Former prime minister Brian Mulroney delivers a eulogy for former Newfoundland and Labrador Lieutenant Governor, and federal politician John Crosbie, during the State Funeral at the Anglican Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in St. John’s on Jan. 16, 2020.Paul Daly/The Canadian Press
Preston Manning is the former leader of the Reform Party of Canada and a former leader of the opposition in Canada’s Parliament.
The current wars between political parties and their supporters in much of the Western world are increasingly characterized by a culture of intractable hostility toward anyone holding views contrary to our own. People now seem unwilling to even listen to contrary beliefs and opinions, let alone consider them.
But it is worth noting that the passing of former prime minister Brian Mulroney on Feb. 29 appears to have brought about at least a temporary cessation of those hostilities in the federal arena. Spokespersons for our various warring political factions expressed their respect for his achievements and acknowledged the priority he placed on establishing and maintaining positive personal relationships – even with those with whom he disagreed politically.
Mr. Mulroney spent 10 years as a member of our House of Commons and I spent nine years as a member of that same chamber, although our terms did not overlap. What particularly impresses me now is how the structures and the processes of that House offer three elements which ought to constrain the current hostilities fuelled by the polarizations and animosities of cancel culture, if only we would allow them to do so. And perhaps, if members of the House genuinely wish to pay tribute to Mr. Mulroney’s contributions, now would be a good time to reflect on those elements and restore the constraints they represent.
In the British House of Commons, after which ours is patterned, the Government and Opposition benches were originally placed “two swords’ lengths apart,” with the idea being that, while members could menace the members opposite them with their blades, they couldn’t chop off their limbs or heads. In this way, “cancelling” opponents with whom you vehemently disagreed was deterred by the structural design and rules of the House – which speaks to us of the need to somehow place equivalent limitations on the virtual dismemberments on social media and in today’s politics.
And then there is the symbol of the Mace, which is still carried into the House by the Sergeant-at-Arms at the opening of the daily session. Originally the Mace was a weapon – a club for beating your opponent senseless – but in today’s House, it is not put in the hands of the members, many of whom might still be inclined to use it to attack their opponents if they had the chance.
The Mace is not put in the hands of the opposition nor in the hands of the prime minister or cabinet. Instead, the Mace is at rest, on a table at the opposite end of the House from the Speaker. “At rest,” it symbolizes that using a weapon against your political enemy – in particular, the verbal and virtual clubs wielded by today’s combatants – is not acceptable, serving as another constraint on the exercise of political hostilities that needs to be re-established.
Thirdly, there is the Speaker – an ironic title, since the Speaker spends the vast majority of his or her time in the House, listening rather than speaking. This position symbolizes the fundamental importance in a democratic system of listening to others, of listening to multiple sides of a debate as the Speaker is obliged to do, and of listening even to those with whom we disagree – a lost art in today’s legislatures and political arenas.
In the British parliament, the members still sit on benches and there is not much they can do during a session other than speak or listen. In our House, where the members are seated at desks, members can be (and often are) doing dozens of things during a session besides listening: surfing the net, addressing correspondence, checking the stock market or the polls, anything and everything but listening to what others are saying. The Listening Speaker in our House doesn’t have a desk and his or her presence ought to serve, symbolically at least, as a constant reminder that it is the duty of elected members of a democratic assembly to listen as well as to speak.
Two swords’ lengths apart, the Mace at rest, and the presence of the listening Speaker – all these institutions symbolically communicate messages crucial to re-establishing genuine and productive democratic discourse, if only we would heed them. Now, during the temporary ceasefire in political hostilities caused by Mr. Mulroney’s passing, would be a good time to do so. And that could provide a more fitting tribute to him than any other that could be offered.