Jack Layton’s State Funeral: Others Died Too

After a lot of reflection, I now have to wonder whether yesterday's state funeral for Jack Layton, NDP Leader and Leader of the Official Opposition, was too much; whether it wrongly implied he was the only person of importance who died this week. The public outpourings of emotion and the positive sentiments about him, expressed by average people in the streets and at the funeral service itself, were heartwarming and apparently warranted. By all accounts, he deserves the accolades bestowed on him recently, including yesterday at his state funeral, since his untimely death last week at the age of 61 after a second bout with cancer. The state funeral apparently wasn't his idea. Prime Minister Stephen Harper reportedly offered the rare honor to Layton’s widow, fellow NDP MP Olivia Chow, which she accepted.

Yet, in hindsight I question if the state funeral led too many people to not realize or care that many others in this country also died this week; people who were just as important in their own right, and just as significant to their families and friends, as Jack Layton was to his. In saying this, I am mindful that Layton's situation was unique compared to 'ordinary' Canadians, because his high profile and the nature of his work allowed him to meet, 'connect with,' and potentially help many people over the years; and to simultaneously build a good life for himself and his family as well.

A cursory look yesterday at obituaries in the Toronto Star and Ottawa Citizen, daily newspapers in the two cities where Layton lay in state before his funeral, showed 148 people died over the past week; 81 in and around Toronto, and 67 in and around Ottawa. Perhaps the actual number of deaths is really much higher, if many of the deceased weren’t listed in those two newspapers.

There's no question Layton cared about social issues and tried to help others, and he was paid for it as an elected Member of Parliament. But perhaps many others who died this week also did what they could in their own ways, for free, to help others and make their communities a better place. Layton was friendly and charming, but no doubt many others who died this week were as well, with stellar reputations. By all accounts, Layton was a hardworking, good and decent person. Without taking anything away from him, obituaries yesterday in the Toronto Star and Ottawa Citizen indicate many others who died this week also seemed honorable, respected and well-liked.

A quick scan of obituaries in Toronto and Ottawa, the two key cities in Layton’s life, shows people who died this week were, like Layton, considered by their families and friends to have had “true character,” and are variously called a hero, awesome, soul-mate, adored, deeply cherished, beloved and dearly beloved. One of the deceased lost a “hard-fought battle with cancer;” one’s funeral would be a “celebration of dad’s life.”

Similarly, Layton apparently wanted his funeral to be a celebration of his life, not merely a maudlin event. By various accounts, he loved and courted the limelight; liked being the centre of attention, and performed accordingly when necessary; he was a showman, and a good one at that. I read in various sources this week he wanted his funeral to be public, as well as a showcase for the NDP agenda; to help further ‘the cause.’

Layton was a skilled, intelligent, and talented politician, so we can assume he knew the importance of being perceived as friendly and likeable and even might have carefully crafted at least some of that public image—to complement what seemed to have been his own natural charm, friendliness and likeability. He also might have learned early on, or just knew instinctively how to use his innate 'people skills' to ingratiate himself to others who could help him personally and politically; which could also help advance his long-standing ‘social justice’ causes such as gay rights and homelessness, among others.

All of this strongly suggests—with apologies to Welsh poet Dylan Thomas—Layton didn’t want to go gentle into the good night. He didn’t want a low-key quiet funeral service with just family and close personal friends. He didn’t want to leave unnoticed, with no fanfare. Even in death, he courted the media as he did so often in life, in and out of the House of Commons, to get his ‘message’ out to the public. In fact, Adam Radwanski in The Globe and Mail (last updated Saturday, Aug. 27, 201), said it may have taken Layton’s “death to bring all these attributes into sharper focus (and to cause some of his more grating characteristics, including his penchant for self-promotion, to be overlooked).”

If I were a family member of someone who died over the past week, I might think the state funeral unfairly gave too much attention to Layton, compared to the minimal attention usually given to 'ordinary' Canadians when they die. After all, to keep things in some kind of perspective amid the wide-spread public grieving for this highly-popular man and politician, he wasn’t God although some might now perceive him as their god, and a legend and icon; he didn’t discover a cure for any fatal disease including the cancer that apparently killed him; and, when all is said and done, he was just a human being like all of the others who died in the past week.

Furthermore, because Layton died so soon after becoming Leader of the Official Opposition and of the presumed government-in-waiting, he didn’t even achieve anything politically in that capacity--notwithstanding the positive, inspirational effect he had on many people over the years, and his extraordinary feat of becoming Opposition Leader in the first place. Of course that achievement was remarkable in itself since his New Democratic Party (NDP) was once the last-place political party in the House of Commons. He might well have accomplished great things as Opposition Leader, and even might have become prime minister down the road. Sadly, however, the cursed cancer ravaged his personal life and political plans. Unfortunately, he just didn’t have the time to show himself and the rest of us what he might have made out of his new job as Opposition Leader when Parliament resumes in September.

Last, we would also be well-advised to remember that not all deaths this week were those of the human kind; animal deaths, specifically those of house pets, can lead their owners/masters to grieve as much in their own right, as so many have rightly mourned, and still mourn, Jack Layton. In this context, my younger brother Jamie’s cat, Scruffy, died a terrible death this week, falling from the balcony of his apartment in Toronto, to the ground below; apparently during a nasty mid-week rain-and-thunder storm. Jamie discovered him on the ground, still alive, some hours later; took him to a nearby veterinarian, but, sadly felt compelled, because of Scruffy’s internal injuries, to have him euthanized.

I asked him if he was going to walk around the city and take in any of the makeshift tributes to Layton. But he said he wasn’t up to it, feeling as badly as he did about the equally-tragic death--relatively speaking--of his cat. From everything I’ve read about Jack Layton, I think he would’ve understood.  

Jack Layton, Ph.D. (1950-2011), NDP Leader, Leader of the Official Opposition

                                            Photo from The Globe and Mail

I didn’t know Jack Layton, never spoke to him, never saw him in person, and I’ve never read his writings on homelessness or other matters of concern to him. But, strangely enough, I felt I knew him all the same; a sentiment apparently shared by many other Canadians. I’ve never been a member of any political party, including the New Democratic Party (NDP), of which he was the undisputed leader until his untimely death today, Aug. 22, 2011. I follow politics, but I’ve never been involved, per se, in politics.

Yet, sometimes a political leader comes along, or eventually pervades the public consciousness after being around for a long time, who really makes a strong, positive impression on you—regardless of whether you know much about his or her politics, or agree with them. Jack Layton was that kind of politician; he seemed to be that kind of person. At least that’s what I’ve ascertained from watching and listening to him over the years, in newspaper and magazine stories, in radio and television interviews and in other performances, such as televised leaders’ debates; and from reading what other politicians say about him.

I was surprised when Layton held a brief news conference a few weeks ago to report he was taking time off from his positions as NDP Leader, and Leader of the Official Opposition, to fight another kind of cancer that required his full attention. I was surprised because, until then, he’d seemed fit and hearty, despite the presence of the cane he used—sometimes for show, it seemed—during the May 2011 federal election. In making his critical announcement that he was taking a break to fight for his health so he could continue fighting for Canadians, he seemed brave, determined, and hopeful; the story of his life, and nothing unusual from what I’ve read about him. Being hopeful, or pretending to be endlessly hopeful seemed his stock-and-trade; an admirable quality, to be sure. Did he know or sense the odds were stacked against him? Was he feigning his optimism? Does it matter?

In retrospect, of course, that short news conference ultimately was, sadly, Layton’s farewell televised address to the country. Watching him during that news conference, he looked gaunt, so frail and physically vulnerable I wondered if he wasn’t being somewhat naïve in believing, and telling the country, he’d be back to work in September. Maybe, though, it was just his genuinely optimistic and hopeful way of doing things. I wanted to put my arm around his shoulder and help him off the stage; to tell him he didn’t have to be making that speech; that it would’ve been easier to just issue a news release and give it to the media, or have someone else read his statement for him.

But, apparently that wouldn’t have been Jack Layton’s style. I’ve read he had the strength of character and the courage of his convictions to never run from a confrontation or a fight; that he always believed in meeting challenges head-on, win or lose; that he thought meeting his opponents face-to-face was important because it might lead to some kind of positive or otherwise worthwhile exchange or sharing of knowledge, understanding, or agreement. He seemed to be demonstrating that mettle during that news conference as I watched him announce his supposed temporary departure from his work—as he clearly was fighting the fiercest and most-powerful challenge of his relatively young life; after all, he was only 61 when he died today.

Watching Layton that day, I wanted to believe he was right; that he would, in fact, lick this new cancer and soon be back on top of his political game, and of course personally as well. But when I watched him, to me, his physical appearance belied the reality of his terrible, tragic situation. I just didn’t picture him returning to work, or to public life in general, anytime soon. I even predicted, to myself, I’d open a newspaper before the end of the summer and read that he’d died. Yet, I hoped I was wrong, and he was right; that he would be back on Parliament Hill in September when the House reconvenes. But today, the day of his death, I take no joy in being right.

Before Layton died, however, he was able to do something for his party that previously was unimaginable; a pipedream at best: leading his beloved once-last-place NDP in the House of Commons to its new heights as the Official Opposition; the government-in-waiting. What a feat. By most accounts, he was able to do this, in large part, because of his oversized personality, obvious friendliness and charm, his fabulous and seemingly ever-present smile, his caring nature and perpetual message of optimism and hope, and no doubt voters’ disillusionment with the other political parties in last spring’s federal election. In these various contexts, then, his death is a sad event for many reasons. So much so that, although I’m not an ‘NDPer,’ I felt sad today when I learned he’d died. I wanted him to be able to justifiably reap the personal and professional rewards of his recent huge political achievement.

After all, through the years the NDP has variously been derided as, among other things, inconsequential and a party for aging, hapless hippies whose heads were in the clouds of one thing or another; who idealistically thought peace and love and caring about others were the answers to everything. Dr. Jack Layton, during his eight years as NDP Leader, seemed to single-handedly change critics' perceptions of the party, while still epitomizing the ideals for which the NDP was once mocked. He is now being widely praised, and being held up as a role model for other politicians to emulate, as one who made a conscious effort to bring some 'humanity' into the House of Commons. In a farewell letter to Canadians, reportedly written shortly before he died and released today, the day of his death, he continued espousing those 'human' and clearly heartfelt ideals, seemingly knowing the end for him was near:

In the months and years to come...we can be a better, fairer, more equal country by working together. Don’t let them tell you it can’t be done...love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.

All my very best,

Jack Layton

Sept. 11, 2011: A Necessary 10-Year Anniversary?

I’m not a fan of the media’s anniversary stories of disasters—natural or otherwise; and/or deaths of renowned people—normally as a result of violence or otherwise tragic and unexpected circumstances. Most of them seem to focus on the negativity of the initial event, which I find tedious. Perhaps the most high-profile recurring anniversary story, which will again make headlines in just a few weeks, concerns the intentional and deadly airplane crashes in New York City on Sept. 11, 2001.  
Now, with the 10^th anniversary of those murderous crashes close at hand, the predictable onslaught of non-stop, round-the-clock reruns of news accounts from that terrible day will be enveloping us yet again. The media’s lust for churning out anniversary stories of tragic or debilitating events, and the public’s apparent eagerness and passion for negative anniversary stories seems like a collective aphrodisiac for the media who readily produce them, and for the public who hungrily consume them. These kinds of news items usually seem negative and designed to bring viewers, listeners, and readers to their knees in a kind of contrived collective despondency. 
Yet, in fairness, these kinds of anniversary stories can also be helpful in some ways, especially if: 1) they inform and educate younger people who weren’t ‘there’ when ‘it’ happened--to help them understand the national grief that gripped many people, maybe even their own family members, when the actual incident occurred; and 2) if the anniversary stories include insights learned and perspectives acquired by authorities--which, theoretically, might help prevent these kinds of disasters from happening again. Overall, then, I think anniversary stories of a terrible event can be complementary, healthy, informative, and potentially beneficial; especially if they include new, updated, and otherwise helpful information.
I think it’s unnecessary to recount here the details of the horrendous incidents of Sept. 11, 2001. Suffice it to say, though, the media, with its often robotic regularity, can be almost guaranteed to bombard and saturate themselves and the viewing, reading, and listening public with an overbearing barrage of print stories, photographs, T.V. footage, and dramatic radio clips from 10 years ago. From a human standpoint, of course we should remember what happened that day; as well as other tragic high-profile events throughout history, mainly because we might continue to learn from them. But do we really need to see, hear, and read about the horrifying events of Sept. 11, 2001 all over again in explicit, graphic ways—as likely will happen with predictable regularity on the upcoming anniversary itself, and for some time afterwards? 
Frankly, too many anniversary stories of tragic events such as the airplane crashes of Sept. 11, 2001 just seem redundant--mainly reruns, reprints, and rehashes of the initial reports; sad story after sad story, which raises questions about media and business ethics, and media control. First, are anniversary stories of disastrous situations really just good for business? Media outlets make money from advertisers who know they can potentially sell more of their products and services if they hawk their wares during the anniversary stories. Second, do the media, collectively, control how and what the public feels and thinks during these anniversary stories, by cleverly manipulating people’s emotions and thoughts with dramatic film footage, still photographs, and oral and written storytelling? 
Some might say this scenario epitomizes the proverbial ‘which came first, the chicken-or-egg’ question: 1) has the media, as a collective unit, created this overall situation, convincing themselves and the public these anniversary stories are essential to remembering the tragedies in question, and these stories are just responsible journalism? Has the media, collectively, created this situation mainly because it’s good business;? or 2) has the public created the situation by demonstrating—through their previous practices of viewing and listening to these stories, buying newspapers and magazines, and logging into online news sites, among other things--that they need and want these kinds of anniversary stories of tragic situations; and they want the media to seriously influence their emotions—for better or worse--with anniversary stories, even for events that happened long ago?

I was studying for my Master’s degree in Halifax, Nova Scotia when I learned of the first intentional airplane crash in New York City on Sept. 11, 2001; and writing an essay for one of my courses, around 9 a.m. that day. I turned on the small television beside my computer, as I often did when writing, and saw for the first time, on NBC’s Today Show from New York, not far from the crash site, what had happened just minutes earlier. Like most people, I was mesmerized. Strangely, at that moment, New York City seemed just around the corner, thanks to the immediacy and power of television. I suddenly felt sad. My heart sank.

I felt as though I wanted to be there and do something, anything, to help someone else and/or me feel better in some way but there was nothing I could do—or wanted to do—but watch the television screen. I set my essay aside for a few minutes, watching the television in stunned silence. I was focused too much on that catastrophic news story, anyway, and knew I’d be wasting my time trying to write. Before long, however, I knew I had to turn off the T. V. if I was going to finish and hand in my essay that day; first things first, I told myself. As one who’d worked in the media, I also knew that story would still be happening when I finished my essay; it wasn’t going away anytime soon; and of course it hasn’t. 

Since Sept. 11, 2001, there’s been a string of often-repetitive anniversary-and-related stories published and broadcast over the years. Most of these kinds of stories mainly seem to rehash old information, and can potentially be mentally and emotionally exhausting and even psychologically trying for many people, depending on each person’s situation. Of course people don’t have to pay attention to these anniversary stories. But human nature being what it is, many of us seem drawn to drama—even or especially if it involves a real-life horror of unimaginable proportions such as the events of 10 years ago. There might not be all-encompassing answers as to why this happens, but here are some suggestions:

 

•  Maybe we hope to gain some new understanding, insight or awareness of the Twin Towers air attacks because they were so extraordinary and dramatic; even though we've seen or heard them many times before;;

• Some people who think they don’t have much in their own lives might immerse themselves in these high-profile negative anniversary stories to help themselves feel they’re part of something significant;
• Perhaps humans, collectively, are gluttons for punishment: we know we might feel terrible after hearing, watching, and reading too many stories about the Sept. 11, 2001 tragedies, and others such as the violent death of Diana, Princess of Wales nearly 15 years ago, but we do it anyway;
• We might relish these anniversary stories with some satisfied smugness—an ‘I’m glad it was them and their family member/friend, not me or mine’ attitude. If so, we’re not exactly taking pleasure in others’ misfortune, as the German word Schadenfreude denotes; but we’re glad we weren’t in that location when the disaster occurred, and we can also--perhaps unconsciously—be glad it happened to ‘them,’ not us. 

One of the most enduring anniversary stories in recent memory, briefly noted above, is the untimely and violent death in a car crash in Paris of Diana, Princess of Wales on Aug. 31, 1997; as rehashed in published and broadcast stories year after year—or at least at certain ‘ceremonial’ signposts: six months, one year, and five and 10 years afterwards, and maybe more in between that I don’t recall. Of course the media trotted out variations of these tales, albeit more-sparingly, when her eldest son, Prince William, married Kate Middleton earlier this year.

Yet, despite the repetitive nature of many such anniversary stories, they can also help us remember other important situations. For instance, in thinking recently about the impending 15th anniversary of Diana's death, I recalled a special incident with my daughter Heather, when she was nine years old. One afternoon a day or so after Diana died, Heather and I were walking toward downtown. She’d seen me watching T. V. coverage of Diana’s death so I asked her if she knew who she was; she said she did. I told Heather many people in the world were very upset and sad, and crying, because Diana was very famous, popular, and young and died in a terrible car crash, she had two little boys, and a lot of people liked what they saw of her on television.

“Did you cry too, dad,?” Heather asked, catching me off-guard. For a split-second I didn’t know what to say because traditionally in our society men aren’t 'supposed to' admit to perceived ‘weaknesses’ such as crying for fear of ridicule. But a few negligible seconds later I replied, comfortably, “Yes, sometimes,” and put my arm around her shoulder as we walked. “Oh,” she said. I think that simple exchange was important for both of us: for Heather to know something personal about her dad, that he actually has feelings as she does, as though he’s almost like a real person; and for me to share that with her in an unguarded moment.

Now, as the seminal 10^th anniversary of the airplane crashes of Sept. 11, 2001 approaches, we can anticipate the predictable onslaught of heartbreaking film footage, regurgitated broadcast and print stories, photographs in newspapers and magazines, and in online news sites; and the unending regularity with which they’ll be foisted upon the public. Of course the media don’t and can’t force the public to heed any of the anniversary coverage of this or other events; but no doubt the public will gobble it up anyway, as always.

As for me, I’ll likely watch or read some of the coverage, especially if there seems to be some new or updated information, but I expect I’ll do so in small doses. Watching and reading as those stories unfolded in the hours and days after the actual air attacks on the Twin Towers in New York was often overwhelming and breathtaking in a negative way. I watched too much film footage of the same debilitating scenes, and too many of the same stories that were being rehashed and repeated even then. I was reluctant to stop watching; likely afraid I’d miss something important if I turned off the T.V. 

Now, I don’t want to let the media have that kind of control over me and my emotions, on such a grand scale, again. So for me, the old adage, ‘everything in moderation,’ seems a more-relaxing and healthier approach this time around.

NDP + Bloc Quebecois = Mixed Messages

The current confusion over the political loyalties of Quebecer Nycole Turmel, the new interim leader of the New Democratic Party (NDP) threatens to become a cancer inside the NDP itself from which the party might not fully recover; just as, sadly, its leader, Jack Layton takes time off to fight another battle with a new real cancer in his personal life. For five years, until January 2011, Turmel was a card-carrying member of the Quebec-based separatist party, the Bloc Quebecois. She cancelled her Bloc membership in January this year so she could run for the NDP in last spring’s federal election. 

Turmel’s history as a Bloc member is noteworthy, because, as one newspaper editorial said, “The Bloc was created for the explicit purpose of helping to bring into being a sovereign Quebec” (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011). In other words, by being a Bloc member, Turmel implied for five years she supported the Bloc’s aim of breaking up Canada and having Quebec become a separate country. Now she’s temporary leader of a federalist party, the NDP, as the Official Opposition in Parliament.

This situation suggests at least four possible scenarios, but I don’t know if any of them is actually applicable. Yet, they merit considering: 

1) NDP Leader Jack Layton didn’t know the full extent of Turmel’s former but recent affiliation with the Bloc before recommending her as interim NDP leader while he fights another battle with cancer—which raises questions about why he didn’t know; or 

2) Layton did know all the details but miscalculated politically—perhaps because he was preoccupied with his own illness--and might’ve wrongly assumed Turmel’s Bloc history wouldn’t pose serious problems in or out of his own party; or 

3) In touting Turmel as interim NDP leader, Layton knew the details about her Bloc past but didn’t tell the NDP caucus or the public about it—perhaps to protect Turmel; or 

4) Layton, a former professor with a Ph.D. and an intelligent and skilled politician, learned about Turmel’s Bloc past after the spring election and realized it was problematic for the NDP; unbeknownst to Turmel he offered her up as a sacrificial lamb as interim NDP leader, hoping her Bloc history would come out, and she’d be history.

Turmel seems to dismiss her Bloc membership as irrelevant, claiming she joined the separatists only as a favor to her friend and then-Bloc MP Carole Lavallée (Saint-Bruno-Saint-Hubert). Turmel says she’s always been a federalist, and claims she didn’t realize being a Bloc member would prevent her from running for the NDP until she filled out a questionnaire during the candidate-vetting process (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011). But would an avowed federalist—as Turmel claims she is—join a party that wants to break up Canada?

Why did Turmel feel compelled to join the Bloc as a favor to her friend, Lavallee? Did Lavallee want Turmel on-board because of Turmel’s union background and contacts? As one who’d been president of one of the country’s largest labor and public service unions, the Public Service Alliance of Canada (PSAC) Turmel knew first-hand about politics in at least that union context, since big unions can be intensely political—officially or unofficially. The PSAC has members in every province and territory, and is the largest union in the Canadian Federal Public Sector (federal government). After Turmel joined the Bloc was there a verbal or tacit understanding, at least among some people in the Bloc, that she'd then try to deliver some of her friends and business contacts to the Bloc fold? Did Turmel receive some kind of gift, status, or promise from Lavallee or the Bloc for doing her friend the personal favor of becoming a card-carrying separatist?

Turmel’s alleged naïveté about joining the Bloc is baffling, since she’s from Quebec where the Bloc’s goal of becoming a separate country from Canada was so prevalent for so long; and because she was no stranger to politics. So, she would’ve been familiar with the Bloc’s intentions. Lately, she’s been publicly dismissing criticism over her past Bloc membership, as though joining the Bloc was a meaningless whim and not significant, even though she kept her membership for five years; returning her membership card only a few months before running as a federalist NDP candidate in last May's federal election. In that context alone, some might wonder if Turmel is actually a separatist disguised as a federalist for her own duplicitous reasons.

A Toronto Star editorial said "The issue isn’t whether Turmel has changed parties or political views over the years. Lots of people do that...Rather, it’s the nature of the party and how recently she was involved...Turmel cancelled her Bloc membership card only weeks before running for the NDP" (Aug. 2, 2011). The paper also claims she has kept her previous membership in “the provincial Québec Solidaire party, a far-left group that is also sovereignist, as well as one with the New Democrats” and “doesn’t seem to have seen any contradiction in these overlapping loyalties” (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011).

In fairness, Turmel reportedly says she’s never voted for the Bloc; voted against separation during the 1980 and 1995 referendums; and refused overtures in the past two elections from Gilles Duceppe, the former Bloc leader who resigned after he lost his own seat in the May 2011 election, because she disagreed with the Bloc’s quest for sovereignty (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011). Turmel has apologized for going to the Bloc party: “I’m sorry. I signed a (Bloc membership) card, but at the same time, I’m here now,” she reportedly told QMI Agency (Kristy Kirkup, Sun Media, Aug. 2, 2011).

In Turmel’s brief resignation letter to the Bloc—dated Jan. 19, 2011 and published in The Globe and Mail—the English translation quotes Turmel saying that returning her membership card “has nothing to do with the party's policies, I am doing this for personal reasons" (Aug. 1, 2011). What does that mean? Although, as noted above, Turmel said she previously wouldn’t run for the Bloc because she disagreed with its “quest for sovereignty” (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011), she suggests otherwise, in claiming that retracting her Bloc membership “has nothing to do with the party’s policies…” 

In this context, is Turmel is just an opportunist? Did she renounce her Bloc membership in January 2011 because she sensed the separatist Bloc would be trounced in the spring federal election in her province of Quebec? Did she sense the NDP would do well in Quebec in the election and she would do well to be an NDP candidate? Did she then decide to run for the NDP, because it seemed convenient and she wanted in on the NDP gravy train as an elected MP? Were these the “personal reasons” to which Turmel referred in returning her Bloc membership card?

The Toronto Star claims Turmel said she never discussed the Bloc membership with Layton directly, but did tell him the Bloc and Liberals both approached her about running…“She said the issue never came up again, not even when Layton informed her he would recommend she become interim leader while he undergoes treatment for a new kind of cancer” (Aug. 2, 2011). In that story Turmel said she didn’t know if her NDP caucus knew she’d been a Bloc member when they voted unanimously last week for her as interim leader. “I cannot say 100 per cent knew, but a lot of them knew that I had worked with the Bloc…I didn’t hide anything. It just happened that it did not come up” (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011).

Despite Turmel's reported claim, above, that she "didn't hide anything" (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011), she did seem to hide things: specifically, for five years she was a card-carrying member of the Quebec-based separatist party whose aim is to break up Canada, with Quebec becoming a separate country. Saying “It just happened that it did not come up” (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011) seems a convenient way for Turmel to explain away her lack of openness and implicit dishonesty about her political past with the Bloc. 

And I believe something that notable doesn’t just ‘happen to not come up.’ Turmel had to decide to not bring it up, perhaps because she sensed the potential negative repercussions for her if she did. If she’d acknowledged her Bloc background as an NDP candidate last spring, voters might’ve doubted her political loyalties and intentions and not elected her; and if she’d revealed the details, unambiguously, to Jack Layton and the NDP caucus, they might not have endorsed her candidacy, or not supported her as interim leader in Layton’s absence.

Overall, Turmel has been, no doubt inadvertently, dragging the NDP, her leader, and herself through the mud in a very public way. In doing so, she has created a perceived conflict of interest and has put the NDP, its leader, and herself in a compromising situation; and she simply seems deceptive or unbelievably naïve for apparently thinking nobody would learn she was a card-carrying separatist for five years until just a few months ago.

Turmel also suggests too many people are fussing over her perceived mistakes, and implies the public and media should be focusing on the NDP’s goals, not on her. “It’s not the person. It is about the issue and the issue in the NDP is to make sure that we advance the agenda of Canadians…It’s not about Nycole Turmel. It’s about…doing a great job” (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011). Here, Turmel is just wrong and implies she’s trying to minimize her responsibility in this mess; or she really doesn’t understand the potential severity of the problem she helped create--by not being fully open, long ago, about her Bloc history. In fact, contrary to Turmel’s claim, above, that this matter “is not about Nycole Turmel” (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011), this issue is about Nycole Turmel. She had a huge hand in creating these present problems because she didn’t disclose, clearly, that she was a card-carrying separatist party member for five years--and gave it up only a few months ago so she could run for the NDP.

But despite Turmel’s perceived missteps in her brief elected life thus far, her leader and other NDP officials also seem to have helped create the predicament. To this end, two of Canada’s major newspapers savaged Turmel, Jack Layton and the NDP in their editorials. The Globe and Mail argued that if Layton, “who publicly declared for Ms. Turmel when he announced his leave for cancer treatment, and the party's council, knew of her history and still backed her for the interim leader's job, then they are reckless with the trust given them by Canadians. If they did not, then they are incompetent” (Globe and Mail, Aug. 2, 2011). The Toronto Star suggests Turmel doesn’t have the moral authority to lead the NDP, even temporarily: “Canada needs a strong official opposition, and Turmel has left herself too vulnerable to attacks on her credibility and, ultimately, her dedication to national unity” (Toronto Star, Aug. 2, 2011).

To borrow a religious notion, Turmel, Jack Layton, and the NDP executive don’t seem to realize or remember the concepts of ‘sins of omission’ (leaving out important information to protect oneself or others; or doing something without thinking or considering it might be wrong), and ‘sins of commission’ (knowingly and willingly doing something and knowing it’s wrong; a conscious decision, being aware of the pros and cons of performing the act and doing it anyway). Were Turmel’s five-year affair with the Bloc Quebecois until just a few months ago, and Layton’s and the NDP’s knowledge or lack thereof about Turmel’s separatist history and their action-lack of action in that regard, acts of omission, or of commission?