“We were inundated with workshops and directives to decolonize our workplace, be on the lookout for systemic discrimination, and hectored on what new words we must use and which we must avoid.”
People in B.C. are starting to notice strange things happening in our public institutions.
Many concerns have long been dismissed as overblown narratives created by far-right culture warriors, but lately, even traditionally left-wing citizens are growing concerned.
Parents in Victoria wonder why the school district is telling them to look inside themselves to divine the gender of their soul. Hospital patients wonder if crack pipe vending machines are a good use of public funds, or whether giving addicts endless supplies of powerful opiates are the best way to combat addiction.
Even the staunchest advocates of DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) may question whether it’s really a good idea to house a male prisoner who has murdered and raped children in a minimum security women’s prison, especially one with a mother-baby unit.
Criticisms of these outlandish public policy initiatives are often directed at either the organizations delivering the services or elected officials. However, there is another party that enables these bizarre actions but largely escapes scrutiny: the legions of bureaucrats working behind the scenes.
I should know: for 11 years I was one.
It all starts with a mandate letter…
Many people imagine that elected leaders, such as the Premier and cabinet, issue orders, which are then implemented by frontline staff like teachers and healthcare workers. But the reality is there’s a vast bureaucratic apparatus between these two ends of the spectrum.
Consider healthcare, where I spent most of my career.
Let’s say the Premier decides opioid addicts should be provided with pharmaceutical opioids to prevent overdoses from street drugs – commonly known as “safe supply.” The Premier will, in consultation with their political staffers, create a mandate letter for the minister of Health. These letters provide very high-level directions (e.g “lead and accelerate… safe supply”).
The minister then directs their deputy minister (the senior public servant responsible for day-to-day running of the ministry) to implement this. The deputy minister passes this direction to the relevant assistant deputy minister, who passes it to an executive director, who passes it to a director, who passes it to a manager, who passes it a policy analyst (or a team of them), who decides what the heck “safe supply” is and how to “lead and accelerate” it.
Analysts create strategies, plans, guidelines etc, which are then passed up and down this chain of command until a provincial strategy of some kind (such as this) is approved.
This might sound byzantine, but the bureaucracy is just getting started.
This new provincial guidance document – which is usually long on flowery language and short on specifics – then goes to health authority head offices, who follow a similar process to figure out how the rubber will meet the road.
Health authorities, in turn, create their strategies, which are passed on to hospitals, clinics, and non-profits, all of whom have administrators who develop plans for how this is actually going to be implemented. And finally, at long last, directions are passed on to the healthcare workers who actually provide drugs to addicts, and who also make their own decisions on how they will implement the new directions.
Unelected officials shape policy in their image
At every step in this process, the people involved make judgment calls and exert influence.
If they see something that concerns them, they can point it out. If the plan doesn’t look feasible, they can say so. They interpret broad directives into specific policies, and because they are human those interpretations are coloured by their personal views.
Harm reduction could mean needle exchange programs and drug testing. Or it could also mean vending machines with free crack pipes. Safe supply could mean giving supervised doses to hardcore addicts. It could also mean handing out bottles of pills to anyone who states they’re addicted.
Think of it as a game of telephone: what the Premier said may not have much relation to what actually unfolds on the front line.
This is why an impartial public service is so important. When elected officials direct the public service to do something, or provide them with options, they need the public service to provide fact-based and impartial advice, and to interpret their directions in a neutral manner.
Slow boil indoctrination of the civil service
Unfortunately, impartiality is falling out of fashion.
When I first joined the B.C. public service in 2011, colleagues were circumspect in sharing their personal politics at work. By the time I left 11 years later, colleagues openly shared their political opinions and engaged in activism at work (so long as the opinions and activism were of the far-left, identity-based persuasion).
During that time, we were inundated with workshops and directives encouraging us to decolonize our workplace, be on the lookout for systemic discrimination of all kinds, and hectored on what new words we must use and which we must avoid.
Somewhere along the way, the political ritual that is the land acknowledgement, became standard at the start of meetings and required in email signatures. And stating pronouns, while not yet required, was highly encouraged.
Openly partisan staff were encouraged to “bring their whole self to work,” while staff who felt uncomfortable with the politicization of our offices learned to keep their heads down and were told to “get comfortable being uncomfortable.”
I learned this the hard way myself.
During an office-wide training session on trans rights at the BC Ombudsperson’s Office, I suggested that sex, rather than gender identity, may still sometimes be a relevant consideration for public policy. For my temerity, I was publicly dressed down by the presenter and later disciplined by my boss, who admitted he initially hadn’t understood my infraction either until the presenter enlightened him on the egregiousness of questioning their doctrine.
My penance was to attend a series of four sensitivity classes (one wasn’t enough), while the rest of the Ombudsperson staff learned a stark lesson – dissent from progressive orthodoxy is not tolerated.
In 2022, I realized things were only getting worse and that I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t push back somehow. I leaked the slides from an especially over-the-top presentation on decolonization, which caused some embarrassment for the office.
Unsurprisingly, suspicion soon fell on me and I was placed on leave while they conducted an investigation. Shortly after, I departed the Ombudsperson’s Office, re-entered the private sector, and now operate a small business.
Thinking back to the policies and programs created in that stultifying environment, it seems no wonder some staff in our public institutions sound like sophomoric, cringe-worthy university student union members, rather than impartial and professional public servants.
The storm before the calm
Unfortunately, things are going to get worse before they get better.
The assumption that B.C.’s society and government are inherently racist is now enshrined as fact in the new Anti-Racism Act, which promises to root out racism in provincial ministries and agencies. This will greatly expand the DEI bureaucracy, costing taxpayers untold expense to implement and monitor a massive initiative to cleanse the bureaucracy of racist policies, programs and services.
Misgendering someone – refusing to pretend they are the opposite sex – is now punishable under human rights legislation. Refusing to halt the growth and alter the bodies of children who say they are transgender can result in legal sanctions against healthcare providers.
These legal frameworks, which the public service has had a large hand in creating, will further entrench the radicalization of our institutions.
Rise up voices of dissent
It has taken time to get into this mess, and it’s going to take time to get out.
It will take a sustained effort from elected representatives committed to change and they can expect strong resistance from public servants. Resistance will be especially virulent from employees whose livelihoods depend on endless DEI initiatives.
To turn this situation around, laws need to be changed and strict expectations for impartiality implemented and enforced. But for that to happen, both public servants and the public in general must find the courage to speak up.
Until those who object find their voice, the tragicomedy in our public institutions will play on.