Trimming public-service fat has left us too lean

There’s an interesting thing about so-called government “efficiencies”: sometimes, they don’t turn out to be very efficient in the long run.

“Finding efficiencies,” in the parlance of governments seeking to create a more favourable budgetary balance sheet, is a euphemistic description of the often blunt-force exercise of cutting costs. And for cash-strapped custodians of the public purse — particularly those of a conservative inclination — one of the quickest and easiest ways to cut costs is to cull the ranks of public service.

It produces immediate bottom-line impact: public-service salaries are a direct cost to government, and every position eliminated or left unfilled creates an immediate dollar-figure impact that can be touted as evidence of budgetary restraint.

There also tends to be little public outcry — other than from the workers directly affected and the unions that represent them — when government embarks on a “fat trimming” exercise within the public service. For many in the private sector, “public servant” conjures up an image of someone with a cushy job who collects healthy paycheques and a hefty pension for a limited amount of vaguely defined work.

Of course, there’s more to it than that. While it’s always desirable for governments to manage public finances in the most efficient way possible, there comes a point when the savings accrued by eliminating public-service jobs are offset by the inability of government-run entities to maintain the services the public relies on them to provide.

As reported earlier this week, the province is currently struggling to maintain many of the services it has traditionally provided, owing to chronic understaffing created by deeps cuts to public-service staffing during the austerity-focused administration of the Brian Pallister-led Progressive Conservative government.

Pallister assumed power in 2016, armed with a promise to reduce the civil service by 1,200 positions. His disdain for career civil servants and outright contempt for organized labour were well documented; by 2020, under Pallister’s leadership, the PCs had far eclipsed their target, trimming the public-service workforce from 14,876 to 12,371, a reduction of more than 2,500.

As of March of this year — despite a pledge by the current NDP government to “staff up” the public service after years of austerity — the vacancy rate within the provincial civil service was 15.8 per cent, with more than 2,200 full-time equivalent positions remaining unfilled.

In addition to the direct impacts of reduced staffing — the simple reality that having fewer employees means less work can be done — there’s also a cascading effect created by the increased demands placed on the remaining workforce. Staff burnout prompts other workers to leave their public-service jobs, taking with them years of experience and institutional knowledge, and recruitment and retention become more challenging as the nature of the work evolves and public-sector wages lag behind what private-sector workers in similar jobs receive.

A freedom of information request filed by the Manitoba Government and General Employees’ Union revealed five provincial departments had staff vacancy rates greater than 20 per cent. Ironically, the department responsible for innovation and new technology — necessarily among the most forward-thinking of government enterprises — had a vacancy rate of 32.7 per cent.

While it’s an easy way to score political points on the campaign trail, demonizing and being dismissive of public servants produces limited long-term benefit. The folks toiling behind the scenes in all those departments and arm’s-length offshoot agencies play a large part in ensuring the machinery of government continues to function.

So-called efficiencies start to seem like anything but when the services Manitobans need aren’t available when they need them.