It was a simpler time when a reeve represented his or her township. What was a reeve, many will now wonder? The term has all but been abolished.
The reeve, as many older readers will recall, was the head of local council and its representative on county council back in the bucolic heyday of rural Ontario.
Typically, the reeve was a long-standing member of the community, elected more regularly than today at open nomination meetings, and later by secret ballot. The position was one of duty, paid by a meagre honorarium, as were the councillors and deputy-reeve.
The deputy stood in for the reeve locally, chairing meetings or other duties as needed.
Then along came amalgamation.
Although rural folks understood their local government – for well over a century, actually – a movement of sorts swelled up suggesting such terms as reeve and deputy-reeve were too passé. Instead, the head of council should be the mayor.
Then, newcomers and some latecomers could feel more connected to their local government. They would finally understand it’s not just John Smith who happens to be reeve, it is Mayor John Smith. Perhaps, over the decades of meeting with local politicians at conventions, the old boys just got tired explaining to city politicians what a reeve does. That is history.
But what has happened with the abandonment of simpler ways and times is that perspective has been lost. Mayors today, in the space of a short 10 or 12 years, now pull down a salary of sorts, some with benefits, amounting in remuneration to more than what the whole of the council once cost. Are things better today than, say, 12 years ago? Readers will have their own take on that.
Today, we suggest that things have become too complicated and a bit out of whack. It’s time to regain some perspective; despite all the big city stuff and notions of grandeur at the local level, these are still relatively small townships easily managed by keeping it simple.
The context of our point was demonstrated aptly in the Town of Erin recently, as Mayor Lou Maieron pushed to make Erin’s local government adopt a county-style committee system.
That potential mistake was foiled for now, and upon closer examination of its Centre Wellington neighbour, Erin decided to stick with keeping it simple.
Centre Wellington adopted a system where committees deal with township business and make recommendations that are passed at council. That system was pushed during the amalgamation process because it is what the incoming mayor and councillors understood to be a tried and true method of governance. We saw it as too big a move at the time.
Perhaps the plainest argument made against the committee system came in the last election from Centre Wellington mayoral challenger Robert Foster, who said committees, whose meetings are generally held outside easily accessible times for the general public, were rubber stamped at council. Little debate, little knowledge amongst councillors, little fireworks or passion for the press, and little transparency for the electorate are the outcomes of the committees system locally.
How else can incredibly short meetings be explained? How else can initiatives be shelved before even being tabled?
How else can councillors shrug their shoulders when they don’t know about an issue that isn’t part of their committee?
In one sense, local politics has become too professional and too removed from voters. We relish days past when councillors sat in a circle and talked through problems with their staff at hand.
We need to regain perspective and streamline local government, rather than make it more complicated.
CORRECTION
It was stated in last week’s editorial that Erin council examined Centre Wellington’s committee format as part of its own deliberations.
The original suggestion (that Erin should examine Centre Wellington’s structure before changing its system) was mistakenly edited to the past tense. The Advertiser regrets the error.
