On November 26, the mayor of Canada's biggest city was removed from office. A judge ruled that Toronto Mayor Rob Ford had contravened Ontario's Municipal Conflict of Interest Act and imposed the penalty mandated by the legislation: vacating the office (suspending the decision for 14 days to allow for administrative changes). After a collective moment of stunned silence reactions poured out from public figures, commentators and citizens – ranging from the predictably outraged to the gleeful. Elected mayor two years ago, Ford is a polarizing, controversial and gaffe-prone figure. More importantly, he is a bully. And a bully who engages in the dubious ethical grandstanding so popular with the right today that creates an environment toxic to democratic deliberation.
Rob Ford's two years as mayor are rich in controversy, making it hard to see past the screeching headlines to the substantive damage he has done. A greatest hits of Ford follies includes: repeatedly skipping City Council and Executive Committee meetings to coach his high school football team, commandeering two City buses (and kicking off their paying passengers) to transport the players of his team after a rain-soaked game, getting caught behind the wheel of his SUV reading while driving on the highway, declaring that anyone who commits gun violence in Toronto should be deported from the city, calling in top City bureaucrats to ensure that the road in front of his family business was repaved in time for its 50th anniversary celebration, and skipping the mayor's traditional role at the front of Toronto's million-strong pride parade two years in a row because of a family cottage weekend. (Here is a quick summary of Ford's troublesome decade-long record as a city councillor, including attacks on racialized communities, AIDS victims and cyclists.)
Given this litany of gaffes, controversies and attacks it is somewhat surprising that what brought Ford down is a relatively minor infraction. He was found guilty of a conflict of interest for speaking to and voting on a motion in Council that excused his repayment - recommended by the City's Integrity Commissioner - of $3,150 in donations to his private football charity raised through fundraising letters sent on City letterhead to lobbyists and corporations. As the judge noted in his decision, the incident was made more serious by Ford's "willful blindness" and "stubborn sense of entitlement (concerning his football foundation) and a dismissive and confrontational attitude to the Integrity Commissioner and the Code of Conduct." From the launch of the case the story played out rather comically like a tale of your regular schoolyard bully. First, Ford vehemently denied that there was any conflict of interest (I did nothing wrong!). Then, in his courtroom testimony he admitted that, despite being a Councillor for ten years and Mayor for two, he had never read the Conflict of Interest Act or the Councillor's Code of Conduct (I didn't know!). Once the verdict came down he immediately lashed out, blaming a "left-wing cabal" for orchestrating an attack (It's not my fault!), painting himself as an innocent victim just trying to help kids (I'm the victim here!). Finally, the day after the verdict he apologized for how others took his words, without admitting any wrongdoing (I'm sorry you feel bad.)
Before his fall Ford adopted the familiar right wing strategy of painting himself as standing up for "the little guy" by ferreting out "waste" wherever he could. Ford was elected by a majority of voters on a populist promise to rid Toronto of its "gravy train." Exactly what this gravy train referred to was conveniently never specified, though allusions to "waste" and "overspending" were often dropped into the same sentences. The gravy train symbol worked in part because it fit well with Ford's infamous stunt during his decade as a Councillor. Every year when the expenditure reports came out Ford would rail against any Councillor who spent a significant portion of the $50,000 budget allotted to the running of his or her office. He invariably pointed to his own annual office expenditures - ranging from $5 to $10 - as the example of a responsible budget. (It should be noted here that Ford is independently wealthy due to a successful family business.) Office budget spending was an example, in his mind, of a waste of tax-payers' money. This is the familiar neo-liberal calculation: spending = waste = unethical. This simplistic formulation is more than just an attempt to reorient the focus of ethical concerns in politics, it is an attempt to make spending a matter of ethics rather than politics. By making this shift the right preempts the debate about political priorities that is actually behind decisions about government spending. It also, conveniently, turns attention away from actual unethical practices. Hence Rob Ford's inability to see - or "willful blindness" to - how his conduct in his conflict of interest case was in fact unethical.
Having fashioned their capes of "spending is wrong" these self-proclaimed ethical crusaders feel free to push around all those who stand in their way. Even when that means taking on the defenders of ethics themselves. From the early days of the Ford administration there were reports that City bureaucrats were afraid to speak up for fear of retaliation. Those fears materialized very publicly when Gary Webster, the chief general manager (and 37-year employee) of the Toronto Transit Commission was fired for giving advice - based on his experience and assessment of transit in the city - to Council that differed from the mayor's preferred plan. A few months later it was the City's Ombudsman who was in the hot seat. Ford's ire was raised by Fiona Crean's report accusing his office of a rushed, compromised and interfering selection process in the appointment of citizens to 120 civic boards and agencies (including directing bureaucrats to remove from newspaper advertisements a reference to seeking “diverse” candidates – this in a city whose motto is “Diversity our strength”). For five hours Crean was subjected to vitriolic attacks from Ford's allies after giving her report to Council. More worryingly, when the report was made public Ford's allies mused openly about not renewing her contract and of cutting resources to her office and that of the Integrity Commissioner's.
This is a pattern of behaviour that closely mirrors that of the Conservative government in Ottawa. Since gaining power in 2006 the Harper government has adopted a series of bully tactics: it fired the chair of the Canada Nuclear Science Commission for her criticism of the government's running of a nuclear facility hours before she was to appear before a parliamentary committee; it barred scientists working for Environment Canada from speaking to the media; it tabled an omnibus budget bill that amended almost 70 different laws in one fell swoop; and it has a second omnibus bill before the House now. Perhaps most worrisome is Harper's cynical use of a once little-known procedural rule (prorogation) that prematurely ends a parliamentary session, killing all the bills on the order paper. He first used it to avoid a censure motion and later to avoid questions about the handling of Afghan prisoners by Canadian soldiers. This highly suspect use of the rule has spread. Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty used it most recently to shut down the legislature upon his resignation, allowing his party to conduct a leadership race hassle free. Explaining his decision to prorogue McGuinty claimed that he did so in order to allow "discussions with our labour partners and the opposition to occur in an atmosphere that is free of the heightened rancour of politics in the legislature.” In their abuse of this procedural parliamentary tool Harper and McGuinty have effectively told their respective legislatures "don't get too critical or I will shut you down." This abuse has transformed prorogation into a persistent threat - a Damocles sword - hanging over the heads of legislatures across the country. Just like the Ombudsman and Integrity Commissioner bullied by Rob Ford and his allies, and like the nuclear safety commissioner fired by Harper for raising concerns about a potentially dangerous facility, legislatures are being told that if they are too critical or ask too many questions - essentially, if they do their job - they will be made redundant. This is not only bad news for Canada's democratic institutions, but also for the public that relies on revelations made in these bodies to inform broader democratic deliberation.
There is a culture of intimidation taking hold in Canadian politics. Here's hoping that Rob Ford's removal from office inspires more of us to stand up to the bullies.
Willy Blomme Johns Hopkins University Some are calling the massive demonstration in Montreal on May 22nd the biggest act of civil disobedience in Canadian history. Whether or not this is true – and I suspect that it is – the march was certainly impressive. Upwards of 250 000 (some estimate as many as 400 000) people took to the streets and collectively disobeyed a new “special” (read repressive and draconian) law pushed through the National Assembly by Quebec's Liberal government. The march was organized to mark the 100th day of a student strike undertaken to oppose the government's plan to hike tuition fees. But what started as a conflict over education has become something much bigger. In the wake of Bill 78 the conflict has become a stand-off between two ideological visions for Quebec.
Technically the protests are about a tuition hike. The students voted to strike in response to the government's plan to increase tuition by 82% over seven years. Since February 13th 170 000 university and CEGEP students (the number has fluctuated somewhat) have refused to go to classes to protest the proposed hikes. The choice of a strike as the protest tactic cleverly exposes the ideological differences between the two sides. The students understand that by educating themselves they are engaged in important social work. The government, by contrast, follows the typical neoliberal individualistic and job-training-focused interpretation of education. It insists that the students are boycotting classes and predictably dismisses and infantalizes them by referring to them as “enfants roi” (spoiled brats). Since the beginning these protests have been about more than just tuition. They come after years of “belt-tightening” in Quebec and have attracted many nonstudents angry and worried about the direction the Charest government is taking the province. Nonstudents have swelled the ranks at three major demonstrations (the 22nd of March, April and May respectively). Red squares – the symbol of the movement – have become ubiquitous. On a recent trip to Montreal I was amazed not only to see these felt squares pinned to the shirts and bags of nearly everyone I passed on the street, but also painted on buildings and even used in stores' window displays. Students and their supporters have consciously linked the fight over tuition fees to a broader struggle over economic and social justice.
Events took a turn for the sinister mid-May with the government's adoption of emergency legislation to deal with the protests. At the end of a messy couple of weeks that saw violent stand-offs between police and protesters, the rejection by students of a negotiated deal (a bizarre arrangement that would have maintained the tuition hikes but neutralized them through equivalent reductions in fees imposed by universities), the release of smoke bombs into the Montreal metro at rush hour, and the resignation of the embattled education minister, Line Beauchamp, the Charest government introduced Bill 78 with the purported intention of “restoring peace and order.” Instead it does such violence to civil liberties and the right to protest that it was guaranteed to inflame tensions. The most controversial provisions of the law (adopted 24 hours after it was presented) are:
a requirement that police are informed eight hours ahead of the route and duration of any demonstration of 50 or more people (originally set at 10 or more);
a requirement that organizers – or student associations simply participating in a march – ensure that the event meets the specified parametres; and
a requirement that student associations employ appropriate means to induce their members not to directly or indirectly disrupt classes.
The law also imposes fines of up to $125,000 against groups that contravene these provisions. Constitutional lawyers, the Quebec Bar Association and human rights groups have all condemned the legislation as a breach of fundamental rights and freedoms. The government clearly recognized the inevitable legal challenges and built a self-destruct date into the legislation (July 1, 2013) ensuring that the law would expire before it had to be defended in court. In effect, the government has just given itself a weapon to use against protesters that even it recognizes as illegitimate.
Worryingly, this move to trample civil rights and grant the police extraordinary powers in the name of order is a growing trend in Canada. In one of those illuminating moments of political coincidence the Charest government tabled its “special” law the day after a report came out in Toronto condemning that city's police force for excessive force, illegal detention, and ignoring or breaching constitutional rights during the June 2010 G20 summit – an event that culminated in the largest mass arrest in Canadian history (over 1,100). The federal government is getting in on the game too. Not only is it pushing a maniacally carceral agenda (insisting on building more prisons despite persistent decreases in crime rates) it has recently proposed legislation that would ban the wearing of masks at protests (mirroring a by-law just adopted by the city of Montreal). These legislative moves make it harder and harder to simply blame “rogue” police officers for the abuses increasingly committed against Canadian protesters. At every level of government the police are being given more tools – literal and legal – for repression while the space for protest is steadily constrained.
Back on the streets of Montreal – and to a lesser extent elsewhere in Quebec – the response from citizens to the new law has been inspiring. The most dramatic moment of resistance was of course the massive May 22nd demonstration. Two of the student associations had complied with the law by providing the police with the protest route, but led by a third association, la CLASSE (Coalition large de l’association pour une solidarité syndicale étudiante), hundreds of thousands of people disobeyed by walking in the opposite direction. There have been a myriad of other responses: a deluge of letters and phonecalls to the police informing them of the date and location of innocuous gatherings (from children's birthday parties to a Chamber of Commerce meeting), a bonfire at a major downtown intersection, hundreds of citizens pledging to disobey the law on arretezmoiquelquun.com (somebody arrest me), a movement mascot dressed in a plush panda suit known as Anarchopanda who hands out hugs to protesters and police officers alike, and most recently the “marche de casserole” (march of pots and pans) in which hundreds of residents come out of their houses at 8pm every night to bang on pots and pans for 20 minutes.
In their forms of resistance to the government and the “special” law Quebec's protesters are demonstrating some affinities with the Occupy movement to which they are often compared (along with the Arab Spring, from which the name for the movement – le Printemps Érable – is derived as a pun). Many of the actions are not hierarchically organized, are adaptable (e.g. the splitting and rerouting of the night protests), are creative (e.g. the letters to the police), and are spontaneous (e.g. the marche de casserole). Like Occupy they have sought to open a discursive space for debate about ideology and the political and economic system by occupying a physical space. But where Occupy focused its physical presence on one constant space (e.g. Zucotti Park) the Montreal protesters have turned the whole city into their space of protest. By entering multiple spaces at varying times (e.g. silently riding the metro at rush hour clad in red, marching downtown during the day, banging on pots and pans in residential neighbourhoods at night) the protesters are drawing the entire city into the political space. They are doing it by mobilizing presence, creativity and surprise as their political tools.
The government, for its part, has moved to contain the space of politics through heavy handed means and blunt force. It has tried to limit the reach of the protests by demanding pre-determined, ordered routes. It has attempted to quell spontaneity by boxing in (kettling – a term made infamous by the Toronto police at the G20 protests) residents banging on pots and pans near their homes. And it has resorted to the tried and true technique of mass arrest (close to 700 on the night of May 23rd) in an attempt to make the city streets inhospitable to political opposition. Under the guise of restoring peace and order the government is trying to put the genie back in the bottle and return political debate to the restricted spaces of the National Assembly and its backrooms. Despite these efforts by the government and the police the protests show no signs of abating. To the contrary, we are seeing more and more spaces of resistance open up and more people join the movement. This is no longer just a demonstration of political dissent but truly “une manifestation.”
