The debacle involving Toronto's mayor was a reminder that democracy begins, not ends, with elections
Late last spring, I ventured to a community council meeting in west-end Toronto to defend a healthy 150-year-old oak tree that a homeowner on our street wanted to cut down. Evidently, my one-minute deputation rubbed the brother of Mayor Rob Ford the wrong way.
Councillor Doug Ford ripped into me non-stop for five minutes, accusing me of being behind an online petition (I wasn’t, but so what if I was?) and not respecting the rights of property owners (in whose ranks I count myself). What Ford actually said came through as a venomous blur, but it amounted to this: “You and everyone like you are going down after the next election.” I’m not sure what shook me more — the tirade or the applause it prompted from the public gallery. Another councillor later assured me this was politics as usual in the heart of Ford Nation.
The incident was never far from mind during the Rob Ford train wreck at Toronto City Hall last fall. I laughed along with everyone else as the American late-night TV hosts lampooned the mayor and his jaw-dropping antics. But my laughter was half-hearted, tempered by the sobering realities the spectacle revealed.
One of those realities is the cheapening of forgiveness. As Rev. Christopher Levan points out in an essay this month ("A sorry spectacle"), Rob Ford seemed to think that the more he apologized, the more he was entitled to instant absolution. The fact that his core support seemed prepared to grant him exactly that suggested either a slackening of civic morality or social divisions so deep and raw that sins don’t matter as long as they’re committed by the right guy.
I think the episode also shone a light on the fragility of electoral democracy. The Fords championed the sanctity of elections, yet revealed a breathtaking disregard for the integrity of elected office. ...
- Recommended by Christine
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