Service in politics used to be an actual thing. That is, those in ‘public office’ saw themselves truly as public servants, working diligently on behalf of the people they represent. Remunerated at the expense of others by enforced taxation, they realized they should offer this service in a spirit of charity, good-will and sacrifice. A gift of self, if you will, to use Pope John Paul’s terms.
As a window into that lost world, here is brief biography of Canada’s first Liberal Prime Minister, the Scotsman Alexander Mackenzie, who was a master stonemason before he was elected to parliament. There was no back-dealing, intrigue, secrets or censored reports: I determined to rule in broad daylight or not at all. He refused gifts and privileges, and also never promised free largesse to Canadians, fearing he would be ‘buying their votes’. After his stint in office, he was offered an award from Queen Victoria, which he refused, claiming that Canada has no ‘landed aristocracy’. He died poor, and is now largely unknown.
How far we have come, and not in the right direction. Public servants now act as public masters, and instead of giving, they’re too often on the grift. Examples are too numerous, but here be just a few:
MP pay increasing between $7,900 and $15,800 in 2025.
When MP Mike Dawson refused the raise on principle, unwittingly evoking the long-lost example of Mr. Mackenzie, he was vilified by his fellow MP’s, who took the money and ran with it all the way to the bank. The base salary of the House of Commons is now $209,800, and ratchets up over six thousand dollars each year. Keep in mind that this hefty compensation does not tell the whole story, for along with that they get full benefits, travel and food expenses, along with rent for an Ottawa apartment, and, for six years in ‘service’ – a mere one and a half terms in office – they get a life-long gold-plated pension, indexed to inflation, a gravy train most Canadian can only dream of.
This flows And it’s not just the politicians, but also their cronies, kith, kin and fellow travelers. Where does a quarter of a billion dollars for a canceled project disappear to? Whither will Carney’s two billion dollars to Ukraine – of our money, not his – end up? And who said risk-free multi-million dollar loans don’t grow on wind farms owned by friends and family of Liberal politicians? And let’s not get started on Mr. Carney’s gourmet bill for his jaunts around the world, which beggars the imagination. How does one chew through $7000 of food per hour on a three hour trip? Luxury now the law of the land.
This extends in some way to every branch of public service – the legions of bureaucrats, police, policy makers, firefighters, health care, administrators, teachers at all levels, journalists – are now remunerated far beyond the private sector, which is the only sector that produces real wealth, now diminishing into oblivion. So government largesse is increasingly funded by deficits and debts spiraling into the stratosphere, a burden placed on our children and grandchildren unto the umpteenth generation. Is it too hyperbolic to surmise that we’re descending into a fetid, socialist swamp?
There are noble generous souls still in public service, and we need more of them, but it is difficult to maintain such honour in a milieu not conducive to such. Perhaps things would ameliorate were we to have another thrifty, virtuous Scotsman such as Mackenzie back as Prime Minister. In fact, I’d take anyone who sees other people’s money as a treasure that is not his own, and who takes on his office as a gift to others, and not a grift for himself.
After all, we’re not made for this world, but the next, where our true treasure resides. As the parable of Dives and Lazarus tells us, in some real sense, the less we have here, the more we will have there. Pondering that as we enter into Holy Week – and our Saviour Who gave all so that we might have eternal life, the only pearl of great price – should give us no small comfort and hope in this fractious and fallen world, the form of which is already passing away.
