Our meddling ministers

It must have been quite a time working on Judy Sgro’s campaign: strippers, pizza, and mysterious $5000 cheques (for the beer, presumably). It all sounds like a particularly louche bachelor party, or would, if it were not alleged that each of these unusual campaign contributions was provided in exchange for the former minister of immigration’s help in obtaining visas and residency permits for would-be immigrants. As the story has unfolded, the media has struggled to come to grips with the Larger Issue This All Raises. From the obvious initial question -- did the minister trade her influence for campaign favours -- attention was soon diverted to whether it was right to be importing foreign strippers, when so many homegrown girls were eager to disrobe. Taking a broader perspective, The Post suggested the chaos in the minister’s office was the inevitable result of an incoherent immigration policy and an “understaffed” department. For the Globe, Ms. Sgro’s downfall raised the question of whether the immigration minister should be drawn from a part of the country with such a heavy concentration of immigrants as the Greater Toronto Area, with the inevitable pressures he or she would come under. Sympathetic columnists speculated that Ms Sgro had been the victim of internal Liberal politics -- I am waiting for the inevitable “if a man had done the same thing” complaints -- while the opposition demanded to be told what the Prime Minister knew of all this. (And, of course, when did he know it?) As for Jeffrey Simpson, this was all the predictable consequence of the Charter of Rights, activist judges, etc. etc. But then, isn’t everything? I hope I will not be accused of prejudging the guilt or innocence of Ms Sgro if I point out that the present mess is in a long line of similar Liberal scandals, all of which turn on a much narrower, and simpler issue: the discretion we allow cabinet ministers to intervene in the decisions of their departments. Certainly if a minister were found to have intervened in return for a campaign donation of some kind, an exchange that was explicitly understood as such by both sides, that would be grounds for dismissal, if not prosecution. But it is neither possible, in most cases, to prove such intent -- allowing Bombardier, for example, to make six-figure annual contributions to the Liberal Party of Canada, and receive twelve-figure subsidies from the Government of Canada nearly as often -- nor is it strictly necessary. If you want to be sure of preventing such exchanges, ministerial discretion for campaign contributions, you have only to forbid them both, separately. We have at last got our minds around the idea of banning large corporate contributions to political parties. But we have yet to take up the strange latitude we afford ministers of the crown, not to say ordinary members of Parliament, to interfere in matters that are properly none of their business. If a minister were to intervene with a judge, after all, it is -- still -- regarded as an abuse of office, and a resigning offence. The same restriction applies, somewhat hazily, with regard to quasi-judicial tribunals. But it was only under extreme duress that the previous Prime Minister was persuaded that ministers should be required to keep their hands off of Crown corporations (you will recall his ethics counsellor had earlier absolved him of breaking any rules in the matter of the Business Development Bank, on the grounds that there were no rules to break), and when it comes to their own departments, it’s pretty much open season. The Immigration minister, in particular, has almost unbridled discretion to issue “special ministerial permits,” allowing people to immigrate to Canada who would not be admitted under normal rules and procedures. In the matter of the Romanian stripper on Ms Sgro’s campaign team, we are told her application was approved over her department’s strenuous objections. And while members of Parliament lack such explicit power, it has become a large part of their job description to lobby the department on behalf of their constituents. This is odd, when you think about it. The job we elect members of Parliament to do is to represent us in Parliament: to debate, deliberate, legislate, according as their constituents, their conscience, or their party dictate, but always, one hopes, with the national interest in mind. This applies fourfold with respect to ministers. They are members of cabinet. They are charged with framing policy for their portfolios, and collectively deciding broad matters of state. They are not also supposed to be chasing down grants for their brothers’ community colleges, or loans for the hotel next door to the golf course they once owned, or immigration permits for their campaign workers. For starters, where do they find the time? There are structural ways to insulate departments from meddling ministers’ offices, going all the way to formally separating the two, as in New Zealand. But for now it would be enough if we at least recognized it as a problem.