The last thing party leaders want is a strong independent voice for Avalon. In Crosbie, they saw a risk.
Back in April, when some St. John’s, N.L., lawyers took to the stage to perform some silly Shakespeare to raise money for a theatre in nearby Cupids, Ches Crosbie topped the bill.
Crosbie is well known in Newfoundland, where his family has been playing a lively role in public life for more than a century.
His father, of course, is John, the most entertaining player to ever strut and fret an hour upon the dreary stage of Canadian politics.
In December, Ches Crosbie, 63, decided to follow his family’s politics, submitting nomination papers to run for the Conservatives in Avalon.
It is part of the culture of the distinct society of Newfoundland to have a bit of fun, to mock oneself, one’s fellows and, especially, one’s betters, who must either laugh or lose face.
So Crosbie put on a Stephen Harper wig, a kilt, a sealskin vest, took up a wooden sword and performed the final, bloody scene of Macbeth, in which, in this version, Stephen MacHarper confronts Mike MacDuffy, swearing he will not “yield to one of Senate born.”
“Before my body, I throw my political friends,” Crosbie declaimed. “Lay on, MacDuffy, And damned be him that first cries, ‘Hold, enough!’ ”
He’s no Rick Mercer, but everyone had a laugh and they raised some money for a theatre in the riding he wanted to represent.
Crosbie didn’t learn that some humourless mainlanders disliked this until Monday, when he got an email from Dustin van Vugt, executive director of the Conservative Party of Canada, informing him that the National Candidate Selection Committee had held a meeting.
“The NCSC has disallowed your candidacy as a potential nomination contestant for the Conservative Party of Canada,” Van Vugt wrote.
There were three reasons, the party said: the MacHarper skit, his role in a lawsuit by Labrador residential school survivors and an innocuous interview he gave to the Hill Times, the newspaper that covers Parliament Hill.
“The decision makers at party headquarters in Ottawa decided I wasn’t the type of candidate they wanted,” Crosbie said in a release. “That’s unfortunate because I think I could have been the strong, independent voice that the people of Avalon deserve in Ottawa.”
Of course, the last thing party leaders want is a strong independent voice for Avalon. In Crosbie, they (likely correctly) saw a risk. They want people who will stay away from debates, reporters and satirical performances.
So they pulled the plug, peremptorily, on his candidacy — which they had previously approved — carelessly humiliating the son of one of the bestliked politicians in Canada.
John Crosbie, 84, did not take it well. “The audacity of some small, unknown committee of people up in Ottawa that could have this power ... is not only insulting, it’s a disgrace,” he told CBC Radio’s As it Happens.
I don’t think Harper’s palace guard cares about the Crosbies or about Newfoundland’s tradition of satirical humour. They care about winning, and they have a script to follow. It calls for candidates to stand silent while Harper stands at centre stage, sternly warning that only he can protect our families from terrorists. They don’t want bit players like Crosbie chewing the scenery, distracting the audience. If by firing him they are revealed to be cold-hearted clods, so be it.
As Lady Macbeth said, “What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?”
The vaulting ambition of the palace guard overleaps itself. It is sad.
When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won, where will they be?
They look like fools, and they will still look like fools after Harper has left the stage.