British Columbia’s representative for children and youth is embroiled in yet another controversy. Last month, Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond released a blistering critique of a report issued by retired public servant Bob Plecas, who had been appointed by the children’s ministry to review the handling of a child-welfare case.
What triggered the row was Turpel-Lafond’s decision to make her critique public before presenting it to the legislature. That prompted a dressing down by the Speaker of the House, Linda Reid, who noted that reports of this kind are supposed to be tabled in the legislature first. Turpel-Lafond responded, in equally caustic terms, alleging the Speaker had overstepped her authority.
Neither side comes out of this display of pettiness smelling like roses. We are entitled to expect more of public officials who hold positions of importance.
But regardless of who had the better of the argument, there is an underlying reality at stake here. Turpel-Lafond appears unwilling to grasp it.
There are eight officers of the B.C. legislature, and each holds a somewhat unique position. They’re not government workers, they aren’t elected representatives, neither are they contract employees.
In theory, their authority is granted by the legislature, which appoints them. But in practice, their ability to influence events derives as much from the price government officials pay for defying them.
The conflict of interest commissioner, for example, wields considerable power because an adverse finding may mean the end of a politician’s career.
The information and privacy commissioner is in an equally strong position. Government ministries are compelled to follow whatever orders he or she issues.
And the auditor general can make her rulings stick by refusing to sign off on the government’s accounts until her concerns are dealt with.
Other officers of the legislature, however, occupy a more delicate position. They have not the power to compel, but only to persuade.
The children’s representative finds herself in such a position. She, too, lacks formal authority to force government compliance with her findings.
That doesn’t reduce her to impotence; quite the opposite. In any given case, she starts from a position of considerable moral authority. The public is more likely to believe her view of events than the government’s, if only because she occupies a disinterested position.
However, that authority is not guaranteed. It can be diminished or even lost in certain circumstances.
The set-to with the Speaker illustrates this reality. Members of the public want to see the representative standing up for children. They have no interest whatsoever in a playground spat about procedure.
Then there is the danger of crying wolf. British Columbians understand that not every case of child neglect can be laid at the government’s door.
But the representative sometimes conveys a different impression — that her start point in most instances is to blame the Children’s Ministry. Over time, the impact of this confrontational approach diminishes her usefulness. People understand that numerous factors are involved, and want to see less blame, and more practical assistance, applied.
That may in part explain the Speaker’s unusual — indeed unprecedented — use of derogatory language in her letter to Turpel-Lafond. There is such a thing as wearing out your welcome.
The representative has six months left in her term of office. It’s probably too late to bury the hatchet and start working co-operatively with everyone involved in child-care services.
No one is under any illusions about how challenging this job is. Yet it serves a critical function.
Children are society’s most vulnerable members. They need someone to speak on their behalf. But they also need that function to be performed in ways that will garner the broadest support.
