Sometimes I reach out to people to come on the Guelph Politicast (my podcast) to talk about an issue or challenge they are passionate about solving.
Some people are more eager than others, but for the less eager, it’s a simple matter why they say no: They don’t want to get political.
I suppose that’s understandable, and “politic” is right there in the title of the damn show.
I think there’s a conceptual misunderstanding of what politics is though.
To many people, politics is partisan hacks screaming at each other past Anderson Cooper on CNN, but politics is really just a way of solving citizen concerns on legal matters, infrastructure, and social order using the framework of existing laws and constitutions.
Screaming at people of different political stripes than you is just a bonus.
Now, you’ve probably heard a lot of politicians say, “I’m not a politician,” which is kind of a weird thing to say. You’ve never heard a plumber say, “Yeah, I fix toilets, but don’t call me a plumber!” Nor has a garbage man or woman ever said, “Yeah, I pick up your garbage, but don’t you call me…”
Well, you get the idea.
Perhaps that’s because politics, as a profession, is seen mostly as transitory. It’s not a job you’re supposed to make a career our of. Either you get elected with the purpose of completing work on an issue or cause, or you ambitiously seek higher office than the one you occupy.
Still, without term limits there’s no one to say that you can’t hold a position as councillor, MP, MPP, or even mayor indefinitely so long as the electorate wills it.
Of course, the numbers show that the electorate tends to favour incumbency, so if you think someone’s been in a position too long, then there’s only one place to put the blame: the majority of those that cast ballots.
Still, there’s this feeling that politics is something dirty, corrupted even. To talk about an issue in the light of it being political is considered a bad thing. It’s to make the issue impure in a way.
Why? Because politics means taking a side, right? But when you’re starting out trying to wrap your head around an issue, you don’t know what your opinion is.
Take, for example, the issue of hydro. It’s undoubtedly the biggest issue of the present campaign, but it’s hard to understand the intricacies of how hydro policy got from there to here.
It’s also hard to start to peel back the layers of decisions that lead us here without heading into partisan waters. “So and so was to blame for decision X.” “But so and so was to blame for decision Y.” And on, and on.
Sure, government decisions play their part, but it’s hard to separate sometimes what’s a fact and what’s an accusation. Can we be critical without it being an attack? Can we acknowledge blame and agree that mistakes were made and decide on the best way forward?
I suppose the election will decide that last one, but for me personally I get stuck on the idea that while my own hydro rates have fluctuated up and down over the last several years, they’ve stayed fairly consistent. What makes what me and my family have done so different?
Of course, a personal anecdote doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme, and it’s hard to ignore the personal anecdotes of thousands of Ontarians who are hurting, and know they’re hurting when it comes to hydro rates.
And there’s still this paradox I get stuck on when I see people post on social media that they’re still being sent a hydro bill even when they’re not using any hydro. Is there a way we can get to the bottom of this? Where do you begin trying to figure it all out?
It’s something I’ve been trying to pursue for my podcast during this election. trying to find an expert, someone that knows the history and the issues that can explain what’s going on in a non-partisan way that’s digestible for the lay man or woman. So far, I haven’t had much success.
That’s just another reminder to me that there’s a knowledge component to politics that’s sometimes ignored. We get lost in one side’s need to get one up on the other. We’ve got to prove that one side is worse than the other, but not just worst, apocalyptic and cataclysmic in terms of the end result.
Of course all this does is turn off people from wanting to contribute.
I think people have a natural inclination toward civility, at least face-to-face, and when people see an utter lack of civility, in process and in practice, they instinctively turn away.
The message, I guess, is that if people want genuine civic discourse, then they have to demand it. To say that you don’t like politics and turn away does nothing but encourage the bad behaviour we hate because they’re the only ones participating.
Politics is process, a machine, and a machine doesn’t have feelings. The only thing that matters is how you use the machine, and if you don’t like how others are using it, show them a different way.
