The Leadership Narrative

Way back when, a few months after the last federal election, I replied to the Susan Delacourt’s “Is the Liberal Party dead?” question, echoed ad nauseum in the nation’s press, with a warning to be wary of forcing Canadian politics to fit a certain narrative.

That narrative presupposes the inevitability of a polarized left-right dichotomy; in other words, it’s natural and normal to have large social democratic and conservative or Christian democratic parties alternating in power, perhaps allied by necessity (as in Great Britain) with a small, squeezed, and increasingly insignificant centrist third party. Canada isn’t different; Canada is just late. Our 2011 happened a hundred years too late.

I still don’t buy it. However attractive the theory might be to political scientists, journalists, and geeks like me, I don’t believe for a nanosecond that Canadians base their votes on an understanding of 1920s British politics. If anything, Canadian politics fit any pattern less now; what marks federal elections since 1993 has been voter volatility, not predictability.

The thing is, I’m right and I’m wrong – right in theory, wrong in practice. I’m convinced that we do a disservice to the electorate by framing politics as win or lose, us versus them. The NDP used to rail against this polarization, although now that they’re one of the two leading federal parties, the narrative suits them just fine.

But realpolitik tells me that, no matter what the ideal, we Liberals have to face the unpleasant reality that we’re destined for a lifetime in third place unless we learn how to play the game (again). Even as we reject a left-right narrative, nevertheless we must frame federal politics as us versus them – the pragmatic, moderate Liberals against the ideological extremes of the CPC and NDP.

Thus I’ve accepted what every poll, every study suggests is true: people don’t vote for policies, they vote for leaders and parties.

In terms of repairing our damaged brand, our efforts haven’t yet paid off, but I think (I hope?) that we’re on the right track. Liberals, on the whole, have been remarkably upfront about the challenges we face. So far we’ve mostly just talked the talk; there’s still too much internal cliquishness, still too much reliance on politicians, provincial executives, and directors who were at the helm for the disasters of 2008 and 2011. We haven’t fully reformed, but at least no one’s suggesting (anymore) that if we were just better Liberals, we’d win.

The leadership is trickier. There are still too many Liberals looking for a saviour-leader, for the next Trudeau (and mostly, these people seem to favour Trudeau as the new Trudeau, which is unfair to both Pierre and Justin). We’re used to choosing our leaders from a talented pool of experienced caucus members and former cabinet ministers, but that pool is increasingly shallow. I respect our MPs, but I do not believe that we should choose our next leader necessarily from their ranks.

Why not? Well, it doesn’t fit the narrative of a party seriously competing to win in 2015.

I’ve thought long and hard about this. I’ve watched Bob Rae as interim leader, noted the good and bad press, observed our MPs in the House, seen how the Tories will frame the debate with Rae at the helm. (They’ve plotted this for years, by the way; during prorogation, my then-MP, Conservative Daryl Kramp, was clearly issued talking points about Rae’s record as premier.)

I was a Rae supporter in 2006 and 2008. For that matter, I’ve meandered politically along the same path as Rae – I was a Liberal first, a New Democrat in 1990, not a New Democrat by the mid-nineties, and now, again, a federal Liberal. That’s not a coincidence; Rae’s conversion changed my perception of the Liberal Party.

But now, a decade later, I can only come to one sad conclusion: Bob Rae won’t be my first choice for the permanent leadership of the LPC.

I just don’t think it will fly. Against a seriously crappy interim NDP leader, we gained a little ground but still ended up in third place. Then the NDP picked, frankly, the strongest candidate they had for the leadership and immediately we were back to May 2011 levels of support. Why would those numbers change simply by transforming Rae from interim to actual leader? Our next convention will be essentially meaningless if the end result is exactly the same.

I always assumed Rae was, well, not absolutely forthright about not running for the leadership, and while I don’t believe that the national executive should prevent his candidacy, I know how this will be perceived by many members. Will they cease to be Liberals? Probably not, but it’s entirely possible that a large group of Liberals will sit out the next election cycle if it can’t rally around a fresher, newer leader than Rae.

We can’t afford another 2011. If we’re earnest about contributing positively to Canadian politics and, ultimately, government, we need to unite the party, not to reward the last man standing after all others have faltered.

For a year now we’ve taken comfort in our belief that we punch above our weight in Parliament, that Rae’s experience and ability make us equal to the NDP in the House, and as credible an alternative. But it’s not true. Rae is a good debater, yes, but our team has become somewhat ill-mannered in the House. We’re loud. We heckle. When the NDP speaks, even when we agree, we ignore them. (Of course, they do the same to us, and that’s why I don’t like it.)

We look old, frankly, and that’s not just because only two of our MPs were first elected last year. Even our younger MPs seem dated compared to the CPC and NDP caucuses. Let’s not be naive; those parties look like the face of Canada in 2012 and we look like the remnants of the class of ’93. I don’t believe we can portray ourselves credibly as fresh, new, youthful, or innovative if the face of the party is a former provincial premier first elected federally in 1978.

It just isn’t enough to present a progressive program based on well-meaning moderate policies: if we can’t sell our leader to the masses, we aren’t going to win or even retake the Official Opposition. A Rae administration might well resemble Chrétien’s – socially liberal, fiscally prudent, capable of brokering interests effectively – but as Chrétien clearly understood, you can only worry about government if you’re able to win an election.

I believe that, instead of rejecting the “leadership narrative,” if you will, we need to steal it back. We need to be more clever than our opponents. It may have taken Jack Layton seven years to become Jack Layton, but he started out as a newcomer to the federal scene – as did Harper, as did Mulcair – and I just don’t see how we can market Rae similarly.

Of course, I realize that Rae’s supporters constitute the single largest camp within the party, and I did hesitate (for four months, in fact) before writing this post, for a few reasons. I’ve always tried to steer clear of factions; even for internal positions, I tend not to endorse unless I know someone well. I assumed I would make clear my feelings about the leadership when I declared for a candidate, not before the race has begun.

I also don’t want to make an enemy of Bob Rae or anyone who supports him. Rae got me into politics in the first place. When my old EDA hosted Rae for a fundraiser, I insisted on making the introduction (and I do have a funny story from when Rae was my prof at U of T). I like Bob Rae a lot, and if he is chosen as our next leader, I won’t defect, I won’t quit, and I won’t sit on my hands. I’m no expert, and no one can predict how election dynamics affect outcomes (cf the NDP in 2011). I’m not writing off my own party if it picks a leader who isn’t my first choice…and note that I wrote first choice.

Plus I’m in it for the long haul. I’ve thought about it, and I just don’t see myself as either a Tory or a Dipper. If those were my only options, I’d probably quit politics.

I also hesitated because I know my party’s tendency to infighting and I would be aghast if anything I said or wrote damaged the Liberal Party. But I also feel that the only alternative is to whisper conspiratorially in backrooms or be, heaven forbid, one of those “anonymous Liberal sources.” My goal is not to undermine my leader or my party. But we’re supposed to be a new, open, democratic Liberal Party. We’re the only party that allows supporters, even if I’m not sure we know yet how to engage them.

We’ve also actively rejected the notion that the next leader will be chosen “by consensus,” like Ignatieff was. There is too much risk that party members will buy into the press narrative that Rae’s leadership is inevitable and the next convention will be another coronation, not a contest; I worry that Rae is too similar to Dion and Ignatieff to fend off Conservative attacks, too well-known to appeal to moderate centre-left voters, especially in Ontario.

Ultimately my concern is that, under Rae, we’ll become very comfortable as the third party and, well, let me put it this way: I didn’t sign up as a Liberal to become a New Democrat.

 

Women in politics: the “squeeze” factor

As any student of Canadian politics knows, Ellen Fairclough was Canada’s first female cabinet minister, appointed by Diefenbaker in 1957 and serving until her defeat as MP for Hamilton West in 1963. I have mixed feelings about Fairclough’s politics: she did good work on the immigration file, but she was a Tory, of course, and reportedly had a thing against gays, if you buy the fictionalization from Robertson Davies’ What’s Bred in the Bone. But I digress.

Although far from being, say, a Judy LaMarsh, Fairclough did mention after her stint in government that the male ministers treated her, well, like a woman – the Progressive Conservative cabinet’s resident knitter whose delicate sensibilities might have been compromised by the necessity of actually thinking about politics.

But that’s okay, because everything has changed. Women are equals in politics now, right? So Fairclough’s most famous quotation is a relic of our past?

If a male member of Parliament says anything foolish it is forgotten the next day, but if a woman does it, it is repeated endlessly, right across the country.

Except, in politics, in 2012, the sexist dinosaur is anything but extinct, as this statement by Tory MPP Rick Nicholls shows:

We now know that, despite attempts to deflect, [...] the assorted Ornge stories are connected to a long list of Liberal insiders. Liberal party president. The Premier’s right-hand man, Don Guy. Senior Liberal staffer Jennifer Tracy. Warren Kinsella’s squeeze, Lisa Kirbie

Wait. What?

I know Lisa Kirbie, if not well. She and I were involved in the same association at different times, but I’d heard about her from my mentor, Bob, and sought her out at the Vancouver convention. For that matter, I found Warren Kinsella, too, because we both had a personal beef with my CPC MP.

What I haven’t really followed is the l’affaire Ornge, and I have zero intention of making any comment on it; that’s not my point.

To paraphrase what Lisa Kirbie herself said in a letter to the Speaker of the Ontario Legislature, she’s a grown woman with a professional and political resume that she can defend without any reference to her romantic partner. It is beyond insulting – it is egregiously sexist – to suggest that Lisa is some sort of shrinking violet who needs her man to get her a job.

Also, would it be okay if we weren’t talking about someone’s “squeeze,” but instead if a member had suggested that a non-white individual got his/her job because of affirmative action quotas? I mean, really, no.

You can’t attack private individuals in the legislature, period. I guess someone wasn’t paying attention when CPC MP Daryl Kramp tried the same trick in the House of Commons on, wait for it, Warren Kinsella. Um, hi, you can’t do that, cf parliamentary tradition in every Westminster democracy. Private individuals can’t answer you back in the legislature, you know.

Coming soon after federal NDP House Leader Nathan Cullen’s somewhat odd proposal that decorum in the House would improve if the Speaker, you know, did his job, it would be entirely appropriate for the Ontario counterpart, Speaker David Levac, to give all members of the Ontario legislature – Liberal, PC, & NDP – a stern talking-to about professional conduct, and while I might not throw actually Gloria Steinem in Nicholls’ face, the Speaker could strongly suggest that Nicholls rephrase his comment in lieu of a highly doubtful apology.

I know so little about MPP Nicholls. I hadn’t even heard of him until today, to be honest. I guess I could mock his apparent delusion that Tim Allen is the best speller in the world, but that would be a personal attack (and I’m not even an elected member). But seriously, there’s precious little information about Nicholls online besides his official Queen’s Park page and a defunct website so I really have no idea what motivates the man.

Perchance he’s somebody’s squeeze, or some other insulting archaic bit of lingo.

The etiquette of the follow back

Once upon a time, I wrote a weekly column on social media for the Belleville Intelligencer, and this post does feel rather déjà-vu-ish.

Over the years the attitudes of politicians and journalists toward social media have changed, for sure. I remember advising a certain MPP and cabinet minister to get on Facebook (baby steps!) and being told, no, the leader didn’t like social media because “we can’t control the message.” Well, duh. Seeing that same MPP with a Twitter account by the time of the 2011 election made me chuckle.

Meanwhile, Canadian news junkies can follow a plethora of journalistic accounts, from news feeds and national columnists to local reporters and satirical accounts. It’s not all Kady O’Malley tweeting from committees or David Akin‘s dull lists of spending announcements anymore!

But there are many politicos and journos who still miss the point about the etiquette of following back.

I probably follow 200 news-related accounts and a similar number associated with elected members and political parties. Bear in the mind that, while in the grand scheme of things I’m utterly unimportant, I am a former riding association president at both the provincial and federal levels and a weekly columnist for two Sun Media papers read by tens of thousands weekly.

So who follows me back? My party leader? No. My MPP? Sorry. My mayor? Afraid not. My MP? Nope. As for journalists, two prominents and none others, plus my former editor.

The highest elected official who does follow me back is, in fact, Daryl Kramp – the Prince Edward–Hastings MP outside whose office I once organized a large protest that he didn’t like one bit. (Ah, prorogation…good times.) The funny thing is that Mr. Kramp and I have interesting and worthwhile exchanges now, largely because of Twitter. Even if we’re destined to be adversaries, we have found a way, at least, to chat amicably.

I’m not bitter, just a little annoyed that people I respect seem to not grasp fairly simple concepts about social media etiquette.

First point: social media is social. You’re not talking to yourself; it’s a conversation. I view following as merely a tacit agreement to acknowledge that one is open to dialogue with another person. When my own elected representatives merely broadcast, it does make me wonder how eager they are to hear from constituents online or in real life.

Similarly, when I see journalists only following other journalists it reinforces the perception that they exist in a professional little bubble, failing to adapt to a world of news that is now, to a greater degree, shaped and spread by citizens.

Susan Delacourt follows me back. Ann Douglas follows me back. These are journalists and authors who are known to and respected by many, and I don’t assume they hang on my every tweet (though both do sometimes notice my blather, which I certainly appreciate).

My second point is that following back does not imply the need to pay attention to an account. I follow many accounts that, on any given day, I won’t notice unless they are “amplified” (to use the Klout term) by tweeps I know and trust.

See, Twitter has this magic feature called lists. If you’re able to set up an account, you can set up a list, and by all means, don’t put me on it. You do realize you can follow thousands of accounts but, using either the Twitter site itself or a more sophisticated client application like HootSuite or TweetDeck, narrow your focus to a mere handful of users…right?

I tend to have more sympathy with the journalists because they manage their own accounts. Still, I know of at least one nationally known political journalist who follows every account that mentions him then immediately unfollows, leading me to believe that he hasn’t realized he can just look at any unprotected Twitter feed without having to follow the account first.

Didn’t your editor force you to attend the sort of social media seminars I use to give? There are real estate agents in Picton with more social media know-how than a Maclean’s columnist, apparently.

Sometimes it does get downright insulting. The other day the Toronto Star‘s lead Twitter account begged for Facebook “likes” and I suggested – politely, I thought – that if the account would be courteous enough to follow me back, I would “like” the paper’s page…which it did, and which I did, except that the next morning (because I do check daily, yes) I noticed I’d been unfollowed. Rude. There goes your “like,” guys, though of course I’ll still read Delacourt’s blog. Hey, Star, you should consider asking her for social media advice sometime.

As for politicians, I know how politics works, and each and every one of them has a staffer or volunteer who could manage their Twitter accounts. There’s really no excuse. If you happen to be a politician and you’re reading this post, here’s what you say: “Loyal staffer, please log in to my Twitter account and follow back the ‘real’ accounts, then set up a list of [50, 75, 100, whatever] accounts that relate to my work, y’know, my colleagues, journalists, news feeds, then plug it into my [laptop, phone] because I really can’t be bothered. Cheers.”

I’ll do it for you. No, really, I will.

In Canadian politics and journalism we have apparently accepted social media as part of the job, and I confess that when I see sloppy Twitter etiquette it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in either profession. Haven’t we had enough shouting from the rafters? When your social media read like your election pamphlet, you’re just doing the same thing twice, and you’re missing the point about – and failing to benefit from – what the medium offers.

I would go so far as to expect most politicians and journalists to reply to mentions that are worthy of comment. That might be too tall an order for a party leader, but if one backbencher can reply to me and still get his job done, the others have little excuse, and journalists are supposed to know how to distinguish between useless information and an interesting point…right?

And if you don’t think it’s a valuable use of your time, why did you bother signing up in the first place?