Conservative member of Parliament Rob Anders fell asleep last week, live on national television, right in the middle of Question Period. It was on the news a lot, and people found it funny. Meanwhile, in Toronto last year, some dude whose job it was to sell subway tickets took a nap on the job and it was front-page news. People acted like he was history’s cruellest monster. It was very telling.
As time marches on, society changes; and with it, traditions die. It’s tough, but someone has to say we’re closing down the buggy-whip factory, or, that’s it, the VCR is going in the garbage. No one wants to be the one to stand up and say the emperor has no clothes, so let me. It’s time to close the House of Commons—permanently. Let’s face it, it’s a soap opera, its ratings are in the toilet and, like all soap operas, it’s filled with bad actors and nobody knows their names.
The first job of any MP is to hold government accountable for spending our money. They don’t do that anymore. MPs approved fifty million dollars for border security. The Prime Minister took the money and built a hockey rink and a gazebo in Muskoka. And nobody cares! Which is fine. The second job of an MP is to debate bills in Parliament. Those days are over. An agriculture bill in Cuba gets more debate than a Canadian crime bill. And nobody cares, which is fine.
But if MPs aren’t going to do their jobs and they can’t keep their eyes open long enough to pretend they’re doing their jobs, why send them to Ottawa? Keep them in their ridings. Let them do something useful, like help someone fill out a passport application.
And for the rest of the country, can we finally acknowledge what everyone in Ottawa knows but no one will say out loud: MPs and cabinet ministers have nothing to do with running this country. This country is run by twenty-three-year-olds who work in the Prime Minister’s Office. They decide what bills are passed; they decide what countries we invade. Let them do their job.
And the Prime Minister? Well, he can be CEO or Sun God or whatever he wants to be called. He can wear a gold hat. As long as he comes out on a balcony occasionally, waves, goes back in, does his thing, comes out five years later and stands for re-election. But it’s his show and his show only. Let’s stop pretending it’s anything else but. And on that point—there is no debate.