can also make people nervous. Suddenly, everything you say in a meeting is not just heard in the moment — it’s captured, stored, maybe even analyzed. That can change the vibe and how people participate.
It also creates a very detailed record that can be subject to discovery in litigation, which is its own risk.
From a legal standpoint, the rules haven’t really changed. If you’re part of the conversation, recording or transcribing isn’t illegal. In many ways, it’s not that different from someone taking very detailed and accurate notes. The real difference is scale and permanence: instead of one person’s notes, it’s a verbatim transcript that might live on a server indefinitely. It also creates a reliable record that is likely more credible in a hearing or a trial than any one person’s recollection or notes may be.
I think it’s a best practice for organizations to have a clear policy about the use of these tools. Decide when it’s appropriate, make sure everyone in the meeting knows what’s happening, and have rules around how those recordings and transcripts will be used, stored, and eventually deleted. I’m on the board of one volunteer organization, and it was decided that recording and AI transcription could be used but only to help the meeting’s secretary prepare the final minutes. Once the minutes were final, the recording and the transcript were deleted. The minutes are the official record.
And be careful about confidentiality. You may be fine with recording most of a meeting, but want to turn it off during any “in camera” period. And you’ll want to make sure that the recordings are securely stored in accord with the company’s records keeping policies.
Before I wrap up, I’ll mention two additional scenarios that are related to the legal system itself. First, under the rules of professional conduct for lawyers in Canada, there are requirements for a lawyer to notify a client or another legal practitioner of their intent to record a conversation. Rule 7.2-3 from the Law Society of Ontario Rules of Professional Conduct says
“A lawyer shall not use any device to record a conversation between the lawyer and a client or another legal practitioner, even if lawful, without first informing the other person of the intention to do so.”
So this requires notice, not consent. Essentially, you can’t do it secretly.
The second scenario related to the legal system is court hearings. As a general rule, you cannot record a court hearing without the permission of the presiding judge. I’ve been at hearings where reporters present are allowed to record, but the recordings can only be used to check the accuracy of their notes, and the recordings cannot be further disseminated or broadcast.
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