The Emergencies Act could prove to be a turning point for Justin Trudeau, much as the War Measures Act was for his father five decades earlier.
Let’s start with the first Trudeau. Pierre was a middle-aged academic and lawyer, not widely known beyond Montreal’s intellectual left when he was elected to Parliament in 1965. There, he stood out. He was unconventional, a splash of colour in the drab tableau of federal politics. He rose like a rocket: from parliamentary secretary to justice minister to Liberal leader in just three years. In 1968, he led the Liberals to a majority government.
It was too good to last. Trudeaumania withered under the pedestrian burdens of everyday government. The rose in his lapel was wilting when he was “rescued” by the 1970 October crisis – the FLQ and imposition of the War Measures Act. Overnight, the philosopher-PM became the “Just Watch Me!” gunslinger, a no-nonsense leader with contempt for the weak-kneed and bleeding hearts who got in his way.
Tough love remained his mantra – through the imposition of wage and price controls in 1975 (“I make no apologies”); through the national unity debate of the 1979 election – it would be “almost treasonable to Canada,” he insisted, for anyone (specifically leaders of other parties) to contest his assertion that national unity – his issue – was the most important issue in the election; to the patriation of the Constitution and the adoption of his Charter of the Rights and Freedoms. He did it all his way.
Justin Trudeau’s ascent was not as rapid: five years from election to leadership, two more to prime minister. But the early excitement, “sunny ways,” and sense of urgent renewal faded, and the Liberals were fortunate to hold on to a minority government. That Trudeau is still prime minister owes more to weak, incompetent opposition than love for him and his Liberals.
It’s clear from the polls that the public grew weary of Justin some time ago. They may have seen too much of him for his political good in the early months of COVID when his updates, meant to inform and reassure anxious Canadians, brought him into homes almost every day. In politics, over-exposure can be more damaging than under-exposure, especially when the matter at issue doesn’t lend itself to early resolution. Recurring reminders without evidence of progress are soon seen as excuses for inaction.
Trudeau’s image has suffered from his practice of delivering public pronouncements that are long on performance, short on substance. His style can be cloying, his messages empty of the fact and detail. While he preaches transparency, he practices it reluctantly. He is not immune to that old Liberal syndrome: a lingering distrust of the public when comes to sharing information with people who cannot be guaranteed to use it “appropriately” (as defined by their Grit governors).
Robin Sears, the communications specialist and long-time NDP strategist, is one of the shrewdest political analysts in the country. He is puzzled by Justin. “A politician who is seen as having only the sensibility of an actor, Trudeau has often let his bland, fluffy pronouncements raise the ire of the public, the media and his opponents,” Sears wrote in the Toronto Star last week. Yet, “in Trudeau’s more thoughtful interviews he would often give glimpses of a deep conviction on issues, and an apparently genuine determination to make change.”
Many observers commented on the change in Trudeau when he testified at Judge Paul Rouleau’s Public Order Emergency Commission 10 days ago. Robyn Urback, a Globe and Mail columnist who scopes out politicians from outside the Ottawa bubble, wrote: “The familiar Justin Trudeau is proficient in the art of responding without answering, of repeating canned talking points like a malfunctioning robot.” But, she continued, “ The prime minister who appeared before the public inquiry was forthright and thoughtful in his answers, conveying a detailed appreciation of the legal threshold to declare a public order emergency.”
As she noted, the intense cross-examination by lawyers for the commission, provincial governments, trucker convoy activists and defenders of civil liberties could have been disastrous for any prime minister – “let alone one with a reputation for vapid superficialities and the occasional gaffe. Yet Mr. Trudeau was confident and specific; he identified the activities he understood could constitute a threat to the security of Canada, a cache of weapons at the border in Coutts, Alta., and the use of children as human shields.”
It was a gruelling 5 ½ hours of questioning on Nov. 25. The fluff was gone. His answers were clear, informed and to the point. He understood the multiple requirements of the Emergencies Act and he had as firm a grasp of the legal issues as the lawyers cross-examining him.
I agree with Sears: “Here was a master of the intricacies of governing in a crisis. … His detailed – yet never condescending – civics class in how cabinets and governments operate gave one insight into his skills as a teacher.”
They are skills Trudeau will need in the next few years to strengthen the federation and to put provincial politicians with visions of regional power and a hollowed-out central government back in their place before they create permanent damage to the nation. It will take a patient teacher with the resolve of a gunslinger.
Cambridge resident Geoffrey Stevens is an author and former Ottawa columnist and managing editor of the Globe and Mail. He welcomes comments at geoffstevens40@gmail.com