The magic of a throne speech

Opinion

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This article was published 21/11/2023 (669 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

If you want to know where the real excitement of any speech from the throne lives, head to the Manitoba legislature, stand a moment in the famed rotunda, lean up against one of those Corinthian columns that extend all the way up to the blue-sky dome, and observe.

Sure, you may hear something of interest from the politicians scurrying about, or enjoy watching the media and interest groups buzzing around, but the real showstopper is always the building.

Never does she look more regal than on throne speech day. It’s not just that the Carrara marble floor is buffed to a shine, or that the brass railings are glistening, and the limestone crystals are alight. It’s the sense of purpose and feeling of order that only a centuries-old parliamentary tradition can bring about, with the legislative building the perfect host, conveying a belief that everything actually means something.

Because everything does mean something in a speech from the throne. It’s not only a signal of government priorities, ultimately, it’s a signal of yours and mine, too.

Take a look at historical throne speeches and you’ll recognize how little light there is now between our collective priorities and what’s written on those pages. For example, the creation of a floodway, the expansion of hydroelectric generation, or some of my favourites, the birth of a Social Allowance Act stemming from a 1960 throne speech, or the 1970 commitment to a Human Rights Commission.

Sure, throne speeches are also sprinkled with vague throwaway lines, such as making Manitoba the “most improved province in the country,” or commitments to “focusing on what matters most.”

Yet even these seemingly meaningless phrases are written with great hopes. Maybe today is the day a reporter lets one of these “aspirations” slide into a news story, or a person on the street will hear the good news, and think, hey, our government actually cares about me.

When it comes to the actual speech, everyone knows that one person ultimately holds the pen: the premier.

Yet as a cabinet minister, it becomes a great source of pride when you see a paragraph or two of yours reflected in the speech.

I first felt that flush of excitement in 2017 after a phone call from someone in the premier’s office, asking what more could be included in the throne speech to combat domestic and sexual violence. Thus the gender-based violence committee of cabinet was created.

It’s also where I got the gumption to pursue a $126-million homelessness strategy with an already-overstretched budget, or doggedly chase after resources for an understaffed sector within my purview. A line in the speech becomes great leverage for a minister.

So what happens once the pomp and ceremony of the day is over, the smoke has cleared from the canon fire, and the King’s representative has left the building?

Take a walk around the legislature late in the evening and you’ll see lights on in the cabinet ministers’ offices as they begin the work of spinning straw into gold.

It all starts with the nod of understanding from a deputy minister. With a clear idea of their minister’s interpretation of a throne-speech commitment, policy ideas churn into concrete deliverables that become outlined and painstakingly detailed in treasury board submissions, legislative proposals, and cabinet documents.

Hundred and hundreds of words, paragraphs upon paragraphs, all reviewed and redrafted and finally signed off by a minister who then begins the earnest work of seeking approval from the powers-that-be around the treasury board table, while shoulder-checking with the even greater powers-that-be within the premier’s office.

Great diplomacy is required as these endorsements are sought, knowing that infinite goodwill now needs to be shaped with finite resources. It’s not easy work, but when it all comes together and promises are kept, it’s the most gratifying place to be.

Perhaps that’s why I always loved the legislature most on throne speech day. I knew she’d be keeping me good company in the days and nights to follow.

Rochelle Squires is a recovering politician after serving 7 1/2 years in the Manitoba legislature. She is a political and social commentator whose column appears Tuesdays. rochelle@rochellesquires.ca