The amber light of September illuminates the kitchen, where the last tomatoes from the vegetable garden are slowly ripening. In the garden, sunflowers blare as we bring the houseplants indoors to avoid too great a temperature difference. In the morning, small children curse when they are forced to wear a cotton sweatshirt, while teenagers shiver in their t-shirts at the bus stop. It is my favorite time of year, perhaps because it is fleeting. Soon, the leaves will turn red and fall, and the earth will freeze.
It’s not just schools that are getting back to work these days, our elected officials are also finding their way back to their seats in the National Assembly. Well, all except one. Pierre Fitzgibbon will be exempt from homework this session. The “super-minister” wanted to leave; the head of government, François Legault, decreed that it was time to do so, right here, right now, a few days before the parliamentary committee studies his major energy reform.
I am not at all worried about the former member for the Terrebonne riding. He will not whine in the hallway like a dunce excluded from class. The seasoned businessman will find a job that meets his desires, he who had already let it be known that he did not intend to finish his term anyway. I am also not very worried about the person who will take over his major files. The now “superminister” Christine Fréchette, known for being disciplined, seems determined to follow her boss’s instructions, and I would not be surprised if she were to receive a Meritas at the end-of-year gala.
On the other hand, I must admit that I am irritated by this type of “disconnection”. The political class signs a tacit contract with the voters. In a somewhat crude way, one could say that the elected officials owe us four years of work or, at least, a full term. It is their duty to manage disagreements within the party and to agree to move issues forward and complete the reforms promised to the people.
Obviously, I like elected officials to be as honest as possible. If the party they belong to takes a turn that goes completely against their values, they can always leave it, while continuing to sit and represent those who have marked their name in the ballot box. It must be admitted that, most of the time, it is politics themselves that they decide to desert. By returning to civil society, they thus force the holding of by-elections.
Since October 3, 2022, the date of the last Quebec general election, there will have been three by-elections. The one in Saint-Henri–Sainte-Anne, in the spring of 2023, following the departure of Dominique Anglade as head of the Quebec Liberal Party, the one in the riding of Jean-Talon, in the fall of the same year, following the resignation of CAQ member Joëlle Boutin, and then the upcoming one in Terrebonne, to replace Mr. Fitzgibbon. While these by-elections please certain parties, such as the Parti Québécois—which is rising ever higher in the polls and sees them as an opportunity to add elected officials to its thin constituency—it is the taxpayers who are footing the bill.
A by-election costs about $600,000, and this money comes directly from the state coffers. When it comes to the departure of the elected official or a member of his close family for health reasons, it is normal for this amount to be paid by the state. But could we imagine that it would be up to the elected official or his party to reimburse such sums if the reasons for the departure were of another nature?
When I left the Conservatoire d’art dramatique de Montréal, my classmates and I put together a self-directed theatre show. We had no funding, just a few sponsors, and we were going to split the meager profits equally at the end of the project. However, I was offered a film shoot for THE National Improv presented on Télé-Québec. The only problem was that I was going to have to find a replacement for two nights at the theatre. It became obvious to me that I would have to pay for my replacement myself. There was no way I was going to add these costs to the expenses of the troupe, which did not have to pay for my individual choice. I had decided to go and play elsewhere, I had to assume the costs.
Obviously, the comparison is flawed, the contracts are not of the same magnitude or duration. The fact remains that, sometimes, I find that we have operating methods that allow us to put the interest of an individual before that of the community.
Who can boast of breaking a contract without assuming the consequences? I imagine that it is not very glamour to end up as an independent MP to finish his term, I can understand that the challenges are less stimulating. I also understand that launching into the political arena is a complex career choice that requires several sacrifices. I would point out that this is precisely why it is so important to think carefully before being elected. Just as it is crucial for a party leader to choose his candidates with this in mind.
I have been courted many times to run for politics. Each time, I have responded that it is a vocation and that, no, I have not yet had the “call.” One thing is certain, if one day I were to hear it and take the leap, I would do so solely to serve my fellow citizens and not to strengthen my personal stature. “Easy for you to say!” you might say, and rightly so. That is exactly why I say it—and why I have not done it yet.
Besides, I don’t have all the equipment needed to enter the political class. I’m missing at least a polling calculator and a course in wooden language 101. But I keep my moral compass in my kit, just in case.