Politics can be a tedious business with rather limited appeal.

In my brief career as a Record columnist, my generally even-handed editor has had a distinct preference for articles about science content (cosmology, quantum computing, historical concepts) rather than science politics.

While it in no way infringes on my artistic freedom, I am nonetheless fairly certain I can detect a slight "not again!" tone when I send off another article detailing the inclinations of our politicians and bureaucrats toward supporting science.

This is understandable. Governments come and go, but science marches on, uncovering profound mysteries and generally making widespread, if not always consistent, progress. With so many fascinating concepts to explore, why waste time examining the lowly, all-too-human business of politics?

The temptation to remove oneself from the social milieu and focus on grand ideas is hardly uncommon for scientists or academics in general. But it is dangerously short-sighted and self-indulgent.

Ignoring the current political climate is a luxury we cannot afford if we want to live in a society where scientific progress and ideas are nurtured.

If the scientific community doesn't take an active interest in public affairs and monitor the governments' commitments towards scientific research, who will?

Last week's throne speech, together with the prime minister's more detailed "reply" to open the session of Parliament the next day, was the first real opportunity for the Paul Martin government to enunciate its vision for the future of the country.

What emphasis was given to science and innovation? Not, it would appear, very much at all.

Let us ignore the fact that the Governor General omitted reading the part of the speech dedicated to science and technology.

This was, apparently, an oversight caused by a "misplaced tab." Never having read a throne speech from tip to tail myself, it is hard for me to empathize, but perhaps there is more to it than meets the eye.

Instead, let us concentrate on the substance, which was profoundly disappointing.

The speech pats the government on the back for previous efforts, insists on the importance of commercializing science and mentions the newly created post of national science adviser (Art Carty, a University of Waterloo chemistry prof and dean of research for 27 years and currently head of the National Research Council) to focus these commercialization efforts.

Gone is the vision of Canada becoming a research and development powerhouse, gone is the Innovation Agenda, gone is the momentum. Worse, a sense of complacency has already set in.

Martin's goal, announced the following day, of devoting five per cent of the research and development budget to assist the developing world implies that we have already succeeded in our highly ambitious quest to make it to the top five countries in the world for research and development. We have not. In fact, we are not even close.

A throne speech, I recognize, is a political document, particularly with an impending federal election. The prime minister, the pundits say, proved his fiscally conservative credentials as finance minister, and is now trawling for left-leaning supporters by portraying himself as a standard bearer of Liberal values.

Perhaps. But I was repeatedly told that an activist research and innovation agenda had become an entrenched and essential part of Liberal values. That doesn't appear to be the case. And I am worried.