Why did Patrick Brown undermine his own platform?

Why did Ontario Progressive Conservative leader Patrick Brown undermine his platform launch with a silly promise to resign if his top five promises were not implemented?

It all seemed to be going so well. News that the PC blueprint for the next election would be presented at a PC gathering had generated considerable media attention, and Brown appeared poised to make a statesman-like impression on Ontarians. Then he ruined the whole thing by signing a giant novelty pledge. Similar in appearance to a Publishers Clearing House giveaway cheque, it stated that if his five major platform promises were not enacted within the first term he "will not seek a second" — the so-called "People's Guarantee."

To make the whole thing even more cringe-worthy, the platform promises that every PC candidate will do the same thing in his or her riding, presumably signing a similar giant pledge card in front of adoring fans.

Not a good move.

First, because all that this kind of gimmick does is fuel public cynicism. Does anyone really believe Brown would resign over broken promises if he were ever elected premier?

Second, because it demonstrates a lack of understanding by the PCs of the role that platforms play in politics these days. Platforms are important, but other than a few policy wonks and special interest groups, no one actually reads them.

Platforms are like your best friend sending you a link to pictures he posted from his recent family vacation in Saskatchewan: You have absolutely no intention of looking at 1,251 pictures of Saskatoon and the surrounding areas, but you are glad that he sent them to you anyway. It reassures you that he had a safe and happy vacation and that your friendship is still strong.

It's the same thing with party platforms. Few are interested in reading vacuous political prose, even if they are presented in a glossy magazine format. But voters do want to know that a party has a plan, that it is serious and reasonable and, particularly when it comes to an opposition party, that they are ready to take power.

And even without the resignation pledge, the PC platform faces some challenges in the serious-and-reasonable category. Although admittedly populist in nature, its pony-for-every-little-girl feel forces you to check that you haven't picked up the NDP platform. Brown is already on the defensive over how he will pay to fulfill all our hopes, dreams and desires.

Then you get hit by the pledge, and things really get strange.

First, what exactly does it mean? According to the party, every PC candidate will sign the pledge not to seek another term if any of the five promises are broken. Wow, one misstep and I guess we can look forward to the promise-breaking PC party being entirely composed of rookie candidates in the 2022 election.

(Oh sure, that is really believable. It reminds me of the Reform Party MPs who said they wouldn't take a pension, which, with few exceptions, most apparently did).

Would it mean that Brown, desperate to keep his job as premier, will devote every available resource to keeping his five promises at the expense of other parts of the government? Will we see a PC government pursuing major cuts, running deficits or hiking taxes not covered in the platform to deliver on an expensive list of promises, which include a significant income tax cut, a major child-care subsidy, an increase in mental health care funding, and a further cut to hydro bills?

Or is it more likely that, regardless of the reality, the PCs will simply unilaterally declare all the promises kept and move on?

But beyond the pledge's hokeyness is what it says about the PCs' understanding of governing. Unexpected things happen when you are put in charge: Planes fly into buildings, stock markets melt down and reality TV stars get elected president of the United States. More than checking off a list of promises, Ontarians want to know that a new team can deal with the unforeseen.

One of the most successful politicians in recent Canadian history was Jean Chrétien. His 1993 Red Book is cited as one of the first modern examples of a comprehensive platform. As someone who worked on that national campaign, I remember his non-stop promotion of his plan. I also remember that he was smart enough to refrain from tying it to a resignation promise. Having held almost every major Cabinet portfolio, he knew the precariousness of governing. Although his plan foresaw no tax increases, he wouldn't even commit to holding to that pledge under any circumstances, noting that he might have to raise them "if we were to be in a war."

Voters are more reasonable and forgiving than politicians, particularly opposition ones, give them credit. Presenting a serious vision for the province as the goal that you will work toward is a far better strategy. No one believes a gimmicky pledge.

John Milloy is a former MPP and Ontario Liberal cabinet minister currently serving as the director of the Centre for Public Ethics and assistant professor of public ethics at Waterloo Lutheran Seminary, and the inaugural practitioner in residence in Wilfrid Laurier University's Political Science department. He is also a lecturer in the University of Waterloo's Master of Public Service Program.  John can be reached at [email protected] or follow him on Twitter @John_Milloy. This column was originally published in the online publication QP Briefing.