The unique stupidity of Canadian politics

Bloody September already. A last long weekend of bliss, and then -- politics. More specifically, Canadian politics. Even now the beast's rough, misshapen form can be detected, dragging itself this way; in another week, maybe two, it will be upon us....

The federal Liberals are well prepared for the fall session, having staked out a series of facile, simple-minded positions on difficult, complex issues: a plainly unattainable 35% reduction in greenhouse gas emissions by next year; a unilateral withdrawal from a multilateral mission in Afghanistan; hints of bailouts for manufacturers, and so on. The Conservatives, for their part, seem to have lost all interest in policy, contenting themselves with packing diplomatic posts with party supporters and other delights of office. Before long they will be haranguing each other in Question Period, to the immense uninterest of the public.

At the provincial level, the election in Ontario promises to be the most tedious non-event in living memory. The Liberals can hardly dare to issue a platform, having broken every promise in the last. The Tories, principled sorts, have declined to offer much of any. Ontarians can have little clue what impact the election of either party would make in their lives, or what difference it would make which one they choose.

Is there any politics on Earth that is shallower, more boorish, less worthy of the attention of serious people than Canadian politics? Answer: There is none. Canadian politics is uniquely stupid. Our politics may not be quite as crude as the Americans, as cynical as the French, as corrupt as the Japanese. But for sheer vacuity, there is none to match us.

We are conditioned to deny this, to expect that politics is always and everywhere a game for morons. But it wasn't always quite as bad as this, and it isn't in other countries.

Have a look sometime at Prime Minister's Question Period in the British Parliament (you can watch it on the Web site of the American public service network C-SPAN). Or the Australian, or New Zealand's for that matter. The questions as often as not are actually questions, the answers bear a striking resemblance to real answers. No, really.

Debate is generally at a higher level in Britain, even outside politics, but the detail and seriousness with which the parties approach policy questions is notable. Here's a typical news story, such as you might read in any given week:

"Parents in areas of low quality state education will be able to club together to set up their own schools with the benefit of charitable status, under Conservative plans to be announced within a fortnight.

"The proposals, which will strip underperforming local authorities of their right to veto such plans, are likely to form a centrepiece of the next Tory election manifesto.

"The idea for new 'pioneer' schools, designed to appeal to parents fed up with local provision but unable to afford private education, will be outlined in a report to the shadow Cabinet on public services ..."

Bear in mind, this is from the David Cameron Conservatives, widely criticized as lightweights. Yet when was the last time anyone suggested anything half so bold here, whether on education or any other matter? The only debate in this country is whether to spend more money, or even more.

American politics can be ugly, but there is no counterpart in Canadian politics for the statesmanship of a Senator John Warner, no mavericks of the quality of John McCain. Here all is partisanship, and mindless partisanship at that.

Why is Canadian politics so moronic? It isn't that our politicians are especially stupid, as people: Stephen Harper, Stephane Dion and Michael Ignatieff are all intelligent men. They just behave like idiots. It's institutional, a culture of vapidity that drags even the best down to its level.

The dominance of the brokerage parties, combined with our peculiarly rigid tradition of party discipline, explains it in part: in few other countries is the party line so strictly enforced, to such trivial effect.

The supporting players also contribute: in particular, the expanding influence of the premiers in national debates -- power without responsibility, as it is said, the prerogative of the harlot through the ages -- has had a predictably coarsening effect, reducing what was an already overly regional politics to infantile calculations of profit and loss.

The role of the press gallery, marooned in Ottawa with only politics for amusement, must not be overlooked.

But two other factors should be mentioned. One is the size and shape of the Commons itself. Watch those British debates again: the two sides of the House are so close to each other they can almost touch.

In consequence, rather than bellow across the aisle, they are obliged to talk to one another. Nor do they sit at rows of desks, with all of the associations -- of schoolboys, or bureaucrats -- these imply. Rather, they recline on benches, as in ancient times.

And a last, more uplifting factor: peace and prosperity. That our politics is so banal is in part a tribute to our good fortune. We can (or so we imagine) afford it. In the absence of any obvious national crisis, we turn our minds to other things.

What 's that quote from Brecht? "Unhappy the land that has no heroes. Unhappier still the land that has need of heroes."