OPINION | Could the N.W.T.'s next emergency be its lack of leadership?

This Opinion piece is written by John Last, a freelance writer who previously reported from Yellowknife and is now based in Padua, Italy.

These days, scarcely a season passes in the N.W.T. without some major crisis. Catastrophic floods in the Dehcho; crushing heat in the South Slave; vast wildfires encroaching on the territorial capital.

But for those who follow territorial politics, even the brief off-season between disasters brings little relief. Instead there have been crises of a different sort: MLAs caught in messy lies and unethical behaviour; abrasive ministers mired in infighting; officials stumbling through the rollout of crucial public policy.

By now, N.W.T. residents must be among the world's most resilient people. But their government is another story. If there is a single takeaway from the 19th Legislative Assembly, it may be this: the territory's next crisis could be its deficit of reliable leadership.

Four years of crisis mode

In the last few weeks before the end of her single term as premier, Caroline Cochrane and her supporters defended her legacy — one punctuated by communication errors, political scandals, and little progress on some of the territory's most chronic issues.

By way of justification, she told Cabin Radio that the previous four years were simply "one crisis after another." Senior officials were more blunt in their conversations with the outlet: the period covered by Cochrane's term was "four years of hell."  

It's undeniably true that the 19th assembly oversaw a period of historic disruption — devastating floods, terrifying fires, and a global pandemic to boot.

But the kinds of crises Cochrane faced in government weren't entirely unpredictable. Floods and fires regularly plague the territory, and scientists have been clear that these disasters stand to become more ferocious in the future.

Instead, what sets Cochrane's time in government apart, if anything, is the lack of confidence she appeared to have in the very people appointed to manage when things go south.

Constant shuffle

Time and time again, Cochrane herself seemed to indicate that her cabinet was not up to the tasks to which they had been appointed.

Over the course of just two years, she shuffled their portfolios four times. At the beginning of her term, she appeared to intervene in the controversial firing of the president of Aurora College, overriding her own education minister, R.J. Simpson, and casting doubt on who was really responsible.

Then, in the middle of the pandemic, she stripped Health Minister Diane Archie of her portfolio, handing the important file to her newest cabinet minister.

Perhaps the best example of this crisis of confidence is the case of Paulie Chinna, who was stripped of her Municipal and Community Affairs portfolio as soon as it became important to pandemic response.

Cochrane handed it back after the worst of the pandemic had passed — only to strip it from her again when the next crisis arose, barely a year later, and she bungled the response to devastating Dehcho floods.

Faltering leadership 

But who can blame Cochrane for feeling some doubts about her peers? Her assembly was marked with vivid examples of poor leadership.

The 19th assembly saw the first ever expulsion of an MLA, Steve Norn, caught in a messy lie about breaking public health restrictions.

It saw cabinet minister Katrina Nokleby ejected over allegations of abuse and "continual tantrums," and investigated over breaching public safety orders during recent wildfire evacuations.

It saw MLAs lob accusations of intimidation at a colleague, and systemic racism at the government, where a top employee faced his own investigations for misconduct.

On several occasions, Cochrane herself also faltered in her role, offering confused messaging on crucial topics, like travel restrictions during the pandemic, that impacted every one of her constituents.

Taken together, these incidents don't inspire much confidence in the territory's leadership.

Now fast-forward to this summer's wildfires.

In the inter-jurisdictional confusion surrounding the evacuation of Yellowknife, multiple levels of government failed to co-ordinate to avoid massive, last-minute disruptions to thousands of residents' lives.

The territorial government was criticized for offering too little support to evacuees, too late, and ignoring tough decisions — like when to evacuate Yellowknife — until the public had largely made them for them.

These crises highlight the weaknesses of the territory's current leadership: having no advance plan, offering mixed messaging in a crisis, waffling on tough decisions, and failing to properly plan for the territory's most vulnerable communities.

What accountability?

Perhaps, then, you're thinking an election is just what the territory needs — a chance to wipe the slate clean and choose new, more capable leadership.

But those hoping for renewal may be disappointed. Fourteen incumbents want to reclaim their seats and several MLAs with blots on their record feel no need to step back from politics. 

Despite their highly public controversies, Nokleby and Chinna feel confident enough to run again — and they aren't the only controversial politicians to do so.

Four former MLAs, tossed in previous elections, are trying to make a comeback, including Wally Schumann, a former infrastructure minister who faced his own vote of confidence that nearly ousted him from cabinet.

Bigger crises coming

MLAs and defenders of the territory's political system like to argue that the repeated confidence motions, ejections and resignations that have defined N.W.T. politics of late are proof that even if bad eggs make it into the assembly, the system is working as it should — MLAs are policing themselves, and good government is the result.

But it is hard to look at the trends of the last four years and say that the Legislative Assembly had many wins. Decades of action plans, investigations, auditor general reports and leadership changes have resulted in little progress on many of the territory's most chronic issues: housing, child and family services, affordability, culture and language preservation, health care, private sector growth, land claims — you name it.

These are the problems that could metastasize into crises of their own over the course of the 20th Legislative Assembly. And hanging over everything is the territory's grim economic future — its mines winding to a close, with little else likely to replace them.

Who will save the N.W.T.?

All this means that the candidates in this month's election have some big questions to answer. Instead of blaming others or proposing a wishlist of reforms that are unlikely to feature in the next government, they will need to look within.

What is their vision for an N.W.T. government that acts with foresight and exists with purpose? How will they prevent the infighting and aimlessness that leads to the lack of action characteristic of the last four years? How, exactly, will they prevent the territory from descending, again, into crisis?