Missing The Unknown Soldier

Last week I stood with my wife and children looking down upon the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Ottawa.  ”What is this, Dad?” my twelve-year old son from Africa asked. I explained how just a few years ago the body of some forgotten man had been transported to that very spot in memory of all those unnamed we had lost during too many conflicts. “But who is he?” my son asked, still confused.

I must confess I’m not so sure anymore. I thought I did at one point. He might have died in Holland or Germany, Hong Kong or in the Atlantic, but he was the embodiment of sacrifice to me – a courageous soul, who despite his fear and isolation, carried the torch of Canada into some of the darkest places on earth and perished with it cradled in his hands. The old religions demanded that only the best animals be sacrificed and, ironically, we followed suit. The best and brightest of our young men and women we offered to a greater cause – to God, King or country. And we believed that noble offering would, in turn, bring us blessing and future peace. Indeed, such promise was the only way we could bear the pain of their loss.

As a nation, we marched ahead on the blood they shed. Indeed, this was the only way they could really bear what was ultimately their own death. Their belief in their families and their country propelled them in the most miserable of circumstances, and as they closed their eyes in death they could at least rest assured in the knowledge that the Canada they loved was a nation steeped in noble sacrifice, so much so that it would never forget their final effort. They sacrificed so that we might, I suppose in some strange way, comprehend that the purpose of their ultimate act was not that we would just remember, but that we would not stop.

Do we really believe that the Unknown Soldier, and the countless others like him, breathed their last proclaiming the glory of war? Hardly. By the time their end came they would have realized just what an awful thing they were enmeshed in. They had seen too much, endured too much, and lost too much to be idealistic about it anymore. In moments and months of increasing clarity, the thrill of just being there passed into sadness, and in its place came the thoughts of their parents, children, the farm outside Calgary, the harbour in Halifax, the tundra of the north, the silky wheat of the prairies, or the grandeur of the BC coast. The rest was just too much to figure out. The meaning of it all just wouldn’t make itself clear. And so their reasonings turned to the familiar and Canada emerged through the carnage.

This is the Unknown Soldier I thought I knew. We all thought we somewhat understood him. But what would he think of citizens who refused to vote, politicians who refused to cooperate and political parties that raced to the bottom line? What would he make of a country that left its farmers to go bankrupt in isolation, manufacturers who abandoned their workers for more lucrative fields abroad, seniors who were left without proper support, or a pristine land abandoned for a consumer’s dream?

I don’t know that soldier as well as I thought because, in truth, I have failed to carry his torch. I thank him for his sacrifice and wear my poppy proudly, but in reality I won’t go to a similar length to fight for lower carbon emissions, aboriginal justice, healthy food, a woman’s right to be truly equal or to free a child from hunger. I thank God for him but it’s just not in me, at least at present, to see Canada as he did. In life, I can’t replicate what he saw in death – a marvellous nation worth every energy expended for it.

I will stand at the Cenotaph tomorrow, not to remember, but to ask for forgiveness for fumbling the torch so mightily handed to me. And I will ask God to help me not to just remember, but to go on and fight for a land I see in my dreams, as the Unknown Soldier saw it in his. Maybe then, he will emerge through the haze of my own lack of sacrifice and be real to me once again.  I can only pray.

The Rooster Crows in Ottawa

It was the week of chest thumping. The locker room bravado displayed following the vote that will likely lead to the end of the gun registry. Then Senator Mike Duffy’s public meltdown in his debate with NDP Peter Stoffer. These were just more slippery stones in the decline of effective democracy in Canada.

Things have subtly changed in the nation’s capital, in ways likely to spell a more uncertain future. It used to be said that the Conservatives, so long in opposition, continued to behave in similar fashion after assuming power. The Liberals continued to act in opposition as though they were government. This was all true; I’ve witnessed it and concur. But it’s now changing. While Liberals are forced to come to terms with assuming the duties of Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition, the Harper Conservatives, comfortable in their lead in the polls, are acting more like a government, and in many serious ways, that’s not a good thing.

George Stevens, in a moment of introspection, stated: “I see myself capable of arrogance and brutality… That’s a fierce thing, to discover within yourself that which you despise the most in others.” This is what the Conservatives saw in their opponents, but now they have become Liberals redux. Nobody could escape that conclusion this past week. The party is becoming more comfortable with power – the days of the burlap-cloaked reformers from the West have given way to the limousines and tuxedos of privilege … and now arrogance. In a phrase: they have become what they most detested in Liberals.

The issue here isn’t Conservative or Liberal, but the corruption and arrogance that seems to inevitably come with power. For three years the Conservatives still felt they had to storm the ramparts of Ottawa; now they secure the fortress because they are inside. The problem is that they can’t recognize this in themselves. In becoming what they hated, they have lost the insight to hate what they are becoming. They have taken on the traits that Scottish philosopher David Hume warned against:

When men are most sure and arrogant, they are commonly mistaken, giving views to passion without the proper deliberation which alone can secure them from the grossest absurdities.”

We witnessed some of those absurdities last week; there’s more to come as the government, sensing weakness in the opposition, feels it’s about to launch into some remarkable open-field running. I sit in the House each day and I can feel it. Arrogance in opposition is one thing, in a government another. Of the two, the last is most to be feared.

I know a good number of Conservative friends. In private they are gracious, even humble. That’s great in private life, but in government it’s an absolute necessity, lest power move to the inevitable paths of privilege and flawed policy. Canada’s challenges at present demand a government that is humble and wise enough to work with opposition parties to secure the best outcome possible. Minority government makes this possible. Stephen Harper makes it impossible because his party views humility in the public place as a sign of weakness. What they might be in private as individual members they cannot replicate once the team straps on the pads. And before the inevitable comments come, stating that the Liberals were just as bad in power, I acknowledge it. There is no defence. But the problem isn’t the Liberals or the Conservatives; it’s power and its insipid ability to make the precarious balance of interests so required in a Canadian federation unstable.

Describing the decline into vanity of what was once a good friend, George Eliot wrote: “He was like a rooster who thought the sun had risen to hear him crow.” Alas, the rooster crows in Ottawa. Corruption has its way once again. It’s in times like this that citizens, recognizing this inevitable cycle of events, are meant to come forward and hold its office holders to account. That’s not happening and the sun continues to rise above the horizon any time the rooster summons it. Political delusion has begun.

“Fake” Wears a Tuxedo

In its own way, it was sickening. Upon arriving home from Ottawa late last night, the sadness of my wife’s face was evident. She told me of how Senator Mike Duffy had blustered his way through a CBC interview, opting to label NDP MP Peter Stoffer a fake and an actor. Subsequently watching the interview on the Internet, I was not only sad but embarrassed. I haven’t held out a lot of hope for civility in the House of Commons, but I never expected this.

The issue was concerning an NDP report pointing out that Stephen Harper has appointed more senators in one year than anyone else in Canadian history. It’s true; the facts are clear. It refers to the reality that the PM railed against the Senate even upon becoming leader of the nation and then proceeded to reward his cronies – true again. Something like this from the NDP isn’t new. The party and its leader have consistently held the view that the Senate is a huge waste of taxpayers’ expense and have even called for a public referendum on the matter, as has Conservative senator Hugh Segal. I don’t agree, but I acknowledge the NDP position has remained clear and unaltered.

Let me say something about Peter Stoffer. In the annual Maclean’s poll on MPs, Stoeffer repeatedly comes out on top as the most collegial of them all. He uses his influence to attempt to get MPs of all stripes to work together for various causes and events. Working in harmony with the Speaker of the House, each year he holds the “All Party Party” – a wildly popular evening in which MPs and their staffs all co-mingle and for a brief time put aside their party ideologies. It’s Stoffer that oversees the annual soccer game between MPs and the media. When I asked him to come to my riding in London and hold a rally for the troops, he readily agreed even though he was from another party. That’s the kind of MP he is. He’s a popular public servant and can often be found in the lobby sitting with members from other parties.

But he’s more than symbolic. I was especially irked when Duffy called Stoffer a faker, who pretends to support Canadian troops but votes against funding allocations for them. Let’s be clear. Peter Stoffer, as with Peter Mackay, is acknowledged in the House as being fully behind our men and women in uniform. Any MP, including Conservatives ones will tell you that. He was the one who led the charge in Parliament to protect soldiers medals that were otherwise being sold on eBay. The reason why he voted against the Conservative allocations on the military was because they offered embarrassing little support for the soldiers returned from active duty and who are having trouble moving on with their lives.

I’m not trying to be partisan here; I’m trying to be fair. Peter Stoffer gets elected each and every time by wide margins because he delivers for his constituents. Mike Duffy?  Well, he spent years as a CTV interviewer often mocking the Senate as a bunch of old men who do little with their time but who cost the taxpayer a bundle. Interestingly, he has now joined their ranks and his presence has destabilized a side of Parliament that has provided some of the most serious and dedicated reports and analysis on everything from the military to foreign aid. I know a number of Conservative senators and even have coffee with them occasionally. The discussions have all been about public policy and the need to get it right. When they heard Mike Duffy was about to join their ranks, they could only shake their heads. Their fears have now been confirmed.

Peter Stoffer said he would run for Parliament and did. He won, as he has done repeatedly. He acted on his convictions. Mike Duffy railed against the Senate as a place of unelected stooges while a media commentator but then took an unelected appointment to the place the moment it was offered. Of the two, I can guarantee you that Peter Stoffer is not a fake.

… Again

When the Auditor General comes calling, it’s best to pay attention.  Sheila Fraser’s investigations have historically struck fear into numerous agencies within government.  Her no-nonsense, direct approach has not only provided effective accountability within government, she has also put her conclusions in language that resonates well with the public.

This past week she unveiled her findings on the Canadian International Development Agency and, as seems a recurring theme these last few years, the Agency has come up short … again.

For Canadians themselves, Fraser delivers a report that concludes our tax dollars are not being used as effectively as they should be.  Despite 15 years of investment, six different strategic plans and five different ministers, the Agency is still stuck in the mire.  There have been so many shifts in CIDA priorities in just these last few years that it’s hard to imagine how aid dollars can be disbursed effectively when there’s always a moving target.  Money is wasted in such a setting, something the Auditor General hearkened to: “The nature of international development calls for stable, long-term programming and CIDA needs a comprehensive plan going forward.”  But such a plan would be the seventh in just the last few years.  Overall direction is good, but as CIDA’s recent failures have shown, such a plan can’t lead to ultimate success alone.

As strange as it may sound, the answer to the Agency’s legendary drift might well be political.  CIDA has no legislated mandate; its minister isn’t senior; and despite having a budget in the billions, it is merely the runt of the litter in Canada’s foreign policy establishment.  As the British and other European nations have shown, foreign aid can be effective when a government makes it a priority.  This is something that has been missing in both recent Liberal and Conservative governments.  Until some Canadian government opts to give international development its own enhanced role at the table of decision-making, CIDA will continue to be the modern embodiment of the “gang that couldn’t shoot straight.”

In fact, with so many shifts taking place in a relatively short period of time, the Auditor General wondered if CIDA is really capable of improving.  The Harper government especially seems to delight in tinkering on foreign aid when it should be providing stability.  When you have a previous Liberal government just a short time ago promising to double aid to Africa, then a Conservative government pulling its long-term development aid out of 8 African countries a short time later, you have a real problem.

Sheila Fraser is surely correct when she says the Agency requires more focus.  The lack of direction and the constant shuffling of priorities have left an Agency at sea and failing to deliver to the Canadian taxpayers the kind of efficiencies they would expect from a well-managed government department.

At a time of relentless political name-calling and a brutal form of partisanship, CIDA is the one sector of government that can fly below the partisan radar screen and speak to the greater values of Canadians.  But try as it might, CIDA has become so burdened down with bureaucracy and indecisiveness that it can’t get off the ground.  It knew Sheila Fraser was on her way, yet it couldn’t summon up the political will to get its house in order in order to prove its humanitarian worth.  As such, it has just been given another failing grade, only this time from a very high level.  Unless the political will is provided to bring the Agency out of the doldrums, Canadians will never get their money’s worth, and, worse yet, the one billion poorest people in the world will never effectively experience the humanitarian compassion Canada was once known for.

Floor Crossing

In a recent Policy Options magazine, Robin Sears writes in real terms concerning the partisan nature of politics and how it’s always characterized Canadian political life. People, including me, often hearken back to the Lester Pearson minority governments and how much was achieved through compromise. Sears says it was never quite that simple, but he does acknowledge, despite the heavily partisan debates between the various leaders at the time, friendliness and understanding between MPs was actually common.

Two generations ago, Canadians politicians not only respected each other as professionals in a shared discipline, they also often extended each other private support on shared projects … For every public collision between Diefenbaker and Pearson … there were a dozen private kindnesses behind the lobby curtains between members.”

I had that kind of day yesterday.  My wife and kids were up for one of their rare visits and came to the House.  CIDA minister Bev Oda came out to meet them following Question Period and was characteristically gracious.  As she spoke to the kids, Jack Layton (NDP) walked up and engaged them as well, obviously expressing interest in their lives and how they are adjusting to Canada.  I thanked him later in a quiet moment and he said he was pleased to have had the opportunity to dialogue with them – I believed him 100%.

Paul Dewar of the NDP, and a good friend, approached shortly after, commiserating with the kids and asking how their Halloween went.  Johanne Deschamps of the Bloc journeyed over and spoke with my wife for a time and reminded us that sometimes this kind of friendship is what meaningful politics entails.  There were many others, including security officers, and a great many of my own caucus who showed remarkable kindness.

Just as Question Period was starting, I crossed over the aisle (the DMZ, I call it) and deliberately shook Peter Mackay’s hand, congratulating him on the announcement of his engagement only the day before.  I sent him over a message during QP that I could sense the happiness in him.  I hope he doesn’t mind my telling that he responded back by saying he was smiling so much his face hurt.  Later, Conservative David Sweet crossed over to sit next to me on the opposition side and asked if I would cooperate with him on a venture in the near future.  I readily consented. As the House drew into the late-afternoon hours, I briefly sat next to Conservative Michael Chong, congratulating him on the birth of his new baby.

In all, it was a remarkable day, made all the more meaningful by the willingness of members to put aside their more partisan ways to engage in a middle space, even if just for a time.  There was a lot of crossing over yesterday and Parliament was the better for it.

Former John F. Kennedy speechwriter Ted Sorensen was in my riding in London last week delivering an engaging speech.  Though referring to American politics, he might just as easily have been speaking of Canada.  Regretting the declining nature of dialogue, he stated: “The national discourse has declined.  It has become more partisan, it has become more bitter, it is often shouting at the top of one’s voice.  Civility is not a sign of weakness.  That’s a very important principle.  Unfortunately, it’s being ignored by members of both parties … who cast about insults and untruths.”

And so we have it, the kind of resentful and prejudicial politics that is undoing the present political landscape.  But not yesterday – in ways meaningful and kind, the curtain was drawn back a little to reveal public servants honouring, cooperating and generally being kind to each other.  I understand the need for the heavy partisan bickering at a certain level, and though I disagree with it, I know it’s a permanent piece of the landscape up here.  Nevertheless, underneath that frenzy should be far more interactions of understanding and respect.  It’s how more compromise will be reached and how a minority parliament can work.  Sadly, there aren’t as many as there could be.  Yesterday, however, in all the crossing over, I realized again that politics can be about the possible.

Either Way, It Corrupts

Historian and moralist Lord Acton said it  and we’ve all heard it.  Now we get our chance to experience it … again.  ”"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Acton wrote to a friend.  I rather prefer William Pitt’s take on it: “Unlimited power is apt to corrupt the minds of those who possess it.”

What we are witnessing now in Ottawa is the corruption of the public space. Whether that corruption is absolute or merely partial doesn’t matter; either way, the power corrupts. The Conservatives knew full well that placing their logo on cheques of largesse violated the conflict of interest code but they did it anyway, for three reasons at least. The first is that their chief opposition has been compromised by their own past. Everyone recalls the Sponsorship scandal. Whenever Liberals stand up in the House to correctly warn the government of this kind of corruption, the inevitable response is: “Well, you guys did it too.” You hear it from both the government and the media and it’s true. The point is though, Stephen Harper came to power swearing he would clean this kind of thing up. Instead, he has turned it into an art form.

The second reason the government feels it can get away with it is the success it’s had in turning the public off politics altogether. Their damaging form of negative advertising has not only turned Canadians off, they’ve stopped showing up at the polls as well.  Canadians, in the main, don’t like this stuff, and so they opt out. Knowing that, the government ramps up its partisan efforts in ways that corrupt, increasingly raising the skepticism of the citizens. If nobody shows up in the stands, it doesn’t really matter how you play the game.

And that’s the third reason the present government is failing on its promise to make politics more ethical. It realizes that undertaking initiatives like putting the party logo on public cheques is likely unethical, but it is politically effective. The fact this is happening across so many disciplines in government has moved the goalposts of corruption increasingly towards the absolute.

Section 2 (b) of the Conflict of Interest Code states the following.  Each MP must:

fulfill their public duties with honesty and uphold the highest standards so as to avoid real or apparent conflicts of interests, and maintain and enhance public confidence and trust in the integrity of each member and in the House of Commons.”

Can anybody tell me if this is what’s happening at present? Don’t bother informing me that the Liberal’s did it. It’s true; I acknowledge it. But the point is, nobody should be doing it, and right now the government is guilty of perpetuating a pattern that is steadily eroding the public service and the public space. My Conservative MP friends know this is happening, and in quiet moments acknowledge their consternation. I’ll leave it to them to take their own respective stands.

Canada is not Conservative, Liberal, or any other political persuasion for that matter, regardless of what the parties say. It is Canadian and belongs to its citizens as is best expressed through the non-partisan public service. That sphere is steadily eroding as Stephen Harper stickhandles a minority government as though he possesses a majority.  When former Conservative PM Joe Clark said last week that the Harper Conservatives are “a private-interest party in a public-interest country,” he expressed a painful truth that will bring him grief from his own party. But it is the current practice and, to the best we can, we must stop it.

Planting Some New Thoughts

International Cooperation minister Bev Oda flies to Rome shortly for the UN’s Food and Agricultural Organization’s (FAO) food summit.  As such gatherings go, it doesn’t compare with its more noted cousins, such as the G8 or G20 summits, yet Oda heads to Italy to deal with one of the most crucial challenges facing the planet.

Presently, a record one billion people are now hungry worldwide and recent reports claim that number will increase significantly if governments don’t spend more on agriculture and food security.  The FAO itself reports that 30 countries now require emergency aid, with 20 of those being in Africa itself.

When a child dies every six seconds due to malnutrition, you know there’s a problem.

The issue is: What’s the solution?  In Canada, along with other nations, the price of food is spiraling. We all know it, feel it, yet we can still head down to the local supermarket and shop just a bit more frugally.  For those in the poorest countries, it could well lead to malnutrition at least, starvation at worst.  When an average family in Somalia, who spent $92 for basic foods in 2007 but now spends $171 for the same goods, it’s clear the issue is getting more urgent.

And so Ms. Oda heads to Rome with a food security future that is unclear.  As a rule, such summits barely move the goalposts; promises are made by the developed world that are most often unfulfilled.  Food prices and fuel allocations are at dangerous levels because of a lack of proper investment in past decades.  Food just seemed so cheap and plenteous that real innovate thinking and allocation of aid dollars didn’t seem that necessary.  Well, we’re now paying the price for that neglect and it’s reaching the critical stage.

So, with food prices up 80% since 2002, what can be done?  Oda went a long way to providing relief by untying food aid from the designs of the countries that donated it, thereby providing more growing opportunities in those regions of the world where the need was the greatest.  But that was only a good first step.  The next would be to fulfill the promises made at the G8 summit in Italy this past summer to spend $20 billion (US) on food development.  We’re not talking about just the gifting of food, but rather the kind of investment that sees to proper irrigation techniques, food storage capabilities, credit provision to local growers, greater assistance to smaller farms and innovation in crop rotation.

But there is more than can be done.  The unprecedented thirst for biofuels has meant that much needed land that could go to the production of consumption foods is instead being harvested for the corn that feeds the energy sector.  Because many of the donor nations have significant biofuel industries (including Canada), such consideration might never make it to the table.  To be sure, there will be the ceremonial wording around such issues, but they rarely lead to concrete action.  Canada could take a lead here.

With the United Nations now predicting that the world population will reach 9.1 billion by 2050 before it starts leveling off, how they are fed will become of paramount concern.  While we spend roughly 10% of our incomes on food, those in Third World allocate over half of their resources to the purchase of necessary food items.  There is little room for them to maneuver.  Ever-increasing food prices will devastate such families.

Minister Oda has shown that she comprehends the challenge in front of Canada’s own responsibility for food donation; in fact, she seems somewhat empowered by the challenge.  My own difficulties with CIDA have been recounted often enough in these pages for people to know that I fret over the future of the agency.  Yet in this area of food, Canada has taken a clear lead.  Our hopes and prayers go with the minister as she seeks to avert what is clearly an emerging catastrophe.

What The Heckle?

In my short life here in Parliament I had never seen anything like it. From up in the gallery, above where the media sits, students began yelling out that MPs should rush to pass Bill C-311, known in recent weeks as the Climate Change Bill. As the minutes went on, more and more of the young people heckled the parliamentarians below until at last they were removed from the House altogether. To some it was entertaining, to others distracting, but the general feeling was one of surprise and discomfort.

I had met with another group of university students earlier in the day in my office and I could sense their strong commitment to environmental reform.  I liked them.  They were keen and eloquent, and although I disagree with how others caused such a disruption in the House of Commons later, it wasn’t hard to tell where they were coming from.

The NDP introduced the bill into the House but last week MPs opted to give the relevant committee a 30-day extension to discuss its merits. I voted against the extension, and opted to support the NDP bill that would establish a clear target in time for the Copenhagen climate change meetings that are just around the corner.

What transpired yesterday is something of an indicator as to what Parliament and the country itself has come to.  Protestors felt the need to invade a sacred place; parliamentarians looked uncomfortable and somewhat unmoved; and the media raced out into the halls to grab their pictures and stories of young people being muscled out of the Parliament buildings.

We’re better than this – all of us.  The bill itself was asking us to treat climate change seriously.  We haven’t and we’ll pay for it in world opinion at Copenhagen, not to mention global devastation.  The difficult things we will face in our future – environmental degradation, terrorism, starvation, poverty – demand outrage, attention and a sense of urgency.  Parliament can’t muster up that kind of anger, except to lob our partisan attacks.  So, these young people brought it into our own ballpark, trying to give us a wake-up call.

In truth, what else can they do: nobody seems to be listening on these vital files. Colin Horgan, Canadian writer for Britain’s Guardian newspaper, pretty well summed it up about our country at the moment:

Harper’s performance of the Beatles song … at a gala benefit in Ottawa … sparked an immediate response.  The media cooed … and Harper became a YouTube hit.  Harper’s popularity might be on the rise, but it’s not because of his piano playing or aw-shucks coffee shop patriotism.  It’s because he allows us to be apathetic.  And the less we care, the better he’ll look.”

Or, as Paul Wells put it in Maclean’s this past week: “With every action and inaction, Harper is changing Canada – and we’re not noticing.” 

It’s sad enough that the world is seeing us in this light; it’s more tragic when we begin to see it in ourselves.  It wasn’t that long ago that an international magazine called Canada “cool” and involved.  Now we’re merely complacent and ingrown.  Yet, though Canadians might not be interested in politics, they are interested in the world and how it sees us.  Things have become inverted.  Very serious minded young hecklers in the House were tossed out, while the “professional” hecklers occupying the main seats maintain their honourable spots.  We’re all in collusion … and delusion.  These young people at least had the courage of their convictions and it seems they believe more in Canada’s environmental future than we do.  The planet is in better care in their hands than our own.

Canada’s Natural Governing Party

Andrew Coyne put forward an interesting premise a few days ago: “Time For Ignatieff To Take A Chance.” The popular Maclean’s columnist suggested it might be time for Michael Ignatieff to rip up those prepared speeches and just speak from the heart. He believes the public is looking for someone who’s truly “authentic” and they would likely “rush the barriers” to see Ignatieff if he just put it all out there. Coyne presses on to say that Canada’s present political climate is largely dishonest and timid – incapable of taking Canadians where they really need to go. It was a well-written column but I still wonder as to its premise.

Let’s be honest: No political leader in their right mind dares to be as truthful as Coyne challenges because it would be the media itself that couldn’t withhold its skepticism long enough to truly investigate the merits of that leader’s case. Opposition parties would immediately pounce and all manner of bloggers, pundits and columnists would discuss the scary ramifications of such a daredevil proposition. I recall when Ignatieff came to London following a visit to Cambridge, in which he stated no leader would be worthy of the name if he or she didn’t place the possibility of raising taxes on a long list of future considerations if a deficit couldn’t be brought under control. Political staffers mulled around, worried that it would be taken out of context, which it inevitably was. Media had a field day with it. Ignatieff, suffering from a gruelling cold, sat in a chair prior to the event in London and wondered what became of honesty in the public space. The very next day in the House, Conservative members used every possible occasion to ridicule Ignatieff, calling him just another “tax and spend” Liberal. The media ate it up.

Back in early-2007, a few months after I was elected, I watched in disappointment as Stephen Harper wondered aloud as to whether Canada might not have to consider remaining in Afghanistan a while longer, only to be ridiculed as a war-monger by opposition parties and media alike. He had dared to ask an important policy question in public and many in the media took the easy route, opting for the salacious over articles of in-depth research. That research did come later but largely through the Manley Report.

I watch it every day in Question Period. Like the half-mortal gods of the ancient Greeks, the media occupies the upper tier of seats in the press gallery and amuses itself on the vain actions and ambitions of the mere mortals below. When a minister, whom the gods appear to favour, responds to a question by minimizing the query in an amusing fashion, many of the gods merely smile outwardly at his brashness, refusing to acknowledge that, not only is the answer untruthful, it is, in fact, demeaning of a serious place of public debate. Politicians pick this up. Those that are ahead in the polls (supposedly favoured by the gods) at a given time look up to their communications benefactors, nod in greeting, and remain intent on schmoozing with the journalists at some event later in the day to maintain their favour. Those that are behind in public favour cast quick and insecure glances at the upper tier, wondering if the journalists will only make their lot worse the next day.

Maybe, if we were all to be truthful, we should just acknowledge that the media has become Canada’s natural governing party – it remains when other parties stumble and fall. Journalists and commentators facing horrendous deadlines find their work made easier when some politician steps out of line and in a rare moment of candour tells the truth. It’s far easier to mull over the effect of the statement than to truly take the time to consider its potential for damage or good. I read in a national daily today a well-known columnist whom I respect wonder if it might not be a wise time for Harper to cause another election if he wants to survive some upcoming challenges like Afghanistan. What’s with that? Ignatieff just took a national pummelling for threatening to force an election and now we have a pundit thinking it might not be a bad idea for Harper.

I admit that, as a fairly new MP, I am confused by all of this. When I told an NDP MP friend of mine that I was going to write this post, she immediately replied, “Glen, don’t do it; they’ll dump on you.” But when everything we do in the House is meant to satisfy the media, little is left for true honesty and the need for serious public policy. Can Andrew Coyne guarantee a fair hearing from media colleagues for honest revelations from political leaders?  Unlikely. I remain at a loss. Meanwhile the gods above observe … and enjoy their bemusement.

The Secret Evil

Darfur had fallen off the world’s radar screen until last week, when the Obama administration opted to begin a more progressive engagement with the Sudanese government – the merits of which remain uncertain. The administration’s special Sudan envoy, Scott Gration, likens Obama’s approach as a “carrot and stick” attempt to get Sudanese president Omar Bashir to deal more effectively with the devastation and criminal neglect still inflicted upon the average person in Darfur.

That’s all well and good, but there remains one deep and sinister practice condoned by the Sudanese government that screams for attention but whose voice seems to dissipate into a deep void.

Rape is a tragic trait in most conflicts, but in Sudan it takes on a sinister quality, in part because it transpires in such remote regions that the world never knows. Non-governmental organizations, funded by larger agencies like the United Nations, built in loose structures of support to assist rape victims in their protection and rehabilitation. Development and human rights workers, always prone to acronyms and shortened forms of speech, refer to it as GBV – Gender Based Violence. As terrible as the situation in Darfur was during the murderous days following 2004, there was always a certain consolation that victims of rape were at least being treated.

Things took an unfortunate turn when Bashir, in reaction to being indicted by the International Criminal Court, turned on his own people, in part by kicking out numerous humanitarian organizations he claimed were giving secret evidence to the court itself. Sadly, some of the NGOs were the agencies assisting with GBV. Rape was already systemic before their ousting, but the diabolical practice of sexual rape is now moving ahead unabated. Those agencies that do attempt to assist the victims report being harassed by government officials, who most often claim these NGOs are hurling empty allegations when they report mass rapes in Darfur. The Norwegian Refugee Council was kicked out of Darfur after publishing a report on the prevalence of rape, condoned by the government. Bashir claimed the findings were false and the head of MSF-Holland was arrested after his agency reported widespread cases of rape.

Without a support network to assist them, rape victims who dare to report such a crime run the risk of prosecution for adultery if they can’t prove they didn’t consent to the act. How can they possibly prove that? If sentenced, public lashings could ensue or, on rare occasions, stoning. Following the shame of it all, how does a woman then make her own way in life? With no sure source of income, she has to rely on the meagre possessions of friends or family in a region that hardly has any resources at all.

The UN is attempting to bring on more “gender desk officers” – female police officers with little experience in GBV. All recent efforts to provide a sufficient support network for victims of GBV hardly measure up to the formidable task brought on by Bashir’s acts of national and international lawlessness. This was a case where the West, in indicting Bashir at the ICC, actually created conditions where sexual violence and rape took on tragic proportions. While millions of dollars and expert witnesses went into the indictment, virtually nothing was granted to these women who suffer evil’s deep secret. If the Responsibility to Protect doctrine can’t protect these women from the deepest shame imaginable, what good is it? How can it possibly boast of effectiveness? If it was our mother or daughter, we would scream from the rooftops, not for a hearing, but for action. These women of Darfur are just screaming. Does anybody hear?

CIDA – With Affection (2)

There’s a reason CIDA has a coterie of anonymous lovers.  The NGOs who contributed their own ideas to overcome the organization’s shortcomings didn’t want their identities revealed for fear they would have their present and future funding cut.  That likely says more about the Agency that anything else – just at a time when it needs friends, its heavy-handedness keeps them at a distance.  Nevertheless some of their ideas are listed here, along with my own, for how to make next year’s annual report more transparent and accountable.

Come into the open – most NGOs and other qualified observers state that it remains unclear whether Bill C-293 has had much effect on the Agency at all. Efforts by many to acquire more evidence from CIDA that the Act is being implemented have been rebuffed.  So, next year, if the Act is in fact guiding CIDA’s and the Government’s development assistance, prove it with concrete examples and proper accountability to Parliament.

Prove it – one of the three key criteria in C-293 is the requirement to link development funds to poverty reduction.  The Act itself is actually vague on this point as to what that exactly means. CIDA could go a long way to re-establishing credibility by listing a series of “determinants” of poverty reduction and then going on then validate how they have done it.  This year’s report was woefully inadequate in this regard.

Serious engagement – the present report outlines some $27 million spent on engaging Canadian citizens.  Well, how did that work for the Agency? The public knows almost nothing about Canadian international development and CIDA holds the main responsibility for failing to engage citizens at even the most primary level. Part of the reason there was so little media coverage of the report’s release was due to the fact the media instinctively understood citizens weren’t interested. By its absence, CIDA is teaching people not to care – a sad indictment in an age of accountability.

Be environmentally friendly – research on climate change around the world has enforced the clear link between poverty and environmental degradation.  Knowing this, other countries place environmental stewardship high up the list for criteria for any project.  Not CIDA, the Ministry of the Environment, or any other department was listed in the report as having taking this challenge seriously – a tragic oversight.

Consult – reviews of the Government’s recent report have been largely condemning. Part of the reason for that undesirable effect is that CIDA’s main partners weren’t consulted in the drafting of the report.  The supposed funding hub for many NGOs, CIDA continues to live in isolation away from its natural partners.  Drawing in opposition parties for their input was too much for this government to consider, I suppose.

There’s lots more, but all the Agency needs to do is go to their friends for more good advice.  It’s beyond understanding why a Government that holds out “accountability” as its key operational mandate should show such a clear lack of transparency and openness in this past report, especially in humanitarian endeavors. At a time when stimulus funds are flooding Conservative ridings and the party’s logo is prominent on so many of its cheques, it seems odds that it won’t put its own “brand” on CIDA and its operation.  But maybe that’s just it: by maintaining secrecy, it can underperform and underwhelm.  By ascribing to this kind of conduct, CIDA continues to bleed friends and is unable to influence people.  I would ask the good folks in the Agency to consider some of the above suggestions for input into next year’s report.  But hurry, because it’s getting harder and harder to believe in the once-proud organization, and your friends and citizens will soon start moving on.

CIDA – With Affection (1)

Okay, with the last post dealing with the Government, and CIDA’s, disappointing annual report on Canada official development assistance, perhaps it’s only proper that some solid recommendations be given that would help the authors of the report to be far more forthcoming and transparent in next year’s effort.  Some of these ideas have come from non-governmental organizations, some are mine, but they are all sent in the next two postings with affection to an Agency that many want to see succeed, and to its Minister, Bev Oda.

Document what you’ve learned – What is different in what you’re doing this year over last? Have your new approaches resulted in improved impacts, and are you planning on expanding your successes to other countries?

Give us the big picture – develop a federal framework for the delivery of Canadian aid and development responsibilities and how they fit with our broader foreign policy objectives. The report itself was actually a series of individual reports from each department that had development assistance responsibilities. As such, there was no one overall picture of how the government has integrated all these efforts together. What is our foreign policy, and how does international development match it?

Not just an opinion piece – Minister Bev Oda opens the report by stating that she is “of the opinion” that CIDA’s activities meet the three tests of Bill C-293, which we spoke of in the last post. If so, then it should have provided a clear analysis as to why she would make that claim. Two of the three key tests – taking the perspectives of the poor into account and consistency with international human rights standards – were barely covered.

Follow the breadcrumbs – the report acknowledges CIDA is the “principal” organization responsible for aid. This makes sense, given its expenditures of $3.75 billion. But thrown into the mix was another approximately $1.3 billion that was supposedly disbursed by 11 other ministries. Who are these departments, and are they all required to disburse their funds through the qualifying filter of the criteria inherent in C-293? How does it all fit together, and are these other departments actually being required to follow the criteria? Who oversees compliance with the Act?

Show how you’ve learned from others – CIDA operates with other nations and partners in the implementation and prioritization of development assistance.  Acknowledge in the annual report how you have learned from others. One of the Agency’s main difficulties is that it appears silo-based and it’s a perception that is growing. Show how you have learned from the British, Norwegians or the Americans as to how to do things better. Some of these nations have accountability acts of their own. Tell us how you have learned from their experience, or how they learned from yours. NGOs, opposition parties, and others are comparing how CIDA stacks up with others; it’s time the Agency did as well.

There’s a reason why it’s perceived that the Canadian International Development Agency is on the ropes.  This annual report to Parliament was a serious opportunity to present itself in a new light. Instead, it provided a scattered and vague response to a serious piece of foreign aid legislation that was designed to help it perform more productively. It wasted that opportunity, to the disappointment of all those who care about the organization. This report could have been authored in a manner commensurate with C-293’s requirements and with CIDA’s own vulnerability in mind. As such, it was a wasted opportunity. More suggestions in the next post.

CIDA – A Failed Report Card

Bill C-293 was a serious public offering. Following two years of wrangling in both the House and the Senate, the bill was passed unanimously in Parliament and received Royal Assent over a year ago and became law. Better known as the Aid Accountability Act, it was designed to bring Canada into the modern era by demanding accountability for the proper spending of our aid dollars. The bill itself requires the government, primarily CIDA, to report annually to Parliament and account for its progress on three key themes which form the focus of the Act: 1) does it contribute to poverty reduction; 2) does it take into account the perspectives of the poor; and 3) is it consistent with international human rights standards?

The Harper government presented its first annual accounting report on the Aid Accountability Act to Parliament two weeks ago, and many waited with keen anticipation to see if the government would continue hiding CIDA within a cloak and dagger operation or if it would finally use such a solemn occasion to finally treat the issue with a hoped for trait of transparency. I worked with a team of NGOs, large and small, to analyze the paper once it was presented and, sadly, it was unanimously agreed that the accountability inherent in C-293 is not being accurately reported – the smoke and mirrors remain.

The report does a credible job in providing some new details on program spending, which assist in making disbursements more transparent. But of the three key areas mentioned above, neither “taking account of the perspectives of the poor,” or consistency with international human rights standards is dealt with effectively, with the latter hardly being alluded to at all.  One of the observers noted that CIDA’s summary report is really about “accountancy and not accountability.”

We examined the new report in comparison with the accounting the British version of CIDA (Department For International Development) and the International Fund for Agricultural Development must undertake each year. While CIDA’s accounting for $3.75 billion comprises only six pages, the other reports run in the dozens of pages. In the area of health, where the other reports are expansive, CIDA’s report offers the reader no idea of the details of the Canadian programs, their overall impact, or even the location where those programs took place.

With the arrival of this annual aid accountability report, it has become increasingly clear that the hopes so many felt for CIDA have now been permanently dashed. Bill C-293 was a cooperative attempt to rescue the Agency from its isolation and secrecy, in hopes of creating an effectively responsive arm of the Canadian government that would properly oversee its aid disbursements. In fact, CIDA failed three key tests this year. The first was in its decision to pull much of its development dollars out of eight African countries. When urged my numerous NGOs, and the ambassadors of those respective countries, to reconsider, appeals fell on deaf ears. Then there was the Agency’s vague announcement concerning some changes in multi-lateral funding – changes that are little understood or properly explained.

With this long-awaited accountability report, CIDA and the government have now failed once again to work effectively with its partners and interested parliamentarians. With this third spoke now being broken, little confidence remains that the Agency can travel anywhere effectively as part of a democratic exercise. It could have been different. At a time when it remains under assault for its secrecy and lack of transparency, it could have used this annual report to show that it was “getting it” and working towards the hopes many have for the organization. One wonders how much longer its can continue to isolate itself in such a fashion before its own fate is finally sealed by those who cannot get the accountability they deserve. No small wonder that the dedicated CIDA employees moan the loss of a once-promising future.

Out Of This World

It was one of those wonderful moments that happen all too rarely in an MP’s life. My kids were doing their homework while we were all seated on the couch and it ended up in a wrestling match. Suddenly my Blackberry rang with a message. I looked at my wife and wondered why it was I couldn’t seem to even enjoy such moments without an interruption. To my shock, the message was from Bob Thirsk, the Canadian astronaut now circling Earth in the space station. We hadn’t spoken in some time and I read his message with relish.

A true Canadian treasure, Bob is in space for six months, growing over four inches in height in the process. As my three children and wife Jane gathered around, we opened up the photos Bob had sent just for us. One was of Madras, India – a place Bob and I had visited back in the early-1970s together. I still possess old 35 mm photos from back then, but they couldn’t compare to this treasure of a picture of Madras taken from outer space.

Our own space program in Canada has earned us a worldwide reputation as a highly innovative and resourceful country. More than that, it has proven we are a people with an imagination capable of thinking beyond our own borders. In Parliament, we fight for ensure that the program remains sufficiently funded and we take great pride as Members of Parliament when we hear of the great accomplishments of people like Bob Thirsk.

I have had the pleasure of knowing two Canadian astronauts in my life. Bob is an important figure from my younger years. A solid man of patriotism and religious faith, his dedication has now fulfilled his dream of being where he right now.  Marc Garneau is the other astronaut I’m privileged to know. Just last week I sat with him, beaming in pride as Michael Ignatieff praised him for being our first Canadian in space and congratulating him on his 25th anniversary of his first space flight (he’s had 3 altogether). Marc looked down shyly, as is his way. But not the rest of us: every single member in the House that day stood in honor of a truly good and unbelievably smart man.

Just how lucky can I be? In real time, my kids opened up an e-mail attachment with a picture sent directly from the space station. To Bob, thank you for that moment we’ll never forget. Enjoy what must be an unbelievable journey. And to both Bob and Marc, thank you for teaching us all that dreaming beyond our own limitations is a sign of a great people.

Game-changers

For a numbers of days I couldn’t go anywhere without folks asking what I thought of Obama winning the Nobel Peace Prize. Like pretty well everyone else, I was shocked at the announcement – not in a bad way, just in a “I didn’t see that one coming,” kind of way. Judging from the media coverage, opinion seems pretty split on the merits of the decision.

Almost from the beginning, the practice of the Nobel decision committee has been to honor recipients following years of significant effort to better humankind. Obama’s award was different and I have to believe it was because of that one word – hope. The world is a troubling place right now – not because of too much conflict or wars but because of the potential for them. With no Cold War to focus our thoughts and attention, we’ve become aware of dozens of hotspots around the world that are far too abundant to understand. North Korea, troubled places in Africa, Iraq, Afghanistan, Burma – all these, and many more, appear to be brewing as opposed to dissipating. And with the recent financial crisis that has been global in scale, there is a sense that beyond any country’s borders are “where the wild things are.”

The Nobel committee has watched in frustration as past award winners often never reached their dream of peace. Nevertheless, the committee was prudent in past decisions to award those who at least advocated for peace through acts of tremendous heroism and humanity. In other words, in a world where so little was actually leading to peace, it was more important to honor those who at least attempted it.

It was insightful to hear how many times the word “hope” popped up from the Nobel committee regarding the decision to honor Obama. The Bible describes faith as “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” In effect, this is what the American president has done. Gone are the days when people didn’t know who he was. Those nasty proclamations by his opponents that he never really was “from here,” or that he was Muslim or somehow un-American, have largely fallen by the wayside. As he began to emerge from obscurity, it soon became apparent that he was a game-changer, someone who might actually take politics and do something “real” with it.

By recognizing Obama so early in his tenure, the Nobel folks honored emotion over deeds. This troubles many, but the more I’ve thought of it, there is a kind of logic to it. Even before coming to power, Obama pledged to find new avenues for peace. He invited the Muslim world to the table as honorable partners, as opposed to threats to American security. He’s even under criticism and scrutiny for trying to do too much, too soon. Who was the last person who attempted such an expansive agenda for world peace? We look at the Nobel decision through a Western lens, forgetting that the world fell in love with Obama almost instantly. He represented something welcoming, someone who accepted other nations as legitimate players in a world drama. His effect was felt far more keenly in Damascus, Nairobi, Singapore and Caracas than it was here in Canada or the United States.

And so the Nobel committee gave him “street cred” – an advance of moral capital that could possibly assist him in finding a peace this generation has never witnessed. The committee put their faith in hope, and in so doing they became active players in an unfolding drama, in real time.

Politics is desperately in need of game-changers – leaders who go for the impossible as opposed to the prudent, for principle over power, peace over pragmatism. Stephen Harper can never be that person because he’s an incrementalist, attempting not to change the channel but to just bore us with all the noise in hopes we won’t catch on to the subtle changes he’s introducing. To accomplish his agenda, he requires stealth.  Michael Ignatieff is the only leader close enough to forming government who has the potential to inspire us once again. But for that to happen he mustn’t be so much defined by politics as transcending it. That choice is now his.

Duffing It

Newly-crowned Conservative Senator Mike Duffy is at it again. At a speech in Sudbury a few days ago, he professed to have spoken to some Liberal senators who are bailing on Michael Ignatieff as the party’s leader.  In doing so, Duffy is perpetuating the “unnamed sources” narrative that’s been running through Ottawa these days. When such sources are trustworthy, it’s understandable journalists would use such information to build a story based on as much fact as they can acquire.  But as the recent comments from a Conservative aide to Minister Jason Kenney have shown, journalists can be used for propaganda purposes unwittingly. Of course it would have been a fascinating discovery to learn which Liberal MPs were thinking of crossing the floor. Trusting that source in Kenney’s office became an embarrassment because in the end it wasn’t at all true. The Conservative machine had attempted to co-opt the media through a kind of falsehood that made them culpable. Most of the good journalists in Ottawa won’t forget this blatant use of misinformation and hopefully will balance the scale.

And now there’s this tidbit from Duffy. The senator is merely maintaining his partisan slant he continued to evidence as a media figure. When I first arrived in Ottawa as a new recruit, MPs from all parties informed me that he was a closet Conservative and that this was just accepted in the nation’s capital. His appointment to the Senate has not only validated that fact but actually provided him with just another soapbox to espouse his Conservative ways. That’s fine as far as it goes, but it does put to the lie his pre-Senate claims to have been “non-partisan” or “objective.”

I have attempted to be as balanced an MP as I can, given the hyper-partisan stuff that goes on in Ottawa these days. I’ve alluded to the culpability of all us in the House to “play the game,” thus demeaning the kind of politics that should matter. But Duffy’s recent claims are different. We all know Conservative MPs who are disillusioned with their leader’s brand of political gamesmanship, but they’re part of that team and it’s accepted. I know the Liberal caucus well. I attempt to keep a low profile, but I really like people as a matter of course and this has provided me the benefit of holding pleasant conversations with most of them, including Liberal senators. I’ll state here clearly that Mike Duffy is just blowing smoke. Michael Ignatieff still maintains the loyalty of his entire caucus, despite the poor poll numbers.   Not one person has ever expressed to me any kind of desire to switch leaders. That always possible in Ottawa, but it’s no happening now.  I have not been approached by anyone in the Liberal party to write this post; I’m on my own, but I’ll bet I’m right.

So, what we have now is a senator spouting unnamed sources to substantiate his false claims. And as we’ve learned from the “floor-crossing” Liberal MPs story, we’re all demeaned when falsehood is used to belittle others. Now we have a former media personality doing the same thing. He should know better, but, after all, he loves this pit-bull stuff. Duff, name who they are. I’ll bet you can’t, because they don’t exist. You’re kicking a good man when he’s down, but you’re using fabrication to do it. Name them, or cease and desist. Spout your political preferences in established venues, using verifiable information. This particular way of operating has now successfully transferred the uber-partisanship of the House to the Senate. How much longer can the institution last when both sides of Parliament have decided that the time has arrived to replace decency and respect with slander and vitriol? Name them, Duffy. If I’m wrong, I’ll apologize in these pages. In the meantime, show some respect.

A Recession-proof Thanksgiving

Southern Ontario hasn’t experienced anything like this in decades. Of the province’s 240,000 job losses, that vast majority come from this region. Tens of thousands of individuals and their troubled families move from termination, to Employment Insurance to social assistance – a mass of humanity on the move while yet rooted in their respective communities and institutions. Despair is now setting in, and with a federal government seemingly oblivious to the sheer urgency of the situation, the dark clouds keep encroaching. In my home town of London, it was just announced yesterday that the unemployment rate had just gone up from 11.1% by another point. A part of Canada that was once the driving engine of much of its productivity is on the ropes while Ottawa occupies itself with rank partisanship.

It’s in such a bleak setting that the London Food Bank holds its 21st annual Thanksgiving Food Drive this week. As co-director, I’ve endeavored to keep our volunteers and donating public inspired despite the gloom. Yet with the number of families we assist increasing by over 25% (2400 to 3200 per month, or 8,000 people) in the last number of months, it’s a difficult task.

But something is happening in London, and likely in other parts of Ontario as well. Citizens are giving as never before. Corporations are collecting resources to see us through the crisis. People are flooding into the food bank all this Thanksgiving weekend to volunteer. Incredibly, they have matched their “let’s get it done” attitude with a sense of pride and joy at working together that has transformed a desperately needed food drive into a community celebration.

Families who have recently overcome their struggles to keep the Imagine Adoption agency open are lining up with everyone else to sort the hampers, partially empowered by their own victory over incredible odds. John, a good friend of ours who is waging his own struggle against cancer, has just dropped off substantial cheque from his service club, acknowledging that people in pain are acutely qualified to intervene in the miseries of others. My firefighter friends, who I worked with for almost 30 years, are standing by the doors of the firehalls to collect food donations. Recipients of food bank donations are standing side-by-side with those who have donated to sort the supplies. Families have opted to spend their holiday weekend for the sake of other struggling families. Three year-olds are working with Mom and Dad to separate the spaghetti noodles from canned goods. Volunteer seniors are collecting food from overflowing donations bins at the grocery stores.

Sensing the urgency, the media has provided exceptional coverage, getting the word out. The University of Western Ontario Mustang football team is helping with collections. Schools are having their own drives. Senior’s homes residents are bending aging backs to load their donations into food bank vans. Churches, mosques and temples are living out their own sermons and homilies in acts of humanitarian faith. From every part of the city, all these individuals and groups make their way into the hearts and minds of struggling families – not with mere words alone but with deeds that are staggering.

This is my community.  This is London, Ontario. A spirit like this is what keeps me at it in Ottawa even as I struggle with the sheer hyper-partisanship of parties and MPs who should know better. My community, beset and beleaguered with its worse crisis in decades by a recession that has been brutal, has shown the rest of the country that even the worst economic crisis since the Depression can’t get to its spirit – it’s recession-proof. Happy Thanksgiving to all from a community that has pulled from its own hard-earned resources to remind us what made this country great in the first place.

Looking Over His Shoulder

Michael Ignatieff was in my home town of London, Ontario yesterday speaking at a special Chamber of Commerce breakfast. The room was full with hundreds of curious people and the media was out in force. They were there to see a man under assault, at a low ebb in popularity, and obviously struggling with the sheer vengeful nature of politics. Some were there to see “Michael Ignatieff” – international author and well-known figure. Still others wanted to hear what he would do about a region that has lost tens of thousands of jobs, whose communities are facing an infrastructure deficit, and whose unemployment rate will remain over 11 per cent for the next 12-18 months.  It’s been bleak here and the Liberal leader opted to address a crowd in pain and insecurity. In that sense, both speaker and audience shared similar emotions.

I had coffee with him prior to the speech and he seemed exhausted. He could have talked about his ordeal, but rather he asked about the London Food Bank and how the numbers were? What kind of investment would it take for the region to recover? How were the unions faring in such dismal times?  The university, colleges, small businesses, private sector – all these formed the object of his natural curiosity.

Speaking before an audience of leaders from this region, he demonstrated early that he comprehended the gravity of what it was facing and how the federal government had cut back on recent promises to invest more in the area. Heads nodded at that one because they had pinned a certain measure of hope on an infrastructure funding arrangement that inevitably arrived stillborn.

Then he moved on to speak of the remarkable leadership in the room and the promise of tomorrow if they could just find a federal partner that understood the region’s inherent strengths and talents. He closed with two five-point plans on how a Liberal government would invest in the future of green technology, research, post-secondary and other institutions of education, ramp up Paul Martin’s successful initiative of sharing the gas tax directly with communities to build their infrastructure.

The applause was sustained and appreciative. Ignatieff then circled around the room while everyone lingered to just shake hands or have their pictures taken with him. A snapshot of those moments would never reveal a political leader struggling in the polls. His wife moved off on her own and talked to everyone she encountered, her own natural curiosity creating delight in others.

And then it was time for the media scrum. Michael asked me to stand with him, so I took my place behind his left shoulder, facing the media. The initial questions were about the economic fragility of the area and how he felt about the federal government’s unfulfilled promises on infrastructure. Then came the questions that were inevitable. How does he feel about his low personal polling numbers, or the sagging fortunes of the Liberal Party at present? It went on and on for the remainder of the brief session and it was disheartening. Following a well-received speech where he evidenced a quick grasp of the region’s struggles and for which he laid out not one, but two plans to address those woes, it all came down to this. The media fascinated on his pain instead of the region’s deep struggles.

Peering over his shoulder, I watched a media doing what they believed was their job, macabre as it was, and a man personally accepting responsibility for his troubles. But of the two, he was the only one who dealt with the subjects of poverty, joblessness, loss of hope, and building for the future. And I realized that my place in politics is standing behind people like Michael Ignatieff, and anyone else in Parliament, whose own deep struggles have provided a natural empathy for what my community feels. It was a proud moment.

Leave It At The Door

I attended a special breakfast this morning hosted by a particular faith group.  There were seven Liberals there by my count, a couple of NDP, and a number of Conservatives.  The subject of the session regarded voting trends in Canada and how this particular faith group’s members voted across the country.

For Liberals, it was an uncomfortable breakfast. Polling revealed that Liberal support had slipped in certain parts of the country.  I wrestled in my own mind as to why our hosts had to offer a kind of objective analysis that nevertheless provided a drubbing to one particular party, especially in the presence of others. But there it was and MPs attempted to take it in good spirit.  The Conservatives filled out their chests; the Liberals merely looked down in silence.

There is a key issue at play here and it should be discussed.  Those present this morning largely came from a particular faith tradition.  They shared a similar belief structure, acknowledgement of a supreme Being, and the need to live as the founder of the faith lived.  As such, they were a kind of family meant to share compassion and understanding of one another.

Yet it was a political meeting as well, and from the very get-go I watched to see which would prevail – God or politics.  I didn’t have to wait long.

A short while later I overheard some who had been at the breakfast boasting at their good fortune at doing well in the polls.  Fair enough.  But my anger was aroused in hearing them take a special delight at the plight of Liberals in Ontario.  “Now’s our time to trounce them, and destroy Michael Ignatieff,” one stated.  As I came down the stairs I just couldn’t bring myself to speak to them, I was that upset.

For people of faith, the imperative is there to combine our efforts to live honorable lives, especially among one another.  We either set a new and noble example or we fail.  Politics in Ottawa is hard, mean and downright oppressive right now. Faith, on the other hand, is meant to bring us together for a greater good, to transcend any particular political branding for the sake of making this world better.  When the two come together, as they did this morning, there wasn’t one person there who wouldn’t have admitted that love for God and our fellow human being, as expressed in our faith, is meant to trump politics at each and every turn.  We are meant to put that belief on the line by casting aside the meanness of partisanship to embrace, in humility, a common bond. We can disagree, but in respect.  It’s not a love-in, but it’s not a rugby match either.

For this group of individuals at the bottom of the stairs, the breakfast became an exercise in pride and partisan advantage.  Worse, it provided opportunity to delight in bludgeoning their natural political opponents.  Understanding that I was upset, one of them asked me a short time later what was disturbing me.  “You’re a man of faith,” I said softly.  “How can you possibly condone the public humiliation of Michael Ignatieff, as you did with Stephane Dion, every day in the House and possibly think the founder of your faith would approve?  I don’t do it to your leader; don’t do it to mine!”  It was his turn to look down as he muttered, “I know.”  Knowing isn’t good enough any more.  If faith is going to matter, it has to matter in the House of Commons and be lived out in lives of humility and service. Some at the breakfast practice that kind of faith; others of us don’t.

But I couldn’t gloat because I was saddened – we’ve all failed.  The House of Commons has been profaned at times by religion.  If our faith can’t overcome cruel partisanship, then let’s leave it at the door and just be politicians.  The public doesn’t seem to expect higher of us anymore anyway.

The “G” Word

Rwanda.  The word still hangs over Senator Romeo Dallaire whichever venue he attends. It’s both his fame and his ghost and he’s bent on exorcising the latter by shrewdly using the former. The memory of the 800,000 slaughtered over a decade ago drives him to find the will to action to keep it from ever happening again.

With that in mind, Romeo, along with a few others, such as the recently released Robert Fowler, presented a paper called the Will To Intervene (W2I). A logical and powerful follow-up to the Responsibility To Protect doctrine passed by the UN in 2005, W2I provides nations a key way forward to prevent genocide from occurring through active prevention.

There has been a fundamental hypocritical shadow hidden in the soft underbelly of international action concerning genocide. While the West has seen fit to take action on genocide primarily by working through groups like the International Criminal Court, it can’t summon the resolve to actually protect the people most affected by such a scourge. Those who made such decisions didn’t have to live with their consequences, nor even pay for them. Thus we have indicted Sudanese President Omar Bashir through the ICC, but we have yet to have a protective presence on-the-ground for those Sudanese citizens in Darfur most affected by the conflict.

This is vital for us to understand. How do we square the joy experienced with Bashir’s indictment with the misery, even death, it was destined to bring about for thousands of suffering people in Darfur itself. Put more succinctly: How can we function as moral agents in an international order when the consequences of our actions are felt by others and not ourselves?

There is a distinction between being brave and being blind, between courage and cowardice, and it is remarkably fragile and thin. Thinking ourselves stronger and more heroic than we really are, we assemble in rallies or lecture halls and call for justice in places like Darfur while remembering Rwanda. We find strength in numbers, erudition in distance, bravado in concepts. Believing we are mighty, we sign petitions, phone our political representatives, and ultimately hope for some kind of intervention. But it’s always somebody else – the UN, our troops, NATO. It’s never us, and therein lies the hollowness of our efforts. We are human rights soldiers without sacrifice, diplomats without deeds, and advocates with no action over there. We sincerely believe in those who are suffering from genocide, but we aren’t there; that’s the point. Worse, we have no plans to be there with them. We often press for higher powers to act, and when they don’t, they receive our condemnation. We fail to see our own hypocrisy. We call for action but refuse to support those parties calling for an increase in foreign aid. We think that by calling for lower taxes we can somehow do more to help the destitute around the world.

Suffering little in our isolation in the West has left us free to voice our ideals from the rooftops. We can pray and not get jailed; gather in groups and not be disbanded; peacefully oppose our governments in the streets and not be charged. We think our blessings have made us courageous when in reality they have only made us fortunate. We aren’t as tough as we think.

Romeo Dallaire and I have talked about this before and he is aware of our weakened condition as a citizenry and as a political class. But he’s now turned his ghost in for a plan, one that would require Canada and others to be there on the ground, regardless of cost, if we are going to charge tyrants through venues like the ICC. I’ve pledged to assist in any way I can; we must all do the same. It’s not about remembering the past, but rather about resolving to protect. Memories without action are often the breadcrumbs of our lack of moral sinew. The “G” yet remains with us.