In the battle pitting the federal Conservatives against Elections Canada, the opposition and the press, a typical Ottawa competition to see who can perform most discreditably, my money was on the Tories. Until I made a crucial blunder: I did research. The key issue is whether the Conservative party, in the last election, could donate money to riding associations to purchase advertisements very similar to national ones without those ads being counted against national campaign spending and putting the party over the national legal spending limit. It was, at least to begin with, a dispute not about facts but about how to interpret the law.

At this point I foolishly read what I hope were all the relevant sections of the 500-plus page Canada Elections Act. Here, in unavoidable legalese, is what I found.

The Act does set separate spending limits for registered parties (clause 422.1) and for their candidates (clauses 440 and 441). But Clause 422 (2) lets parties give money to local candidates and not count it as "an election expense..." So the key question is whether those candidates can spend that or any other money, up to their local limit, on what is essentially national advertising. And the crucial Clause 407 (1) defines an "election expense" as "any cost incurred, or non-monetary contribution received, by a registered party or a candidate, to the extent that the property or service for which the cost was incurred, or the nonmonetary contribution received, is used to directly promote or oppose a registered party, its leader or a candidate during an election period." What in there says local spending must happen locally or concern local issues? I see nothing.

Of course the courts might not agree with my interpretation. Or they may say the Tories did a legal thing but in a carelessly illegal way; one Liberal staffer suggested to me that the central problem was that local candidates did not technically "incur" the costs in question. Even if true, that claim hardly justifies Liberal MP Dominic LeBlanc's reference to "an Enron-style accounting practice" at a Thursday press conference.

If recent allegations of document-tampering are substantiated, it's a whole different matter. But my legal opinion, worth what you paid for it less the cost of this newspaper, is that the Tories are right, even if too clever by half, on the initial issue.

It has been suggested that this dispute reflects hostility between Elections Canada and the prime minister going back to his former life as libertarian head of the National Citizens' Coalition, waging court battles against what the coalition (rightly, in my view) called election "gag laws."

But if so, it doesn't prove the primary fault lies with the Tories. I want a court to rule whether the dramatic police raid on Conservative party headquarters was necessary. And I'd certainly like to know how not only journalists but Liberal staffers heard of it in time to film it.

Especially because former Chief Electoral Officer Jean-Pierre Kingsley took a strangely vocal role in policy debates for the head of an organization that, as part of the executive not the legislative branch of government, is supposed to enforce laws not create them. Liberal MP Ken Dryden wrote in the Toronto Star on Wednesday that the Tory financing scheme "isn't what Elections Canada intended" and that "Elections Canada set national and local limits" because it "intended that national spending be for national purposes, and local spending for local purposes..." as if it, not Parliament, had created the Canada Elections Act. Then Mr. Dryden waved away the Tory position because "Elections Canada has ruled that for advertising to be considered local, it must directly promote that local candidate or oppose his or her opponent...," as if the centuries-old struggle to keep the executive branch from creating law and acting as judge in its own case had recently been quietly and benignly settled in favour of Charles I.

Mr. Dryden in his article and Mr. LeBlanc in his press conference both cited the Canada Elections Act provision that you cannot do indirectly what is expressly prohibited directly. OK. But it cannot be read as a Phantom of the Paradise style "All clauses that are excluded shall be deemed to be included" provision. If the Act does not directly forbid local candidates buying national ads, it does not indirectly forbid it either.

The Tories responded to this ruckus in a manner at once paranoid and juvenile and it worked about as well as you'd expect. But it doesn't mean there's anything scandalous in their challenging a technical Elections Canada ruling in court, even if they ultimately lose.

Besides, on my reading of the law, they might win.

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

My colleague Randall Denley wrote this weekend that if we consider municipal amalgamation in Ottawa a failure we should undo it. What a splendid heresy. Not his sentiment that the megacity is not working out as promised, which others have also noticed. In any case, he isn't ready to give up on it entirely. No, I single out for praise his remarkable assertion that if a piece of public policy proves to be a mistake we should undo it, and his even more startling underlying premise that we can.

Trivial, you say? OK, when is the last time a government introduced a measure, then admitted it was a mistake and simply repealed it? When, for that matter, is the last time a government admitted something its predecessor had done was a mistake and simply repealed it, even after campaigning on precisely such repeal?

When you suggest getting rid of some flagrant error, people are prone to chirp that you can't turn the clock back, a remarkable triple fatuity in just six words. In the first place, we turn the clock back every fall when we go off daylight savings time. In the second, we turn the clock back whenever we notice that it is fast (unless it is the technologically advanced clock on some modern convenience we can't operate). In the third, and most fundamentally, it incorporates the mistaken notion of society as engaged in desirable linear progress through a set of predictable homogenous stages. This 19th-century mechanistic vision of society, most famously expressed in Marx's schema of an inevitable primitive-slave-feudal-capitalist-socialist-communist progression, is itself so outdated that to espouse it is, ironically, to turn the clock back.

Despite its complete historical inaccuracy, this notion manages to confer an air of inevitability on various schemes with no other apparent virtues. For instance, municipal amalgamation, which I warned against before it happened (on Dec. 1, 1999 in this very newspaper). Unfortunately I argued on the basis of economic and political principles and everybody who was anybody knew the megacity was going to happen and you can't fight the clock.

Or something. How, for instance, would this tiresome clock metaphor categorize my own desire to strengthen federalism by dramatically increasing the number of provinces, essentially dividing existing ones up by telephone area code? I also think we have too few politicians and should double the size of both the federal Commons and our provincial legislatures, giving us far more legislators who either do not seek or do not anticipate ministerial office and the perks it brings, and devote themselves instead to making the legislature work as a check on the executive including by strengthening the committee system.

The latter suggestion is driven by a desire to return to past practice. But the mechanism I propose is unfamiliar in this country though the British House of Commons exceeds 600 members. However you could start by repealing the Harris Tories' fatuous "Fewer Politicians Act." Am I then an advocate of turning the clock sideways?

When I also say Parliament should, and could, repeal the 1982 Constitution Act, are we to conclude that I'm so reactionary I use a sundial not a clock, but want to turn it forward? And why do you never hear arguments about the operation of a clock when someone tries to force progress? Why did no one say when the Supreme Court bestowed gay marriage upon us that you can't turn the clock forward, so be patient?

We should turn this metaphor down, and with it any notion that every piece of policy innovation is like Jacques Parizeau's infamous lobster pot, into which once lured we have no hope of escape. You can remove the lid and sometimes you should.

A simple solution, and not only to our metaphorical difficulties, is to suggest we navigate with a compass rather than a timepiece. For instance, I can show you coherent and principled defences of the constitution of liberty going back not merely to the Federalist Papers or William Blackstone but to mid-12th century England. Yet where, in the debate over our Constitution Act of 1982, was there even a failed attempt at reasoning from first principles or long experience? At best you'd get one of those silly claims that Canada only works until you start trying to understand why. Mankind has seen no shortage of confused politicians over the ages but it is a rare and obnoxious innovation for them to make it a point of pride.

There is no need for us to join them, in our rhetoric or the ideas it expresses. We can undo our policy mistakes. I say let's start with ditching the megacity.

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

Start practising the phrase “President Barack Obama.” It’s not so bad. Except as in “President Barack Obama denied today that his naive and spineless foreign policy has encouraged terrorism.” It’s annoying when pundits intone that it’s come down to Obama v McCain as they easily could have predicted. But I did predict it, on CFRA radio in December. Possibly I hedged my bets, but I said both parties would take their least unattractive option, and both have. Republicans don’t nominate pro-abortion candidates, which only left the Mormon, the creationist, the asleep guy and the obnoxious hyperactive maverick whom they chose. Meanwhile the Democrats are rationally opting for inexperienced over horrible.

Trust me, folks. It’s over. The collapse of Hillary Rodham Clinton has surprised many people including her. But if revenge is a dish best served cold, I’m having ice cream here. Democrats who applauded Bill Clinton’s filthy tactics against Republicans were repulsed when he turned them on his own party in South Carolina, and she’s lost nine straight primaries since. Yum yum.

I certainly worry that Senator Clinton is way further left than she admits, on foreign and domestic policy. But my primary concern is character. Whatever the Clintons were caught doing, however sordid, they always dismissed with “We’ve moved on” or words to that effect. It won’t do. The human mind, like the life of a nation, organizes itself around stories or sinks into chaos. The fundamental truth of our mortal existence, bounded by time, is that it hinges on choices and consequences. Persistently to excuse villainy, even as you pocket the benefits, just because “that was then” is to deny any possibility of moral coherence. That Ms. Clinton should belatedly sit down to a banquet of devastating consequences is delicious irony.

For some of my friends the taste is spoiled by fears that Barack Obama is a far-left babe in the foreign policy woods. He may be. Almost no Democratic presidential candidate since Harry Truman has been fit to serve as commander-in-chief of the world’s most powerful free nation. But it is intellectual partisanship to declare any Democrat ipso facto unworthy of office (or any Republican, I remind colleagues on both sides of the border). Besides, many conservatives are too concerned with how the Republicans might win in November and not enough about why we want them to.

I do not consider George W. Bush a total disaster. Journalists and academics tend to describe any incumbent Republican as among the worst presidents ever, from Reagan to Coolidge and beyond. Even Lincoln got some horrible press in his day. Later, commentators tend to give them some credit if only to draw invidious comparisons with their successors, and I suspect this president’s foreign policy will be praised in retrospect, like Truman’s, for its resolve and clarity on basic issues. But not his domestic policy. In early 2000 I asked then-candidate George Bush if there was any area from which government should simply withdraw. In response, I wrote in an April 21, 2000 Citizen column, “he stared at me as though he’d never heard such an idea before, pressed his hand to his temple in perplexity and eventually stammered that he’d have to get back to me. (He didn’t.)” Still hasn’t. And as there’s no reason to suppose John McCain would be better domestically, surely we could live with Barack Obama as an alternative.

Especially since he seems to be an honest, decent man. Oh, and he’s um uh you know ... black. And while I don’t care what colour you are, race can have political consequences and does here. If Barack Obama’s skin tone helped undermine Hillary Clinton’s gender-based appeal to Democrats, well, those who live by identity politics cannot complain if they perish by it. But a black U.S. president would draw positive attention abroad to the marvellous openness of American society. Even more important, his political success with all sorts of voters, as a candidate who is black rather than a “black candidate,” not only symbolizes but actively contributes to healing America’s ancient racial wounds. You could do a lot worse in a Democrat. So why not send the GOP to the minors for a bit?

The answer may hinge on whether you’d elect a president who can’t comb his own hair. John McCain can’t, because he was so brutally tortured by communists as a POW in Vietnam. When Barack Obama debates such a man on national security, a couple of careless cheap shots or conspicuously daffy policy statements would lose him an election that is, at this point, his to lose.

So say after me “President Barack Obama.” And while you’re at it, practice “Carteresque.”

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

A lot of bad things have been said about the Harper Conservatives’ grimly sour approach to communications. And rightly so. But why shouldn’t they do it that way? The obvious response, that it’s not good for our democracy, has considerable merit. But those not hopelessly naive about politics (most cynics are) ought to understand that the question “why shouldn’t they do it?” has two very different meanings.

One is “Why don’t we want them to do it?” which is answered above. But the other is “How might we try to discourage them from doing it?” And on that subject I wish you could have been at Labour Minister Jean-Pierre Blackburn and Defence Minister Peter MacKay’s Monday press conference on job protection for reservists called to active duty.

For what it’s worth, I support the government on this one. The reserves are extremely important to Canada’s military preparedness and always have been, despite some legitimate concerns about their training standards in years gone by. As the ministers noted, the national government can only legislate such job protection for people in federally regulated industries and the federal public service (and post-secondary students), though a number of provinces have taken similar steps while others are expected to. But I was delighted to hear Mr. MacKay say the things I’ve long wanted to hear a senior minister say about the reserves, and back his words with appropriate deeds.

Of course I realize that holding the press conference at the Cartier Square Drill Hall standing in front of a bunch of reservists was a photo op. I’d go further and say the only real reason for this press conference was TV visuals. For all other purposes they could just have sent us a press release. But that’s OK. If the government thinks it has an important story to tell, they try to frame it in a compelling way. It’s neither incompetent nor unreasonably calculating.

Alas, after that things went wrong. When Mr. MacKay and Mr. Blackburn finished their prepared remarks, the first question was not about reservists generally or the new law in particular but prisoners in Afghanistan. The second was about helicopters. The third concerned the upcoming NATO meeting in Vilnius on Feb. 7 and 8. The fourth returned to helicopters. The fifth was whether Mr. MacKay expected acrimony in Vilnius.

What on Earth did the journalist think or hope the defence minister would say in reply? “Yeah, I’m betting we slap one another’s glasses off and throw cutlery?” Instead he was smooth, dull, unmemorable, and therefore unharmed.

The sixth question also concerned detainees, as did the seventh. Finally the guy in charge of the question queue asked wearily if anyone had anything to ask about the reserves. Yes. What was the government doing about thousands of reservists not covered by the new legislation? Mr. Blackburn patiently explained the division of powers under the Constitution, again. Then I asked how many of the roughly 350 reservists now in Afghanistan would come under the new policy, which they couldn’t answer, and time ran out.

Why ask the other questions in this setting? Acrimony at NATO is an interesting and important story, but best pursued by speaking to experts after obtaining and comparing the considered positions of various NATO allies. As for questions about detainees, helicopters and so forth, the best hope for a genuinely informative response is to submit them in writing or by telephone to Mr. MacKay’s office.

To be sure, his reply might be evasive, tendentious or both. But to ask them with the cameras running, when the ostensible topic is something different, is to abandon any pretence at seeking enlightenment and lunge for a “Gotcha!” TV shot of the minister red-faced and incoherent as his bullying right-wing incompetence is exposed.

Mr. MacKay’s polished responses made it evident that he and his communication team saw it coming. Which speaks better of him than of us. In the end, the Tories didn’t really get their story out, but at least they avoided embarrassment. I’m not convinced the journalists did. Instead of setting traps as futile as they were crass, why not interview one of the 36 Cameron Highlanders or 14 Governor General’s Foot Guards headed to Afghanistan in the next rotation in August 2008? Or at least ask something genuinely tough about the new legislation?

I cannot guarantee this or any other government would be more forthcoming if asked better questions under more appropriate circumstances. But neither the press nor citizens benefit from doing things this way.

So I ask again: Why shouldn’t the Tories stonewall? It may be bad for democracy but it’s not bad for them. And for that you cannot entirely blame them.

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

Will there be an election in 2008? Gosh, it’s so exciting. We journalists hope not because if one is called we’ll have to stop writing about whether it might be, which is more fun than dull stuff like health care policy. Mind you, we can cover an election like a horse race, then start speculating about the next one, so we’re probably OK. Unlike you. For speaking of health care, here’s a boring story to make your hair stand on end, turn grey in that position and then fall out. In Britain, the National Health Service is planning to make people do their own health care to save money.

OK, not appendectomies. But, the Daily Telegraph reported Wednesday: “Millions of people with arthritis, asthma and even heart failure will be urged to treat themselves as part of a government plan to save billions of pounds from the NHS budget …”

The report says patients will find themselves: “Monitoring their own heart activity, blood pressure and lung capacity using equipment installed in the home; reporting medical information to doctors remotely by telephone or computer; administering their own drugs and other treatment to ‘manage pain’ and assessing the significance of changes in their condition; using relaxation techniques to relieve stress and avoid ‘panic’ visits to emergency wards.”

New prime minister Gordon Brown naturally spun it as giving “all of those with long-term or chronic conditions the choice of greater support, information and advice, allowing them to play a far more active role in managing their own condition.” But a document obtained by the Daily Telegraph indicates that while the public rhetoric is about empowerment, the private incentive is to save money.

It would be. It’s curious that people attack private markets because providers think about money, but never admit that it’s bad when governments don’t and often worse when they do. A company that cuts costs so much it can’t provide decent service goes out of business. Governments face no such incentives, and it matters.

Indeed, just one day earlier the Telegraph noted that “patients could be required to stop smoking, take exercise or lose weight before they can be treated on the National Health Service, Gordon Brown has suggested.” Offering a startling new definition of universal, he told NHS staff the government would “examine how all these changes can be enshrined in a new constitution of the NHS, setting out for the first time the rights and responsibilities associated with an entitlement to NHS care.”

Bored yet? Britain may seem like just this place where Lord Durham might have been from if he’d had the gall to exist. But actually it has one of those Parliament thingies and is the big powerful country whose cultural influence we used to resent bitterly before moving on to hating the United States. It even pioneered many policy initiatives we later invented, most notably socialized medicine. It is thus highly instructive that their health system, unlike ours, includes dentists and, unlike ours, has a shortage of dentists. Almost as if … nah, can’t be.

My point is, back of the corridor, you boozy, disgusting tobacco-stained fatties. Our governments must reduce medical costs too, whether you like it or not. Mark Steyn boasts of being a demography bore. Amateur! I’m a health provider demography bore. So here I quote Nadeem Esmail in the latest Fraser Forum. “In 2006, 19.2 per cent of Canada’s physicians were 60 or older, and 47.3 per cent were 50 or older.” And older physicians work less, then retire or die.

Just hire more, you say? From where, and with what money? Another Fraser Institute study just warned: “Six of Canada’s 10 provinces will be spending 50 per cent of all revenues on health care by 2035 if current spending trends continue …” You’ll be 28 years older then, and a distinct drag on the system. And how about the C.D. Howe Institute study (by my brother) last month saying “Canadian governments are unprepared for the fiscal impact of demographic change as baby-boomers move closer to retirement, and face a net liability of $1.4 trillion to pay for the current package of public programs …,” of which a provincial liability on health of $1.9 trillion dwarfs expected federal surpluses.

The actual C.D. Howe never did say “what’s a million?” and I hope no one out there now wants to say “what’s a trillion?” But just in case, it’s one of these: 1,000,000,000,000. What a big dull number.

Saaaaaay. Think there’ll be an election?

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

Last year I suggested a jolly family-destroying New Year’s game, Robson’s Kith and Kin Kleanser, where you make resolutions for those close to you instead of for yourself. If you followed that advice, those close to you are a lot farther away now, leaving you ample free time to join me in another variant on the antiquated notion of self-improvement. This year let’s all play my fun new game Political Promiser, in which we make a New Year’s resolution for politicians. Good heavens! May I remind you this is still a family newspaper even though you disencumbered yourself of your own family 12 months ago using my patented method? Wash your word processor out with soap and try again.

Hard, isn’t it? There are so many attractive choices it boggles the mind. “No behaving in ways that embarrass schoolchildren in Question Period ... no envelopes full of cash ... refraining from saying exactly what we all knew you were going to say. ...” Well, I don’t want to spoil the fun by turning over all the cards in the Suggestion Stack at once. But while you’re weighing your options I’ll put forward my own, courtesy of the poet Robbie Burns.

No, not “eat more haggis.” In fact the parliamentary cafeteria is making a determined effort to serve more wholesome food, which should help some MPs make a resolution beneficial to us as well as them: In 2008 I will live healthier. I do not jest here. The time pressure, stresses, and lack of opportunities for a balanced diet, exercise or quiet reflection in political life would raise eyebrows at a law school and do not contribute to thoughtful legislation or dignified conduct.

It would not be amiss for MPs and provincial legislators, in the interest of being less overwhelmed and underinformed, to resolve to appropriate more money for office staff in the coming year so that each could employ, for instance, an expert on health care, and for that matter a lawyer and a forensic accountant as well.

As I said, there’s a lot to choose from (and the great thing about this game, as opposed to my once-off Kith and Kin Kleanser, is that we can probably play Political Promiser again next year with exactly the same tokens, cards and board position). But my choice was, and still is, from Robbie Burns.

“Oh would some Power the giftie gie us,/Tae see ourselves as others see us,” he wrote. And while poets are thinking “Oh would some Power to us permit/The dropping of letters so rhymes will fit,” I’m thinking politicians should make a serious, private pledge that in the coming year, before doing or saying anything, they will ask themselves how it would look to the typical non-politician. That braying display of disrespect in QP, so amusing to one’s caucus-mates, for instance: How would it be received in an office, a saw-mill or a living room?

To be fair, politicians may privately consider the reactions of some of their constituents difficult to fathom. If so, let them instead simply think back to their own youthful, idealistic selves, before they went into politics. (That this step is impossible for those who were reading Hansard in their early teens is one more reason not to elect such people.) I spoke fairly recently to someone who may well become an MP next time around, who said one of her ambitions was to bring a more civil tone to Question Period. Good plan. So I asked whether it did not seem likely that 90 per cent of those now in the Commons had not had exactly the same goal before they were elected, and what she thought had gone wrong in each and every wellintentioned previous case. It turned out she had not thought about it but felt she should. Me too. Especially if she gets elected.

So, Mr. and Ms. Legislator, please resolve that in the coming year, before you utter some fatuous defence of a partisan position, excuse some egregious piece of rule-bending or simply engage in the chronic bad manners of political debate, you will consult your younger self, the person you were before you knocked on your first door, when your pamphlets and slogans were but a twinkle in some consultant’s eye. How would this thing have struck you then, especially if done by someone from a party you did not support? Perhaps you will then decide to do it anyway. I realize the requirements and rhythms of politics are not those of other professions. But please make a habit of thinking about it.

Is everyone with me? Good. I thought so. Let’s just hope politicians aren’t playing some silly reversed version of this game where they resolve that voters will earnestly contemplate how they themselves look from Parliament Hill. That wouldn’t be any fun at all, now would it?

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

Dear Santa: This year I have been pretty good except for when I was awake and stuff so I’m hoping you can grant a few modest requests.

I should mention that I’ve spent a lot of time in parliamentary committee hearings, which explains why I’ve been so unpleasant to children and little old ladies lately. You know how it is.

You don’t? Listen, Mr. Red Suit and Black Boots, forget sitting in a mall while kids ply you with avaricious requests for flashy electronic devices (though while I’m on the subject, when I was a boy all we had to play with was bits of cardboard and wood so we put a brave face on it and called it "chess"). You try sitting in a committee room while politicians demand stuff and see how long you can keep the Ho ho ho flowing. But I digress.

I have compiled a list, not of who’s naughty and nice (and I hope on yours my name is misspelled or something so we can proceed) but of what I think would be reasonable. Given, you know, the committee business. So enough chit-chat, beard dude. Here’s what I want for Christmas.

1. $300,000 in cash. Or $225,000. After all, who’s counting? Not Revenue Canada, that’s for sure. It’s in a safe- deposit box in New York. Or not. You’ll never know. Oh, and no need to bring it down our chimney where it might get, um, dirty. I’ll meet you in a hotel room. I presume Rudolph can keep a secret. Or a retainer. We can talk about all that in six years. If absolutely necessary.

2. I’d also like the ability to promise clients no fee increase, then break the news that actually, heh heh, the tab has gone up 4.9 per cent, and they just pay. Every year.

3. And a trip to Bali because I really, really care about the environment, which I gather has something to do with scenery.

4. Speaking of scenery, I’d like a laptop whose screen is not visible to people behind me.

5. And a huge advance for memoirs I pay someone else to write.

6. Or for memoirs I write myself that include everything but the kitchen sink and the bit about the envelopes in hotel rooms but say I was right all along and why oh why don’t people like me more.

7. A plan for health care that works for the long term, by which I mean until several weeks after the election is over.

8. Lucrative appointments and consulting work later on.

9. A Harvard teaching post when I get bored with Canada.

10. Heck, a Harvard teaching post, then a lucrative appointment. Or some corporate directorships.

11. The ability to blame other people when I don’t look after things that, on paper, I’m responsible for. It’s only paper. And not that nice coloured kind with pictures of people and security features.

12. A job where I can yell, call people names and jab my finger at them without being thought uncivilized, make barnyard noises for 45 minutes every weekday afternoon except Fridays and only visiting schoolchildren object, yell "resign" and be thought witty and ask "Will the minister resign?" and be regarded as public-spirited.

13. A free pass on how prepositions work in English.

14. A mayor who doesn’t uncannily resemble a space alien.

15. City councillors who don’t uncannily resemble mediocrities from the planet Taxon.

16. Nine lords a-leaping. No, wait. Scratch that. Wrong list. Plus they always leave the place such a mess, especially if they do their thing near the geese a-laying and the maids a-milking. I don’t know what interdepartmental committee set that up.

17. Enough snow for a snow job. My, that was fast. Now how about enough money for snow clearance in a $2-billion city budget in a cold place?

18. Or how about global warming that makes things warmer? I don’t want you to have to hitch Donner and Comet to a wagon or a kayak or anything. I just like names that mean something.

19. A health care premium ... uh ... tax.

20. A $2.6-billion revenue windfall.

21. Make that a health care tax and a $2.6-billion revenue windfall. Oh, and voters with short memories, low standards or both.

22. La langue français vibrant in Saskatchewan. Sorry, should that be française? François? I’m not sure. But I would like a grant du théâtre.

23. A Senate appointment.

24. A reputation for generosity because I give away other people’s money.

25. Oh, and did I mention the envelopes full of cash? Twenties, 50s, 100s, I’m not fussy.

If I get all that stuff I promise not to go into politics. Heck, I won’t have to.

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]

It is a melancholy reflection that we had to wait for the Ontario provincial election to lurch to a dismal end before we could turn to urgent questions of policy. Melancholy turns to depression at the urgency of health care reform. And tears begin to flow at the thought that the major parties’ positions on that topic contrived to be at once irrelevant and profoundly inimical to any sensible solution.

The diagnosis here is grim. On Saturday the Globe and Mail’s Jeffrey Simpson wrote, “The Liberals boast they have jacked up health-care spending by 29 per cent over four years, to $37-billion, a staggering eight per cent a year.” Strange for a government to boast of its profligacy. Especially as, Mr. Simpson went on to note, the Liberals also promised to reduce the rate of spending increases to five per cent a year, which suggests there was something wrong with their previous behaviour. The Conservatives said they’d do the same, which suggests there was nothing wrong with the Liberals’ new promise. Uh, unless you count Mr. Simpson’s pointed observation that, “No Ontario government has been able to keep annual increases to five per cent.”

Thus we may swiftly conclude that neither party had a plan for doing what they promised, and move on to the next problem. Namely, that if the party leaders did somehow keep their word it is not obvious what advantages would accrue. For one thing, increasing spending faster than revenue generally causes trouble, especially on an item that already devours nearly half of program spending. For another, laying aside the calculator for a stethoscope, how will a health care system that couldn’t cope with existing demand while gobbling down eight per cent annual increases deal with the growing needs of aging boomers on just five per cent? Sadly we were not favoured with a discussion of such alarming matters.

Alarming is not too strong a word. Mainstream politicians generally dismiss as “ideological” those of us who saw trouble coming and urged preventive action years ago. But Mr. Simpson is hardly the excitable sort of columnist prone to the print equivalent of leaping about hollering, so you might think his observations would worry the people who run the system. Apparently they don’t worry easy.

Most politicians didn’t break a sweat when Health Canada warned that Canada will be short 5,800 doctors by 2010. Nor at last week’s Citizen report of one Ottawa doctor who predicts that with middle-aged doctors working so hard they’re burning themselves out and younger doctors working less in pursuit of a more rational work-life balance, the real shortage might be as large as 10,400. Politicians also shrugged off the Canadian Nurses’ Association warning that nationally we’ll be short 78,000 nurses by 2011 and 113,000 by 2016 and this week’s Citizen story saying we’re even short of nursing school faculty to train replacements. People with weaker nerves would be especially bothered by the demographics that make these problems so hard to fix. Not only are the patients aging, so are doctors, nurses and even the remaining nursing school faculty; the Canadian Nurses’ Association says more than half of the latter were over age 50 in 2005.

The one thing I’ve noticed recently that might make politicians panic is the increasing tendency, noted in Wednesday’s National Post, for doctors to bill for various services not covered by socialized medicine, from telephone advice to faxing prescriptions, that most provided free before provincial governments got so tight-fisted with their fee schedules. Apparently, the harder the government throttles the goose that lays the golden eggs, the harder the wretched bird fights for air. But our statesmen’s fingers are as strong as their minds are weak.

I do not exaggerate either the seriousness of the crisis or the feebleness of their understanding. From time to time I may inflict upon readers obscure quotations or arcane research. But you’ll notice that all the examples in this column are from very recent newspaper stories. You don’t have to be smart to uncover this stuff. But you have to be singularly dim to ignore it. And politicians are.

Faced with such atrocious mismanagement of such a key policy issue, I occasionally fantasize about entrusting affairs of state to persons selected by citizens in a competitive process designed to oblige candidates for public office to offer detailed, practical, intelligent solutions on matters of particular import.

Wait a minute. We just did that. * Sob * Could someone please pass me a large, absorbent handkerchief?

[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]