By the time the two issues converged on Tuesday, the story of the explosive drug allegations about Mayor Rob Ford was so familiar it became all-consuming. On May 16, the U.S. website Gawker and the Toronto Star both wrote that their reporters had seen a video, shown to them by self-professed drug dealers, that appeared to show Ford smoking from a crack pipe while making homophobic and racially derogatory remarks. The news had been everywhere—and a crowd-funding effort to raise the money to buy the video and make it public had already raised over $90,000.
Meanwhile, the mayor had barely addressed the charge, other than to briefly call it “ridiculous.” He’d cancelled his radio show, and refused all interviews since the story came up. So, four and a half days later, when he stood to make a speech about the casino before council, few were even paying attention, because they wanted answers about his alleged crack use that he wouldn’t provide.
At that point, Ford’s failure—his refusal, actually—to deal with or even specifically deny the bluntly stated allegation that he has, within the past six months, smoked crack cocaine in the company of drug dealers, was a shock to the city. But perhaps it shouldn’t have been: Ford’s entire career has been one long series of bitter arguments following outrageous charges about his personal behaviour. Was he or was he not arrested for pot possession and for driving drunk? Did he or did he not give the finger to a schoolgirl, or read while driving on the highway, or drunkenly berate strangers at a Leafs game? Did he grope Sarah Thomson? Every week seems to bring a new crazy story about the mayor’s comportment. In some cases he has made denials that later proved to be lies. In some cases he has admitted wrongdoing. In some cases he has flatly denied the charges, and in the absence of evidence, the news value of the controversy fades, especially when the next one arises.
One problem now is that Ford is the mayor who cried wolf—so many denials have turned out to be false, and so many others linger in the background, that our impulse is to believe whatever we hear. (The idea, put forward by his dwindling band of supporters, that this is all a plot hatched in Toronto Star headquarters, only rings hollow.) Can we believe this guy about anything? And when he stays silent for days instead of saying anything at all about the most potentially damaging story of his career, what are we supposed to think?
Which leads to the more general problem: This parade of sideshows that has long dominated City Hall has now taken over entirely. Whether or not any of the details of these specific allegations turn out to be true, we know that the next personal controversy is right around the corner. And the city’s business is held hostage to the personal-life crises, real and rumoured, of the mayor.
Only Ford can conclusively end this distraction—he could do himself, his supporters, and the city a great service by stepping down to deal with whatever needs dealing with in his personal life and leaving his political causes under the management of leaders who won’t constantly draw attention from them. But I don’t have very high hopes that he will do that.
Perhaps the best we can hope for is that the mayor remains silent, not just on this issue but on all of them, so that city council can keep its focus on the important business of the city—even as the press was distracted, council voted down Ford’s own motion to kill a downtown casino in favour of approving one from councillor Mike Layton to ban any expansion of gambling in the city. Then voters in the election next year can decide to end the sideshows once and for all.
Original Article
Source: thegridto.com
Author: Edward Keenan
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