Can MPs ever be true to themselves?

Defection, expulsion open old debate

What are members of Parliament? Are they mere standard-bearers for their party, obliged to vote the party line at all times? Or are they representatives in their own right, entitled to apply their own judgment to the issues of the day? On which understanding do voters elect them: party affiliation or individual merit?

That age-old issue is once again in play, with the expulsion of one MP, the NDP’s Erin Weir, from his caucus and the departure of another, Liberal Leona Alleslev, from hers. So far as MPs are elected as individuals, they should presumably be free to associate, or not to associate, with whomever they choose, subject only to the willingness of other MPs to associate with them. But so far as MPs are creatures of their party, that freedom might more justifiably be circumscribed. But to what degree?

As a member of the NDP caucus, Weir was, like the rest, wholly at the mercy of the party leader, dependent on his favour not only for whatever position in caucus he might hold, but for his very membership in it. The decision to expel him, and to deprive him of the right even to stand as a candidate for the party, was the personal prerogative of the leader, exercised at his sole discretion.

Many people think this is perfectly fine. Elections, it is well known, turn heavily on perceptions of the leader. On him rest the party’s electoral fortunes, and those of its candidates. Why should he not, then, have the power to decide who sits in caucus or stands as a candidate, given the potential for a rogue candidate to taint the party’s reputation, and his?

For her part, Alleslev obviously did not need, or seek, her leader’s approval to defect to the opposition Conservatives (though she presumably needed the Conservative leader’s permission to join.) And yet many people would say she should not have had that option. She was elected as a Liberal, on the understanding she would sit as a Liberal and vote as a Liberal. Why should she be allowed to break faith with her electors?

Some jurisdictions, until recently including Manitoba, have gone so far as to ban the practice. Well, not absolutely: a member who wished to cross the floor could do so, provided he either sat as an independent until the next election, or resigned his seat and ran in a byelection.

I have some sympathy with this point of view. It would be foolish to suggest that MPs are elected wholly on the strength of their individual character and judgment. To the extent they are elected on the basis of their party brand — and opinion research shows it is usually much the greater factor — they should probably be obliged to seek their constituents’ approval before taking their seat as a member of a different party.

But when we say MPs are elected mostly on party affiliation, we are describing things as they are, not necessarily as they should be. That MPs are seen as creatures of their party is mostly because they are at most times forced, under Canada’s peculiarly ferocious system of party discipline, to vote with their party — which system is commonly defended, in perfectly circular logic, on the grounds that MPs are creatures of the party, who owe their seats to the party brand.

But there is no reason why votes in Parliament must always — or indeed ever — be whipped, nor would there be anything objectionable for a candidate for Parliament to dissociate himself from particular items in his party’s platform. MPs should ordinarily be honour-bound to vote for the things they ran on; they are under no obligation to vote for things they did not run on. And the more that candidates ran, and voted on, their personal views, the less it would matter whether they sat with one party or another. Party affiliations would be seen as broad guides to ideological leanings, not tribal blood oaths.

Whatever an MP owes his party, it is difficult to see why he should be so utterly subservient to his leader. Again, the reasoning is circular: elections, it is true, do turn on perceptions of the leader, beside whom individual MPs do indeed appear insignificant. But nothing says they must be so insignificant. They appear so because we have allowed their role to shrink so far, relative to the leader’s. Expand their role — for example, by removing the leader’s power to expel them — and the logic is reversed.

It is fair for members of a party not to wish to be associated with a given candidate or MP — freedom of association runs both ways. But that should be for the party to decide, for example by a vote of caucus: certainly nothing says it has to be the personal prerogative of the leader. Indeed, Weir argues, it may even be illegal.

In 2015, the Parliament of Canada Act was amended to give party caucuses the exclusive power to expel members from their midst, among other new powers. Or at least, they were given the power to give themselves such powers. The act requires every party caucus to hold a vote, “at its first meeting following a general election,” on whether to assume each of the powers enumerated.

Neither the NDP nor the Liberal caucus held such a vote, or not at the time prescribed under the law (the NDP caucus did vote the following year). As a result, Weir contends, “we cannot conclude that the NDP leader has unilateral authority to expel caucus members.”

Of course, we cannot necessarily conclude he doesn’t have that authority, either. But the failure of either leader or caucus to follow the law hardly entitles him to the benefit of the doubt.

You’ll never guess what: There’s a new Ontario government, and it claims to have found glaring incongruities between the previous government’s financial reporting and reality, and we might all have to make sacrifices as a result. It’s like The Mousetrap of political theatre: it’s more than a bit hammy, and everyone knows how it ends, but for some reason people keep buying tickets.

Finance Minister Vic Fedeli insists it’s different this time, though. On Friday, he told an Economic Club of Canada audience that it’s much, much worse than ever before. Why, just look at the vocabulary Auditor General Bonnie Lysyk used to describe the Liberal government’s accounting for net pension expenses and the Fair Hydro Plan: “words like ‘conceal’, ‘bogus’, ‘deceptive’ and ‘unreliable’.”

“Those are not normal words to describe a government’s accounting,” Fedeli averred.

Now look at the Report of the Independent Financial Commission of Inquiry, led by former British Columbia premier Gordon Campbell and also released Friday. One of its tasks was to review the Liberal-designed 2018 budget, which projected a $6.7-billion deficit. By accepting the Auditor General’s accounting recommendations on pension expenses and the hydro scheme, binning $1.4 billion in unspecified savings, and adjusting revenue projections down somewhat due to slower-than-anticipated economic growth and a cooling housing market, the real deficit for 2018-19 suddenly comes in at $15 billion — “a crippling hidden deficit that is only now being brought to light,” Fedeli exclaimed.

That performance rates one star out of five, at best.

The extent of the Liberals’ budgetary gamesmanship may have been uncommonly vast, but it was anything but hidden. The Fair Hydro Plan was nothing more or less than a plan to borrow money to pay electricity producers their contractually guaranteed sums; instead of taking the money from ratepayers right now, taxpayers would pay it back with interest over 30 years. The Liberals hired Rube Goldberg to create an accounting mechanism whereby the cost wouldn’t appear on the books as a liability, but absolutely no one bought it.

“It is clear to us that the government’s intention in creating the accounting/ financing design to handle the costs of the electricity rate reduction was to avoid affecting its fiscal plan,” Lysyk found. “That is, the

NOTHING SAYS THEY (MPs) MUST BE SO INSIGNIFICANT.