The shallow state chronicles: The curious case of Christopher Mitchelmore
In a satirical column, Edward RIche soaks up the latest fuss to overwhelm N.L. politics
Only three weeks ago, there was a discussion in this space concerning the revival of the "shallow state" theory of Newfoundland and Labrador governance.
Recent events now irrefutably prove the once fringe hypothesis; that the government of Newfoundland and Labrador is an elaborate charade with no one in effective control of the state.
"From the minister of fisheries making wild and inflammatory accusations for three consecutive days and then simply withdrawing them wholesale, to a Crown attorney shrugging off a blunder in a major arson trial, to the Foote-in-mouth business, there is nothing to suggest anyone has the helm," says Memorial University of Newfoundland political science professor Dianne Boxticker.
"No one is taking responsibility for anything. It's no longer, "The buck stops here!" — but rather — "What the buck?"'
All pointy objects in the minister's office have been capped with safety wieners to prevent the distraught MHA from harming himself.
Boxticker continued: "To believe the premier, no one ordered the expulsion of the irksome daughter of the lieutenant-governor from the Executive Council or secured her a safe landing at The Rooms, in a position only recently filled by a competent candidate after a competitive search. The appointment was apparently a random and spontaneous occurrence, the sort of cosmic fluke predicted by the shallow state theory."
Shallow state has recently come to be favoured over other theories of governance in Newfoundland and Labrador.
For some time the Skeetological Theory of the leadership class was prominent. The "proto-province" view in which Newfoundland and Labrador is in the fetal stage of development inside an alcoholic body politic-held sway for many years.
More recently, there has been growing adherence to the "Oneiric N.L." model in which the province does not, in reality, exist but is merely a narrative feature in an opioid-induced dream of a small town pharmacist from New Brunswick named Dwight Ball.
"Shallow state can be distilled down to that simple declaration 'It is what it is,'" said Boxticker. "That tautology of existential futility perfectly describes a situation where no one is in charge of anything and shit just happens."
In the rare instance when evidence of causality emerges, such as emails in which a deputy minister directs another government official to action, it is hastily destroyed lest accountability creep into the system.
With no one in Newfoundland and Labrador responsible for anything, it seemed reasonable to assume that Christopher Mitchelmore could rest as easily as whoever torched Waterford Manor. He has retained his cabinet post and escaped significant sanction.
But the cognitive dissonance in apologizing for something while simultaneously declaring his innocence is reportedly taking a psychological toll on the member for St. Barbe-L'Anse aux Meadows. Mr. Mitchelmore has been seen walking the hallways of Confederation Building with an unusual rigid gait, staring straight ahead, unable to respond to questions.
All pointy objects in the minister's office have been capped with safety wieners to prevent the distraught MHA from harming himself.
It is generally acknowledged that the master of the shallow state is the hominid occupying the seat for Humber-Bay of Islands in the House of Assembly, Eddie Joyce. The member manages to deflect responsibility for his actions to a third party that he refers to as "Eddie Joyce."
"Many have written off Eddie Joyce as a clown, albeit the scary variety," said Boxticker, "but in the Newfoundland and Labrador of 2019, he may be a kind of idiot savant."
Asked whether shallow state theory applied to Memorial University itself, Boxticker replied, "There are a lot of administrative positions at MUN the purpose of which no one can ascertain and we have many people teaching things they have never practiced so, yes, obviously."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
