One revelation after another of politicians living large at public expense might leave the impression that abuses are increasing, but they are nothing new.
It’s just that the public is becoming more aware of them, and taxpayers who have to count nickels and dimes are growing increasingly impatient with public servants who are careless with their dollars.
Public scrutiny of how civil servants, elected and otherwise, spend taxpayers’ money increases with each new revelation of impropriety or excess, and so it should.
But let’s not take it to the extent that we unfairly penalize those who incur legitimate expenses in the line of official duty.
In their work on our behalf, members of Parliament and the provincial legislature travel, eat lunch, buy supplies and do other things that cost money, and they shouldn’t be expected to pay everything out of their own pockets.
On the other hand, the care and feeding of a politician should not cost substantially more than the care and feeding of the typical member of the populace.
A search of medical and health websites turns up no indication that elevation to public office necessitates a change in diet. Science has found no foundation for the premise that being elected (or appointed, in the case of senators) suddenly makes one’s body intolerant of moderately priced hotel rooms or economy-class airline seats. Unless, of course, changes have been wrought by too many costly restaurant meals, rendering a body incapable of folding itself into a seat in steerage. In that case, solving one problem solves another.
No one would begrudge an MP a healthful glass of orange juice, unless that orange juice costs $16, in which case the citrus beverage becomes suddenly and fatally unhealthy, politics-wise.
Poor Bev Oda. Few people can tell you what portfolio she held as a federal cabinet minister or what she accomplished in office, if anything, but she will be saved from total obscurity by that symbol of excessive political entitlement — the $16 glass of orange juice with which her name will always be associated.
B.C. Speaker Linda Reid, too, will be a long time in disassociating her name from excess, after she ordered a $48,000 custom computer for her Speaker’s space, spent $20,000 on new drapes for her office and the legislature dining room, approved a $700 muffin rack for an MLA-only lounge and spent $5,500 of our money (since refunded) to take her husband on a South African vacation.
And yet, she was only doing what others before her have done, and probably at less cost. The difference is that now we know, because Reid has pledged to be more transparent than her predecessors with the expenditures that fall under the authority of the Speaker.
Other B.C. legislators have also promised to be transparent with their spending, although some, to this point, have achieved only a sort of translucence on their path toward transparency.
It’s not technically difficult to post all expenses on the Internet, complete with receipts — Saanich-Gulf Islands MP Elizabeth May does it, and you can tell down to the penny what she spent.
All B.C. MLAs should follow suit, sooner rather than later. They might squirm at the idea of accounting for every nickel, but those are our nickels, and we’re entitled to know where they go.
It might make legislators think twice about a $50 lunch when a $20 lunch will do. They might take a second look at that tropical junket. The glare of the spotlight tends to shrink that huge sense of entitlement that has, for too long, afflicted the political class.
Perks have always been part of politics. In fact, corruption and favouritism were more common in the past, when such things were tolerated as simply part of the game.
We know better now. And we demand better.
