Ideas and Impressions: He got to the letter ‘M’

Jason Moscovitz

By Jason Moscovitz

On a recent visit to Great Britain, I realized Brexit machinations are having the same effect on the British as they’re having on Canadians. People get tired of stories that don’t go anywhere. The soup gets spoiled sitting on the back burner for too long.

Divorcing completely from the European Union may still happen in the absence of an agreement, but the consensus seems to be that the Brits just don’t want to hear about it anymore. It’s kind of like “Wake us up when it is over and we’ll deal with it.”

People’s attention spans are limited and you can blame the television remote for that.

In the mid-1970s, when it became possible to change channels from your couch, people got trigger happy and brain function has never been the same. Channel surfing and scrambled brains go hand in hand.

Today, of course, the remote is old technology. Now when we watch something that interests us on television, we sit down on the couch with a smartphone, or a tablet, and we are literally all over the place as we multitask.

In the television news business, a reporter knows he or she has seconds to grab the attention of the viewer or they will disappear into cyberspace. Sometimes you literally have to jolt the audience in the first 10 seconds to keep viewers watching.

For example, precious little detail of government policy or legislation make it onto most newscasts. It is easy to see why political shenanigans dominate rather than substantive policy discussions.

Politicians screaming at each other at breakneck speed is the result, with the prize going to the most theatrical soundbite of the day. The winner’s trophy is having their one-liner on national television.

In an attention seeking business, getting on television makes a politician’s day and they fight for all the airtime, or face-time, they can get. The irony is that serious thinkers don’t usually make it because ‘serious’ is too often equated with ‘boring.’

I remember years ago what happened to Ed Schreyer, a former NDP premier of Manitoba, who prime minister Pierre Trudeau appointed to be governor general in 1979. In the public domain he was classic boring. I am not sure I ever came across a more starved-for-spark political figure in my life. Yet, he was a political success serving as premier of Manitoba for eight years.

As governor general, he was asked, as all governors general are, to speak at the annual Canadian Parliamentary Press Gallery Dinner. The only mandate was to be funny. Poor Ed. He couldn’t be interesting let alone funny, and in their tuxedos and long gowns, reporters threw buns at him from all corners of the Parliamentary Dining Room.

Pierre Trudeau found the bun throwing at the governor general to be in such poor taste that he boycotted subsequent dinners. Without the prime minister, the dinner lost considerable cachet, but “the Trude,” as we used to call him, made his point.

A few years later, Schreyer’s term as governor general ended and the “state broadcaster,” the CBC, had to do a story on his leaving. I won the lottery that day (ha ha) and went to Rideau Hall to interview him.

Even my low expectations fell short. We started the interview with a blazing fire place behind him and 50 minutes later there were only embers – and I still didn’t have an interesting segment. Then I went fishing.

I recalled a reporter friend telling me that he once asked Schreyer privately what he did all day as governor general. The specific question was, “How did he keep himself busy every day at Rideau Hall?” Schreyer told him that he took to reading the Encyclopedia Britannica.

With the fireplace sucking for fire, with the governor general beginning to really sweat from the TV lights, and with me still looking for something – anything – of interest, I said, “I understand you spent some time during your mandate reading the Encyclopedia Britannica. Is that correct?”

He gave me a look that suggested, “How do you know that?” But to his credit, he replied affirmatively. I asked, “What letter did you get to?” With some hesitation he said, “The letter M.” I laughed and then he laughed.

I got my story and years later I so remember the moment.

Ideas and Impressions: Truth is not a campaign-winning formula

Jason Moscovitz

By Jason Moscovitz

This issue of the Ottawa Jewish Bulletin went to press before the October 21 federal election. So, as I write, I don’t yet know who won. What I do know is how incredible a campaign it was. Doing politics was always hard, but in today’s lightning fast world of information flow, it’s just plain crazy.

In our political galaxy, incumbent prime ministers face the toughest task in the supercharged world of elections. In recent decades, both Conservative and Liberal prime ministers have needed to defend their records, and they’ve needed to defend their mishaps and blunders in office.

And while campaigns are like the finals of a blood sport, those involved love doing it and no one loves the action more than the leaders themselves. They believe they were born to campaign, that no one does it better, and after a big electoral win, they believe they are invincible.

A campaign is like a freedom ride from the restraint and reality of governing. In a campaign, politicians, as we’ve just witnessed, promise the sun and the moon while acknowledging the deficit will go up further before it comes down. Damn the deficit, Trudeau and the Liberals set the tone for making promises. The others were eager to follow.

The fiscal looseness of the campaign was striking. Day after day, there were more announcements of costly promises. And the usually more fiscally conservative Conservatives joined the spending spree to keep pace.

Creating a blueprint on how to make life better for middle class Canadians is noble – but over-extending promises is not. Getting elected is the easy part. Governing gets to be not so much fun when there is not enough money to fulfil promises made.

So while political leaders love to roll up their sleeves and campaign, they play a dangerous game. Because politicians make promises to win, no one should ever wonder why voters are cynical about politics. Promising too many beneficial tax changes is questionable, as thoughtful as the promises may be. There is something about political life that is not always rational. Ego trips can often hinder straight thinking.

For more than the past half-century, from John Diefenbaker to Justin Trudeau, those who won majority governments got intoxicated by what they thought was the love voters had for them. Diefenbaker, Pierre Trudeau, Brian Mulroney and Jean Chrétien all got hit by the same victory fever. Stephen Harper got it too, although his blandness served as cover. But rest assured, in the end, ego drove them all.

After a big impressive win, leaders believe they can convince voters of virtually anything. In an election campaign, they believe the mere sweetness of their voices making nice promises is enough to keep them in power. Hiding the truth is also part of it. Hiding Ontario Premier Doug Ford’s existence was Andrew Scheer’s best Houdini act.

Sadly, being forthright and honest has limited place in the world of election campaigns. The truth is not a winner. I once asked a prominent politician why he and his party wouldn’t discuss certain parts of their agenda.

“If we ever told the people of Canada what we were going to do, we would never get elected,” was his cynical response.

I can remember a Conservative prime minister who falsely promised not to cut old age security payments, just as I remember a Liberal prime minister who promised to “kill the Goods and Services tax.” More recently, we all remember Justin Trudeau promising his government would bring in long talked about electoral reform. But once in power, he slammed the door shut and did nothing.

Do they think people are dumb?

The answer is they just desperately want and need their votes. Talk is cheap. Delivering is hard and expensive.

We all grow up believing that speaking the truth is key to being a responsible respected person. Somehow, though, that rule doesn’t apply in the political world. Saying what needs to be said in order to win is such short sighted thinking – but they don’t care.

It’s time to stop being naive. It’s time to get with the program. It’s time to lower expectations on the truth. It’s time to grow up.

And it’s time to admit to myself that the political world I saw idealistically is an allusion.