As the federal Liberals search for the next Trudeau, an embarrassing revelation has emerged about the last one: He was not deep but silly. Many adults of mature years have been startled by the revelation in Max and Monique Nemni’s new book, Trudeau, fils du Québec, père du Canada, that Mr. Trudeau toyed with conservative Catholic separatism in his teens. Not me. Lots of us hold dumb ideas in our youth. I’m not even particularly upset that, in his 20s, he flirted with the hard left: I’ve always thought his strong reaction to the FLQ crisis was driven in part by unsavoury first-hand experiences with that sort of radicalism.

What has always bothered me, and recently startled the smart set, is the stifling conventionality of his mind. Listen to Lysiane Gagnon’s wounded reaction in the Globe and Mail: “I knew that, like many of his contemporaries, Mr. Trudeau had been appallingly indifferent to the horrors of the Nazi regime … the reality is much worse than I thought … as late as 1944 (he was 25), he admired the writings of notorious French anti-Semite Charles Maurras.” But the worst was his failure to “escape the dominant ideology … far from being the free-minded spirit he appeared to be later on, he was a conformist.”

Indeed. Then, as always, he drifted with the intellectual tide. Ultramontane Catholic in 1930s Quebec; anti-British pacifist in early 1940s Quebec; radical semi-Communist in the late 1940s; Quiet Revolutionary in the 1950s; hippie in the 1960s; multiculturalist economic nationalist Castro fan in the 1970s; peacenik in the early 1980s. Talk about a walk on the tame side.

It wasn’t all discreditable, of course. When the Zeitgeist was right, so was he — on the environment, for instance; and in turning from extreme radicalism to democratic progressivism in the late Stalin years. But face it: Progressive conformism explains his enduring appeal to those who want the psychic rewards of dissent without the financial or social risks.

Here’s a telltale sign: Despite his allegedly being a philosopher king, there are no ideas we definitively associate with Mr. Trudeau. His most famous statement is: “There’s no place for the state in the bedrooms of the nation.” But let’s-all-party-naked was hardly an original idea 15 years after Hugh Hefner founded Playboy. In 1968, it was dead-centre trendy. Hence the CBC’s online archive headline “Pierre Elliott Trudeau: Swinger, Philosopher, Prime Minister.” Shagadelic!

Even his attire followed the trends. Remember his Mandrake the Magician getup for the 1970 Grey Cup? David Warren once observed that in any recent photo, Queen Elizabeth’s outfit looks slightly stuffy and everyone else’s seems normal, but look again a few decades later and she’s normal while everyone else just escaped the set of Yellow Submarine. In Trudeau’s case, sandals (and obscenities) in the Commons were just more signs of the times, man. And so was he.

Pierre Trudeau was profoundly shallow. He was witty and quick, and he rarely said a foolish thing. But most of the time, he seemed to have no real idea what he was saying. His crack about bedrooms came just as the state was invading our private lives in force through a variety of social engineering schemes. Meanwhile, his major legacy, the 1982 Constitution, was a hideous hybrid of parliamentary and constitutional sovereignty that threatens both self-government and the individual liberties he professed to cherish.

Worse, the project was rammed through with little intellectual support. It had behind it no Federalist Papers, no sustained argument that it wouldn’t produce the bad effects it duly did. Such things were beyond Trudeau.

He was a big fish in a small pond, and liked it that way. His misfortune was to grow up in an intellectually stifling environment where his considerable gifts let him shine without effort; it left him a glittering mediocrity with enduring appeal to same. Just look at Michael Ignatieff’s difficulties in the Liberal leadership race, despite being sent from Central Casting as the Next Trudeau. Why? Because his views on the Iraq war really are outside the Canadian box instead of just being mislabelled as such.

Many Liberals think they are Trudeau’s heirs. The problem isn’t that they might be wrong. It’s that they might be right, and lead us into another era of bold conformity and deep silliness. At least spare us the pirouettes.

[First published in the National Post]

"A few more years will put us all in the dust,” American founding father John Jay wrote to his wife after losing the 1792 New York state governor’s election, “and it will then be of more importance to me to have governed myself, than to have governed the state.” I’m not certain how I’d go about trying to explain this concept to modern Canadian politicians. But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t start in question period. As it turned out, Jay avoided the dust until 1829. Just 46 when he wrote that letter, he had already served as president of the Continental Congress in 1778-79, helped negotiate the Treaty of Paris ending the Revolutionary War, helped draft the constitution and write the Federalist Papers supporting its ratification, then been first chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court. Three years later he even became governor of New York, but in 1801 declined re-election, and reappointment as chief justice, and retired to his farm.

Gad, you may be thinking, they don’t make men like that any more. But if they did, would we elect them? Leaving aside the quality and quantity of his services (did I mention he also wrote the New York State constitution?) he seems to have done his duty cheerfully and modestly, indeed cheerfully because modestly. Then he did a Cincinnatus. See, he was this Roman who ... I’d bet silver dollars thrown across the Rappahannock to Krispy Kreme doughnuts that John Jay had read Plutarch and absorbed his lesson about the importance of following a good example ... and setting one. Whereas our MPs are as unlikely to know about Cincinnatus’s example as to try to follow John Jay’s.

Jay obviously did not despise governing the state. But he said self-government mattered even more. Contrast his attitude with the snarling self-advancement of our contemporary political class. Now contrast their achievements. Try to imagine any contemporary Canadian politician compiling a career anything like his as statesman, political philosopher, jurist, diplomat. Not that many of them don’t see themselves that way as they flit from highly paid public post to highly paid public post issuing self-congratulatory press releases.

Jean Chretien, to be sure, held many government jobs during a long career in public life. But they were all political; he was never a diplomat (thank goodness). As for statesman, it is to laugh. Then there’s Joe Clark’s quarter-century of self-satisfied futility. Paul Martin’s long pursuit of political power he was unfit to hold would have been scarcely less shabby if it had succeeded. Like Mr. Chretien’s superficially more successful machinations, his did lasting harm to the country. And for what? When the Rat Pack’s pet controversies such as opposing free trade and the GST are trivia questions on restaurant placemats, will their sneering tone be something we cherish as part of our heritage? Along with Ralph Klein’s long, boorish, empty reign?

There’s less emulation of John Jay nowadays than of Gollum, desperately pursuing a brass ring that can’t bring happiness anyway, muttering about dusssssst. There doesn’t seem to be any calm centre to most of our politicians, any mature self-control, perspective or ambition to do something rather than to be somebody. Only endless vanity, right down to the tiresome chest-thumping about new ideas that, when pressed, they can’t articulate.

It’s not just bad for the country. It’s distasteful, grasping and undignified. Try to imagine someone in a backroom saying you know, that would really work, but it would be wrong, or devious, or base, or vulgar, or vainglorious. I don’t want it on my tombstone, so let’s not do it. Instead, I expect the only way you could get politicians to retire to farms would be to convince them there were votes in it, that rural people would identify with them if they showed up in overalls spattered with promises of subsidies. They seem to think votes, or pull, will get them through the Pearly Gates. Or do they simply aspire to be counted among our Founding Shouters once we are all in the dust?

Wait a minute. Did you say dust? We could throw some in people’s eyes. We could raise a cloud of it in a frantically confused, obscure and pointless political dust-up. But first things first. We should do a poll. Let’s see how people feel about dust, how to package it, whether a few years putting us in the dust resonates in Quebec, whether we can alarm people about Alberta’s position on biting the dust. (Prone, probably.)

Here’s an angle. Global warming means drought which means dust. It also means flooding which turns dust into mud. Hey, mud. We can sling some of that.

Mr. Speaker, will the honourable member admit that his party is responsible for the increased production of dust in this country and moreover for its tendency to blow into people’s eyes?

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

From Fraser Forum.

Among the joys of a free society is a free press. You won’t always like what you read, but you know everything will get covered whether you like it or not. Frivolous, alarming, it doesn’t matter. It’ll be there. Right? Huh? Guys? On frivolous, I’ve reached the age where the newspapers repeatedly attempt to persuade me the hot new pop sensation is some young person of whom I have never heard. “Bublé” sounds like a new perfume a couturier is trying to foist upon the public but is apparently a singer who just won four Junos. So said the top story in both the Globe and Mail and this newspaper on Monday, the main thrust of which was that celebrity host Pamela Anderson still has a prominent chest. (The Globe had the big colour photo on A1 but the story on A9.)

Celebrities are news. Last week my wife and I were downtown (to meet our accountant, but overtaxation is apparently not a big story). On our way from one bookstore to another (they’re establishments with racks of magazines about celebrities, plus some other weird stuff on shelves) we noticed a drab new building selling condominium units starting at a mere $500,000. What dunce would pay more than the price of our house for less space in a less appealing part of town? Monday’s Globe told us that too: MP Garth Turner, a successful businessman in private life, and Belinda Stronach, a successful businesswoman in her choice of parent. The Globe also peddled rumours that a pop singer named Alanis Morissette, bought herself and her mother units on the same floor as Ms. Stronach. Know what? Mr. Turner has seen Ms. Stronach in the building and they have nodded at one another. I’m giddy. Mr. Turner has also seen Thomas d’Aquino, head of the Canadian Council of Chief Executives, in his slippers (his own, not Mr. Turner’s). Ooooh!

All this vital news squeezed one trivial item from the papers. The only notable news outlet in Canada to show its customers the notorious Danish cartoons that caused worldwide rioting and death is being sued by the Alberta Human Rights Commission (for details go to www.westernstandard.ca/freedom); for some reason the complaint included, or at least attached, a news piece by me about Hamas). That story didn’t make the news section of any newspaper I’ve seen except for George Jonas’s column here yesterday, Jonathan Kay’s in the Monday National Post, and a story in the Alberta CanWest papers last month. Nor the TV news.

When the cartoons were originally not published, everyone assured us we had freedom of the press in Canada and it was simply a matter of taste. On Feb. 15, the president of the Canadian Association of Journalists said, “We support the right to publish even offensive material ...” On Feb. 27, the Globe and Mail editorialized that while arguably their original publication was in bad taste, “It would be tragic, however, if the controversy over the Danish cartoons placed a chill on this most necessary of art forms. Unless political cartoonists feel free to dip their quills in poison ink, a society cannot truly be called free.” In its Feb. 27 issue, Maclean’s said “Maclean’s chose not to publish the Danish cartoons. We do not believe it necessary to give offence in order to champion the rights of others to be offensive. But freedom of expression must be vigorously defended.”

Wouldn’t a good start be to inform readers that a Canadian government is trying to silence your colleagues? You said Canadian media didn’t fear legal sanction over the cartoons, just a backlash from customers. Instead it turns out that Western Standard has not, as far as I know, lost subscribers or advertisements, but is facing legal sanction. Isn’t that a story?

If Western Standard loses, won’t it produce one of those chills everyone’s always talking about? When a Tory MP escaped the Harper corral and said something dopey about punishing bad journalism, newspapers found lots of space to chronicle his climbdown. But when a smallish publication faces a major legal bill over what reasonable people should consider a profoundly silly complaint, with its opponent a government agency with bottomless pockets, well, didja know Belinda’s neighbours include high-tech mogul Larry O’Brien? Huh? Didja?

In March, American commentator William F. Buckley Jr. wrote: “Two things are certain. One, that it will be a very long time before any editor in Europe (and, for that matter, in the United States) publishes lighthearted depictions of the prophet. The other, that everyone will defend the proposition that in the free world, people are entitled to express themselves as they choose, even if they choose malevolence or goofiness.”

Perhaps. But not here.

Maybe Western Standard should just show us pictures of Pamela Anderson. I mean, this being a free country and all.

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

In those days Christian Peacemaker Teams went down unto the land of Iraq and made rude noises against George Bush. For hark, they said, is it not the voice of the Lord saying go ye and protest against those who have overthrown the bloody warmongering tyrant Saddam Hussein, which for a reason that passeth all explanation was not good? Yea, they said, it must be that the Lord wishes us to do so, for this instruction seemeth to emanate from our own navels and whence else has ever come to us the Word of God? And many liberals who had long said religion has no place in politics were sore amazed and gave thanks and said this kind of religion in politics is our kind of religion in politics and verily hath much to recommend it. And whited sepulchres were not mentioned.

Then the Swords of Righteousness Brigade looked upon the mission of the CPT and became even more confused than was their habit, and when a man saith that, he saith much. These are Crusaders, declared the Pompous Nomenclature Brigades, gnashing their swords, and must be spies for they are Christian infidel dogs. And thus filled with the spirit of tolerance they seized the CPT members and threatened to kill them by beheading them on camera from the neck up, or down depending how you look at it, for the gore was their shepherd. And the CPT responded by making rude noises against George Bush. And one hostage was slain and it was somehow the fault of George Bush.

Then confusion came upon the CPT and they were sore afraid and muttered among themselves, saying verily one of our brothers is a homosexual person. And the virtuous oppressed strugglers for justice and holy war who have taken him captive being, even as ourselves, enemies of George Bush, will surely whack off his head if not other bits should news of this wondrous matter somehow reach their enlightened selves whilst they struggle mightily against American injustice.

Yea, said others, and how about that magazine story on the Internet wherein our brother declares that he is gay which could be a clue that he is homosexual if these jihadis are also McWorldly. We are compelled to witness for what we believe and fear not. So let us go unto the magazine and say in the interest of truth would you mind removing that story. And the magazine did, and was delighted to be a voice silent in the wilderness. And no one went about citing Bible verses about not putting candles under bushels or salt losing its savour or any of that rot.

As it is written, or at least read, ye shall speak truth to power in the form of rude noises against George Bush. But behold, when men wield power with not so much scrupulousness about injustice as among the wicked Bushites then maybe just clam up big-time about the truth lest willingness to risk martyrdom should lead to it. For a man should stand up for what he believes in even if it gets him thrown to the lions or stoned to death or nailed to a stick or some such fate but whoa nelly not us bud. Go then and angrily demand gay rights in America where there is sore oppression and much rending of garments before gay pride parades but trouble not the land of Iraq with such stuff. For know ye that in that place as here there is safety and applause in making rude noises against George Bush and of such courage ye shall have no deficit.

Then like a great wind there came soldiers into Babylon (some said out of it) and rescued those hostages that their captors had not already murdered and spirited them away to lands of imperialist oppression and injustice where it was safe to admit that you were a homosexual person. So the CPT gave thanks that the Lord and Iraqis and social workers had delivered them from among those whose cause was just. And the public waxed wroth and a cry went forth saying this is great foolishness and what about the soldiers are you a bunch of daft ingrates or what, and the CPT said oh yeah them, but said it grudgingly.

For being Christians they loved their enemies if they were the sort who would kidnap you for money and slay you horribly if they suspected you were of a sexual orientation that was oriented toward your own sex. But the CPT hated their enemies if they were the sort who would rescue them from homophobic death and bring them to the realms of darkness where you could be a gay Catholic activist and not get abducted or slaughtered or thereabouts. Where you can proclaim yourself part of the Catholic church though not the one that listens to that silly old Pope on human sexuality but a different one where Karl Marx writes the economics. And when it is muttered that you seem to be Protestants without knowing it and are as sorely confused on theology as strategic doctrine you can heed it not and the press will gush mightily over you and not ask awkward questions.

And the CPT saw that it was good. Or at least that they were. Not like that awful Bush who had caused all the trouble in Iraq anyway. So they spake of homophobia and gay-bashing in the world but said not where it was a problem lest it should create misunderstanding about good and evil.

Verily the truth shall make you free. Well, that and JTF2.

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

Apparently Ashley MacIsaac plans to seek the Liberal leadership. Well fiddle dee dee. Mr. MacIsaac, for those of you who live somewhere nice, is the world-class fiddler who once told an interviewer he and his partner ... no, I can’t say it. Why is so much of the news unfit to describe in a family paper these days? He also gave this concert where he ... no, I can’t describe that either. Whereas on another occasion his kilt ... nope, even worse. He later said he was joking about one and another was an accident whereas ...

Look, I don’t know if it’s all a marketing ploy or if he really is a barbarian without the vigour. The point is, he’s less likely to be the next Liberal leader than I am. That party does much that offends me but not of this sort. So why the coverage?

Of the many newsworthy things in this world, mighty few concern the Liberal leadership. Remember all the hype about Paul Martin? To what ultimate end were those oceans of ink expended, save to prove that a great deal is, as the preacher said, vanity? And who cares whether Alex Munter currently holds a slender unreliable lead over Bob Chiarelli in an election for mayor to be held in November? It’s not as if we lacked important things to discuss on both subjects, like runaway spending at all levels of government, the prospects for a realistic foreign policy and Canada’s self-satisfied attempt to be on the cutting edge of the collapse of western civilization. What, pray, do any of these candidates understand about these problems and plan to do about them?

Take spending. I know I harp on it but good heavens, in the past five years federal program spending went from $115.5 billion to $162.7 billion. And not even on purpose; as recently as 2002 the federal government expected $146.6 billion in program spending in 2004-05 so they overshot by $16.1 billion. Why? How? What can we do about it? So far the feds have been saved by soaring revenues, but at the expense of citizens’ after-tax incomes being stagnant for the past 15 years, which might be bad for the economy and surely calls into question whether keeping the government in the style to which it has become accustomed is worth it.

Provincially, as Terence Corcoran just noted, in Alberta revenue is expected to grow by 49 per cent from 2001-02 to 2006-07; in B.C. almost 30 per cent and in Manitoba 26 per cent. In Ontario it’s expected to be up by almost 30 per cent and they still can’t balance the budget or save health care. We have significant structural spending problems not clarified by misrepresenting Ralph Klein as an evil slasher or wondering when he’ll finally go away.

To be sure, politics is easy to cover. He said she said is quick, colourful and doesn’t place heavy intellectual demands on writers or readers. Who doesn’t understand a venomous spat? But who, if pressed, can’t also grasp the implications of almost one third of Canadian doctors being 55 or older? Now there’s something worth a few gallons of ink.

And another thing: We may, or may not, have an early election after the opposition parties do, or do not, vote down the Tory Throne Speech. I don’t personally know and I’m not a big fan of “time will tell” punditry. Although in this case it might. But I do think the opposition parties should vote the Tories down for the same reason I wanted the Tories to vote the Liberals down last spring: You shouldn’t want your partisan and philosophical adversaries to be in charge. How hard is that to understand?

Admittedly, voters are making things tricky by returning hung parliaments. But that’s their problem. The problem for the Liberals, Bloc and NDP is not how to seem appallingly cunning. It’s to ask first, “Are we social democrats?” (Answer: Yes.) Next question, “Are the Tories?” (Answer: Tricky, but if you think not, as you seemed to in the last election, what business have you supporting their government?) Stick to your principles. If you can remember where you stashed them. Gentle prodding by the Fourth Estate might be in order on that point.

If the opposition parties vote their consciences we will have an election long before Mr. MacIsaac doesn’t win the leadership, which makes it even less worth discussing. But speaking of if, here’s something Liberal-leadership-related that is. Interim Liberal leader Bill Graham just told the press if Stephen Harper doesn’t modify his Throne Speech to incorporate the Liberal program, his party will vote against it. If. Then he was asked whether if so he would lead his party in the next election and he dismissed it as “hypothetical”.

It reminds me of Chesterton (you knew it was coming, didn’t you) who said in 1915 that: “The recent mistakes of our rulers have been mainly excusable; it is their defences that are indefensible.” Why do we let politicians get away with such gooblahoy? Elementary standards of clarity and consistency in public office are not a topic beyond our comprehension and would assist us mightily in coming to grips with our problems. Yet they seem to exert little attraction in the voting booth.

So another thing worth discussing is why we elect the people we do. Even though it conspicuously doesn’t include Ashley MacIsaac.

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

From Fraser Forum.

As soon as I got to work the captain called me into his office. A missing person case. The Canadian Tire Guy. My partner was already there. Eddie Torrial. I’m a hack. My name’s Friday. Not the man who was Friday. The man who writes Friday. Captain fishes out a mug shot of the missing guy and he looks vaguely familiar, like a hundred guys you’ve met but can’t place. Sorta nice-looking in a harmless but simpering way, no particular age, not tall, not short, bland but irritating, plaid shirt, salt-and-pepper beard, weak chin, kinda guy you wouldn’t notice was missing and when you did notice you wouldn’t care. But it’s my job to find him anyway… or what’s left of him.

This mug who does the TV beat for the Globe, he fingers the frau. Says she put up with a lot, always had this forced smile, figures she snapped. “Many Canadians expected to wake up one day and read that the Canadian Tire Guy had been found dead,” he types, “the victim of a severe beating with windshield-wiper blades. His wife was being questioned.” But it ain’t that simple.

Word on the street is, this guy had a lot of enemies. Like this Globe ink slinger also says: “He was everybody’s idea of the irritating neighbour… the smiling, smug, know-it-all guy with the cool tools and the always-working, automatic garage-door opener. ... His hobbies were camping and bothering people.”

Camping, tools … strange he never seemed to have trouble affording it all, including a real nice boat. Could be an angle, so I’m wanting to put a price on the fancy stuff in his house but when I get there it’s all gone. Anyway, the problem wasn’t jealously, at least not mostly. I find one neighbour cleaning a big dark stain off his driveway with a brand new pressure washer, he tells me sure, that guy was always helpful. A little too helpful. And I notice his knuckles go white on the handle of the pressure washer.

Fellow across the street, wiping down a set of shiny new awls and picks and chisels in his garage, says the worst part was how he always seemed to be one-upping you. Oh sure he was smiley and bouncy and eager to help. But he had a knack for making you feel like a real jerk because you didn’t already have the solar panel or the super wrench. Another guy, who does have a solar panel hooked up to an industrial air freshener down in his hobby room, squints and says you show up late complaining about winter driving and Mr. Smiley hands you this one-piece windshield wiper like you shoulda known.

Some bad vibes here. Sure it’s a nice neighbourhood, quiet, friendly looking. But you know how it is in suburbia; behind the picnics and perfect lawns and big plastic windows folks mess around and take pills and seethe with hatred and resentment and start thinking wouldn’t it be just about right if someone did in that annoying guy with the latest saw with reciprocal action and splash guard, (“Hey neighbour bet you ain’t seen one of these before”) then put him in some cement they mixed themselves all creamy and smooth using the patented double-blade action Mix-O-Tron and voila he’s in the foundation of some perfect little backyard gazebo finished artistically with a ergonomic foam-rubber-handled trowel. About five houses on the street got new gazebos.

Another press monkey makes like the guy was a high school geography teacher. So I’m thinking could be a disgruntled student did it. But that didn’t check out. Turns out no one can remember their high school geography teacher at all, let alone hate him enough to do murder. But how does a high school geography teacher have all those tools and hobbies? I’m back to an angle like maybe he’s in deep with the loan sharks, and when they threaten to break his knees with a hammer he shows them a better hammer and kablooey.

Especially ’cause then I run into this big coverup. Chief yanks me off this case to check out some ridiculous yarn about a dispute over who really rolled up the rim. Seems word came down this missing guy “never really existed,” it’s all a front, just some “ad campaign” involving some “actor” who has a deal where he can’t talk about it. So instead of a guy who’s missing some other guy who looks like him that nobody ever seen is missing and we should just get an easy-drawer-action filing cabinet and a set of brightly coloured folders with convenient tabs and open one on each of them then quietly close them both and get back to our hobbies.

Seems that’s what the neighbours are doing. One has a new boat and another has an ATV and as they’re putting them on trailers Mr. ATV sidles up and tells me just forget it. This guy wasn’t too popular but we all hated him so much it gave us endless stuff to talk about at the rink and cocktail parties and over the back fence (painted with smooth-action atomizer sprayer). Fact is, he says, we miss him.

Then he winks and walks away, leaving me looking at these windshield wipers I bought on this missing guy’s say-so that I already had to fix with a pair of needle-nose pliers and they still don’t work right. I figure that know-it-all had it coming. Trouble is, about 15 million other people figured the same. Too many motives, too many suspects.

This is a true story. Only the facts have been changed.

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]