As the novel coronavirus surges and the stock market slumps, an unnerving question looms over Ontario.

Do Doug Ford’s Tories have the core competencies to manage a health crisis and maintain economic confidence?

To understand how the government might mishandle a global virus, consider the case study of how it handled a communications crisis of its own making — one that promptly went viral on its own watch:

Plategate, as the latest licence plate fiasco is now known, illustrates the core incompetency of this government and the ineptitude of its premier.

It’s easy to forget how Ford, in his first budget a year ago, showcased those new reflective licence plates — designed to put a fresh stamp on his government:

“The centrepiece of this initiative will be a new Ontario licence plate that sends a clear message to people both at home and abroad — that Ontario is ‘A Place to Grow,’" the budget boasted.

That fulsome declaration was followed by an even more fatuous proclamation days later by the cabinet minister in charge of licence plates:

“Ontario’s Government for the People is introducing updated personal and commercial licence plates … that reflects (my italics) a renewed government promise to put people first in everything it does,” claimed Bill Walker, then the minister of government services.

“We are renewing the licence plate and driver’s licence because it represents how we are renewing our entire approach to government,” Walker added. “Ontario’s new passenger and commercial licence plates represent what good government is all about.”

In fact, the vapid vanity plate slogan dreamed up by the Tories for commercial vehicles — “Open For Business” — was lifted directly from Ford’s 2018 campaign slogan. Yet this line of thinking — that reflective plates reflected Ford’s political boldness — infected an entire cohort of cabinet ministers.

“The driver’s licence is a tangible touch point between the citizen and the government of Ontario,” added then-environment minister Jeff Yurek at the time.

He wasn’t wrong about that touch point: The province issues roughly 3.6 million licence plates annually, meaning many people have now discovered how out of touch the Tories can be.

All thanks to an off-duty police officer who posted a tweet and photograph showing that the new blue plates couldn’t be read at night because they reflected too much light. Yet the next day, Government Services Minister Lisa Thompson lapsed into official fiction.

“We absolutely have confidence in our plates,” she insisted. “These plates are working — people like them" because they improved upon the old "status quo Liberal plate.”

In fact, they weren’t Liberal plates but dated from decades ago when the Tories were in power. Three days later, another news release offered a grudging climbdown — with an official twist.

“We have heard the concerns of Ontarians and have taken their feedback seriously," she announced, adding that "Ontarians will continue to receive the current plate" until the replacement plates were mailed out. Days later, she reversed course yet again, announcing that the "enhanced" plates were being entombed while the old ones — those "status quo Liberal plates" — would be reissued until further notice.

But here’s the peculiar part. The government then tagged on to its news release (as it often does) supporting quotes from outside "stakeholders" to validate its position.

Ignoring the critical comments from Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) and front line police officers that the newly invisible plates might allow intoxicated drivers to escape justice, Thompson’s press release pushed out quotes from a few friendly police voices who count on government funding. Most notable is this strangely supportive comment from Thomas Carrique, the new commissioner of the Ontario Provincial Police, appointed by the premier last year:

The OPP "will continue to work collaboratively" with the government, he says, noting that the plates were tested successfully under various lighting conditions. "The OPP has found no direct public safety concerns with the new licence plates to date, and we have confidence in the legibility of the plates to ensure traffic safety."

Why would the OPP fall into line with Ford’s press lines? Did the government shop around for the quotes and feed canned comments to the commissioner for approval? Did Carrique volunteer his support when the government’s political aides came calling? We don’t know, because when asked, the OPP wouldn’t say Monday.

Carrique refused an interview, but offered this belated written clarification Monday night, which only makes his original intervention look that much worse in the clear light of day: “Since the plates have been launched, some OPP officers have experienced difficulty in reading the new licence plates with the human eye in certain lighting conditions.”

The wonder (and worry) of it all is that this is a communications crisis the government brought on itself, made worse by cabinet ministers talking up licence plates, then lapsing into denial, then lashing out at Liberals (forgetting the plates were first designed by Tories), then roping in an OPP chief for support.

When Ontario’s licence plates were last updated by the Tories under then-premier Bill Davis in 1982 (“Yours To Discover”), he famously mused about government, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

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All these years later, today’s premier might reflect on another helpful maxim: If you break it, you own it.

The problem with Plategate is that it’s a story people can understand. It defines Ford, because it’s a design he embraced.

The least he could do is own the story, and own up to it. The better to move on to the next communications crisis, as the novel coronavirus looms.