April 2014
“Human politics … is certainly different from chimpanzee politics, but not
categorically different,” Tom Flanagan writes in Winning Power, his new
book about political campaigning. The Conservative party war-room vet and
University of Calgary political scientist cites, for example, “a dominance
hierarchy with privileges for those at the top,” the “male obsession with
attaining rank” and “lethal coalitional violence against outsiders.” In a recent
interview, he compared his time in politics to “field observation or laboratory
work” for his academic studies. And he’s going to unleash an interesting
experiment next month, with the release of another book, titled Persona Non
Grata.
It’s about what he calls “The Incident.” On Feb. 27 last year, in a discussion
about the Indian Act at the University of Lethbridge, he tangentially remarked
(having been asked about previous remarks to similar effect) that he had “grave
doubts about putting people in jail because of their taste in pictures” — that
is, for viewing child pornography. “It’s a real issue of personal liberty to
what extent we put people in jail for doing something in which they do not harm
another person,” he said.
Up
it went on YouTube, and … kablooey. Even among his conservative friends, it was
a race to denounce him: “Tom Flanagan’s comments on child pornography are
repugnant, ignorant, and appalling,” tweeted Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s
spokesman, Andrew MacDougall. Wildrose leader Danielle Smith, whose campaign Mr.
Flanagan had just finished running, declared “there is no language strong enough
to condemn [his] comments. … He will have no role — formal or informal — with
our organization going forward.”
Conservative-haters, meanwhile, could hardly contain their glee: Here was the
purported “man behind Stephen Harper” (as The Walrus dubbed Mr. Flanagan
in 2004), the Prime Minister who perfected the permanent political attack
machine, touching what might be the ultimate third rail in Canadian politics.
For the Twittering partisans, mercy clearly seemedboth inappropriate and out of
the question.
To
this point, it was all understandable. The story became grimly fascinating,
however, as it transcended partisan politics. CBC’s Power and Politics
axed him, saying it valued “free speech” and “a diverse range of voices,” but
that Mr. Flanagan’s “comments [had] crossed the line.” Then-Heritage Minister
James Moore applauded this decision and suggested the University of Calgary fire
Mr. Flanagan as well. And in lieu of a ringing endorsement of academic freedom,
the university put out a statement saying Mr. Flanagan’s views “absolutely do
not represent” the university’s — universities have views now, apparently — and
left the distinct impression he had, in fact, been let go. (He hadn’t.)
As
artless as Mr. Flanagan freely and apologetically admitted to being, it was
quite astonishing: Are differing opinions on how to sentence criminals really
beyond the bounds of discussion at the national broadcaster? At a public
university?
And
then, perhaps the bitterest pill: The right-wing Manning Centre struck Mr.
Flanagan off the list of speakers at its fast-approaching conference, the annual
gathering of what Preston Manning calls the “conservative family.”
Mr.
Manning’s event attracts a very free speech-friendly audience. (The keynote
speaker was Ron Paul, who is himself something of a heretic on anti-child
pornography measures.) But in his address to the conference, Mr. Manning twisted
the knife, warning against “intemperate and ill-considered remarks by those who
hold … positions deeply but in fits of carelessness or zealousness say things
that discredit … conservative governments, parties, and campaigns.” He
explicitly cited Mr. Flanagan — but not, pointedly, by name.
You
don’t have to like Mr. Flanagan to think what happened to him was pretty
hideous.
On
Feb. 28, 2013, the general consensus seemed to be that Tom Flanagan had torched
his career. But the furor already seemed to have died down by the time of the
Manning conference. And a year later — last month — Mr. Flanagan was back on the
program, on an “authors’ panel,” flogging Winning Power. It was as if
“The Incident” had never occurred.
Before the conference, I asked Mr. Manning if he had any regrets about how he
handled the affair. “There was no time to investigate it, hear both sides of the
story,” he said, wistfully. (For the record, there was over a week do that.) “If
we had had more time, in retrospect, that could have been handled better.”
Indeed. You don’t have to like Mr. Flanagan to think what happened to him was
pretty hideous — if not in the political arena then certainly in the media and
academic arenas, where free speech is supposed to be sacred. The contents of
Persona Non Grata are under embargo, but I hope McLelland & Stewart won’t
begrudge my saying it is not boring and has a lot to say — about free
speech, about academic freedom, about political correctness.
I
hope and suspect now that everyone has calmed down, it will be received in the
contemplative spirit it’s intended. It will be intriguing, for example, to see
if any of his denouncers publicly reconsider, if not their opinions, then
theway they expressed them and the mob mentality of which they partook.
At
the Manning Centre Conference, I asked Mr. Flanagan if we should worry about
behaving like chimpanzees. He shrugged. “These are our cousins,” he said. “It
helps to understand why ideas in themselves don’t triumph.” I suspect many of us
would like to aim higher.
National Post, March 28, 2014.
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