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Sexual harassment may be a target, but House of Commons nastiness is more toxic than ever
Sexual harassment is a fact of life on Parliament Hill, a place where being a good sport is expected.
On Wednesday afternoon in the House of Commons, a man stood up and struggled with tears in public as he resigned from his job.
That same day, two women MPs were struggling to stay under the radar about their allegations of serious misconduct by two other MPs — who were preemptively punished before any investigation was complete.
Some people, it seems, can cry in the Commons. Some have to keep their grievances in the shadows.
With the rest of the country talking about sexual harassment and assault these days, it was only a matter of time before this conversation landed on Parliament Hill, one of the most dysfunctional workplaces in the country.
Like my colleague Chantal Hébert, who wrote hopefully this week on the veil being lifted on this culture, I arrived in Ottawa when things were much worse for women.
We all have stories. My first day in the gallery watching Question Period back in the late 1980s, a famous TV personality was sitting beside me, making random, lewd comments about the women MPs in the seats below. No one seemed shocked, and as I subsequently learned over the years, creepiness is not a career-damaging trait in politics. (The TV personality’s downfall would come about for other reasons.)
When Ian Capstick, the former NDP and Liberal staffer, spoke publicly this week about his experience with harassment by MPs, one part of his story was a very revealing glimpse into political culture.
“At the time did I think it was awful? Yes,” Capstick said on the CBC show Power and Politics. “Did I laugh it off with friends of mine in a kind of machismo way and maybe even suggest to others that, ‘Gee I hope you’re not next?’ I most certainly did.”
More than the incident itself, in fact, it’s his reaction, laughing it off, that points to the ongoing cultural problems on the Hill, for women and for men.
What Capstick is describing is the “good sport” strategy, the art of smiling and shrugging off objectionable behaviour or language.
Just in the past week, I watched as Toronto Centre MP Chrystia Freeland was trying to be heard over the howling taunts that seem especially loud when she speaks in the Commons.
Freeland joked that she was trying to use her “big girl voice” — an insult that was hurled at her on social media (by a reporter, no less) in her early days after being elected. Freeland was trying to be a good sport. It didn’t seem to shut anyone up.
It’s not a strategy limited to politics. We’re seeing that it was a useful ap-
Maybe a few more people will wonder whether they must continue to be good sports in a world of bad sportsmanship.
proach for dealing with big egos at the CBC, too. I suspect that it’s handy in corporate boardrooms and on the shop floor as well.
But whenever I’ve been asked about how I’ve dealt with blatant sexism on the Hill over the years, I usually mention how one has to cultivate the skills of being a good sport — at least publicly. Vent to friends or family, avoid the offender in future, but don’t complain. No one likes a complainer.
If the two NDP MPs were keeping quiet about the incidents that prompted the events of this week, I suspect it’s at least partly because of this good sport strategy. Want to fit in on Parliament Hill? Laugh it off, as Capstick said.
For what it’s worth, I long ago stopped being able to see politics as a workplace like any other (except maybe pro wrestling).
While I think it would be harder for a man to sit in the Commons gallery these days and make lewd comments about women MPs (thank goodness), the overall nastiness and bullying — on display every day in Question Period, but also in the corridors and offices, too — has become more toxic.
It’s that climate that creates the conditions for silence in the face of harassment and the temptation to smile and be a good sport when someone says or does something outrageous or offensive.
The odd part about that good sport approach, by the way, is that so many other aspects of politics these days are about bad sports — sore losers and sore winners.
It’s also true, for instance, that people in power are allowed to nurse grudges and act out revenge, while those without power are told to suck it up and keep smiling.
Like others who have worked for a while on Parliament Hill, I’m hoping the lights are starting to be shone on this workplace.
And maybe, with a bit more light, a few more people will wonder whether they must continue to be good sports in a world of bad sportsmanship. Susan Delacourt is a member of the Star’s parliamentary bureau.