National Post
Saturday, February 7, 2004

It's new, in the sense that it's old

The Speech from the Throne went to great lengths, as other commentators have noted, to emphasize how new the government is. Indeed, there is statistical proof of this. According to my computer, the word "new" appears 36 times in a 6,200-word speech, or about once every 170 words. Discard all the and's, the's and for's, and "new" pops up as the most common word in the speech, after the obligatory "Government" and "Canadians." So I guess it must be true. This isn't the same government, with the same policies, that has ruled for the past 10 years (or, if truth be told, the past 45). It's new, new, new.

Then why does it feel so old? Once upon a time, about six weeks ago, the government -- the new government, that is -- was talking about a new round of program review, on the theory perhaps that the old program review did not succeed in catching every misspent dollar rattling around Ottawa. Spending caps, hiring freezes, even -- God save us -- a rethinking of certain policies were the order of the day. As if in token of things to come, the federal sponsorship program was axed, for a saving of $40-million annually, or about as much as the government spends every two and a half hours. Well, it's a start.

And, apparently, an end: If that was what the new government had in mind, it was, as it were, the old new government. The new new government has nothing but good things to say about every existing government program, and many new ones besides. The gun registry, for example, runner-up to the sponsorship program as visible symbol of government waste, seems unassailable. The Throne Speech put several others safely out of harm's way. There was another $2-billion in walking-around money for the provinces -- allegedly for "health care," though as I have explained several times, this is a completely meaningless tag -- which will stop them from squawking for about three months, or until the election, whichever comes first.

The utter hash that successive federal and provincial governments have made of native policy was perhaps alluded to in the promise of a "more coherent approach to Aboriginal issues." But it will be a more coherent more of the same. As ever, policy will remain fixated on "historic rights and agreements," topped off with dollops of federal cash: a "renewed" Aboriginal Human Resources Development Strategy, an "expanded" Urban Aboriginal Strategy, and so on. Meanwhile, the native governing class can rest easy, the previous government's brave attempt to demand a modicum of democratic accountability in return for all that federal cash having been shelved, probably permanently.

But do not think that exhausts the new government's generosity. City politicians have officially been added to the federal client list, by means of an exemption on the GST they pay on their purchases. What principle of public policy, you ask, dictates that municipal governments (as opposed to, say, hospitals) should be spared the GST? If they're so strapped for funds -- a debatable proposition -- and don't dare ask their own citizens for more money, why doesn't Ottawa just write them a cheque? Answer: because it would annoy the provinces. More on that in a minute.

To the "new deal" for cities, add the old deal for everyone fortunate enough to live outside a major metropolitan area. As part of its path-breaking, innovative efforts to "build a 21st century economy," the new government vows to carry on ploughing billions of dollars into propping up the old economy. Or, in Thronespeak, the government "remains committed to supporting economic development through the regional agencies." There's a Northern Strategy, also an Oceans Action Plan. "Increased emphasis" will be placed on "opportunities to develop Canada's energy resources." And, in case you were in any doubt, "the Government is dedicated to Canada's farm economy."

All in all, for a new government it sure sounds a lot like the old government: if not the Chretien government, then certainly the ones that went before. Indeed, where the Martin government breaks most openly with its immediate predecessor, it is to return to the habits of previous regimes. Even the democratic reform proposals look likely to wilt under scrutiny: Already, the government is backpedalling from promises to put Supreme Court appointments before Parliament, at a guess because the provinces have their eyes on the same perk.

For if there is one achievement of the Chretien government the Martin regime looks determined to roll back, it is its occasional willingness to resist the provinces' most outlandish demands. In addition to the $2-billion in hush money, Mr. Martin has conceded the premiers a share in the quintessentially federal responsibility for foreign affairs, a beachhead from which you may be sure they will expand. Lest anyone be alarmed that the Throne Speech might signal an expanded federal role in social policy, for day care, say, or student loans, the responsible ministers were quick to assure the provinces that they could block the federal cash at the border before it reached any actual citizens, and pocket it for themselves -- an offer Quebec was quick to take up. Kowtowing to the provinces, sucking up to Quebec nationalists: We are back in Mulroneyville, with Jean Lapierre in the role of Marcel Masse.

So in addition to the pension plan, medicare, and other existing programs where Quebec-based MPs make laws and regulations for the rest of the country that do not apply in their own province, we will have a raft of new ones. Though to be fair, the new Council of the Federation, meeting for the first time later this month, means this asymmetry is unlikely to endure: over time, national policy will cease to be made by federal politicians at all, but rather will be the result of inter-provincial haggling. You will recall how well that worked with regard to internal trade.

Enjoy that new latitude while you can, you government backbenchers. The real new government is aborning elsewhere.