While proceedings at the house of assembly are televised, the cameras don't catch everything. (CBC)

Canada's most basic legal document, the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, states in its third section that “every citizen of Canada has the right to vote in an election of the members of the House of Commons or of a legislative assembly and to be qualified for membership therein.”

This clause is the cornerstone of Canada's democratic legal tradition, but is it really true that any citizen could become a member of a legislature?

Are our democratic institutions really so strong that even the least refined among us could be elevated to the position of a lawmaker?

To answer this question, I spent four days observing the house of assembly in action. What I found was that, thankfully, Newfoundland and Labrador's democratic tradition is alive and well.

Although the house of assembly is still shy on women, it has diversity where it really counts: in the maturity levels of its members. From stiff professionals like Steve Kent and Lorraine Michael to jokers like Roland Butler and Tom Hedderson, the house represents everyone from the go-getters to the peanut gallery.

But, if the days I spent observing the house are any indication, the peanut gallery has more representation than anyone else in our province's legislature. With the non-stop heckling that goes on there, the house of assembly evokes the detention hall more than the hallowed offices of the Queen's own chamber.

A secret comedy

But there is a tragedy in all of this: our politicians are selling themselves short. Rather than publishing their antics or selling videos of them to Canada's funniest home videos, our noble leaders are keeping their comedic genius secret, with the transcript editing the gut busting details out, and the microphones failing to capture every zinger for the television audience.

Compare this excerpt from Hansard (a transcript of each day’s proceedings) from what I observed during the same segment of question period, an exchange between Kelvin Parsons and Jerome Kennedy.

Hansard:

Mr. Speaker: The hon. the Leader of the Opposition.

Mr. Kelvin Parsons: Thank you, Mr. Speaker. It is amazing the spin that one can put on something. The fact is, Mr. Speaker, $1.2 billion -

Some hon. members: Oh, oh!

Mr. Speaker: Order, please!

These words are an accurate report of what was said by Mr. Parsons, but I'm afraid they hardly capture the colourful language employed by our political leaders.

“Oh, oh!” is the standard phrasing in Hansard for heckles and jokes, but it doesn’t come close to what’s actually said.

Just look at this excerpt of what was heard in the visitors gallery in the midst of a discussion about the government's dispute with the province's doctors:

Monday, Dec. 6

2:17 p.m. Parsons attempts to grill the government on the stalled negotiations with doctors, to which a government member volunteers “Kelvin, b'y, we're not here to negotiate the doctors' salaries in the house”. Members keep shouting: “not negotiating in the house”, “go on, b'y” and “shockin” until the Speaker declares “Order!”

2:25 p.m. In allotted time, Parsons remarks “it is amazing the spin you can put on something, Mr. Speaker”, but is interrupted by shouts from the government side, with Transportation Minister Tom Hedderson taunting him “look at spinning top over there!” Backbenchers echo the minister, shouting “Spin top!”

Spin top, indeed. Many in the house seem as though they would be amused by children's toys, but I digress.

Why settle for a boring record?

The real problem here is that rather than showcasing their true comedic gifts by publishing a full transcript, our modest politicians have left a record that shows us only their stiff, boring side.

But that raises the question: why? The legislature seems to sit fewer days with each passing year. This fall, the house will sit for two weeks before recessing for the holidays.

When you consider that our MHAs make more than $90,000 apiece and often have few other legislative duties, you have to wonder whether we're getting any return on our investment.

I propose that we change how we televise our legislative process. Instead of only recording the MHA whose time has been granted by the speaker, we should have all microphones live at all times. Then we could capture the House horseplay in all its glory.

Maybe this could be used as footage for a nature documentary: Politicians gone wild: Newfoundland edition.

Here’s a colourful exhange between Labrador Affairs Minister John Hickey and NDP Leader Lorraine Michael.

Wednesday, Dec. 8

2:25: Michael makes a member’s statement on the state of highways in Labrador: “We do not have a highway, we have a road.”

2:25: Hickey, while Michael is still speaking, interrupts, “Why don't you make some time, and come up for a visit?”

2:26-2:28: Michael continues speaking on the topic of the condition of highways in Labrador, during which members keep taunting, “Go up for a visit!”

2:28-2:30: Michael finishes and sits down with a flurry of taunts coming from the government side of the house, then eventually protests, in a defeated-sounding voice,“I have been up there, you know I have!”

2:30: A government backbencher sings out, “Go on, ya don't know what yer talkin about.”

Go on, ya don't know what yer talkin about. That’s the level of debating skill.

Between spinning tops and questions of who has or hasn't been where in the province, our politicians have lots of important things to think about.

After spending three days in the House, I can't say whether our politicians get much done there, but I can say with certainty that they're hardly out of touch with the public. To the contrary, they seem to embody the mob mentality more than the mob itself does.