The amusing world of N.L. politics
‘Politics in Newfoundland came to be a national sport, perhaps the national sport. Newfoundland’s small population and tribal community culture gave many a personal interest in both the contest and the outcome. everybody knew the players in the game; both those in the arena and those watching from the sidelines spoke passionately, often to the point of unreasonableness.”
This telling observation comes from a splendid witness to the evolution of Newfoundland politics over the past half-century. It appears in the Journal of Newfoundland and Labrador Studies, under the title unchanging Verities: Studies of Newfoundland Politics, 1949-2015.
The witness who wrote the article was edward roberts, whom I will first introduce as being among the most intelligent of those who have entered the game of Newfoundland politics, and secondly, as one singularly placed to comment both on its nature and its content.
Mr. roberts came fresh out of law school to the office of Joseph r. Smallwood.
he was, as I recall, the first “executive assistant” to that hectic — and occasionally ferocious — premier, and as I also recall the only executive assistant to any minister in the Confederation building of that time.
Latterly of course the growth of executive assistants is as moss on a ruin. And nowadays you cannot step into an elevator in any provincial legislature without encountering them by the chattering flock.
On the federal level, eas and communication officers assume an almost cloud formation, a tribute — so it is ludicrously thought — to the importance to the ministers whose dry-cleaning they so assiduously care for.
but edward roberts is singular. As said he was the first chief aide to Joey Smallwood, was central to the flow of the Liberal party for many years after, both in the house of Assembly and afterwards, and served in some ministerial capacity under a total of three premiers (Smallwood, Clyde Wells and brian Tobin). he capped his involvement in Newfoundland public life by serving as her Majesty’s lieutenant-governor — commendably and agreeably in that role, as opposed to the mannerisms of a certain recent occupant of even higher station in Ottawa.
Few can claim this range of service in any Canadian jurisdiction. he was also the best placed observer of the terrible conflict — I call it Newfoundland’s Trojan War, the source font of all that has happened since — between the illustrious John Crosbie and the imperious Joey Smallwood during the latter’s final and regrettable years as premier.
roberts is one of that select club of “second” players — though I mean no diminishment by that phrase — who have had by their place and position determined some of the contours of Canada’s political terrain. rod Love, so sadly passed so early, was another. Without rod Love, Mr. Klein — if I may put it so — would not have been full ralph.
The advisers of strong premiers are like the wilderness guides of earlier times. They are not the fire of the expedition, but they are the security and wisdom of its conduct, when that conduct — as sometimes actually happens — gives evidence of wisdom and security.
but I wish to dissent, just slightly, after so full an exordium on
Mr. roberts, on his description of Newfoundland politics as a sport. A sport involves pure skills. Newfoundland politics is more an entertainment. I have long believed that Newfoundlanders endure what passes as electoral politics only because it offers them more amusement than pain.
Politics back home is more theatre than reality, and the spectators are wiser, more alert than the actors. Newfoundlanders have been schooled by experience not to expect too much — some expect nothing at all — from their politics and politicians; so instead they choose to draw from the political struggle a collateral benefit — they watch it as a story, to draw from it amusement, spectacle or raw material for skits and mockery. The late ray Guy — the finest writer the subject has ever had — for some years in a daily column produced what was seen as the finest narrative of political life anywhere in Canada or elsewhere for that matter.
Consider the recent — what shall we call it — the half-election, called by Premier Andrew Furey earlier this month. What a footnote to the many follies of Newfoundland politics this turned out to be. It rivals in its ineptitude many famous episodes from the past. It has its branch of irony — an always necessary element — in that a doctor who was premier called an election during a pandemic.
Add to that he called it in a Newfoundland February, and whatever T.S. eliot had in mind when he blundered into calling April the “cruellest month,” it’s certain he never dropped into home during April.
The snarl before the voting day, which was to be Feb. 12, is still, in my mind anyway, untangled. There were talks of partial voting (i.e., some electoral districts would be allowed to vote, others not); talk of full postponement; and confusion over who had the authority — medical, constitutional (lieutenant-governor, electoral commissioner) or political (premier) to call it off. It was suspended, and where it stands now, who or what is the government, I lack both heart and stamina to investigate.
The episode may have a tremulous national influence. It might serve as an alert to any prime minister who thinks calling an early national election, while the pandemic and its clutter of various regulations and lockdowns rages, is not a good idea.
For me personally it offered the benefit of giving a salute to one of the less famous but very significant figures in the political life of my province over something close to 40 years: edward Moxon roberts.
Politics back home is more theatre than reality.