The Bruce Report

I woke up this morning, as I do most mornings, and spent no less than an hour preparing my fragile, aging shell of a body to defend itself against the ravages of a brutal, vigorous world full of homicidal chemicals, diseases and infections. I popped two Vitamin D tablets, one time-release Vitamin C capsule, and a Vitamin B complex. And just to be absolutely certain, I swallowed a teaspoon of organic fish oil, three ounces of pro-biotic, no-fat yogurt, a bowl of bran flakes, and an orange.

Then, I had a smoke.

What the hell. . .Nobody’s perfect, right?

Is it my imagination, or has the number of ways the universe wants to kill me geometrically increased over the past few years? When I was a kid, looking both ways before I crossed a street pretty much guaranteed my survival until suppertime. Now, I’m supposed to worry about H1N1, diabetes, incipient Alzheimer’s, Huntington’s-chorea, about 7,000 different forms of cancer, and salt – any one of which can creep up on me and fell me like an oak tree with restless legs syndrome.

Yes, restless legs syndrome. Here’s what one web site has to say about that: “Restless legs syndrome (RLS, Wittmaack-Ekbom’s syndrome) is a condition that is characterized by an irresistible urge to move one’s body to stop uncomfortable or odd sensations. It most commonly affects the legs, but can also affect the arms or torso. Moving the affected body part modulates the sensations, providing temporary relief. RLS causes a sensation in the legs or arms that can most closely be compared to a burning, itching, or tickling sensation in the muscles. The most commonly associated medical condition is iron deficiency, which accounts for just over 20 per cent of all cases. Other conditions associated with RLS include venous reflux, folate deficiency, sleep apnea, uremia, thyroid disease, and Parkinson’s disease.”

Parkinson’s disease? I’m so glad I asked. Here, I thought that slight tremor in my left hand was somehow related to the double martinis I fond of swigging as I surf the net for the latest news on, and treatments for, clinical depression, panic disorder, social anxiety disorder, obssessive-compulsive disorder, and “I-can’t-leave-the-house-because-I’m-too-freaked-out-to-move” disorder.

According to one Joyce Millman, writing in the online Obit Magazine, “Hypochondria, which now goes by the shiny new name ‘health anxiety,’ is relentless and stupid and it chews up valuable days and years of your life, time that you could have spent being productive or, you know, happy. But instead, you spent it Googling ‘lower left abdominal pain.’ Ah, yes – Google. The Internet has given rise to a glorious new Golden Age of hypochondria. Back in the day, a hypochondriac had to haunt libraries and bookstores to get her fix of alarming potential diagnoses, but now, thanks to the Internet, we can obsess over our health to the point of inducing panic attacks in the privacy of our own homes. And who wouldn’t hyperventilate with terror at some of the ghastly results turned up by search engine queries of everyday ills?”

You said it sister! Feeling out of breath? Must be pulmonary disease. (Forget the fact that you just hiked up four flights of stairs). Feeling a little warm? Must be a brain tumor. (Certainly, the extra hot curry you happen to be eating has nothing to do with your uncontrollable flop sweat). To paraphrase Canadian songwriter Randy Bachman, we have become a society that loves to check in to see what condition our condition is in.

But I do have a prescription for what ails us. Turn off the TV, unplug the Internet, stop reading the health secitons of newspapers, and go for a long walk. Or, better yet, jump on a bike and ride as far as you can, until you can smell the sun, feel the wind, and the only thing on your mind is whether you looked both ways before you crossed that intersection a few blocks back.

And, oh yeah, lose the smoke. . .That really will kill you.

Think what you will of the federal Tory track record, but never underestimate the prime minister’s mastery of political parlour games. If nothing else, the man deserves a Ph.D. in spin control.

The other day, Stephen Harper told a CTV news reporter that be believes his party’s multi-media ad campaign attacking Michael Ignatieff’s credibility, commitment and worthiness to hold the highest elective office in the land rendered a service to Canadians in that it stopped the Grit leader from seeking a summer election.

“To the extent that I think that the ads made the Liberal Party think twice about having an election, I think that’s been a good result,” Harper said. “I don’t think Canadians want an election. I think it would have been another round of political instability. And so to the extent I think it’s put that party a little bit back on its heels. . .It may be thinking a little bit more about how to cooperate in actually dealing with the economy. I think it’s been helpful.”

At another point in the interview, the prime minister ducked the question of whether he, personally, endorses the ads’ claims about his rival, preferring, he insisted, to “leave it to others” to decide. “Those ads are built around Mr. Ignatieff’s own record, his own words on his own motives and his own statements on the country. Those are questions he will have to answer.”

It’s all utter nonsense, of course.

The attack ads were designed with no other purpose than to goad the Liberals into an election they couldn’t possibly win. In fact, the strategy failed as Harper and Ignatieff reached a compromise on Employment Insurance policy that weakened the former’s legendary grasp on power and strengthened the latter’s bargaining position in the eyes of the only people who matter: the electors. To claim otherwise – to insist that the campaign was a carefully executed tactic to protect Canadians from the excesses of parliamentary democracy – is both disingenuous and, frankly, incredible.

Equally insulting to simple logic is the prime minister’s suggestion that he doesn’t have a horse in the race to discredit his nemesis. After all, if he doesn’t care a fig about Ignatieff’s 34-year absence from Canada, or his off-hand remarks about being an American at heart, then why bring these facts to the attention of others – others who will ultimately elect the next prime minister of Canada?

Still, if none of this passes the laugh test, you have to admire the chutzpah. The central feature of this government, which has yet to persuade enough voters that it deserves an unfettered majority, is its breathtaking bluster and bravado, its bottomless belief in its ability to transform rhetorical water into wine. Who cares about the truth? Forget the facts. Say anything loudly and firmly enough, and there’s a good chance a sizeable minority will subscribe to your brand of balderdash.

In the federal Tories’ case, there’s more than enough of this particular commodity to go around.

Not too long ago, “candidate” Harper reviled the Maritimes in a speech before a western audience for its “culture of defeat” without bothering to mention that the East Coast’s per capita reliance on federal transfer payments was actually less onerous than many regions of Quebec, Ontario, Alberta, and British Columbia. No matter. The stereotype of lazy, stupid, money-sucking easterners played superbly well, where and when it counted.

Today, Prime Minister Harper, it seems, can’t do enough to laud the industry and ingenuity of the Atlantic Provinces. Presumably, this is why his announcement strategy for economic stimulus initiatives down here prescribes an astonishing degree of redundancy in the spin rooms of government communicators.

To wit: Project X announces a funding agreement between Ottawa and the province, and issues a press release; then Project X obtains provincial buy-in and issues another press release; finally, Project X becomes “shovel-ready” and, lo’ and behold, issues yet another press release.

If you hadn’t kept your eye on the bouncing ball, you’d be forgiven for believing that the feds had supported three separate initiatives, and not just one.

Lamentably, these are the sort of shenanigans that that go on all the time in Ottawa these days. And the number of political parlour games are only likely to increase this summer as Harper and Ignatieff prepare themselves for another round at the polls.

Where there’s smoke, there used to be fire. Now there are only mirrors.

Imagine yourself, one of these sultry summer nights, firing up the barbecue, pleasantly anticipating the arrival of your guests – just a few close friends coming over for a few hours of good food, fine wine, and casual conversation.

Suddenly, the doorbell chimes and there standing on your front step is none other than Michael Ignatieff, dressed in Bermuda shorts, flip-fops, and a peach-coloured golf shirt, accompanied by an entourage of blue-suited twenty-somethings masquerading as “executive assistants”.

“Howareya?” the Liberal Leader grins. “What’s for dinner?”

Don’t laugh. It could happen to you, especially if you’ve enrolled in the federal Grits’ new “Power of One Membership Challenge.” According to the website, “The Leader’s summer BBQ tour just got a little more interesting – you could decide two of his stops. Join the party or refer a new member online before Canada Day and your riding might find itself on Michael’s summer tour schedule. Each individual winner will also have the opportunity to sit down with Michael in a private meeting.”

Oh, lucky you. Who wouldn’t relish a chance to nosh and kibitz with Canada’s pre-eminent public intellectual just as the sun goes down on any hope of a relaxing evening among the fireflies and peepers? What shall we talk about? Currency exchange rates? The effects of the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act of 1930? Iraq? Iran? North Korea? How about those Penguins, eh? Care for another hotdog Mr. Leader?

Let the crypto-campaign for the nation’s hearts and minds commence. We knew it was foretold when Harper and Ignatieff struck their Faustian bargain last week ostensibly to spare Canadians the inconvenience of a summer election. Their real motivation, of course, was to spare themselves the ire of unwilling voters while buying time to prime their respective political pumps for a face-off in the fall.

And so, as Gloria Galloway wrote in Tuesday’s Globe and Mail, “Federal politicians have kicked off a summer of undeclared election campaigning with the federal Tories moving to define Michael Ignatieff as soft on crime. The characterization came as NDP Leader Jack Layton promised not to prop up the Harper Conservatives when Parliament resumes three months from now, and as Liberals laid plans for Mr. Ignatieff to tour the country in efforts to rebuild the party.”

Tour the country, sure. Rebuild the party, certainly. But what is the Grit leader becoming? A lottery ticket?

“One prize will be awarded to a new member of the Liberal Party of Canada who joins on-line before July 1, 2009,” says the Power of One website. “A second prize will be awarded to an existing member of the party who refers a new member who joins on-line before July 1, 2009. The timing of the riding visits will be at the discretion of the Liberal Party of Canada, in the context of the leader’s broader tour plans.”

Perhaps, we shouldn’t be surprised. After all, desperate times call for desperate measures. The nation’s mood could not be uglier these days. And in the absence of any real vision – from any party – the Liberals’ new brand of door-knocking seems quaintly predictable. How else does the once unassailable bastion of Bay Street bagmen and corporate money-hoarders appeal to the little guy? Would you like mustard and catsup on that burger, Mr. Ignatieff?

In fact, I don’t think the Liberals are going far enough. As long as Ignatieff wants to meet and greet and munch and chat with average folks on their own turfs, shouldn’t he round out the optics – circle the square, as it were – with some good, old-fashioned manual labour.

I understand that the lighthouse at Peggy’s Cove, N.S., needs a paint job.

I know my baby barn could use a new roof.

Around here, we work before we eat – or spend hard-earned money for the privilege of entertaining an elected representative whose salary we also pay.

Still, just in case Ignatieff concurs, I promise to keep the barbecue warm.

Once, a few years back, I left a financial document in a hotel bar. As this dossier contained sensitive information pertaining to one of my employer’s larger clients, I was frantic to retrieve it. But when I returned, it was gone and so, I thought, was my budding career in advertising.

All of which is to say that while I have difficulty understanding how Jasmine MacDonnell – an aide to Natural Resources Minister Lisa Raitt, before she resigned in disgrace the other day – could, first, lose a tape recorder containing her boss’ semi-private musings and, then, repeatedly fail to recover it even when she knew it had been found, I am not entirely unsympathetic.

People do dumb things all the time. In fact, my month is not complete unless I commit at least one egregious error in judgement – something truly embarrassing, if not exactly livelihood-killing. Why, just the other day, I drove a rented car into a parking garage and promptly locked the keys in the ignition.

Okay, it’s not exactly up there on the clueless scale with inadvertently spilling your supervisor’s awkward secrets. But was MacDonnell’s goof any more humiliating than Raitt’s actual comments, which were broadcast early last week to the chagrin of some and the delight of many?

On the tape, she describes the Chalk River nuclear reactor shutdown and the resulting crisis in the supply of medical isotopes – used around the world in the diagnosis and treatment of cancer – as “sexy.” Indeed, she betrays a disturbing lack of empathy when she declares: “Radioactive leaks. Cancer. But it’s only about the money.”

Maybe she was kidding. Maybe she didn’t really mean what she said. Who knows? Who cares? Such are the perils of public life that inevitably lead to an abject apology and a tacit commitment to refrain from ever again appearing to be so glibly, compellingly stupid.

Yeah, good luck with that.

After all, these are the times of miraculous and wondrous bloopers, gaffes and blunders in almost every conclave of elected office. To wit: No sooner had Raitt humbled herself before Parliament, when her colleague Transport Minister John Baird conjured his own controversy.

Writing for CanWest News Service, Andrew Duffy reported on Saturday: “Baird’s eventful week began Monday when he walked into a media room at the Federation of Canadian Municipalities convention in Whistler, B.C., and told an aide that Toronto was ‘bitching’ at the Conservative government for dragging its feet on infrastructure spending, even though that city had botched its only application for federal cash. ‘They should f— off,’ the minister told his aide.

“That comment, overheard by a Toronto Star reporter, became the subject of a screaming headline on the next day’s front page: ‘Top Tory curses Toronto.’ In the House of Commons, Liberal MP Rob Oliphant demanded an apology for what he called the minister’s ‘vulgar attack.’ Baird didn’t stonewall. Instead, he told the Commons he had already called Miller [Toronto Mayor David Miller] to apologize. ‘I was speaking out of frustration and I certainly expressed that,’ he explained.”

Good for him. I’ve dropped the F-bomb on Hog Town, the city of my birth, many times over the years. But I’m not a public office holder, and nobody cares what I think anyway. Mr. Baird should have known better than to spout off at a conference within earshot of a journalist who works for the city’s premier rag.

So, cheer up Ms. MacDonnell. In the scheme of things, you’re crime was minor. And, given the disproportionate attention paid to it, I’m utterly convinced you won’t let anything like it ever happen again. I survived my own idiocy in advertising so many years ago. Indeed, many of my acquaintances marvel at how well I continue to survive my frequent brain malfunctions. Life goes on.

The more interesting question is whether our elected representatives actually learn from their own mistakes, missteps and miscues.

Let’s just say the tape’s not quite clear on that point.

Would they, or wouldn’t they?

As of yesterday morning, it was anybody’s guess whether a summer election was in store for Canada. Still, (and thank heaven for small mercies) the “big postponement” is official.

Indeed, Stephen Harper and Michael Ignatieff would have to be fools or masochists to believe the country is in the mood for another round of vapid, self-serving campaigning – the fourth in five years. Since they are neither, it’s with some relief that we witness their efforts to reach a rapprochement. Now, they have a tentative deal.

According to Brian Laghi and Jane Taber, writing in the Globe and Mail, this bargain “would see them appoint a blue-ribbon panel that would help resolve their differences over boosting employment insurance benefits. . .The news comes after two separate meetings held between the two men [Tuesday], which was characterized by their spokespersons as productive.”

Naturally, their respective caucuses must approve any agreement. But who imagines they won’t? Since 2004, each crack at the voters has produced nothing so much as a national malaise, a winnowing of trust in federal politicians – surely, the unintended consequences of an active democracy.

A few days ago, Riverview Mayor Clarence Sweetland articulated the frustration when he told the Moncton Times & Transcript, “We’ve applied for a number of infrastructure projects that we want to have funded, but we haven’t heard any response on that yet and we want to see some action . . .People are very conscious about the prudent spending of money. They really want to see things that will make the economy work a little better and I think they want to see work happening in their own communities. . .Right now is the time to get the work done and not get into an election.”

Certainly, right now is the time for something constructive. The Harper government has pinned its economic strategy to a roll-out schedule for stimulus spending which allows for only a fractional margin of error. Summer is already here and yet some estimates suggest that less than 40 per cent of the promised billions have actually made it to so-called “shovel-ready” projects.

Meanwhile, the economy continues to betray the country’s hardest-working people as layoffs mount, personal and corporate bankruptcies escalate, and job opportunities for the educated young vanish amid the rubble of once-lofty expectations.

Under the circumstances, how could Canadians tolerate another trip to the ballot box?

“A general election is a complex and costly undertaking,” says Elections Canada On-Line with typical understatement. “The 40th general election is estimated to have cost slightly under $290 million. Activities in the 308 electoral districts accounted for 47.1 per cent of that amount. Next came expenses at Elections Canada in Ottawa (32.4 per cent), followed by reimbursements of eligible election expenses to candidates and political parties (20.1 per cent). Last were evaluations conducted to learn from the experience of this event so that Elections Canada can continue to improve its performance. This category accounted for 0.5 per cent of the total cost of the election.”

In fact, the price tags of the three national ballots prior to last year’s increased from $200 million in 2000, to $277.8 million in 2004, to $270 million in 2006. Since the beginning of the decade, then, Canadian taxpayers have spent more than $1 billion installing an assortment of representatives in Ottawa – few of whom, it seems, really know what they’re doing.

Until now, perhaps.

It cannot have escaped Harper and Ignatieff that their own political footings are precarious. The Liberals are strapped for cash (notwithstanding the recent $600,000 fundraiser in New Brunswick). The Tories are teetering in the polls, and would almost certainly lose ground in their traditional strongholds. Even the NDP are not ready to effectively exploit the nation’s rising ambivalence towards the Grits and Conservatives.

So the real question is: Will they or won’t they. . .finally get down to business?

For the fourth time in as many years, Canada is on the cusp of a general election. Sort of. It all depends on your definition of “cusp”.

On Monday, Liberal Leader Michael Ignatieff tendered his long-awaited review of Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s economic performance. It was to be a make-or-break moment: Had the Tories failed, in Ignatieff’s opinion, to effectively guide the country through the worst downturn in 75 years, the Grits would pull the plug before the summer recess, and we’d head to the polls before Labour Day. It was supposed to be simple, if not exactly sweet.

Actually, as it transpired, it was not so simple, either. Today, Harper and Ignatieff made a Faustian deal which depends on the findings of a “blue-chip” panel on Employment Insurance policy. Whatever transpires, no one goes to the polls before October.  

Ignatieff’s comments on Monday were thick with fuzzy meaning. He insisted, for example, that Harper must come clean on his plans for Employment Insurance, stimulus spending, and managing the mounting deficit. He also demanded that the government come to terms with the looming shortage of medical isotopes. In other words, he wanted more information than what was contained in the quarterly report – more answers to questions before he forced a confidence vote.

But it was this very quarterly report that Ignatieff had vowed months ago he would use to determine whether the loyal opposition had lost faith in the government. Based on this document, alone, his was to be a “straight up or down” vote on the matter of summertime electioneering. What’s he saying now? That he doesn’t like what he sees in the report, but he’s willing to give Harper a bit more time to clarify things? That he’s only half-disappointed in the federal regime?

At the press conference, the Liberal leader intoned: “We’ve asked some questions that require an answer. If he [Harper] wants Parliament to work, it’s very easy for him to answer positively. But he must understand that I am prepared to vote against him.”

Really? You could have fooled me.

What’s perplexing is that the answers Ignatieff apparently seeks are already available. On the subject of lowering eligibility requirements for Employment Insurance to 360 hours nationally, the government has said, in effect, take a hike. On the issue of managing the deficit, both Harper and Finance Minister Flaherty have articulated a detailed plan to keep taxes low while using infrastructure spending to grow the economy for long-term return on public investment. (It may be a wrong-headed, unworkable scheme, but the question has been answered). And on the matter of stimulus spending – i.e., how much money has been promised versus how much has been actually spent – even a cursory review of publicly available government documents reveals that, to date, the amount spent has been less than 50 per cent of the amount promised.

So, what exactly is Ignatieff waiting for?

For all his intellect, confidence and polish, the Liberal leader resembles nothing so much as a 21st Century Hamlet pondering how “to be, or not to be” on Canada’s political stage: “Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or take arms against a sea of trouble. And by opposing them, end them. To die, to sleep.” Or words to that effect.

In fact, maybe this should surprise no one.

The country is in a truly ugly mood for all the usual reasons caused by all the usual suspects. If there had been an election this summer, the only issue at stake would have been: Which dirty, rotten scoundrel pulled the plug on Parliament just when the warm weather arrived.

Still, if the principle is leadership, and true leadership relies on principles, Ignatieff may find himself on the defensive whenever the nation does gather to vote. The question in the back of too many electors’ minds may well be: “Is this guy serious?”

Summer in Canada is about seclusion. Anyone who says differently is just trying to sell you something.

Got money to spend? Hey, folks, come join our community of aging seniors on a lake in northern Ontario no one ever visits unless they’re demented or otherwise brain-injured. If that doesn’t tickle your fancy, why not take a cruise along the B.C. coast all the way up to Juneau, Alaska, where the mosquitoes are the size of moose embryos and the elk fricassee is first-come-first-served for those smart enough to have avoided the line leading to “dancing with the polka stars”?

Nope, folks, summer – real summer – is not about public barbecues or golf tourneys or dragon boat races or regattas. It’s not about motor-coach tours or beach blanker bingo with colleagues who, on a good day, you wish you’d never met. It’s about snagging some quality “me-time” far from the madding crowd that. . .well, maddens you.

Growing up, my worst summers were spent at camp. There is something exquisitely painful in sharing a 100-square-foot bunk house with two other guys – one of whom can’t stop weeping for missing home; the other of whom can’t stop giggling for plotting his next assault on the girl’s dormitory. But no more painful, perhaps, than the forced marches down to the water’s edge – there to build a bonfire around which to croon “Michael Rowed the Boat Ashore” with two-dozen other kids until the 40th reprise made you want to scream, “Get out of the damn boat, already!”

I once spent ten days in June aboard a 90-foot-long “tall ship” – a sailing vessel bound for Salem, Massachusetts, from Halifax, Nova Scotia. I was not alone. Jammed together like sardines in a can were 11 other hardy mariners, each struggling (unsuccessfully) to keep the content of his stomach from fouling his own bunk and that of his mate. I pulled the “third watch”, which meant that my productive time was spent on deck between midnight and 4 am tending lines and sheets in 25-foot swells. When I finally limped home, I turned to my father a snarled, “The next time you want to send me on a character-building adventure, keep it to yourself!”

On the other hand, I spent one of my happiest summers with my Dad on the desolate, mercifully unpopulated Eastern Shore of Nova Scotia. It was 1972, and we had gathered (with my Mom, sister and brother) to rusticate in a cottage in the woods. No running water. No toilet. No electricity. Only acres of forest and beach and field to explore and find yourself blissfully alone. During the long, cool days, I read Henry David Thoreau and field guides about birds, edible weeds, and wilderness survival. Once, during a total eclipse of the sun, the sky went black and the stars came out. “I think it’s a little early,” Dad commented almost casually. “But, gee, how quiet everything is.”

It’s all about quietude. But as the world abhors vacuum, at least when it comes to hustle and bustle, I find one must build one’s own summer sanctuary. And these days, mine is my garden where I spend virtually all of my spare time.

Rows of irises complement clumps of dahlias. Lilies nestle against daisies, cone flowers and black-eyed susans. Virginia creepers, clematis, campanula, tickweed, petunias, dianthus, coreopsis – you name it, I have it as bees buzz, hummingbirds hum, and American gold finches chirp. It’s as close to paradise as I imagine I’ll ever get.

What did George Bernard Shaw once say? The best place to seek God is in a garden, because you can dig for him there. Abram L. Urban once commented, “In my garden there is a large place for sentiment. My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful. And James Douglas once wrote, “It is good to be alone in a garden at dawn or dark so that all its shy presences may haunt you and possess you in a reverie of suspended thought.”

Exactly. And often, during the peak of summer, my wife and I will sit in our own garden at “dawn or dark”, not saying anything sometimes for whole minutes. Inevitably, one of us will break the reverie and suggest that we throw a party to celebrate the season and its warmth.

Inevitably, we never do.

Hell finally froze.

Nova Scotia – that bastion of “business as usual” – turned its back on tradition this week and, in the process of electing a New Democratic majority, made itself the most interesting province in the country.

The self-described “people’s party” trounced Rodney MacDonald’s Tories in a landslide that delivered 31 of 52 seats in the provincial legislature to freshly minted Premier Darrell Dexter, who snagged more than 45 per cent of the popular vote. Stephen McNeil’s Liberals improved their standing by only two seats (to 11). 

The lop-sided victory is remarkable for many reasons, not the least of which is. . .well, this is the NDP we’re talking about. More precisely, this is the NDP in Nova Scotia, a jurisdiction that, until just a few years ago, wouldn’t have been caught dead drifting into “orange” territory for fear of catching the socialist flu.

But, times change. For one thing, Dexter is no socialist. Since 1998, when he was first elected as an MLA, he has earned a well-deserved reputation as a multi-party consensus builder. He once characterized himself, jokingly, as a “conservative progressive” who’s most comfortable operating from the middle of the political spectrum.

This, at least, was clear during the election campaign as the NDP quietly, yet determinedly, sold itself as a credible, mainstream alternative to the Tories and Grits. And the voters agreed, preferring Dexter’s no-nonsense pragmatism to MacDonald’s bluster and recriminatory rhetoric.

Still, historic though it may be for Nova Scotia, there is a deeper, broader significance in this election result. As the world grapples with its economic anxiety – as it gropes for hope – democratic societies everywhere are stirring restlessly. The tropes and bromides of entrenched parties, conventional politics and familiar faces have never been less convincing. The old orders are falling. Change is in the air.

This quiet revolution started with Barack Obama. His message of inclusiveness, justice, values, transparency, and responsibility was a tonic for weary and frightened people, not just in the United States but across the planet. That he promised too much, too soon, now seems lamentably obvious. But it’s beside the point. That he speaks with the conviction of a common-sense “radical” continues to galvanize his growing base of supporters and admirers, even as his actual policies begin to lose favour among them.

Of course, radical change doesn’t always produce such efficacious results. Consider this week’s European Union elections. Writing in the Globe and Mail, Doug Saunders observed on Tuesday: “In a startling flight to the fringes, the European Union’s 490-million citizens sent an amazing range of angry, racist, anti-European, anti-immigrant, separatist, protest, and far-right parties and candidates to represent them in Brussels, a ragtag protest vote that now represents more than 16 per cent of the European Parliament. . .It’s even more telling, at a time of considerable public anger at the credit crisis and the economic downturn, that the centre of power in the parliament shifted decidedly rightward, with parties of the moderate right outpolling social-democratic and liberal parties by wide margins.”

In fact, for Canadian politicians there are no lessons to learn from Europe’s upheaval, except one: The mood of every electorate is more fickle and less predictable than they think. Change can happen overnight, and it can happen with stunning effect.

Smart strategists and tacticians in the Harper and Ignatieff camps should view Nova Scotia’s political reboot as a bellwether. The federal Conservatives are weak in the East Coast. The federal Liberals, here, are uninspiring. In Quebec, the Tories are all but doomed, while the Grits are just finding their momentum again. In Ontario, the polls give the edge to Ignatieff. In the west, Harper’s right-wing core is beginning to grumble.

Change is in the air, and it smells a lot like fire and brimstone.

It’s hard to understand what the New Brunswick Medical Society hopes to achieve when it meets later this week in Fredericton to “consider” the provincial government’s recent decision to impose a two-year wage-freeze on doctors’ salaries and fees.

Does it expect to frame a response so compelling, so persuasive that Health Minister Mike Murphy can only swoon with contrition before he recants and ultimately honours the terms of the tentative agreement he reached with physicians late last year?

Does it propose to issue a sternly worded ultimatum – threatening embargos, rolling work-to-rule actions, or even a wholesale exodus of medical services from the province – in hopes that the government will crumble beneath the avalanche of public opprobrium that’s sure to result?

Will it be the carrot or the stick?

Of course, the question assumes that the medical society is in the driver’s seat. And, of course, it isn’t.

The provincial government is well within its rights to cut or freeze the fees doctors charge the public purse for their services. In fact, it has both a constitutional and fiduciary obligation to limit people’s exposure to government spending – especially when said government is being forced, out of economic necessity, to post some of the largest projected deficits in New Brunswick’s history.

Still, if the province’s position is legally unassailable, it’s also morally dubious and patently illogical.

The physicians at the heart of this controversy – those who comprise roughly 75 per cent of the province’s medical community – have been without a contract for 14 months. They thought they had a new deal back in December. At least, that’s what Murphy apparently lead them to believe.

By repudiating this, albeit unconfirmed, agreement, is he now repudiating the entire bargaining process? After all, the economic writing on the wall – the putative rationale for the health ministry’s decision to freeze wages – was available for everyone to read as far back as last November. Wouldn’t it have been kinder and more respectful to declare at that time, “sorry ladies and gentlemen, but we’re all going to have to tighten our belts for just a little while longer”?

Beyond this, the provincial government expects to save all of $35 million through its gambit. Frankly, I can think of a half-dozen better, more efficient and less disruptive ways to trim such a comparatively small sum from the budget. Consider that New Brunswick’s fee-for-service doctors earn less per hour than their counterparts in most other regions of Canada, including Prince Edward Island.

Finally, is there any evidence, anywhere, that wage freezes actually work over the long run? What happens when the doctors finally come back to the table? Are their demands likely to be any more modest? Or will they want a premium for their sacrifice?

And if the province tells them, once again, to pound sand, many may just do that, pulling up stakes and heading for warmer locations, both figurative and literal. Is this really what we want for a province that already endures a shortage of skilled medical help and protracted waiting lists?

In a recent letter to members, Medical Society President Dr. Ludger Blier fumed, “The events of the last several weeks are, to say the least, deeply troubling to New Brunswick physicians, and I suspect to physicians across the country. What message is being sent to physicians about the government’s integrity? . .It has become clear that we have been labouring under the false assumption that the Province of New Brunswick would honour the terms of the tentative agreements that were concluded as a result of many months of patient, good faith negotiations.”

Indeed, it’s time for everyone to calm down before this distracting contretemps absorbs any more valuable time and energy. Get back to the table and negotiate a compromise that works for both parties.

It’s not a carrot or a stick.

It’s just smart policy.

Health Minister Mike Murphy wants doctors in New Brunswick to consider taking what amounts to a two-year pay cut.

Actually, it’s not all doctors, just most of them – specifically, those who bill the province their fees for service.

And its not so much a pay cut, as a wage freeze.

And, finally, it’s not really a request.

It’s more like when Don Corleone makes somebody an offer he can’t refuse. And in this case, when faced with legislation, one’s options seem, shall we say, narrowed.

The government’s excuse for its heavy-handedness is two-fold:

First, times are tough (no kidding!), and everyone needs to pull the same way if we’re ever going to get out the mess we’re in.

Second, pulling the same way apparently means falling on one’s sword. Just ask provincial civil servants who joyfully accepted their own wage freeze three months ago.

Doctors, the reasoning goes, are no different than anybody else. They should suck it up, walk it off and quit complaining.

Still, there are just a few things wrong with this reasoning.

Number one. . .Doctors have been without a contract for 14 months. But they did have a tentative agreement with the Health Minister in December. By insisting that physicians continue with the status quo for another 10 months, Murphy is, in effect, repudiating the entire bargaining process.

In fact, one might even say he had been bargaining in bad faith all along. After all, the economic writing on the wall was clear for everyone to read by the end of last year. And not much has changed since then.

Number two. . .What, exactly, does the government hope to obtain from this freeze? $35 million-or-so? That might make sense if New Brunswick doctors earned a king’s ransom from the taxpayers. But they don’t.

The physicians at the heart of this controversy pull down less per hour than their counterparts in most other regions of Canada, including Prince Edward Island.

Beyond this, I can think of a hundred better, more efficient, less disruptive ways to trim $35 million from the provincial budget than by putting the six-shooters to what can only be described as crucially important professionals.

But even if they weren’t crucially important, is there any evidence that wage freezes actually work over the long run? What happens 10 months from now, when the doctors – having sucked it up and walked it off – come back to the table?

Are their demands likely to be any more modest? Or will they want a premium for their sacrifice?

And if the province tells them, once again, to pound sand. . .this time, many may just do that, pulling up stakes and heading for warmer locations, both literal and figurative

Is that what we want for a province that already suffers a shortage of skilled medical help?

What this government should do is come back to the table and negotiate a compromise that reflects both the province’s straightened circumstances and the enormously critical work doctors perform.

It’s just smart policy.

It’s not brain surgery.

This commentary originally aired on CBC Moncton’s Information Morning show, June 4, 2009.