A mentor who believed in the politics of change Late community leader taught me that winning at all costs is a hollow victory

In his 83 years, Stoney Creek’s “Don” Parker touched the lives of countless people. He was a loving father, a devoted husband, a model hockey parent, a tireless community advocate, and a selfless volunteer. To me, however, he will always be the impressive stranger who walked into my campaign office and taught me how to advance the politics of change.

It was 2003, a municipal election year in Hamilton. I was a well-meaning know-it-all soon to be university graduate, determined to make the world a better place. Everything I had learned in my 22 years pointed to elected office as the best way of affecting positive change. And so, with a handful of similarly motivated childhood friends by my side, I sought to begin bringing about this “change from above” as a candidate for city council in the Ward 10 community that helped raise me.

Our campaign was high-spirited and hungry. It caught the attention of many residents, but none more insightful or inspiring than Mr. Parker. Where others saw children trying their hand at a blood sport, Mr. Parker saw citizens wanting a say in their city. Where our team saw electoral victory as the only measure of success, Mr. Parker was more concerned with our growth as individuals. A former president of the Stoney Creek Chamber of Commerce, Winona Peach Festival, and Saltfleet Minor Hockey, he saw our little campaign as a stepping-stone to a life of honest, hardworking, and effective civic engagement.

Still, this was one feisty 69-year-old. He wanted to “cream” the competition just as much as we did. There was a price, however, that Mr. Parker was not willing to pay. He most feared that as politically inexperienced twentysomethings, we would succumb to the pressures and temptations of a competitive campaign, and emerge at the end as “nothing more than politicians.”

Mr. Parker believed in citizens, not politicians. He turned on its head our top-down view of change and taught us advanced citizenship, a far greater force than any political office. If we wanted to win, we would have to do it the right way or lose trying. Not the easiest campaigning philosophy to accept for a roomful of political rookies whose rivals’ tactics were forcing them to contemplate fighting fire with fire.

“Winning at all costs is not a recipe for change,” Mr. Parker insisted. He understood well the municipal campaigns of desperate incumbents, but also those of frustrated residents who challenge them. One will do anything to stay in power, the other will do anything to ensure they fail. Regardless of the outcome, neither will make a meaningful difference. The new ideas and energy that fresh faces bring to a race can only take a fledgling campaign so far. Affecting change, Mr. Parker argued, required that we learn to properly wield our ideas and energy in the day-to-day mess that is democracy.

Campaign the way you would govern. This first lesson had little to do with policy and everything to do with character and conviction, traits that are non-negotiable for candidates of change. Those who spend more time on smear than substance, shift with the political wind or cater to special interests will always place personal gain before the public good. Change, for them, is a distant second to winning and staying in power.

Remember the people you’re fighting for. This was Mr. Parker’s way of ensuring that our campaign did more than just promote new alternatives to the same 35 per cent of people who vote every election; change candidates focus as well on giving a sense of ownership to those regular voters through consultations on policy ideas, and inspiring the involvement of people who otherwise avoid politics.

There was no place in our playbook for “dividing and conquering,” or “getting out the base,” well-known paths to victory for candidates of the status quo. When it comes to the politics of change, Mr. Parker taught us that everyone mattered.

That was no excuse, however, to sacrifice time with loved ones. Conscious of the toll that political life exacts on family, Mr. Parker recognized that the burden was even greater for change candidates and their families. “Remember your family,” he said, “it’s your greatest strength, and in the moments of despair that hit every change campaign, is a reminder of why you fight.”

As a new generation of young Hamiltonians stand ready to affect change at the polls and beyond in 2018, they would be wise to think through and apply Mr. Parker’s lessons to their arsenal of ambition and ideas. So too should we “grown-ups” consider following his lead.

The world needs difference-makers, but it also needs mentors to show them the way. Simply put, the world needs more Mr. Parkers.

Where our team saw electoral victory as the only measure of success, Mr. Parker was more concerned with our growth as individuals.