Opinion | No excitement or intrigue in budget meeting, just grinding democracy

By the time the big news came that the mayor was leaving for good, for real, City Hall was dark and mostly empty. Mayor John Tory outwaited a lot of people who’d come to witness the moment, or soak up the atmosphere around it.

On day five of Tory’s long goodbye — strong-mayor budget day at council — it was like old times at city hall: the press gallery overflowing with national and visiting media, protesters in the square early in the morning, the public galleries full and people stuffed into an overflow room watching a live feed.

Twice in the morning, the council chamber had to be entirely cleared because of protesters chanting that the mayor had no moral authority (one sample: “Help the homeless! Feed the poor! Kick John Tory out the door!”), disrupting the commencement of proceedings (delaying by two hours, it turned out, a farewell address for the city’s retiring chief engineer).

It’s been a long time, maybe since the crack-scandal days of a decade ago, since this building was humming with so much activity. In an elevator crowded with city staff and reporters in the afternoon, the chatter was about lineups in the cafeteria longer than anyone could recently remember.

The masses of activists, reporters, broadcasters, political wannabes and used-to-be’s were all here again, drawn by the explosion of scandal, the tension of a Tory decision on quitting that — though announced last Friday night — seemed still in question, by the prospect of new budding mayoral campaigns being launched on the blue-carpeted floor in front of us.

You were tempted to think, “Local democracy’s back, baby.” Been a long time. Been a long time. Been a long boring, boring, boring, booooooring time. But then, you’d quickly enough reflect and realize, it wasn’t the city-defining budget debate — indeed, one of the most monumental policy decisions of the year — that generated all (or even much) of this interest. It was the hint of scandal, the suggestion of chaos, the imminent battle royal of a power struggle about to kick off.

Be that as it may, what those who showed up were treated to was … well, local democracy in action, in all its grinding, excruciating detail. Tory himself didn’t speak (except to say farewell to the retiring engineer) until almost 10 hours into the meeting, and even then did not address the scandal he’s at the centre of (instead talking about the “prudent” property tax rates and “sustainable” investments of his budget). But viewers did get an appreciation of the importance of the wet-weather-flow master plan, a breakdown of the city and provincial portions of every different category of tax rates, an extended discussion of which accounting category reserve funds set aside as a shortfall backstop appear in, and some long and tragicomic debates of what motions were in order.

And you know, that is what local democracy looks like, every day, between elections. Some motions amending the budget — tweaks more than overhauls — passed with broad support, including from Tory and his allies.

A compromise motion supported by Tory addressed some of the harshest criticisms of the budget in lesser degrees than his critics would have hoped, including support for one 24-7 warming centre, more community investment grants, rental support for tenants, and a few other — $8 million in total — measures.

Despite the early-day disruptions from protesters, there were no fireworks. Sure, Coun. Josh Matlow (Ward 12, Toronto—St. Paul’s) made a speech praising former mayor David Miller’s approach to city budgeting that maybe if you squinted sounded like a criticism of the (maybe) outgoing mayor and a premise for a new campaign. Sure, Coun. Brad Bradford (Ward 19, Beaches — East York), rumoured to be the favourite not-yet-declared candidate of Doug Ford’s people, seemed to be strolling the chamber with a purpose all day, and to be testing right-wing campaign-ready “defund the police” attack lines in some questions to a colleague.

At one point in the afternoon, the windows of the council chamber literally rattled in a windstorm — but it was no pathetic fallacy in action, as the political dark clouds inside the room never opened up and unleashed a hurricane. If anything, it was kind of grey and drizzly all day, metaphorically.

At a certain point, the visiting media seemed half asleep slumped against the walls gazing at their phones, waiting for some kind of news on the mayor’s future, or some kind of spectacular sex-scandal-related action, or election-hyping rhetoric, or even scorching speeches chastising the mayor. But no such moments came. If there was intrigue taking place, it was not in this room, but in the backrooms of campaign consultants’ offices, as big-name advisers drafted fantasy mayor teams.

No doubt the energizing effect of the moment will carry over to the election campaign we now know for sure is coming, now that Tory has actually submitted his resignation to the clerk.

But until late at night Wednesday, the only action here was the actual business of the city. And while I get as swept up in the excitement of scandalous moments as anyone — it certainly makes my job more exciting — part of me thinks it’s a shame the crowds so seldom come out for this part. Grinding as it can be, and annoying in its moments of picayune discussion and procedural nitpicking, it is how the city works. And how it doesn’t work. Either way, it’s as consequential as any scandal.

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