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Add in an estimated $3 million in capital gains tax due on shares that have nearly doubled in value in the last 10 years and it is hard to see how Morneau “profited” from his position, as Conservative leader Andrew Scheer alleged in the House of Commons.

In fact by the end of it all, Morneau will have given away or paid in tax almost half the value of his Morneau Shepell holdings when he entered politics.

That’s not how the story has played out in public — something for which Morneau has only got himself to blame.

Even the ethics commissioner, who gave him the dubious advice not to place his assets in a blind trust in the first place, appears to be having her doubts. Mary Dawson wrote to NDP MP Nathan Cullen saying his inquiry into the finance minister’s behaviour on bill C-27 “leaves me with concern in relation to Mr. Morneau’s involvement.”

The whole guddle is a result of rules that are as clear as mud, enforced by an official who, in the immortal words of Homer Simpson, is required to be Judge Judy and Executioner: adviser, investigator and arbiter.

As a major shareholder in a large pension company, Morneau was allowed to sponsor legislation that could change the marketplace. (For its part, Morneau Shepell says bill C-27 is not expected to have a “material impact” on the company.)

Dawson recommended that Morneau set up a conflict-of-interest “screen,” rather than putting his assets in a blind trust.

But he was able to involve himself with the pension bill because the legislation was deemed “generally applicable” — that is, it involved all pension companies, not just Morneau Shepell. It was only when his former company was identified specifically that officials flagged a potential conflict of interest and he was asked to step out of meetings. Canadians were none the wiser, despite the act requiring recusals to be made public, because it was deemed to have fallen within the parameters of the screen.