Photos by Jeff Halperin
Despite unprecedented interest in municipal politics during Ford’s colourful mayoralty, most Torontonians can’t accurately visualize city council meetings. Most have never been, yet this is where policy gets shaped. I didn’t have a clue what council meetings were like either, but that’s changed after covering city hall these past six months. I’d like to connect interest with knowledge by describing what these meetings actually look and feel like so people can better picture how our city is run.
I still get asked by friends if I have press credentials to gain entrance, or if the guard with the rubber gloves is surprisingly gentle. But anyone can freely walk into these meetings. No level of government is more accessible than municipal. Moving up the political chain from municipal to provincial to federal, at each step there’s a decrease in access in proportion to the increase in formalized ceremony and tax dollars squandered. Citizens attend council meetings in t-shirts, carrying bike helmets inside.
My first time ever pressing 3C in that elevator, the button leading to nothing but where council meetings are held, the woman beside me grinned mischievously. “Have fuuuun.” An auspicious start to city hall reporting!
Hockey players hitherto only seen on TV come alive at your first NHL game, but council meetings make your Twitter feed materialize–reporters and politicians in the flesh. I don’t feel this novelty anymore, but I remember it.
Through the corridor, beyond security and the table bearing copies of the agenda and the internet password (access is free, but the password changes daily), the whole, strangely lit room can be taken in at a glance. Waist-high glass separates the councillors’ seats from the rest. The 44 councillors sit along long desks in spots designated according to their ward. Opposite is seating roughly shaped like a Greek amphitheatre, three tiers in a semi-circular gallery overlooking the proceedings. At the top and in back of the spectator seats is the press gallery. Each major news outlet has a designated surface to work and power devices. The small but noble media pluggers, yours truly, sit with the regular schlimazels. A group of adaptive writers stake out the front row, the only seated place to charge devices. The jumbotron screens voting results. Meetings can be watched in full online and on cable TV.
At 9:30 am the meeting begins with the national anthem. A video montage plays while patriotic councillors move their lips. Next, a moment of silence for a few relatively prominent and recently deceased people. Next, routine matters. This day-to-day stuff is exceedingly civil, and if something here requires a vote it almost always achieves consensus. 44-0. Though sometimes councillors, even the mayor, are late. Sometimes they have legitimate professional obligations, sometimes not.
Often in the gallery sit groups of citizens who clearly don’t feel the same way about the agenda item. Union people, employees of a certain business, CEOs and activists can be seen in clumps. If they’re not identifiable by specially-made t-shirts declaring their stance, usually people of the same causes look alike.
Routine matters are finished when speeches becomes pointy and partisan. 10:30ish. For major issues, each councillor uses their five minutes to illustrate their thinking behind an impending vote or to interrogate the City Manager or other staff. This inquisition may genuinely seek detailed answers regarding a report, or to ask rhetorical questions and borrow the official’s authority for posturing. This is the high theatre at city hall.
Judging councillors strictly by their voting record is like judging a hockey player by his stats without watching him on the ice (Grabovski: 0 goals, great playoffs!). A councillor’s speech is the closest we get to contacting their rationale or lack thereof. I’ve witnessed many heartfelt appeals, wonderfully nuanced speeches, and ample evidence of capable, devoted civil servants. When friends ask how city hall is, I say, “It’s better and worse than you think.” That’s the better.
Opposite this are rabid, vacuous and cliché-ridden speeches horribly demonstrating sheer stupidity. When it’s certain councillors’ time to talk, I perversely smile and shudder at the approaching train wreck. I don’t want to single anyone out exactly, but when certain Ford brothers talk, the speech increases in volume as it decreases in coherency. Often heard in the gallery is restrained laughter, or better, “But that’s a blatant lie!” is emphatically whispered, prompting the councillor to point at the offending section and mildly upbraid the unemployed kids who don’t pay taxes making all their customary noise. The speaker issues a stern warning she has never made good on–spectators, be silent or be thrown out. Adjusting, protest is communicated by a silent finger snapping motion, or applause via twirling jazz hands. This show of democracy at its finest and most mature would never be permitted anywhere near federal politicians, who have much more sophisticated means of dodging accountability.
It’s undeniable that media not seated in the press gallery are overwhelmingly anti-Ford. This isn’t a conspiracy, nor is it surprising; left-wing people are only there because they feel the civic compulsion to monitor those in power, while right-wing people are absent because they feel the economic need to spend the day making money. Sometimes during their colleagues’ speeches, councillors mingle on either side of the glass. Some left-wing councillors chat with the regular writers they know, trading perspectives and jokes. Meanwhile, right-wing councillors chat with old suits. Councillors of all stripes mingle among themselves, too.
Technology makes being inside a meeting surreal. You might sit silently next to a writer but only come to know what they’re thinking by reading his tweets. This makes your physical presence feel both useless and incredible: you can follow Twitter without leaving your living room, but there you are, essentially reading their mind in silence. It feels like telepathy.
Sometimes school classes visit meetings on field trips. They receive official welcome and applause. I wonder what these darling students think about the adults running Toronto after hearing speaker Nunziata repeatedly scold: “Quiet down in here, please! I don’t want to ask again! And return to your seats! Don’t make me name names!” Seeing such adolescent misbehaviour so disciplined, the students can’t be positive they’ve even left school. I also wonder how many teachers decide then and there to expose students to a more orderly place next trip by bringing them to the zoo.
Councillors vote electronically, and votes are displayed on the jumbotron. Media and councillors alike sometimes talk to untangle what a “for” or “against” vote means, or precisely what issue or recommendation is being voted on. Sometimes councillors misunderstand and accidentally cast the wrong vote–normally on irrelevant issues. Media take phone pictures of the jumbotron to handily record who voted for what. It should surprise and appall many to learn that when a councillor would rather not be held accountable on a particular issue, they simply exit the room during voting and return shortly afterwards. Certain councillors are repeat offenders. There’s a closed off room behind the speaker’s stand. I don’t know if it’s just a private place for councillors to converge or if there’s ping pong and party sandwiches, but it functions sometimes like an invisibilty cloak. Except voting records do show absences, of course.
After a vote, and really throughout, members of the press can be heard above testing equipment or giving live-feed recaps. About a dozen outlets publish about the same information, only their grammar varying. They chase the mayor or highly quotable councillors for the ever-necessary sound bite and pictures. Sometimes this chase takes place during meetings. The press gallery media all oppose Ford too, but this isn’t conspiracy, just proximity.
I’ve seen a lot after pressing 3C. Hopefully this circus leaves town 2014, but it definitely returns after vacation and it is prudent to check it out while you can.
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Jeff Halperin is a Toronto-based writer. You can follow him on Twitter @JDhalperin.
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