(no subject)
It would seem that, rather than helping me get it out of my system, my rant from yesterday (technically, really early today) has just got me fired up. I've already had numerous conversations with people on the topic, both online (see starfishchick's take here, and dramaqueen_23's take on it here) and off-.
All of this ranting is painless because, for the most part, people are outright agreeing with me (or I with them, but you get my meaning). In addition, just about everybody I interact with votes, and is adamant about voting. I've got a lovely choir to preach to.
One very minor bone of contention seems to be the issue of root cause. Is the fact that 41 per cent of our population can't be bothered to vote a sign that the democratic process as it is implemented here (parliamentary system with an appointed senate, first-past-the-post electoral system) is not a good fit? Or is the problem the incredible diversity of concerns and "local" issues across this wide country, leading to a poor fit between candidates/parties and nearly half of the voters? Maybe it's just the fact that with all the non-political goings-on these days (Survivor, Amazing Race, start of the NHL, NFL and NBA seasons, etc.) we just don't have time to take part in national politics? Maybe this particular election was just too frivolous for some of us to care about? (After all, it was widely "known" before people went to the polls yesterday that the Conservatives were going to win another minority...)
The fact of the matter is that each of these reasons, now matter how facetious, probably apply to at least some sliver of the non-voting public. And there are doubtless reasons that I have not yet begun to touch upon. A friend of mine on Facebook told me that she didn't vote because, and I quote: "i had to vote in vancouver.... which was not gonna happen :3"
I'll admit that I'm puzzled by this comment on several fronts. First of all, why did my friend not want to vote in Vancouver? This, to me, is far from self-evident. Is it the neighbourhood? The candidates? The fact that it's a west-coast polling station? Secondly, living in Vancouver, where else would she have expected (or wanted) to vote? Could this have been helped by vote-swapping?
Finally: what does ":3" mean?
Okay, scratch that last question. It's probably not relevant to the topic at hand. But I look at my list of serious and not-so-serious reasons for which people might justify not voting, and my best guess is that this response falls into a new(ish) category: that it is just too much effort to get out and vote. So a little from column A (poor fit) and a little from column B (not worth the time and effort).
Regardless of this one exemplar, or to what extent the different arguments are prevalent, I have yet to see a case be made against voting that holds together logically. At best, one has an argument that is perfectly valid (read: self-serving) at an individual level, but that completely falls apart when one considers the scenario where, say, 41% of the population follows the same flawed logic. Sure, one person's vote will seldom sway a riding - but there are very few ridings where nearly doubling the number of votes cast cannot make a difference.
Rather than pick apart each flawed argument (which I would be happy to do in the comments, if people really want to see me ramble), I want to pursue a different train of thought.
Another friend of mine, with whom I had a spontaneous political conversation today, swears that the underlying cause of the low voter turn out is that aforementioned column A. Rather, as a country, we've become so fractured that it is impossible to see a single government being able to please the majority of voters from all regions of the country. Put simply, that which is approved of in Quebec is unlikely to gain traction in Alberta... and vice versa. Consequently, a rallying cry of "why bother?!" is raised, as no government will ever actually address our needs. And I'll admit that although I may not perceive it as the root cause, this is certainly one of the main ones. And it is probably one of the harder ones to tackle, too.
As I said in my last rant, I believe that an assumption underlying democracy is that there is an overall consensus on what benefits the community as a whole, and that no portion of society is out to punish or deprive any other portion. If this is the case, then there must be some solutions that are universal "wins" for everybody - even if one group wins less than it might otherwise. If this is the case, then the best way to move forward is through communication, and a spirit of compromise, so that those universal wins can be discovered, and capitalized upon.
If this is the case, then just plugging your ears and shouting "la la la la la la" does more harm than good, as it prevents any possible progress.
Alas, the more I look at our government in the last few years, the more I see behaviour that convinces me that our elected representatives do not feel that this is the case. Ever since the Liberals lost the majority (and I am not blaming this entirely on the Conservatives: there is plenty of blame to go around), politics have been more about scoring public relations points off of one's opponents. The Schrieber affair; Chuck Cadman, and the potential bribery; Maxime Bernier's forgotten documents; pooping puffins; the Liberal "risk" and their plan to increase taxes; the sponsorship scandal; "you had THIRTEEN YEARS!!!"; etc., etc., etc. While a few of these almost touch on the actual issues, it's been more than a sound bite, often with a healthy dose of spin. Very seldom have we seen true dialogue; instead it is a mixture of posturing and mud-slinging. I find it a lot easier to discuss the attempted scandals that have been reported and tracked than to put my finger on actual legislation that has been passed, much less bi- or tri-partisan legislation that has been passed with general approval.
Maybe this is just something that is less noticed during a majority government. Maybe, when a government doesn't need to build consensus, the work does get done faster, and an actual track record gets established. Maybe Canadian politics have always been this ugly, and it has taken this string of minority governments to make this clear to us. To me, at least.
Or maybe it's just a fact of the matter that one has to behave differently in a minority government than one does when in control of the House of Commons. Other countries have coalition governments all the time, and they seem to get along just fine. The people might go to the polls more often than in a majority situation, but laws still get enacted, coalitions formed, and agendas set that do not cater simply to a plurality of the voters.
It's rather clear that Canadians - especially Canadian politicians - are not used to minority governments. They don't form coalitions. Harper stated during this campaign that whatever happened, he would govern as if he had a majority. And this is not the first time he has made these comments. During the spring, Harper was intent on pushing through his policies regardless of the fact that he did not have a majority government. Declaring each one to be a confidence vote, he essentially played the numbers: the other parties could bring down the government, if they all voted together to reject a bill. But of course, doing that would turn public sentiment against the dissident parties (for elections are no longer contested based on the party platforms, but rather they are won or lost on who scores the most PR points), and end up strengthening the governments position.
Or so the theory goes, in any case.
The fact of the matter is that it was a bitter, divisive session of parliament. (Let's not forget the Conservative's handbook on how to disrupt parliamentary committee meetings.) And it led to an extremely bitter, negative campaign. It's true that campaigns are likely destined always to be a balance between talking one's own party up (through sound, appealing platforms and promises) and talking the other guy down (nowadays, alas, through a torrent of attack ads). But this year was, in my opinion, beyond the pale. Of the dozens of ads I saw (well, close to a dozen, but aired dozens of times), only one - one - was not an attack ad. I'm not counting the Harper-in-a-sweater "really, I'm nice" ads that came out before the election was called. Those don't count, unless the Conservatives were violating campaign regulations1. Everything else, from the word "go," was an attack. Harper attacking Dion. Dion attacking Harper. Layton attacking Harper. Layton attacking Dion. Back and forth, tearing the other guy down while offering only platitudes in exchange.
And it's not like the debate was any better. Leading up to the debate, more attention paid to whether or not Elizabeth May belonged there than to any actual issues or platforms. During the debate itself, the first question (regarding the economy) drew earnest answers from the first two candidates, before Harper used his answering time to skewer Dion - without actually offering any content regarding the Conservative platform... a platform that was not actually published until a few days later.
Yes, Layton got a good quip off on this score. But I just want to stop and re-emphasize that point: during the Canadian election, there was exactly one debate. One opportunity for these leaders to sit down and demonstrate how their platforms, their handling of the issues, make them more qualified to lead the country than the other people around that table (including, presumably, Steve Paikin). And the front-runner, the man whom pretty much every expert and pundit had conceded would be forming the next government, one way or another, did not actually have a platform to present. He. did. not. have. a. platform. In both the French and the English debates (moreso in the former), his attitude towards the whole event was to sit by with a smug smile, knowing that he could bear whatever was said, whatever attacks were fired at him or his lack of any sort of a plan for people to evaluate, because the polls showed that he was going to get what he wanted. (Well, almost.)
If this is not proof positive that we've got away from the issues, from dialogue and conversation and compromise (in the positive sense), then I don't know what is. In the U.S., the same night as the English debate here, Sarah Palin famously said that she would not be answering the questions ("And I may not answer the questions that either the moderator or you want to hear..."), Harper may as well have said something similar: "And I may not talk about any of the issues, except to take shots at my opponents..."
If you're still reading this, then you'll be happy to know that I'm about to tie it back to my starting point, that is, my friend's assertion that as a nation we're too fractured to be able to return to the good ol' days of having a government that does a decent job representing everybody. I have to agree that in this political climate, where all of Newfoundland voted on an "ABC" (anybody but Conservative) platform, where Toronto is seen as the Liberal keep, to be defended to the last, and where Alberta (and, increasingly, British Columbia) express a burning antipathy towards all things Liberal, such a rapprochement is difficult to picture. And that's not a nice thought. As a commenter in starfishchick's blog pointed out, somewhat tangentially, "Openly acknowledging that we will never be a community (and I don't mean a national one; I mean even within your own riding, your own street), and that we might as well give up, is way too depressing to consider." Why can't we all just get along?
But there is still a logical oops here: I'm not saying that everybody should suddenly see eye to eye on all of the issues. This isn't mommy and daddy pretending to get along for the sake of the kids. We are all (theoretically) mature adults in this game. We should be allowed to acknowledge the merit in another's ideas without being branded a traitor to our own. The personal failings of individual members of parliament, or possible (albeit for the most part acquitted) corruption among former party leaders, do not change the validity of an idea. And as heroic as it might seem to want to govern based solely on a strict set of ideals, if those ideals are not echoed by the majority of the population, then reality must at some point play a role. The government needs to look for common ground, to get things done that are in the best interests of the majority of the people - even in the case of a minority government.
And who knows? If this route is pursued, it might even lead to some goodwill tit-for-tat. A sort of "that policy is not something I agree with, but since we're not all out posturing, I'll acknowledge that it is not a deal-breaker for my party. I think I can support you on that, since you were gracious enough to help us out in issue XYZ."
If I can follow this crazy train of thought to its wacky conclusion, we might actually get to a point where we can get back to discussing the issues, rather than shouting at each other from across the floor.
1 - I'm not going to throw in the all-too-easy "again" at the end of this sentence. That would be divisive and partisan of me.
All of this ranting is painless because, for the most part, people are outright agreeing with me (or I with them, but you get my meaning). In addition, just about everybody I interact with votes, and is adamant about voting. I've got a lovely choir to preach to.
One very minor bone of contention seems to be the issue of root cause. Is the fact that 41 per cent of our population can't be bothered to vote a sign that the democratic process as it is implemented here (parliamentary system with an appointed senate, first-past-the-post electoral system) is not a good fit? Or is the problem the incredible diversity of concerns and "local" issues across this wide country, leading to a poor fit between candidates/parties and nearly half of the voters? Maybe it's just the fact that with all the non-political goings-on these days (Survivor, Amazing Race, start of the NHL, NFL and NBA seasons, etc.) we just don't have time to take part in national politics? Maybe this particular election was just too frivolous for some of us to care about? (After all, it was widely "known" before people went to the polls yesterday that the Conservatives were going to win another minority...)
The fact of the matter is that each of these reasons, now matter how facetious, probably apply to at least some sliver of the non-voting public. And there are doubtless reasons that I have not yet begun to touch upon. A friend of mine on Facebook told me that she didn't vote because, and I quote: "i had to vote in vancouver.... which was not gonna happen :3"
I'll admit that I'm puzzled by this comment on several fronts. First of all, why did my friend not want to vote in Vancouver? This, to me, is far from self-evident. Is it the neighbourhood? The candidates? The fact that it's a west-coast polling station? Secondly, living in Vancouver, where else would she have expected (or wanted) to vote? Could this have been helped by vote-swapping?
Finally: what does ":3" mean?
Okay, scratch that last question. It's probably not relevant to the topic at hand. But I look at my list of serious and not-so-serious reasons for which people might justify not voting, and my best guess is that this response falls into a new(ish) category: that it is just too much effort to get out and vote. So a little from column A (poor fit) and a little from column B (not worth the time and effort).
Regardless of this one exemplar, or to what extent the different arguments are prevalent, I have yet to see a case be made against voting that holds together logically. At best, one has an argument that is perfectly valid (read: self-serving) at an individual level, but that completely falls apart when one considers the scenario where, say, 41% of the population follows the same flawed logic. Sure, one person's vote will seldom sway a riding - but there are very few ridings where nearly doubling the number of votes cast cannot make a difference.
Rather than pick apart each flawed argument (which I would be happy to do in the comments, if people really want to see me ramble), I want to pursue a different train of thought.
Another friend of mine, with whom I had a spontaneous political conversation today, swears that the underlying cause of the low voter turn out is that aforementioned column A. Rather, as a country, we've become so fractured that it is impossible to see a single government being able to please the majority of voters from all regions of the country. Put simply, that which is approved of in Quebec is unlikely to gain traction in Alberta... and vice versa. Consequently, a rallying cry of "why bother?!" is raised, as no government will ever actually address our needs. And I'll admit that although I may not perceive it as the root cause, this is certainly one of the main ones. And it is probably one of the harder ones to tackle, too.
As I said in my last rant, I believe that an assumption underlying democracy is that there is an overall consensus on what benefits the community as a whole, and that no portion of society is out to punish or deprive any other portion. If this is the case, then there must be some solutions that are universal "wins" for everybody - even if one group wins less than it might otherwise. If this is the case, then the best way to move forward is through communication, and a spirit of compromise, so that those universal wins can be discovered, and capitalized upon.
If this is the case, then just plugging your ears and shouting "la la la la la la" does more harm than good, as it prevents any possible progress.
Alas, the more I look at our government in the last few years, the more I see behaviour that convinces me that our elected representatives do not feel that this is the case. Ever since the Liberals lost the majority (and I am not blaming this entirely on the Conservatives: there is plenty of blame to go around), politics have been more about scoring public relations points off of one's opponents. The Schrieber affair; Chuck Cadman, and the potential bribery; Maxime Bernier's forgotten documents; pooping puffins; the Liberal "risk" and their plan to increase taxes; the sponsorship scandal; "you had THIRTEEN YEARS!!!"; etc., etc., etc. While a few of these almost touch on the actual issues, it's been more than a sound bite, often with a healthy dose of spin. Very seldom have we seen true dialogue; instead it is a mixture of posturing and mud-slinging. I find it a lot easier to discuss the attempted scandals that have been reported and tracked than to put my finger on actual legislation that has been passed, much less bi- or tri-partisan legislation that has been passed with general approval.
Maybe this is just something that is less noticed during a majority government. Maybe, when a government doesn't need to build consensus, the work does get done faster, and an actual track record gets established. Maybe Canadian politics have always been this ugly, and it has taken this string of minority governments to make this clear to us. To me, at least.
Or maybe it's just a fact of the matter that one has to behave differently in a minority government than one does when in control of the House of Commons. Other countries have coalition governments all the time, and they seem to get along just fine. The people might go to the polls more often than in a majority situation, but laws still get enacted, coalitions formed, and agendas set that do not cater simply to a plurality of the voters.
It's rather clear that Canadians - especially Canadian politicians - are not used to minority governments. They don't form coalitions. Harper stated during this campaign that whatever happened, he would govern as if he had a majority. And this is not the first time he has made these comments. During the spring, Harper was intent on pushing through his policies regardless of the fact that he did not have a majority government. Declaring each one to be a confidence vote, he essentially played the numbers: the other parties could bring down the government, if they all voted together to reject a bill. But of course, doing that would turn public sentiment against the dissident parties (for elections are no longer contested based on the party platforms, but rather they are won or lost on who scores the most PR points), and end up strengthening the governments position.
Or so the theory goes, in any case.
The fact of the matter is that it was a bitter, divisive session of parliament. (Let's not forget the Conservative's handbook on how to disrupt parliamentary committee meetings.) And it led to an extremely bitter, negative campaign. It's true that campaigns are likely destined always to be a balance between talking one's own party up (through sound, appealing platforms and promises) and talking the other guy down (nowadays, alas, through a torrent of attack ads). But this year was, in my opinion, beyond the pale. Of the dozens of ads I saw (well, close to a dozen, but aired dozens of times), only one - one - was not an attack ad. I'm not counting the Harper-in-a-sweater "really, I'm nice" ads that came out before the election was called. Those don't count, unless the Conservatives were violating campaign regulations1. Everything else, from the word "go," was an attack. Harper attacking Dion. Dion attacking Harper. Layton attacking Harper. Layton attacking Dion. Back and forth, tearing the other guy down while offering only platitudes in exchange.
And it's not like the debate was any better. Leading up to the debate, more attention paid to whether or not Elizabeth May belonged there than to any actual issues or platforms. During the debate itself, the first question (regarding the economy) drew earnest answers from the first two candidates, before Harper used his answering time to skewer Dion - without actually offering any content regarding the Conservative platform... a platform that was not actually published until a few days later.
Yes, Layton got a good quip off on this score. But I just want to stop and re-emphasize that point: during the Canadian election, there was exactly one debate. One opportunity for these leaders to sit down and demonstrate how their platforms, their handling of the issues, make them more qualified to lead the country than the other people around that table (including, presumably, Steve Paikin). And the front-runner, the man whom pretty much every expert and pundit had conceded would be forming the next government, one way or another, did not actually have a platform to present. He. did. not. have. a. platform. In both the French and the English debates (moreso in the former), his attitude towards the whole event was to sit by with a smug smile, knowing that he could bear whatever was said, whatever attacks were fired at him or his lack of any sort of a plan for people to evaluate, because the polls showed that he was going to get what he wanted. (Well, almost.)
If this is not proof positive that we've got away from the issues, from dialogue and conversation and compromise (in the positive sense), then I don't know what is. In the U.S., the same night as the English debate here, Sarah Palin famously said that she would not be answering the questions ("And I may not answer the questions that either the moderator or you want to hear..."), Harper may as well have said something similar: "And I may not talk about any of the issues, except to take shots at my opponents..."
If you're still reading this, then you'll be happy to know that I'm about to tie it back to my starting point, that is, my friend's assertion that as a nation we're too fractured to be able to return to the good ol' days of having a government that does a decent job representing everybody. I have to agree that in this political climate, where all of Newfoundland voted on an "ABC" (anybody but Conservative) platform, where Toronto is seen as the Liberal keep, to be defended to the last, and where Alberta (and, increasingly, British Columbia) express a burning antipathy towards all things Liberal, such a rapprochement is difficult to picture. And that's not a nice thought. As a commenter in starfishchick's blog pointed out, somewhat tangentially, "Openly acknowledging that we will never be a community (and I don't mean a national one; I mean even within your own riding, your own street), and that we might as well give up, is way too depressing to consider." Why can't we all just get along?
But there is still a logical oops here: I'm not saying that everybody should suddenly see eye to eye on all of the issues. This isn't mommy and daddy pretending to get along for the sake of the kids. We are all (theoretically) mature adults in this game. We should be allowed to acknowledge the merit in another's ideas without being branded a traitor to our own. The personal failings of individual members of parliament, or possible (albeit for the most part acquitted) corruption among former party leaders, do not change the validity of an idea. And as heroic as it might seem to want to govern based solely on a strict set of ideals, if those ideals are not echoed by the majority of the population, then reality must at some point play a role. The government needs to look for common ground, to get things done that are in the best interests of the majority of the people - even in the case of a minority government.
And who knows? If this route is pursued, it might even lead to some goodwill tit-for-tat. A sort of "that policy is not something I agree with, but since we're not all out posturing, I'll acknowledge that it is not a deal-breaker for my party. I think I can support you on that, since you were gracious enough to help us out in issue XYZ."
If I can follow this crazy train of thought to its wacky conclusion, we might actually get to a point where we can get back to discussing the issues, rather than shouting at each other from across the floor.
1 - I'm not going to throw in the all-too-easy "again" at the end of this sentence. That would be divisive and partisan of me.