James McLeod: A lesson from Newfoundland's history: We can never take a break from democracy
James McLeod: A lesson from Newfoundland's history: We can never take a break from democracy
I keep thinking about the idea of a “Rest from democracy” and how seductive that idea feels. I used to love elections, now the thought of one fills me with dread.
By: James McLeod
“A rest from politics.”
For the past year or two, this phrase keeps rattling around in my head.
In these fractious days of political polarization and bitter division, it feels damn-near impossible to find common ground. But one thing we might all agree on, perhaps, is that democracy is bloody exhausting.
Who wouldn’t want a rest? A short nap? Just a minute to catch our breath and recharge before we get set for some more political bloodsport?
“A rest from politics.”
I think the phrase keeps popping into my head because it’s so seductive, but it’s also so sinister.
This phrase comes from the 1933 Amulree Report, a document that most Canadians have never heard of, though perhaps they should. I’ll briefly summarize the relevant history here, but I would emphasize that I’m glossing over a lot of extremely interesting details about Newfoundland history, which also turns out to be Canadian history because of how the story ends.
Before 1933, Newfoundland was proudly a dominion within the British empire. Under the Statute of Westminster, Newfoundland had the same legal status as Canada, New Zealand, South Africa and the Irish Free State.
Newfoundland was its own country. But it was a country in rough shape.
A year before the Amulree Report was published, a mob of about 10,000 people had gathered outside the Colonial Building in St. John’s. Families were living in destitution on six-cents-a-day government dole, and the government’s finance minister had just resigned and accused Prime Minister Richard Squires of personally lining his pockets with government funds.
The mob turned into a riot, which ultimately barged into the government building. Notably, the rioters briefly paused to observe a respectful silence when a brass band began playing God Save The King, but then they went back to rioting.
Squires fled on foot and went into hiding, and then emerged to call an election, which he lost in a landslide. During the campaign, one of his longtime allies, the prominent leader of the Fishermen’s Protective Union, openly wished for fascism.
“What is required for Newfoundland and what is most essential for the present conditions is a Mussolini,” said William Coaker.
Months later, with a new government, Newfoundland was on the verge of defaulting on its debt, and the British stepped in.
The vastly oversimplified version is that the British government was concerned that a member of the British Commonwealth defaulting on its debt could have major implications for the whole empire. So the British government bailed out Newfoundland, on the condition that a commission would be struck to investigate the island’s political and economic affairs. Lord Amulree, a British politician, was appointed as chair.
A year later, with the Dominion still teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, the Amulree Report was delivered. It contained this passage, with my emphasis added: “That it was essential that the country should be given a rest from politics for a period of years was indeed recognised by the great majority of the witnesses who appeared before us, many of whom had themselves played a prominent part in the political and public life of the Island.”
Amulree considered the possibility of some sort of national unity government, but could not get past the conclusion that, “Even if a National Government could be established on a basis which led to a suspension of political rivalry, the underlying influences which do so much to clog the wheels of administration and to divert attention from the true interests of the country would continue to form an insuperable handicap to the rehabilitation of the Island.”
In 1934, the Newfoundland House of Assembly voted itself out of existence. It was replaced by a “Commission of Government” which was just six unelected men, appointed by the British. Fifteen years later, Newfoundlanders narrowly voted to join Canada, although to this day conspiracy theories still linger about how democratic the referendum really was.
I am not a Newfoundlander, and I’m hesitant to make any sweeping statements about how Newfoundlanders relate to their own history. But for a decade, I worked as a journalist in St. John’s, covering politics and public affairs. The collapse of democratic self-rule in the 1930s still looms large in the collective identity of the province.
“We used to be a country,” is the sort of thing you still hear grumbled from time to time.
All I can really say is that I keep thinking about that phrase: “A rest from party politics.”
It feels trite to call up comparisons to contemporary politics, with various mobs congregating or rioting outside (or inside!) various government buildings in recent years. And it would simply be wrong to call up economic comparisons; any challenges we face today with poverty and economic opportunity are absolutely nothing like the destitution experienced by Newfoundlanders during the Great Depression.
But in the last few years I keep thinking about the idea of a “Rest from democracy” and how seductive that idea feels. I am exhausted by the politicking, and where I was once excited about election campaigns, lately they mostly fill me with dread.
At its core is a feeling that things aren’t working, and the systems of government are incapable of working. It’s a cynicism stained onto the mindset of many citizens. It’s not merely that democracy is hard work, but a dismaying feeling that the hard work might be futile.
In private conversations, I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. I think a lot of us feel like we could use a rest.
In 1934, many Newfoundlanders initially welcomed the Commission of Government with a sense of optimism. But it didn’t take long for that optimism to sour, and widespread loathing for the unelected Commission to set in.
Taking power out of the hands of the citizens didn’t make the material conditions for Newfoundlanders better. It just meant that the government didn’t have to care much about the pain it was inflicting on the people.
Eventually things got better in Newfoundland, but it wasn’t because of the wisdom of six unelected men ruling by fiat. Ironically, it was the Second World War and Newfoundland’s important geographic location in the North Atlantic that led to an upswing in its economic fortunes.
It wasn’t a Mussolini that turned Newfoundland around, as Coaker wanted. It was the fight against Mussolini and his ilk.
I keep reminding myself that a rest from party politics might sound alluring, but what comes afterward is much, much worse.
Democracy is worth giving our energy to. It’s worth fighting for.
A note from the author: In writing this piece, I relied heavily on a number of great books about Newfoundland and Labrador history. This is a fascinating and under-discussed episode in Canadian history, as I hope my column has hinted to you. I would highly recommend reading any one of these books to learn more.
Where Once They Stood: Newfoundland’s Rocky Road Towards Confederation, by Raymond Blake and Melvin Baker.
Newfoundland’s Last Prime Minister: Frederick Alderice and the Death of a Nation, by Doug Letto.
Leaving the Past behind: Newfoundland History from 1934, by Patrick O’Flaherty.
Newfoundland’s Era of Corruption: Responsible Government 1855-1934, by Jack Fitzgerald.
Death on Two Fronts, by Sean Cadigan.
Don’t Tell The Newfoundlanders: The True Story of Newfoundland’s Confederation With Canada by, Greg Malone.
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I miss the days when the NDP represented the progressive left with out of control spending on labor rights, ecology and throttling business; the LPC had a modicum of fiscal responsibility but generally centrists views stealing planks from the left and right when it was politically advantageous; and the CPC wanted smaller government, stronger military, and promoted family values and law and order. Now the LPC is left of the NDP and the CPC represents the working class and the NDP is just a lap dog to the LPC. WTF?
Thanks for an excellent piece!
Democracy depends on an educated and engaged populace - which is why there's a push to stifle public education and amplify media brainwashing.
This piece got me thinking Churchill's comment about democracy. I've never come across a reason to disagree with it.
It turns out it wasn't original. Here's an excerpt from his speech to British Parliament in 1947:
"Many forms of Government have been tried, and will be tried in this world of sin and woe. No one pretends that democracy is perfect or all-wise. Indeed, it has been said that democracy is the worst form of Government except all those other forms that have been tried from time to time; but there is the broad feeling in our country that the people should rule, continuously rule, and that public opinion, expressed by all constitutional means, should shape, guide, and control the actions of Ministers who are their servants and not their masters."