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The prime minister, likewise, fears he would look weak if he were to “concede” to Trump on supply management. But it is as much an act of weakness to hold fast to a policy we would otherwise discard, merely because another country had demanded it, as it would be to discard it for that reason.

So both have a right to do what they are doing — and yet they are both wrong to do so. The policy they are so desperate to retain is not good policy, and what is worse, both of them know it.

There is no serious case for supply management — a policy that is is as unjust, inasmuch as it imposes the heaviest burden on the poorest families, as it is inefficient; that locks out new farmers and deters existing farmers from seeking new markets; and that makes us look utter hyprocrites in free-trade talks, not only with the U.S., but the rest of the world — and no serious person whose livelihood does not depend upon it would make it.

And yet every member of every party is obliged to swear a public oath of undying fealty to it. That all do, but for one, is a sign of the institutional rot in our politics. For they do so not in spite of its awfulness but because of it — because the willingness to say two plus two equals five has become the ultimate test of loyalty.

On other issues, that might be because of genuine agreement. But a willingness to sign onto a truly hideous policy like supply management — that’s certain proof an MP is a “team player.”

Why is supply management at the centre of our politics? Because it stands at the intersection of all of its most important trends: the ferocious system of party discipline; the sudden opening in Quebec; the undisguised divisions in the Conservative Party; and our national insecurity relative to the U.S., so easily exploited for partisan gain. It is not accidental but inevitable.