As democracy in Western
Europe and North America ages before our eyes, the hunt for youth, élan, and forceful
government grows. Other countries allegedly are doing the brave, optimistic
things we used to do: reforming taxes, restructuring economies, and asking for sacrifice.
And they are making spectacular progress without governments like ours.
Increasingly, analysts blame
the model of democracy we try to practice. "Government of the people, by the people,
for the people" sounds, to many, as dangerous and as quaint as the divine right
of kings. Now "popular" democracy is being relabeled "populist" democracy, a
political culture in which mostly shallow opinions hold sway.
In Canada, even liberal nationalists
will say good government is preferred to the common man’s heady "pursuit of
happiness." After all, "limited authoritarianism" sounds robust and more adult.
It’s driving Asia’s progress, isn’t it?
In his review of The Fourth Revolution: The Global Race to Reinvent the State by John
Micklethwait and Adrian Wooldridge, National
Post columnist Jonathan Kay brutally
described Ontario as a near perfect example of how our proud democratic
machinery is paralyzed by an incumbent’s obsessive need for peace and popular
acceptance. Innumerable fixes and blue-ribbon missions to find "evidence-based"
consensus have replaced choosing one side or one answer over another.
Kay accepts that we wouldn’t
tolerate the arbitrary and corrupt features of the “Asian alternative,” yet he concludes:
“But as the example of Ontario shows, we have gone
too far in the other direction:
Populist democracy and its attendant addled economic
policies are destroying our
ability to create the basic building blocks of a functional society. A generation ago, the choice
between Ontario and China as a model for
developing countries would have been an obvious one. In 2014, like the Ontario election itself, it looks
more like a dead heat.”
Justin Trudeau couldn’t put
it any better.
Okay, Ontario is poorly led. However,
it is Ontario’s elites, not its "childish" masses that need a shaking.
The only time I worked full
time for an insurgent democratic politician — a "prairie populist" — was in
1967. Alvin Hamilton was running for national leader of the Progressive
Conservative Party. He had too many ideas, talked too long to delegates,
disliked Toronto’s "blue machine" and was called a red Tory well before the
label learned to nestle alongside an Order of Canada pin.
"Populists" were on the outs
then. And, after a career on the inside, I can attest that they’re not on the
inside now. Most important, there is no serious evidence, in polls or in
election results, that voters in this relatively jumpy civilization are any
harder to lead now than they ever were.
It’s not the hoi polloi that thinks strictly in
four-year bites, polls constantly, is up in arms about paying for needed
services, hates pipelines, airplanes, iPhones, air conditioning, and power
steering — or has decided that the '50s were the best.
Even for a pessimist, it
feels silly to worry that Ontarians today are too spoiled, too embittered, too
fearful, or too touchy to be governed responsibly. And it is.
Ontarians are well known across
Canada for wanting to leave things pretty much the way they are. But they’re
not less accommodating today than they ever were. They fear change and they fear falling behind; they hope
their leaders will strike the right balance.
The blame for the potentially
fatal mediocrity of our decision-making rests in government, not in the
governed.
And the failure to fix its
machinery — an enfeebling maze of lucrative little deals, obsequious consultations,
and retractable choices — calls for more persuasive democratic leaders:
competent populists, neither well-traveled snobs nor compulsive listeners.
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