Columnists
A basket of humble carrots
The Ontario government is thinking and acting big. In announcing her government’s climate change action plan, Premier Kathleen Wynne stated “When my grandchildren ask me what we did to help our planet, I want to be proud of what we accomplished.”
I don’t envy the government its task. Even with the resources of the entire Ontario public service at my disposal, I’m not sure I could effectively organize a Pumpkinfest parade, let alone an action plan to tackle a complex issue like carbon reduction. I’ll go further and say I admire its resolve. It must be extraordinarily difficult to tackle a problem that isn’t right in your face, shambling down Main Street terrorizing everyone in its path.
There are two forces that the government is not invoking to assist in making its plan work. One is the force of the market system. Why not, say the editorialists, let the market figure out how to allocate resources once you have set a price on carbon? The other is the power of community. Whether you are a raging liberal deficit spender, a leaping social democrat or a green tory, you can still hew to the view that a community can collectively and efficiently figure out how to meet a target, if given the chance to believe in it.
The Wynne government is instead relying on a number of incentive programs (termed a “basket of carrots” by minister-in-charge Glen Murray). There will be a revenue stream generated from the “cap and trade” scheme of carbon pricing, and this will feed all manner of initiatives from the development of bicycle lanes to the retrofitting of homes to allow for enhanced electric vehicle charging.
But because foresight can never be one hundred per cent accurate, you invite two principles into play. Principle one states that there will always be unintended consequences of your actions. So, for example, you could decide to encourage cycling by setting aside dedicated lanes on Ontario highways. But cyclists get sweaty. Tim Hortons sees that it can get in on the right side of the action and starts equipping its restaurants with showers. Long lineups ensue, so Tims starts to charge for the service, although it remains free with any donut order above $50. This creates a run on donuts, and people start reselling their extras outside Tims outlets. Tims gets mad and demands that the government do something. It doesn’t. So Tims, figuring its real estate is worth more than its baking, suddenly closes all its Ontario outlets, throwing 6.5 million people out of work. There is rioting in the streets, with particular venom being directed at bicyclists, bureaucrats and restaurant executives.
Now I’m not saying this is the way things will play out. I’m just saying it could. But it illustrates a complication that will probably not be factored into the initial design of the basket of carrots, but which cries out for some remedial action once the scope of the problem emerges.
Principle two states that there will always be unanticipated events that interfere with the success of your project. For example, you encourage everyone to buy an electric vehicle and install a home charging port. But it turns out that a couple of years from now any mischiefinclined 16-year-old with ten bucks burning a hole in his or her pocket can buy a de-magnetizing device to “uncharge” a car. Electric car owners are suddenly vulnerable. Rural owners decide to institute a “be nice to teenagers” program, which is wildly successful and even results in the re-opening of a few Tim Hortons outlets. Urban owners react by installing electric fences around their properties, thereby consuming so much electricity that the grid is overloaded, meaning their electric vehicles can’t reliably be charged anyway.
Again, I’m just making up an example. And I’m certainly not suggesting that we need to be especially nice to teenagers: for one thing, older people would have a human rights complaint about the inequitable distribution of niceness.
So how does Ms. Wynne manage the risk that these two principles present? I think it requires a dose of something that politicians keep in short supply: humility. How often have you heard one say “Okay, this isn’t working out quite the way we expected; let’s take it into the shop for adjustment”? Politicians fear being viewed as imperfect. But I find it odd that they don’t blame unanticipated consequences and unforeseen events more often. After all, isn’t shifting responsibility what politics is all about?
Apart from that caution, good luck to Ms. Wynne and her sidekick Mr. Murray in selling that basket of carrots.
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