Category: Chairman’s Desk

That challenge applies to whatever emerges from Carney’s trip to Asia this week, where he’ll likely meet with Chinese President Xi Jinping in hopes of easing long-standing trade disputes. But it applies most directly to any announcement of a long-awaited U.S. — Canada sectoral trade deal — once, that is, U.S. President Donald Trump’s temper tantrum over Ontario’s Reagan-themed antitariff ads subsides.

Of course, choices like the one I began this column with are invented luxuries. But they make the point. There is a world of difference between communicating from a position of strength and one of constraint.

How to best communicate from that latter position — how to balance acknowledging the limits of Canada’s leverage while projecting strategic competence — is a question that has defined much of this young government’s tenure.

As Prime Minister Mark Carney told reporters before embarking on his first official visit to Asia on Friday, “Look for months we have stressed the importance of distinguishing things we can control and the things we can’t control. We can’t control the trade policy of the United States.”

That’s a message designed to elicit a little sympathy and understanding, to remind Canadians their government is doing the best it can dealing with a radically unpredictable partner. But over the next few weeks, that message will be tested like never before.

Because nowhere is this challenge more acute than in selling a sectoral trade deal negotiated under duress. When the bargaining partner is the same force driving the instability in the first place; when key sectors are certain to emerge bruised; when the wine, inevitably, must be watered down.

It wasn’t the usual spectacle of U.S. President Donald Trump’s rhetoric that set this gathering apart. Yes, there were the predictable broadsides against “woke” policies, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s glorification of the “warrior spirit,” and tired justifications for renaming the Department of Defense back to the “Department of War.” Trump even dusted off his greatest hits: Biden’s autopen, the Nobel Peace Prize and even Canada as the “51st state,”

All of that was predictable theatre.

What was new was this: America’s military leadership was told their next priority would not be overseas in some conflict-ridden corner of the globe, but home in the United States — specifically in those cities run by Democratic mayors. The likes of Washington, Chicago and Portland, which by Trump’s logic are breeding grounds for chaos and “career criminals” where police have lost control. Democratic idylls that, to any God-fearing MAGA follower, must be hellscapes. And that Trump suggested should serve as “training grounds” for troops to combat “the enemy within.”

Some of the greatest writers and theorists of the 20th century attempted to define fascism. For Walter Benjamin, it is the “introduction of esthetics into political life.” For (the sociologist) Michael Mann, a “movement of the lesser intelligentsia.” For Robert Paxton, the “most self-consciously visual of all political forms … a chauvinist demagogue haranguing an ecstatic crowd.”

And it is all those things. Hegseth’s pointed emphasis on male grooming, his disdain for “fat generals,” his obsession with male fitness standards — all reinforce these points.

But fascism isn’t just pageantry, to function it requires the hard machinery of power and intimidation: the military itself.

The U.S. armed forces, with its tradition of political neutrality, stands as one of the final institutions resistant to Trump’s project of total partisan capture. Last week, that firewall showed signs of cracking.

This, of course, is the standard script for many newly formed conservative governments, here at home and around the world.

And it might have been the story of Mark Carney — were it not for that one pesky, complicating detail: he doesn’t lead a new governing Conservative party. He leads the same Liberal one that presided over the overspending in the first place.

That legacy creates a profound communications challenge. Far from invigorating his base, Carney may well be forced to alienate key parts of it in the name of restoring fiscal order.

Layer on a shrinking economy and rising unemployment and you get quite the predicament.

But it’s precisely the nature of that predicament that makes the communications strategy surrounding this budget absolutely critical.

Political rollouts of this magnitude tend to follow a predictable choreography.

Step one: lay the foundation. Almost immediately after taking office, Carney directed his ministers to identify “ambitious savings,” with an overall target to cut operational spending by 7.5 per cent for the 2026-27 fiscal year.

It was part of a wider series of announcements and press events designed to reframe the conversation before Parliament returns on Sept. 15, and to drag the spotlight back to the cost-of-living pressure points facing everyday Canadians.

But buried in the announcement was a line worth paying attention to:

“Let’s be honest. Young people today form what I call ‘generation screwed.’ Let’s look at the situation … It’s the first generation that cannot afford a home in Canadian history. And now, the double gut punch, they have the worst employment number of any group of young people since the late 1990s.”

You can argue about who might be to blame for this state of affairs, or indeed the wisdom of axing this program.

But you cannot argue with the underlying facts. Nor their political potency.

The youth unemployment scandal that Poilievre referenced is not a niche concern. And we need to be absolutely clear about what it represents.

Young Canadians are graduating with more education, more debt, and fewer pathways.

The strengths of both leaders are as familiar as they are formidable.

For Poilievre, it’s the simple fact that — after his recent byelection victory — he’s back on familiar territory. A consummate parliamentarian, the House of Commons has been his proving ground since he was barely old enough to rent a car. For Carney, it’s technocratic competence. A globally respected economist and former central banker, he exudes credibility. His reputation precedes him.

But these strengths are not revelations. They’re priced in.

As a result, there’s precious little upside in flexing a muscle everyone already knows you have. Public opinion won’t swing wildly when Poilievre delivers another biting performance in the House of Commons. No pundit will be floored by reports that Carney walks into a policy briefing and knows more than the people doing the briefing.

These aren’t plot twists. The characters are fully formed. The narrative is already established.

All of which only serves to underline where real ground is to be gained — and therefore where the battle is to be won: in addressing their weaknesses.

And that is not simply because these flaws exist. It’s because politics ensures they will be hunted, highlighted, and hung around your neck. It’s not personal or especially malicious. It’s the job.

Carney’s Weakness

Following an election, particularly when it comes to attacking a newly formed government, there’s a ritualistic quality to the Opposition’s work. It thrives on the power of contrast — between what was promised in lofty campaign speeches and what actually materializes in the stark realities of government.