The Bruce Report

The place my daughter and son-in-law are renting near Brackley Beach on the north shore of Prince Edward Island is a cottage the way the Taj Mahal is a mansion. It boasts wide-screen satellite TV, plush leather furniture, a gourmet kitchen, three fully-decked bedrooms, and a view of the water so perfect, you’d swear Alex Colville had painted a masterpiece.

In fact, almost everything about this part of P.E.I. appears magically real. Here, the grass is greener, the sky bluer and the air cleaner than in any other part of Canada I’ve seen. And, between St. John’s and Victoria, I’ve seen a lot of the Great White North.

But the most arresting feature of the Cavendish region screams out from the landscape for its absence.

Where’s the garbage?

Where are the pop bottles and fast food wrappers? Where are the discarded cigarette packages and gum containers? Indeed, where is any evidence – ubiquitous everywhere else in the country – of human carelessness and despoilment?

You can point to the province’s lengthy (and sometimes amusing) “litter regulations” for a practical explanation, but even these don’t do justice to the Island’s unique pay-it-forward mentality. Small and relatively isolated, it does nothing by half measures because it understands that the product it sells to the world is, simply and finally, itself.

As a fundamental principle for economic development, it’s not a bad one at all. And for all our splendours and innovations, we in the rest of Atlantic Canada might want to learn a thing or two from our windswept, Gulf-bound neighbours. After all, P.E.I. is on a roll.

Critics sniffed when the provincial government announced it would forgo traditional tourism advertising campaigns this year in favour of a spectacular, and potentially risky, one-shot experiment in guerrilla marketing. It invited the ludicrously popular American morning talk-show duo, Regis Philbin and Kelly Ripa, to its shores for a week of live taping.

The gambit paid off. For a comparatively measly $800,000 investment (the feds kicked in another 200-grand), the Province managed to secure international viewership of some five million people a day and worldwide news coverage from the likes of CNN, ABC, NBC and CBS, among many others.

At one point during the event, online requests for information about the Island were so heavy the government’s website crashed. Some marketing experts now suggest P.E.I. would have had to spend more than $5 million on conventional media to generate a comparable impact.

Meanwhile, Regis’ and Kelly’s parting words only sweetened the pot. Gushed Philbin: “Honest to God, we really are taken by Prince Edward Island, and all of you for being so hospitable.” Added Ripa: “It’s one of those places where [my husband] and I are planning our return trip before we leave.”

Now comes word that the German network, Mere TV, is producing an entire series of programs dedicated to P.E.I. According to the Charlottetown Guardian, “It will include shots of Prince Edward Island’s natural beauty. However, the main feature will be the attraction of notable Islanders, such as Peter Llewellyn [sea-glass artist, businessman and politician]. The network is also hoping to capture footage for four other vignettes, including Johnston’s Distillery in eastern P.E.I.; a lobster fisherman from western P.E.I.; an Irish moss harvester; and a potato farmer.”

The Mere TV documentary program, which has aired for ten years, examines the cultures of places where land and sea meet. But, for the Island’s international prospects, here’s the kicker: It is one of the most popular shows of its kind in Europe, where it frequently reaches more than 200 million viewers.

Some might attribute these boons to blind chance. But P.E.I. has always made its own luck because it has had to. Nothing about it – not its bucolic scenery or sparsely populated cities and hamlets, not its undersized ports or disadvantageous location on world shipping routes – telegraphs the characteristics of industrial might.

Still, by leveraging and exploiting its real assets – including a top-notch university and skilled labour force – it has managed to augment its tourism and hospitality sector with high-tech operations in aerospace, defence and, most recently, wind energy development.

Luck? Rambling about my kids’ digs by the ocean, where the herons swoop and my grandson happily gambols, I can’t help thinking: We should all be so lucky.

A democracy whose government refuses to heed the will of the majority as routinely as it embraces the narrow interests of a vocal fringe is no democracy at all; it is, by ambition and practice, an elected oligarchy.

In the waning days of a long, hot summer, Canada is coming perilously close to that which its history, traditions and civic sensibilities utterly despise: a nation ruled by a smug, self-satisfied coterie of partisan strong men whose coarse manipulation of facts and rational argument supplants intelligent debate and resists effective opposition.

Prime Minister Stephen Harper and his cabinet have, for years, waged a stunningly successful campaign against the twin concepts of expertise and collaboration in political culture. Their hard line, right-wing mentality has extolled the virtue of certitude in all matters of state, as bias and presumption have proscribed the meritorious, once meretricious, qualifications for public office. Meanwhile, reasonable dissent has become the province of eggheads, elitists and other assorted traitors.

In this context, the controversy over Ottawa’s decision to eliminate the mandatory requirement that a fraction of Canadians fill out the long census form next year is not, as the Harperites would have us believe, an inconsequential salvo launched by malcontents. It cuts to the very heart of democratic meaning and responsibility in a tolerant, pluralistic and informed society.

More than 200 organizations – representing teachers, economists, businesses, activists, progressives, moderates, conservatives, and liberals – have implored the federal government to reverse its tack. Without this periodic statistical evaluation, they argue, fiscal, monetary, social, industrial, education, and health policies will suffer.

But just as recently as yesterday, Harper and Industry Minister Tony Clement – pointing to the support they’ve received from a grand total of three rabidly reactionary think tanks – clung to their entirely discreditable claim that Canadians don’t want their government to insist they do anything under penalty of law.

This specious argument conveniently fails to acknowledge that no resident of this country has ever served time for failing to answer any portion of the census. It also makes light work of the actual, numerous and eminently enforceable obligations of citizenship, which are already installed. How voluntary is paying taxes?

Still, the indignities of this government don’t stop there.

Although as much as $500 million in unused federal economic stimulus money could vanish by the March 31, 2011, deadline, arbitrarily set by the Department of Finance, both Harper and his fiscal czar Jim Flaherty are adamant about turning off the taps when the clock strikes midnight. Again, they say, most Canadians have told them to buckle down and get the multi-billion-dollar budget deficit under control. But, again, most Canadians have said nothing of the sort.

In fact, provinces, territories, cities, towns, and villages across the country sat by anxiously waiting in the spring, summer and fall of 2009 while the federal government struggled to roll-out its inadequately staffed “shovel-ready” programs. Faced with stiff opposition from its discontented libertarian base of voters, the Harperites moved with only glacial speed to execute a recession-busting program it had, itself, invented.

Now, “most Canadians” face the distinct possibility that many of their already cash-strapped communities must pony up the balance of payments for projects the feds refuse to grandfather, not for practical reasons, but for ideological ones.

Where do the responsibilities of this government fall?

Are they on the Point Lepreau nuclear reactor refit in New Brunswick, where Atomic Energy of Canada Limited – a federal Crown corporation – appears wholly unequal to the task?

Are they on municipal infrastructure now crumbling thanks to years of neglect and abuse at the hands of indifferent men happily ensconced in their silos of political self-interest and complacency?

Are they on the hearts and minds of the people – all the people – it was elected to represent fairly, evenly, rationally, and inclusively?

Or are they on itself – a supremely disengaged cabal of oligarchs fretful about nothing, except one thing: The next general election.

I’m not sure it’s the track motif of downtown Moncton that had me giddily admiring my adopted city’s sun-soaked élan this summer. Short of limb, stature and wind, I’ve never much seen the point in running about in circles to the admittedly meagre limits of my endurance.

But, as my long-suffering bride so eloquently (and pointedly) notes: “Bruce, you do know not everything is about you. Relax, and drink in the good cheer for once.”

Of course, she is correct. And though I hate it when that happens, I cannot deny that the IAAF World Junior Championships – which lured 1,500 of the planet’s best, youthful athletes and tens-of-thousands of spectators, friends, family members, and good-natured hangers-on to this happy burg – was probably the best thing to happen to Moncton in a long list of very good things, indeed.

When can we trace the beginning of the transformation? When did the Hub City start becoming. . .well, internationally cool?

Was it the 1999 Sommet de la Francophonie, which attracted hundreds of foreign delegates from all over the French-speaking world? Or was it the much-ballyhooed and well-attended Rolling Stones concert in 2005?

Certainly, both were singularly successful, superbly managed events that focused the world’s media lens on our fair metropolis (and, not for nothing, dumped millions of dollars into the local economy). But both were also somewhat tribal affairs.

The summit purloined the city’s meeting rooms and convention space to conduct serious politics and policy work. If you were a tourist from Arizona, passing through that summer, you might have been forgiven for concluding that Moncton was interesting if only for its uncommonly dense population of good-looking men in three-piece suits.

Similarly, the Stones gig appealed to a large, yet narrowly determined, focus group. It was undeniably great to see Mick and the boys strut their sexagenarian stuff before a live audience of 60,000-plus fans, but if you preferred, say, Bob Dylan or The Beatles growing up, you were more likely to admire the “greatest rock band in history” from a safe distance.

So, then, did Moncton’s designation last year as one of the world’s “smartest cities”, courtesy of the New York-based Intelligent Communities Forum, bestow must-visit status on us? Only if you were an urban-planning geek.

What about Regis of Regis and Kelly fame? Did his brief appearance at Moncton’s brand, spanking new casino earlier this month, usher our community along the red carpet to the A-list of hospitality? Only if you were a lounge lizard.

No, I humbly submit that last month’s marvellous gathering of athletic talent merits comparison with last winter’s Vancouver Olympic Games for energy, optimism, inclusiveness and, therefore, international hipster street cred. Every preceding event over the past several years has built the organizational apparatus and best practices that have enabled such an extraordinary “happening” to occur today. And those responsible for it (including former New Brunswick premier Bernard Lord) ought to be roundly congratulated. So should those of us who have walked the extra mile to ensure our visitors are well and truly treated while they gambol among us.

As Jesse Robichaud so ably reported in the Moncton Times & Transcript in July, “Uros Jovanovic, a 19-year-old 400-metre sprinter from Slovenia, and teammate Mitja Lindic, a 17-year-old hurdler, found out how welcoming people here can be when they were strolling to the mall to pick up some food over the weekend. Some friendly strangers apparently spotted them, stopped, and offered them a drive so they could save their energy for the track. ‘Everyone wants to help us,’ said Uros. It’s a great city. It is small but it has everything, a lot of nature, and people are very nice.’ Asked if they would encourage their countrymen to visit this part of Canada when they have the chance, Uros responded, ‘100 per cent for sure.’”

Come on, now. How cool is that?

Every country needs its whipping posts; those communities or regions outsiders feel perfectly sanguine about insulting and slurring. So why should it surprise anyone that in Canada, the Atlantic provinces have always merited, and continue to receive, most of the verbal lashes?

For generations, we’ve been portrayed by our western neighbours as the poor, dumb, lazy partners in Confederation. We are, the argument goes, slow, defeatist and uncompetitive. We’re unskilled, unschooled, unsophisticated, and decidedly unenlightened. About the only things we’re good at is catching cod, cutting trees, and collecting pogey. And since these resources have run out (or are about to), we’re really not much good for anything, anymore.

This, at least, was the impression Margaret Wente – The Globe and Mail’s estimable social affairs columnist – left in her Canada Day screed when she observed, “The biggest culture gap isn’t between ethnic and linguistic groups. It’s between the vibrant, multiracial cities and the shrinking white ghettos of the Atlantic provinces and the rural hinterland.”

To be fair, Ms. Wente wasn’t commenting about current conditions; she was imagining the state of the nation some 47 years hence. “Since the turn of the millennium,” she mused, “all of our population growth has come through immigration, mostly from China, India and the Philippines. In the thriving megalopolis of Greater Toronto (population: 12 million), people of European descent make up less than a third of the population.”

Still, the use of the term “white ghetto” seemed decidedly unfriendly, especially on a day when Canadians were celebrating what the Globe’s editorial board unilaterally decided was our growing maturity and self-assurance. (It goes without saying we Canucks don’t know what to think about ourselves until the nation’s self-appointed arbiter of our identity informs us).

Beyond this, Ms. Wente’s quip is not even a particularly realistic forecast.

Most serious demographic research indicates that the future – at least, the future of prosperous societies – rests with smaller, not larger, urban areas. The land of milk and honey is not the megalopolis, but the “microlopolis”, where population density, not size, matters most. In an energy-challenged, increasing geriatric Canada, proximity to essential services and food production actually purchases urbanity as it attracts growing numbers of older and highly educated knowledge workers to clean, efficient, well-organized polities.

The best attributes about Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver are their tightly woven communities, their neighbourhoods. The Atlantic region’s cities – Halifax, Saint John, Moncton, Fredericton, Miramichi, Charlottetown, Summerside, St. John’s, and Corner Brook – have always been just this: Neighbourly in scale, function and attitude. And, despite their occasional economic development missteps and setbacks, they have all benefited mightily over the years from their disposition and perspicuity.

Moncton and Fredericton are two of the “smartest” cities in the world, according to the New York-based think tank, Intelligent Communities Forum. With limited government and private- sector investment (compared with that which is available to major centres), they have transformed themselves into hubs for Information Communications Technology (ICT), health care delivery, and public administration. Educational attainment rates are high (though they could be higher); and abject poverty is low (though it could be lower).

Meanwhile, Saint John is rapidly becoming an East Coast energy nexus; Summerside is burnishing its reputation as a world-class centre for aerospace and defence contracting; Charlottetown is enjoying its reputation as home to one of the country’s finest, comprehensive universities; Halifax is advancing its agenda to become the region’s gateway for international trade; and St. John’s boasts one of the most skilled and multi-ethnic workforces in Canada.

How is it, then, that Atlantic provinces are fated to become old folks homes for idle Caucasians? They seem, more likely, to become magnets of the very talent 21^st Canada needs: Experienced, wise, reflective, cultured, entrepreneurial, diverse, international and globally aware.

Would that surprise those who traffic in worn stereotypes about this region’s progress in the world? They might want to put the verbal lash to their own posts for a change.

Nothing so aptly demonstrates the deficit of political leadership in New Brunswick than the stunningly stupid debate now bubbling over whether high schoolers should volunteer some of their time to good works as a condition of their graduation.

Since Conservative Leader David Alward proposed this measure in his party’s election platform a week ago, everyone, it seems, has weighed in on the issue (including, it must be said, yours truly). The ruling Grits, many charitable organizations and several students say it’s a bad idea. Now, the Tories have uncovered what appears to be an identical stipulation in a video on the Department of Education’s own web site.

As to this, Alward crows, “Their talking exactly about what we’ve been talking about over the last week and the hypocrisy from the ministers who have been out in front of this. . .It shows that they don’t know what’s going on within their own government.”

Not so, rejoins House Leader Greg Byrne. The Liberals haven’t explicitly made this an election plank. It’s just one of many concepts tossed out to “stimulate discussion” about the future of the province’s secondary school system. “There should be an opportunity for volunteerism,” he insists. “But there’s a distinction between that and mandatory volunteering. The Department of Education often consults on issues and the purpose of the video was just to consult people, to as a series of what-ifs.”

Frankly, though, if there is a distinction in this particular argument, I’m having a hard time parsing it. All of which points, perhaps, to the political perils of public engagement, a principal that both parties have enshrined in their own unctuous ways in recent months.

Still, whether or not Liberal officials knew about the video before they mouthed off against their rivals is beside the point (though, to be fair to them, it’s mighty hard to be hypocritical absent of facts, if, indeed, they were in this case). The point is whether mandatory volunteerism makes sense. Does it serve some measurable social utility?  Does it achieve the desired results and produce a net benefit? It all depends on your definitions.

A few years ago, when professional baseball reeled under the weight of bad publicity (when has it not?), certain team owners devised a clever scheme to keep their most talented, and often least well-behaved, players on the straight and narrow. Rather than punish them for beating girlfriends, stealing cars and snorting cocaine, they paid them to stay clean. They cut them hefty cheques simply for doing the right thing.

In one sense – the corporate sense – the plan worked astonishingly well. Rap sheets disappeared overnight and the league enjoyed a period of relative public relations calm. But did it produce better human beings? In their post-career doldrums, many of these man-children returned to their wayward habits.

How, then, is mandatory volunteerism anything but another form of institutionalized bribery? It may generate some short-term good for organizations that desperately need assistance. But it doesn’t do much for the moral development of those who see a pay-off at the end of their sojourns – in this case, a high school diploma. Indeed, by injecting profit so crassly into the mix of motivations for helping others we breed an attitude of cynical entitlement.

But maybe that’s what our political leaders want for the next generation. Heaven knows, little else they’ve devised has worked. New Brunswick’s debt is insupportable. Energy costs are set to spiral upward. Our literacy and language scores trail most other jurisdictions in Canada. And we remain tethered to a system of federal hand-outs, which renders any hope of economic self-sufficiency in our children’s lifetimes illusory, at best.

In the post-bank-bail-out world, where so few take responsibility for their actions or for the conditions of their neighbours and communities, greed is good.

Why not make it mandatory?

It’s 9:00 a.m. and, with a hot cup of Joe in hand, I check my messages.

“Hello, Alec. We couldn’t help noticing you spent precisely 42 minutes longer than is customary for you in the washroom this morning. Based on your water consumption, we surmise that you chose to have a bath. Did you know that showers are far more energy wise? Just a friendly reminder from your public works department. Have a nice day!”

Good point. I make a mental note to be more environmentally sensitive in my daily ablutions. What’s next for me in the email queue?

“Dear Mr. Bruce, it has come to our attention that your weekly television viewing has tapered off over the past two months. Is there anything wrong? As your neighbourly cable operator, we are committed to providing you with only the best in entertainment and information. Please let us know if there’s any way we can serve you better.”

I think about it, and wonder how much a subscription to HBO Canada would set me back. I love that Bill Maher character. I continue clicking through the inbox.

“We don’t mean to alarm you, but we noticed you pulled no power from the provincial electricity grid in March. This strongly suggests you were absent from your house for a protracted period of time. As your home insurer, we wish to point out that your agreement with us will be nullified should we discover that you routinely leave your residence unoccupied for more than three days at a stretch.”

Wow, this is getting creepy. I can’t take a bath, turn on the tube, or leave my digs without being tracked. I take a slurp from the mug and up pops another missive.

“So, how’s the coffee?”

Okay, none of this has actually happened, but if some experts are correct our brilliant innovations in the field of information and digital communications could one day leave us bereft of even the smallest morsel of privacy.

A story in the Toronto Star the other day tells the tale of Big Brother’s steady encroachment: “The time you jump into the shower in the morning, the time you finally flick off that TV at night – even the time you set your home security alarm. Ontario’s privacy czar wants to keep the information secret. Personal privacy must remain paramount as the ‘smart grid’ electricity system is built around the province, said Ann Cavoukian, Ontario’s information and privacy commissioner.”

As the dear woman proclaimed, “Imagine the enormous interest in this information – not only by marketers and companies but unauthorized third parties like the bad guys, thieves who’ll know when you are not at home. . .Think about every single appliance in your house reporting, in real time, your energy use. What will develop over time is a library of personal information relating to a profile of your energy use: When you eat, when you sleep and wake.”

And here I thought Facebook, MySpace, Twitter and the like were the poison-tipped points on the spears of progress. To learn that my alarm clock could be used against me gives a whole new and chilling meaning to the phrase, “home invasion”.

The problem, of course, is there’s not much anybody can do about these emerging trespasses and transgressions. They are manifestations of a cultural shift in attitudes about the proper limits of privacy in a global, interconnected economy. The more successfully we transform personal information into streams of electrons, the more accessible that information becomes to “the bad guys”. Just ask any one of the millions of victims of identity theft, now epidemic around the world.

Still, we can take reasonable precautions to protect what’s left of our inner lives. Short of holing up in a windowless, electronics-free panic room somewhere in the backwoods, keep personal information. . .well, personal. Avoid excessive use of the Internet. Stop downloading useless tripe. Read a book once in a while.

And when you come across one of those new-fangled, full-body airport scanners, consider that in this day and age, hitchhiking might just be the safest way to travel after all.

He is just a year old, but already my grandson Euan knows he is much more than the vessel into which my wife pours her bottomless spring of affection. He toddles with purpose, pointing at objects that fascinate him and people who arouse his curiosity. “Da,” he declares, demanding answers from his caretakers like a miniature CEO.

            “That’s a bird,” Gramma coos. “And that’s a box. That’s a book. And that’s a cat. Who’s that? You know who that is. It’s Poppy. Can you say ‘Poppy’?”

            When satisfied with the report, he observes us with cool, but not unfriendly, regard, as if to say, “That’s quite enough for now. Although we shall revisit the task of naming things at a later date, I believe it’s now time for my nap.”

            And, like any good corporate executive, he’s almost always right.

            In fact, a thread of research now infiltrating some of North America’s better universities suggests that infants possess an innate, if rudimentary, moral compass. Certain things matter more than others. They’re not taught the distinctions; they simply, inexplicably, know.

            Writing in a recent edition of The New York Times Magazine, Paul Bloom, a professor of psychology at Yale, concludes: “Babies possess certain moral foundations – the capacity and willingness to judge the actions of others, some sense of justice, gut responses to altruism and nastiness. Regardless of how smart we are, if we didn’t start with this basic apparatus, we would be nothing more than amoral agents, ruthlessly driven to pursue our self-interest.”

            All of which invites an intriguing question: If we’re born with the ability to understand the difference between right and wrong – indeed, to prefer the former over the latter – does the complex business of living inevitably corrupt us?

            What was Bernard Madoff’s multi-billion-dollar pyramid scheme, which emptied savings accounts around the world and destroyed thousands of lives, if not an explicitly amoral act of ruthless self-interest? What were the heads of America’s biggest banks thinking when they traded in exotic credit instruments they didn’t comprehend and so, in the process, brought the global financial system to the brink of collapse?

            Today, the European Union is monetizing a massive $670-billion emergency fund to prevent the all-but-failed state of Greece from dragging Portugal, Spain, Ireland, Iceland, and even the United Kingdom into yet another recession – a calamity that would quickly spread to the United States and Canada, signalling more layoffs, business shut-downs, foreclosures, homelessness, poverty and crime.

            And yet, at the centre of this latest economic contagion is the sin of gluttony: Goldman Sachs’ wilful disregard for the junk status of Greece’s bonds even as it traded them to earn a quick and easy buck; and that Mediterranean nation’s propensity for living beyond its means, erstwhile certain that some EU partner would rescue its unproductive, ignoble leadership and bureaucracy, keeping them safe from the madding mobs of apoplectic citizens.

            The world as we’ve made it is replete with caprice and treachery. The Catholic Church refuses to acknowledge the full extent of the crimes its minion priests have committed against the most vulnerable members of its flock. A would-be car bomber grins and gyrates like an imbecile for cameras in Manhattan’s Times Square. U.S.-deployed robot drones drop bombs, killing un-tolled numbers of civilians along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border. Oil fouls the Gulf of Mexico, possibly for decades to come; still, the “drill baby, drill” lullaby trills off the environmentally sensitive coasts of North America.

            Naturally, my grandson is oblivious to these outrages. He’s up from his nap now, and ready to pursue his project of deliberate self-improvement.

            “Da. . .”

            I smile: “That’s a dog.”

            “Da. . .”

            I grin: “That’s Poppy’s beard.”

            “Da. . .”

            I explain: “Oh, that colourful pattern on the wall is sunlight refracted through a crystal prism. It’s rather interesting, don’t you think?”

            He looks at me, brow furrowed.

            “Okay,” I concede. “It’s pretty.”

            He seems to agree, and moves on with his inventory.

            Is it any wonder why humanity’s great saviours have always been babies?

The word makes a manufacturer’s corporate blood run cold; its connotations promise years, if not decades, of blackened reputations and costly litigations. Yet, “recall” is becoming the mot du jour for some of the biggest and once-most-trustworthy companies in the world, as the rest of us face the banality of routinely diminishing expectations.

            Not long ago, Toyota was the auto brand to beat. Now, with 14 recalls on makes and models dating back to 1998, it is a hobbled giant barely able to explain its failures to consumers and their public representatives. And, though it is the most famous (or infamous) trend-setter in this new game of mea cupla, it is by no means alone.

            The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission recently announced the recall of a record number of popular, formerly innocuous items – everything from drop-side baby cribs and fitness benches to rechargeable batteries, scuba tanks and toy drums. Meanwhile, research in the United Kingdom finds that the amount of product recalls issued in that country rose from 112 in 2004 to 253 in 2007.

            The reasons for this development are not difficult to divine. New product safety legislation introduced in most developed countries have cracked down on manufacturers who cut corners. At the same time, buyers are better educated than ever before on the potential hazards of the goods they procure. All of which points to the inexorable conclusion that much of what enters the so-called global supply chain these days is, in the blunt language of consumer advocates, junk.

            According to a 2005 post on cnetnews.com, “For the past few years, it has appeared that U.S. corporations are once again employing strategies that emphasize short-term gains from the production of cheaply made products. Kitchen appliances, power tools, cell phones, computer printers, DVD players, toys and many other consumer goods are increasingly conceived and sold as disposable commodities. Although these products have more features and capabilities every year, their durability and longevity are rapidly dwindling.

“As in the 1970s, this strategy poses serious dangers – from the erosion of well-established brands to the ultimate financial failure of companies. But it may be harder now to reverse the tide because several trends in manufacturing and marketing subtly reinforce one another. Instead of facing competition from high-quality Japanese manufacturers, companies in industrialized countries face tough competition from low-wage countries and high price-cutting pressure from global retailers.”

Still, the replacement mentality is not solely, or even chiefly, a business issue any more. It has seeped into our collective consciousness like a heavy metal leaching from a garbage dump. As we rarely see quality in our goods and services, our public servants and elected representatives, we don’t expect the superior to supplant the inferior without requiring, from the rest of us, enormous sacrifices in time, money and well being.

It’s why bold, new ideas about financial market responsibility, corporate governance, health care, education, energy policy, literacy and poverty frighten us. After all, the world doesn’t work to remake itself. It operates to maintain the status quo and, when necessary, switch one faulty gizmo with another until it, too, inevitably fails.

We’ve grown accustomed to this farce, and in a perverse way it comforts us. Why strive to be innovative or better when the remedy of recall exists to produce the immediate, if short-lived, satisfaction of believing that because the lowest common denominator has not yet destroyed us, it probably never will?

But it will, as legions of corporations discover ways – as they surely must – to “monetize” their mediocrity and “externalize” the downside of reproducing returned goods. The market is demonically gifted at shifting blame and cost to the general population and the environment on which it depends.

Meanwhile, we keep our ears open and our eyes trained on the latest news of recall, and wonder why we can’t apply the practice to our own feckless elected representatives, oblivious to the fact the true price paid for their replacement, from a thinning pool of political talent, is continued incompetence.

What did Grandpa say? Do it right the first time?

How quaint.

And how utterly unnecessary.

Some Moncton drivers think they’re completely justified parking their cars on another’s private property. Meanwhile, several downtown landowners think they have an absolute right to immobilize trespassers’ vehicles with the now infamous “boot”.  At least these camps share one point in common: They’re both wrong.

            It’s been ages since the Hub City managed to manufacture such a ludicrous controversy. And, as with all civic dust-ups when brains succumb to passion, the timing is impeccable: Lest we forget, tourist season is just around the corner, and the imbroglio can’t help but imply that Moncton is not the people-friendly destination it’s cracked up to be just in time for the World Junior Track and Field Championships.

            Certainly, the mainstream media and the blogosphere are having a field day covering the story. And why not? It’s a headline writer’s dream: “Give the boot to the boot”, “These boots were made for locking”, “Moncton’s new rush-hour gridlock.” It surely helps when both the mayor and the local Member of Parliament weigh in on the subject.

            Said George LeBlanc last week: “It’s not like you’re parking in someone’s driveway. . .There’s an imbalance of power and authority here and questions of fairness.”

            Added Brian Murphy: “It’s an unseemly way of doing business. Nobody should be inconvenienced by a half-hour. And the idea that you park there and the engine is still warm and they are towing or booting you is crazy.”

            Indeed, it is. But no less so than assuming a private lot is yours for the invading simply because it’s not full. In this sense, it’s exactly like parking in someone’s driveway. Ask any number of homeowners who live along the perimeters of Victoria Park during the August craft market for their opinions about their fellow citizens’ sense of vehicular entitlement.

            Frankly, though, like many in this community, I have zero patience with draconian measures to enforce property rights at the expense of reason and compromise. And a lightly regulated, dubiously licensed service that wheel-boots my car and then demands I pay an inexplicable penalty of 85 bucks before I can drive off does worse than trespass; it extorts my compliance, like some inner-city mugger.

            Still, there is a way out of this frustrating morass as long as cooler heads prevail.

            Where feasible, private landowners in the downtown area should fence and gate their lots. Where this proves impractical, they should post big, legible signs in both English and French clearly indicating that unauthorized parking will result in warnings, tickets, and, as a last resort, towing or booting. They should record the plate numbers of repeat offenders, and seek remedies and penalties appropriate to the so-called crime.

Meanwhile, public authorities should heavily regulate the practice of booting by, among other things, drafting and enforcing a code of conduct and producing a comprehensive community information program. They should require that private parking lot “booters” obtain all the certifications and licenses applicable to public parking lot attendants, and adhere to a strict standard of best practices when dealing with offenders. These include: Appreciating the circumstances of an individual driver’s infraction; courtesy; efficiency; and speed. Moreover, they should establish a legitimate complaint and redress mechanism for drivers who feel they have been treated unfairly (or robbed at pen-point).

If all this sounds nauseatingly complicated, bear in mind that parking restrictions in every city of Canada are replete with “nanny-state” conventions. You can’t roll up outside somebody’s house in downtown Toronto without inviting an unwanted tow courtesy of the city’s public works department. Just try negotiating with those characters.

Of course, the best solution for Moncton’s periodic woes is always the simplest: Drivers, don’t park where you’re not wanted; landowners, try to remember you’re part of a community and that wheel-booting is a wholly foreign assault against the well-being of an otherwise peaceful and cheerful city.

Better yet, ride a bike to work.

You’ll feel better, and in so many ways.

It has come to my attention that I am a lousy email correspondent, by which I mean I’m brash, gruff, dismissive, and frequently rude.

            I don’t know how or why the more reptilian aspects of my personality have found fertile ground on which to upend the emotional stability of my (now shrinking) network of cyber-neighbours. But I just can’t seem to resist poking and jabbing unsuspecting message-senders.

            A typical exchange might go something like this:

            “Hey Alec, I gotta say I enjoyed your last column. Though I don’t completely agree with you about the relative advantages of hybridized bush beans over, say, the more common pole-climbing variety, the piece was, at least, fun to read.”

            “Hey Getalife.blogspot.com, I can’t tell you how much I value your opinion. No, really, I can’t. So, maybe I’ll just leave it there.”

            Or like this:

            “Hello Mr. Bruce. I was wondering if you would agree to participate in a three-day conference on the proper care and feeding of exotic house pets. We think your insights on the subject would be fascinating. We could possibly pay for your hotel room, if you think it absolutely necessary.”

            “Hello Ms. Lotta Nerve. I would be more than happy to consider your kind request, if you would, likewise, consider paying my mortgage this month. Yes, unfortunately, I think it absolutely necessary.”

            Or like this recent confab with my wife:

            “Hi mister, I’m coming home now.”

            “Thank you. I’ll be sure to alert the media.”

            What’s truly horrifying about all of this is that I’m really not such a bad guy. At least, that’s what people who get to know me say. I like babies and small animals. I’m all for romantic walks on faraway beaches and quiet evenings spent in the bosom of my family.

            It’s just that there is something about electronic communications – maybe its speed or its fundamentally perfunctory nature – which brings out the Mr. Hyde to my Dr. Jekyll.

Fortunately, however, there is help for people like me.

            Meet Lymbix Inc., a Moncton-based start-up company specializing in products “related to the emotion of text-based communications. Having developed the world’s first connotative database, applications powered by Lymbix identify a deeper level of sentiment analysis and drives further beyond positive, negative and neutral.”

            That’s from the company’s web site. And there’s more: “The ToneCheck add-in for Microsoft Outlook (Release Date: April 2010) identifies the emotional definition of words and phrases in order to help end users improve the clarity of their communication. As intuitive as grammar or spell-check, ToneCheck by Lymbix gauges words and phrases against eight levels of connotative feeling, allowing the end user to make real-time corrections and adjust the overall tone of messages using an easy-to-use menu system.”

            So, for example, you might write, “I don’t give a fig about your strep throat! A deadline is a deadline, pal!”

            The software might lead you adjust your missive thusly: “I’m sorry to hear about your difficulties. Please send me your materials as soon as you’re feeling better.”

            Actually, I have no idea what the platform can do as I have not yet had the pleasure of test-driving it. But, if it has passed its beta phase of development, I predict great things for this Hub City innovation. Think of the size and scope of electronic communications, the burgeoning growth of Web 2.0 social networking sites, and you get the picture.

            No more sleepless nights fretting about that unfortunately worded email dashed off in a moment of passion. No more transparently dubious excuses after the fact: “You thought I was serious? Hey, man, I thought you could take a joke.”

            Finally, stupidity need not be a barrier to social or economic progress. Just download the fix, and be on your merry way. 

            In fact, I had planned to email the company offering my hearty congratulations. But with my track record, well. . .let’s just say I had second thoughts.