Save political theatre for the faithful

There’s nothing besides custom that says the commission should increase MLA compensation

Governments ought to spend their time working on stuff that has a real, honest-to-God chance of helping people, and save the political vaudeville act for the faithful after hours.

But, in recent days Liberal Finance Minister Karen Casey dusted off that old bit of political theatre called “we share your pain,” disguised as news in the otherwise routine budget bill.

She kept the salaries of MLAs frozen, at least until April, to let the common folk know their leaders are down there in the trenches with them.

“Freezing MLA salaries demonstrates our commitment to working with Nova Scotians to restore our province’s financial health,” she said.

It does nothing of the kind. It is a symbolic and otherwise meaningless bit of showboating, immune to opposition criticism for fear of appearing self-serving.

The base salary for members of the legislature is $89,235. The premier gets $112,500 on top of that. Ministers, the opposition leader, and the speaker are topped up $49,000, and there’s a lot or a little extra for everyone from house leaders to chairs of committees that never meet.

MLAs make a token contribution to a pension for which they qualify if they stay in the House for a second cup of tea.

The House of Assembly Act, until 2013, had it right. After each election an independent commission was struck to study and recommend MLA compensation levels.

That process at least recognized the legislature as a separate branch of government, not subject to the budgetary fiat of the executive (cabinet).

Legislative autonomy is a victim of the erosion in respect for, and understanding of how a parliamentary democracy is intended to work.

The MLAs’ compensation commission should be reconstituted, but without the usual suspects – a sympathetic panel of “notable,” financially-secure Nova Scotians.

A government that wants to demonstrate its “commitment to working with Nova Scotians” would strike a commission representative of those who need government most, not least.

There’s nothing besides custom that says the commission should increase MLA compensation. It could just as easily rollback their pay, or better yet change it from an annual income to an hourly wage, supplemented by pay-forperformance. That’s a nice model. Nova Scotians get what they pay for. By any standard, some members of the legislature are a bargain while others are taking up space and calculating their future pension entitlements.

Freezing every MLA’s pay symbolizes, not a commitment to provincial financial well-being, but a one-size-fits-all approach to governance. Oblivious to human need and uninfluenced by the potential for progress, the province trims each program to fit the budget envelope.

Meanwhile, one in five Nova Scotian children lives in poverty. Who in the government shares their pain?

Does Premier Stephen McNeil remember a speech he delivered at the convention that made him Liberal leader? He wore a liberal cloak in the Dartmouth Sportsplex that night a decade ago.

Appalled by the provincial disgrace of impoverished children, he seemed to be on a crusade to improve the lives and opportunities of those kids.

Harry Flemming, a mentor, a fellow son of Truro and the best journalist of his generation, said the speech was phoney idealism. As it’s author, I protested. “I know you care about that stuff,” he said, “but does he (McNeil), and do they?” He indicated the crowd of mostly comfortable Grits in the rink. Instead of a crusade against child poverty, the Liberal government embarked on interminable “reform” of social assistance that has become a convenient excuse for not doing much.

So, the advice offered here – gratuitous as always – is that the government spare us the protestations of self-sacrifice and dig in on some stuff that will make a real difference in the lives of Nova Scotians that deserve better.

Social and economic justice demand it, if they are true values and not just another act.