Tragedy in the Commons (26 page)

Torsney had similar advice: “Don’t get caught up in what others are demanding,” she said. “Be respectful of your colleagues … try to build friendships with colleagues across party lines. Understand their motivations, but understand what they can offer you.”

IT
’
S CLEAR NOW
that these exit interviews didn’t offer up all the solutions that we hoped to find for what ails Canadian democracy. The former MPs were also at a loss for how to create a more effective culture in Ottawa and within their parties. Taken together, however, their narratives were full of advice. At the heart of the interviews was a collective
cri de coeur
for something bigger and more important than they could precisely describe on their own. Much as with the fable of the blind men and the elephant, where each feels and describes only one part—a tusk, an ear—without realizing that together they were describing the same bigger animal before them, as each MP shared his or her individual life in politics a clear, collective message rang through.

“The tragedy of the Commons is that public good is sacrificed on the altar of short-term political gain,” observed
Reform-turned-Liberal MP Keith Martin. We discussed in our introduction the way the House of Commons reflects Garrett Hardin’s concept of the tragedy of the commons—the way individuals, acting in their own self-interest, will conduct themselves in a manner that is harmful to the community’s collective interest, and ultimately their own. As Martin realized, without an incentive to change, individuals carry on, depleting the shared possibilities for Canadian democracy with every passing day.

Canadians see the effects of this tragedy in the declining voter rates and the erosion of trust in governments. We see it in the difficulty parties have in finding people to run. We see it in Canadians’ apathy toward Ottawa, and in the absence of respect for the occupation of politician.

We also saw it in the way the MPs spoke during their exit interviews, and the ways in which they, often unwittingly, reinforced the problem. We often witnessed a perplexing disconnect: strategic-and independent-thinking men and women who had apparently lost all sense of independence and initiative once subsumed under the party brand. They spoke of power residing elsewhere, and of politics as something that happened to them. We thought it remarkable that these men and women, who had been elected by the citizens of Canada to represent their views to Parliament, would portray themselves as passive observers of a political process in which the party, or the leader, had become the primary agent.

The tragedy of the commons metaphor applies equally to political parties as it does to MPs. No party has an incentive to provide MPs with the autonomy they’ve surrendered over the decades. Nor does any individual MP have an incentive to
risk the leader’s censure by demanding more power. And so the tragedy persists.

“
PEOPLE OFTEN ASK:
How can we reform politics?” asked columnist Andrew Coyne at the start of the 41st Parliament. “And the answer is: we can’t. There are very few institutional changes that would do any good, and whatever would has no chance of being enacted. We’re not going to change politics until we change the culture.” Coyne concludes his thought fatalistically: “And we’re not going to change the culture.”

We hope Coyne is wrong. And the route that hope might take is through the remaining agency of the individual MPs and the potential of what can happen when they express and marshal it. If one thing unites the eighty former parliamentarians who participated in our exit interviews, it was the belief that politics matters. Whatever the colour of their team sweater—red, blue, orange—no matter whether they favoured big or small government, a centralized or decentralized federation, every Member of Parliament we interviewed maintained that getting government right is critical to the way Canadians live together.

But if we’re going to get government right, Canadians must believe that politics is worth their time, and more of us must actively participate. And for that to happen, MPs and political parties must change. This is a big job, but it has to start somewhere. Rather than wait for institutional or constitutional reform that would likely take years, if not decades, why not begin with things that can be done now? With things that signal that the principal players—MPs and their parties—are serious about the state of our politics and the low esteem in which Canadians hold our democratic institutions and
those who hold office? And of course, journalists and citizens must create the conditions, and the pressure, for these players to change, and be willing to reinforce and support the people who make these overtures and demand something better. This will require a change in the way the media covers Parliament Hill. As former Conservative House Leader Jay Hill pointed out, it also would require that journalists and media outlets that cover politics not pounce on every caucus member who expresses an opinion that diverges from their party line, and not treat healthy exchanges of opinion in public as tantamount to treason or a pending leadership revolt. Citizens too must demand and reward a more nuanced political culture.

MPS, PARTIES, MEDIA
and citizens, of course, simultaneously influence and are influenced by the others. There are messages in this book, however, for all of them. If one or even two begin to change, the others will find it easier. So who’ll go first?

Let’s start with parties. They represent something of a paradox in the Canadian political system: they appear to have few members, and very little legitimacy in the public eye. And yet, their influence in the public realm is immense and growing. Enabled by technology, social media and other direct communications technologies, and further aided by pollsters and a few slogans, parties are easily able to circumvent the connection between MPs and constituents. As power consolidates under the party leader and staff, MPs become increasingly powerless and the voters increasingly disenfranchised, making the misfortune of this behaviour all the more acute.

On reviewing the MPs’ reflections, we came to understand that some of their aversion was well founded, exacerbated by
political parties that had little respect for democratic processes or their very own members. For example, many MPs described the nomination as distasteful, opaque and unpredictable—though all of them, of course, had won their nomination battles. When the game’s winners dispute how the game is played, it’s probably time to be more clear about the rules. A well-run nomination battle can be one of the most inspiring events in politics, with the potential not only to transform the winner from citizen to politician but also to transform slightly interested citizens into engaged political participants. But the parties’ apparent lack of concern for a clean nomination process reflects different priorities. At a bare minimum, parties should post clear nomination processes online to indicate how one goes about becoming a candidate, and how a citizen can get involved in the process. It may seem an obvious thing for parties to do, but in a review of over thirteen hundred riding association websites undertaken by Samara in 2013, fewer than 1 percent gave information about how to become a candidate. Just over 6 percent included the names of the local party executive team, and less than 5 percent had information on meeting schedules.

There is also a need for party leadership teams to improve the way they manage and lead in Parliament. The first priority is to convince parties to accord basic respect to MPs. What would that entail? Orientation procedures that assist new MPs in becoming productive more quickly after their arrival in Ottawa. Job descriptions clearly outlined and understood by the public, with responsibilities defined in a way that is conducive to feedback or recognition prior to the blunt review of the general election, and a culture in which achievement is tied to perceptible advancement. Leadership
that encourages an understanding on the part of MPs of the need to focus their own energies where they can have the greatest effect. Rather than getting bogged down by direct involvement in individual bureaucratic manoeuvring, MPs could free up themselves and their staff to address the systemic problems their constituents are struggling with.

What else? One way to facilitate greater respect for the agency of MPs would be to require that they be allowed to serve out their full mandate in committee appointments. Greater tolerance for dissent would also make caucus more productive, since it would ease the pressure for consensus and allow better-informed policy to evolve from the wider diversity of views.

What can political parties do to reflect their role as the central vehicles through which citizens organize their politics? How can they act so as to encourage people to get involved? In order to build their legitimacy, and justify the tax subsidies they receive, they need to provide much more evidence that they operate openly, and that decision-making processes and accountabilities are clear—from the way they choose their candidates for election through to the way they design and approve advertisements. In short, parties should hold themselves to higher standards, and be held to higher standards by their memberships and by MPs themselves.

At a minimum, parties should conduct their business as transparently as we expect other public (and private) organizations to operate. They should report at least annually such basic data as the number of members and the number of donors (not just those over $200, as required by Elections Canada). Local party associations should also provide regular information on
their activities, and how interested citizens might get involved. Parties should also make clear how much money they spend on the core areas of responsibility, including policy research and development, membership engagement, polling and advertising. Finally, parties should outline the decision-making processes for these key areas. Who, for instance, develops and authorizes their advertising campaigns? Why not require that negative ads be voiced over by the party leader, as Andrew Coyne has proposed, instead of some nefarious-sounding stranger? Or why not develop, as Susan Delacourt argues, standards for political advertising, or at minimum, require political parties to adhere to the code of Advertising Standards Canada, which forbids ads that attempt to demean or disparage? And when it comes to public policy, who decides what priorities should be pursued, and through what process? The purpose would not be not to prescribe dollar figures or the decisions that are ultimately made but merely to illuminate how they were made and with what considerations. While such openness would at first be uncomfortable to party insiders used to operating in backrooms, the status quo is untenable. In an era when citizens expect transparency, such important organizations cannot continue to operate in such hazy, mysterious ways.

Ultimately this may require the rules that govern parties and their way of conducting parliamentary business could include more sensible, articulate operating controls—the “mutual coercion” that Hardin describes. Political parties are not constitutionally mandated but are privately constituted, citizen-directed organizations, not wholly dissimilar to other clubs or organizations. The difference, of course, is that they are the central vehicles through which politics is
organized in Canada. They also happen to be among the most heavily tax-supported private organizations in the country, in recognition of their important public function. If political parties were to adapt to a newly mandated set of rules governing their operation, that funding could play as a key role in encouraging their compliance.

The historical record and common sense, not to mention Hardin’s theory, suggest that these changes will be unlikely, absent any external impetus, such as pressure from party members and donors, citizens’ groups or legal professionals. In a way, it is a surprise citizens haven’t already called for greater scrutiny over the fuzzy ways political parties spend tax dollars.

Ultimately, however, changes in rules are unlikely to have their intended effect without a genuine realization on the part of MPs that democracy itself is at stake: that they, and their political parties, are approaching the point where citizens view them as nearly irrelevant. We need MPs to act as reliable, vibrant, two-way links between citizens and their government. At present, MPs have a long way to go. According to public opinion research Samara commissioned in 2012, Canadians give MPs failing grades in nearly every aspect of their work—from informing legislation to holding government to account. The research also indicates that Canadians believe MPs do a better job at representing the views of their party than representing their constituents. A report card so damning should spark MPs into action beyond asserting that they are different, and outsiders to the political status quo.

It was startling to hear how often MPs accepted their own helplessness, starting with the prevalence of the outsider narrative that so strongly permeated the MPs’ reflections. Although
there is beauty to be found in the MPs’ stories of entrepreneurial success that we citizens don’t hear much about or appreciate as we should, it’s unfortunate to hear that most of these MPs—who worked in Parliament for, on average, over a decade, a third in Cabinet posts—still describe themselves as having felt powerless and outside the system. Why aren’t these representatives of Canadians working within the system to make change? Or if they are, why aren’t they willing to admit it?

It is time for MPs to confront, and change, the narratives they use to describe themselves. The myth of the outsider, riding into a town to save politics from itself, is a powerful one in our culture. Of course, the outsider narrative has been a part of politics for generations; but still, it is ludicrous. Most MPs we interviewed weren’t outsiders at all: most of them had participated in their communities as leaders in substantial ways. Several had worked hard as volunteers or paid staff for political parties, or as officials elected municipally or provincially. They had placed themselves in positions where they were certain to be asked to run. So why did they feel so obliged to wear the outsider cloak?