THE WAR AGAINST IMAGINARY CRIME

It was like watching a kid's party game, with children staggering
around with blindfolds on trying to pin the tail on the donkey. Or
maybe it was the adult version, except everybody's drunk and they're
using daggers.

I was watching a video of Stockwell Day, Treasury Board minister,
making a presentation to the media on Canada's Economic Action Plan.

He was asked why, "during a time of declining crime rates he wanted
to blow nine billion dollars on prisons." He was asked if that didn't
send a confusing message to Canadians about the government's role as
deficit fighter.

The answer was that the government was "very concerned about the
increase in unreported crime that surveys clearly showed are
happening, and that people aren't reporting at the rate they used to."

He continued by saying that yes, the crime had gone down, but largely
due to government measures, such as specifically preventive programs
designed for people, families and communities at risk. However he
said it was important to realize that crime was much higher than it
was 40 years ago.

A reporter asked him if higher rates of unreported crime meant that
the official crime rate was a myth. Mr. Day declined to comment on
that but suggested it was alarming that the rate of unreported crime
was so high and that there were too many serious incidents of crime happening.

Another reporter said he was baffled, and asked "there is a statistic
about unreported crimes?" He asked if they aren't reported, how can
we have any idea of those crimes. He said, "You are just not making
sense, or I may be just a dolt and I don't understand. Help me out on
this one."

Mr. Day was calm. He wasn't insulted. He explained that when
Canadians are asked the question about if a crime happens to them, do
they report it to the police that an increasing number report that they don't.

The reporter was clearly astonished. "Is that like rape, assault or
murder? Canadians are saying, 'Don't worry about it, it's OK.'" He
asked if these are crimes for which people could be sent to prison.

Mr. Day was patient. He offered to send the reporter references, a
technique I find always works to infuriate people.

It's clear the government has endeavoured for some while to "get
tough on crime," a crowd-pleaser that never fails to raise the rabble
on the right while making the left shift edgily for the exit.

From mandatory prison sentences for violent crime to reduced use of
house arrest, the government has announced it's no softie.

If it takes doubling the cost of corrections, they're willing to
spend our money.

The government has also announced tougher sentences for drugs,
gambling and prostitution. There's nothing like sin when it comes
time for another favourite party-game: shooting fish in a barrel. No
politician is going to stand up in public and say it's ridiculous to
criminalize exchanging sex for money.

Mr. Day's position has been unflinching as the wasps of scorn and
ridicule swirl around him. Columnists have satirized being victims of
unreported crime, as in "my bike was stolen and I didn't report it."
And others have pointed out that the swins of drugs, gambling and
prostitution are only crimes because the government's own laws have
made them so.

Commentators on newspaper sites that have covered this story point
out that in the past, Mr. Day has said he believes research shouldn't
be done on homosexuals, that some domestic violence stem from simple
insults, and that since the Earth is only 6,000 years old, dinosaurs
and humans walked around at the same time.

Now I don't know if he really said those things, but that's the sort
of stuff that gets said when the party runs late.

Building prisons to house criminals whose crimes were unreported
seems logical to me, if we can find them. But using tougher sentences
and mandatory prison terms for sin crimes, that doesn't make sense.
And neither does reducing time for credit served in crowded jails or
attacking house arrest where people can keep their jobs and families
together for crimes they're unlikely to repeat.

But that's the kind of party it was - loud, boisterous and a good
excuse for random craziness.

Chris McCormick is a criminologist at St. Thomas University, and his
column appears every two weeks.