ce n'est pas genève

ON ROB FORD

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I intended many things in creating this blog, one of which was to provide a thorough and thought-provoking news analysis platform. Journalism, in its ideal state, is a noble art and an integral facet of democratic society. It is the job of journalists to investigate, to ask questions, to delve deeper. It is the job of journalists to hold people responsible for their misdeeds and to air dirty laundry to the public. Journalism should be a serious profession and a profession regarded with integrity. While I hoped to report on major news stories and their subsequent development - tired of stories dropping like flies into the abyss of forgotten news - I refuse to engage in media show trials. Therefore I refuse on principle to write on the Rob Ford story engulfing my city.

I am a proud Torontonian and a proud Canadian. I hold my city and its citizens in high regard. I am fiercely protective of my city and wounded at hearing her insulted, like a mother to a child. I am embarrassed at the ridiculous state of Canadian politics, and I resent having both my city and my country make international headlines for a debacle that would humiliate even a high school student council. 

I am often asked, by longtime family friends, relatives, and new acquaintances, what I am studying or what sort of career I'd like to pursue. "I'm studying Political Science," I used to answer plainly. My

answer was nearly always greeted with a facial expression or a shudder. "Politics? Really? It's a dirty game," they'd invariably reply. Politicians were associated with scandals and schemes, described as liars and cheats. The job itself was described as high-level schmoozing with a side of roundabout arguing. People tried to talk me out of it. Politics was a popularity contest, a generational niche for rich white men who would inevitably abuse their power and waste the taxpayers' money. Politics was a labyrinth of lies and manipulation, a far cry from the grand ideological visions and humanitarian purposes I envisioned using it for. 

I don't answer the same way anymore. I reroute the conversation by responding with "Perhaps international governance, foreign affairs, that sort of thing." I don't give the clunky "Politics" response and I make sure to draw a thick and distinctive permanent-marker sized line between Canadian politics, municipal and federal, and the still intact idea of international organization. But it makes me hollow every time I have to answer, feeling as though I've betrayed the great country I was born in. After the conversation there is a running theme in my head, thinking how sad it is that few children and fewer young people strive to be great political thinkers and leaders, turned off by the snippy bits of it they see in the news, the gossipy sparring and the smear campaigns, the poorly executed attack ads, the smiling portraits and kissing babies routine. After a year pockmarked by numerous bullying-induced teenage suicides, how does our government feel it appropriate to launch their attack ad campaign against Mr. Justin Trudeau? This is not a Conservative-Liberal comment; this is a comment as a human being and a female member of Generation Y. How can a democratically-elected Prime Minister continue to defend the ninety-thousand dollar "gift" from Naughty Nigel to Senator Duffy when half the Canadian population earns nearly half of that amount in a year? That situation, like Mr. Ford's recent trouble with drug dealers and the ever-watchful eye of the camera, makes a mockery of our government to the international community and highlights the disgracefully elitist political brotherhood that sits high and mighty above the rest of the population, who can't fathom such casual treatment of such an extraordinary amount of money. It fractures our society, it repels our youth, it delivers evidence and authority to the everyday government grumblings at the dinner table, over office coffee breaks, hushed whispers between parents trying to make ends meet without troubling the children, the pitch and intensity rising from infrequent rumbles to a high-pitched scream for change, for truth, for trust. 

I will not report on Rob Ford because I love my city and I will defend her to the death. Rob Ford is not Canada. Rob Ford is not Toronto. Rob Ford is not politics. He is merely one of many examples underscoring the dire state of Canadian politics, and perhaps politics as a whole, as an idea, a career, and a sector. In the metaphorical courtroom, Rob Ford and the Wright-Duffy controversy might be held up as evidence that politics is at a crossroads critical to its history and its function in democratic societies. How can we improve it? How can we ensure better choices for candidacy? Many Torontonians would serve the city with valour and integrity, yet they are not running. They are the ones who have tried to talk me out of my major, to dissuade me from a pursuing a political career. And they are the ones we need. 

Collectively, politics should be reshaped. Perhaps via the efforts of an independent body; perhaps through the restructuring of education or the fundamental reallocation of power. The why is glaringly obvious; we need to begin focusing not on the failure of the political system but on how it can be changed.