In praise of our thoughtful and, yes, slightly dull city councillors
In the midst of an extraordinary week of political news, for me, one moment that stood out: the scene from Tuesday’s question period, in which Thomas Mulcair, the leader of the official opposition, painstakingly and methodically grilled Prime Minister Stephen Harper on the details of that $90,000 cheque that Senator Mike Duffy received from Harper’s chief of staff Nigel Wright.
Mulcair never raised his voice. He showed little animation. Harper’s answers were only moderately less measured, his face only a little less grave and graven.
For Canadian political junkies, it was intense political theatre, like one of those classic Bergman movies where people whisper recriminations in the shadows. It was a quintessential buttoned-down Canadian confrontation, between two national leaders almost entirely devoid of anything resembling charisma.
Like thousands of Canadians, I’ve been watching the Duffy and Rob Ford imbroglios with a sort of horrified fascination. But I’m also suffering a little scandal envy. Our big breaking news in municipal politics this week was the announcement that Amarjeet Sohi will not be running for mayor.
Thus far, our mayoral race features one declared candidate, Kerry Diotte, and two not-declared-but-everyonethinks-they’re-running candidates, Karen Leibovici and Don Iveson.
Let’s just say I’m not expecting the prospect of a Diotte-Leibovici-Iveson threeway to do much to improve our local charisma deficit.
Canadians have a very peculiar relationship to charisma — a certain fear of it as something uncanny, untrustworthy, seductive. Oh sure, we can point to some prime ministers who’ve had charm, panache, and the ability to rouse a room to a standing ovation. John A. Macdonald. Pierre Trudeau. Perhaps even, if you’re feeling generous with your definitions, Brian Mulroney and Jean Chrétien. But in truth, our history books abound with the names of politicians such as Alexander Mackenzie, William Lyon Mackenzie King and Lester B. Pearson who were severely charisma-challenged.
Provincially, Alberta has produced its fair share of wily charmers, magnetic figures like William Aberhart, Peter Lougheed, and Ralph Klein. Federally, though, we’ve primarily given Canada the earnest, cerebral likes of R.B. Bennett, Joe Clark, Preston Manning, Anne McLellan, and Stephen Harper.
It’s like a form of negative charisma transfer payments.
And where do Diotte, Leibovici and Iveson fall on the charisma scale?
Well, let’s just say they’re very Canadian.
Some of Diotte’s backers, and plenty of Diotte’s foes, seem keen to paint him as Edmonton’s version of Rob Ford, an inspirational populist. But while Diotte is certainly a fiscal pragmatist, he has neither Ford’s grassroots charisma nor his over-the-top bluster. He’s not a football coach. He’s a writer, and unlike the typical politician, much more introvert than extrovert. He’s not the sort who loves to work a room or fire up a crowd. He’s far more articulate and reasoned than Ford — yet also a far less fluent, comfortable, and engaging public speaker.
Leibovici is marginally more comfortable than Diotte in front of an audience — but that’s primarily because she’s held elected office for 20 years, provincially and municipally. By nature, she’s low-key and thoughtful, with a sense of humour so dry it’s easy to miss. She’s one of the hardestworking city councillors, but even after 20 years in public life she has remarkably little public profile.
Don Iveson looks as though he ought to have charisma. Tall, dark and handsome, he has a vigorous social media presence, and a loyal circle of committed supporters, some of whom have been campaigning for him since university. But at heart, he’s an analytical policy wonk, an intellectual who often sounds as though he’d rather deliver a university lecture than a stump speech. If he runs, connecting with a broad general audience will be his toughest campaign challenge.
In other words, unless there’s some mystery candidate waiting in the wings, we voters don’t risk being seduced so much as we risk nodding off.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Mike Duffy and Rob Ford had plenty of charisma — which hasn’t been much help to them lately.
And Edmonton certainly doesn’t need a mayoral campaign dominated by rabblerousing demagogues or glib civic cheerleaders.
The prospect of three thoughtful, authentic, even if slightly dull, candidates shouldn’t cause dismay. Our election could still turn out to be quite interesting — though the excitement will come more from the clash of ideas and platforms than of personalities.
It probably won’t be the kind of emotional race that inspires huge voter turnout. But I suspect that right now, plenty of ordinary Torontonians might envy us our particular charisma crisis.