Curiouser

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next. – Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

It has been nearly a decade since we were first dragged into the rabbit hole known as council size. And though the plot has had its share of absurd twists and turns already, this week it will enter the realm of multi-coloured bizarre.

On Thursday evening, council will consider no fewer than 16 proposals to alter the size of council and the geography of representation. Sixteen proposals for 16 council members. It seems fitting, in an Alice sort of way. Council will also consider comments submitted by six more County residents.

Despite the good intentions of the folks who prepared these proposals, and the dozen’s before, there is nothing new on the table. How could there be? This issue has been thrashed so often all that is left is dust.

One proposal imagines a slightly smaller council of 14. Another proposes a council of seven. Most the remianing ideas fall somewhere in between. Some see keeping electoral wards intact, some seek to group wards into two, three or five electoral wards. Others don’t see wards at all—preferring an at-large voting system whereby all electors may vote for each council seat.

Some will make the case to leave it alone— that the County is served well by a large council. After all we don’t pay them much—so it isn’t a huge cost burden either way. There are few savings to be had in reducing numbers.

Worryingly, several proposals attribute little value to the principle of representation by population—suggesting that Ameliasburgh, with 5,000 voters and Bloomfield with 500 should be fine with just one councillor each. That electoral boundaries remain fixed no matter how skewed the County’s rep by pop becomes, reveals a poor understanding of our nation’s history.

In any event, we have been over this ground many times before. In 2008, a committee led by then-councillor Bev Campbell and clerk Victoria Leskie, sequestered itself away to research, investigate and consider alternatives to the existing model. After all the drafters of the 1998 amalgamation sensed they were on squishy ground with the deal they had hammered out to create a single-tier government. It was their recommendation that the size and representation of council come under review within 10 years.

But so fractious was the debate even in 2008, that council would not permit Campbell’s committee to make a recommendation. Instead, 14 proposals were presented. Over two long days, council never came close to a deal.

Then came an appeal to the Ontario Municipal Board—won by the County only because it could claim it was working toward a solution. That solution was a question on the ballot in the 2010 municipal election. But despite 81 per cent of those who answered the question—voted in favour of a review, the incoming council dithered until time had nearly expired.

Council contracted Queen’s professor Jonathan Rose to conduct a novel and progressive form of public consultation. The Citizen’s Assembly— comprising 23 County residents chosen at random— determined that council size consist of 10 councillors plus a mayor.

Predictably, council rejected that recommendation. Some councillors felt they had fulfilled the requirement of the ballot question. They believed they had sufficiently reviewed council size, found it to be a-okay and moved on.

But voters in the last municipal election told them otherwise. So this council chose to make size of council a top priority.

The question now becomes: Is council simply going through the motions again? Is this really a serious attempt to find consensus? Or is it another disingenuous bit of theatre—an attempt to show it made an effort to resolve this issue—before it sets the question aside for another council to drag out and debate all over again?

How will a body of 16 members wade through a swamp of 16 proposals? Who decided this path had to go through a swamp anyway?

“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the cat. “We’re all mad here.”

rick@wellingtontimes.ca