Category: Chairman’s Desk

This article originally appeared in the Toronto Star on February 23, 2020.

In his 1913 book, “Essays in Rebellion,” British journalist Henry Nevinson illustrated an issue facing the Atlantic fishing trade.

The problem: when shipped in tanks overseas, cod tended to be “lethargic, torpid … prone to inactivity, content to lie in comfort … rapidly deteriorating in their flesh.” The solution, devised by an enterprising fisherman, was to insert one catfish into each tank, ensuring that each cod came to market “firm, brisk, and wholesome … for the catfish is the demon of the deep, and keeps things lively.”

Nevinson thus introduced the concept of the catfish as a stimulating, corrective presence that forces its neighbouring creatures out of their inertia. Over a hundred years later, the term “catfish” has become a popular expression for social media users who, while pretending on the internet to be someone they are not, play the same kind of role.

Watching the Democratic primary debate this week in Nevada, it became clear that former New York City mayor Mike Bloomberg is, himself, a catfish. Setting aside the unflattering comparison to Nevinson’s “demon of the deep,” it now looks like Bloomberg’s greatest impact as a candidate will be in his capacity to jolt his competitors out of their lethargy. He may not come out on top — characterizing his debate performance as disappointing would be kind — but his candidacy will cull the field and refocus the race.

For months, the democratic primary has felt underwhelming. Initially framed as a coronation of former vice-president Joe Biden, surprises along the way have culminated in Sen. Bernie Sanders’ firm dominance in most national polls. Virtually all pundits agree that position will erode as the field narrows to just one or two centrist alternatives to the Vermont senator’s staunch socialism.

But the reality is, aside from Sanders’ proposed political revolution, none of the candidates has really caught anyone’s imagination. Biden seems to have fallen asleep at the wheel, Pete Buttigieg has yet to garner any serious support from crucial minority groups and Elizabeth Warren’s emphasis on substance over style has left voters wondering whether she is up for a general election fight.

But all of that changed on Wednesday night.

For the first time, each candidate seemed energized, on their toes and unafraid to throw punches. Like a catfish among the cod, Bloomberg forced his stage mates to eschew their friendly demeanour and act like the competitors they are.

Warren came for Bloomberg, Amy Klobuchar swung at Mayor Pete and perhaps most significantly, Sanders learned to defend himself from exactly the kinds of attacks that he would face from Donald Trump.

Responding to Sanders’ ardent defence of democratic socialism, Bloomberg noted how “wonderful” the U.S. must be, considering “the best-known socialist in the country happens to be a millionaire with three houses.”

Sanders was taken aback. The senator is used to attacks for his socialist views but has yet to experience any serious challenge to the working class bona fides, which have defined his entire political identity. His flustered response shows just how unfamiliar Bloomberg’s tactic was. No doubt the Sanders camp was taking notes.

The similarities between Bloomberg and Trump — both are defined by their wealth, brashness and New York City demeanour — make the former mayor a perfect debate proxy for the president. And no one took better advantage of this than Warren, who spent most of the debate attacking Bloomberg.

After months of Warren’s restrained focus on policy solutions, many have wondered whether she could put up the fight necessary to take down Trump. Last week, she answered that question, explicitly comparing Bloomberg to Trump and tearing down Bloomberg’s “history of hiding his tax returns, of harassing women and of supporting racist policies.”

For the first time, voters could see just how Warren scraps. She stuck to her principles, was articulate and proved that she can fight back without getting covered in mud.

In reality, the rumble in Nevada may not make a difference: Bloomberg’s $400 million (U.S.) ad buy will reach millions more Americans than the debate did. Regardless, the catfish has been set loose in the tank.

This article first appeared in the Toronto Star on February 16, 2020.
As a surge of populism sweeps the world, many Canadian commentators climb onto their high horses, pat themselves on the back and declare Canada immune to this short-sighted selfishness.

Problem is, if you look below the surface, that notion simply doesn’t hold water.

Canada is not unaffected by the factors that are driving this shift: the forces of globalization, increasing inequality, a shrinking middle class, automation and disruptive technology.

For many, these forces are not theoretical ones. They impact their everyday lives. One needs to think no further than the almost 400,000 Canadian households who depend on a cashier for part of their family income. Self check out will soon see them checked out of work.

The business pages of the past month alone tell a bleak story: Papyrus will shut all its Canadian stores; athleticwear retailer Bench will do the same. After 50 years, Mega Bloks is closing its 580-person factory in Montreal. Bombardier is being dismantled in front of our eyes. And analysts anticipate worse losses to come.

As the economic landscape has changed, so too has the political. In every provincial election since 2018, the winner has been a conservative or centre-right government. This trend has led many to conclude that the electorate has shifted to the right.

That thinking is mistaken. Instead, what we have seen is a shift toward populism.

Conventional wisdom has taken hold that says these impressive provincial majority victories represent an endorsement of a right-wing agenda.

But the proof is in the polling and it suggests otherwise. A December 2019 poll found 69 per cent of Ontarians disapproved of Premier Doug Ford, while 50 per cent had a negative view of Alberta Premier Jason Kenney. Trouble came for both when they began to pursue right-wing, fiscally conservative policies.

In contrast, Quebec Premier François Legault did not suffer the same fate. He has tied his political fortunes to Bill 21, a brazenly populist piece of legislation that also happens to be supported by nine out of ten Quebecers.

Circumstances have driven Canadians to become increasingly focused on themselves and their pocketbooks. Who can blame them? It is difficult to be generous to those who come after you, if you are faring worse than those who came before you.

It’s not that Canadians have given up on grand projects of social cohesion or nation-building. It’s simply that they feel they cannot afford them. So rather than elect Kenney to get spending under control at Alberta Health Services, he was elected to build a pipeline and deliver the jobs that would come with it.

In Ontario, voters turned to Doug Ford because of an affordability crisis, expecting him to deal with unsustainable increases to the cost of living, from hydro prices to gas prices to taxes.

This populist turn is constraining the ability of politicians to dream big and undertake nation-building projects. No sane prime minister today would undertake the GST; none would pursue a pioneering free-trade agreement. Just as short-termism has taken hold on Bay Street, it has taken hold in corridors of power.

As politicians come to embrace populist sentiment, corporate Canada should expect provincial or federal governments to act against them. So, as it has gone elsewhere in the world, where populist governments are in power in some of the world’s largest democracies, it will go here.

In India, Narendra Modi was first embraced by business, but he has since brought policies effectively skimming 60 per cent off corporate profits. In Indonesia, President Widodo has nationalized large swaths of the economy. President Trump has both waged a trade war and subsidized the farmers who are its primary victim.

The trend is not constrained to right-wing politicians: New Zealand’s Jacinda Ardern is young, liberal, and populist. Mexico’s new president is raffling off the presidential plane in an act of working-class solidarity.

Already, our federal government has come for the pharmaceutical industry with mandated reductions in the price of patented medicines; they have come for the telecommunications industry with a pledge to cut the price of phone bills by 25 per cent despite lacking any policy mechanism to effect such a change.

Canada is not immune to populism. In fact, we may already find ourselves firmly in its grip.

This article originally appeared in the Toronto Star on February 9, 2020.

If there is one lesson we learned this week, it is that digital media continues to shape politics in ways we still do not understand.

Since its inception, strategists and pundits have treated digital media as a tool: a way of better understanding constituents and expanding reach to them. The reality is very different. Over the past decade, social media platforms and the internet more broadly have fundamentally changed not just the channels we use but the very nature of politics itself.

Consider Donald Trump. It’s not just that social media is the cornerstone of his political strategy, it has defined him as an entity. Without Twitter and Facebook, President Trump simply would not exist. Firstly, Trump’s base of supporters are creatures of social media, which has enveloped them in an echo chamber, validating their feeling that the rest of America has lost its mind, not them. When Trump told them the same thing, that validation was made concrete.

But Trump is not just a master of social media, he is a product of it. From the moment he descended his golden escalator and announced his candidacy, his every impulse has been characterized by a desire to stir controversy and generate clickbait. His obsession with crowd sizes and viewer ratings reflects a metric of success familiar to any social media user: impressions and views.

Trump’s State of the Union address this week was tailor-made for the digital age. Realizing that very few Americans would watch the entire address, Trump opted instead to create made-for-Twitter vignettes to be shared around the world.

Trump was not content with merely calling out the travails of “Lenny Skutniks,” as the invited guests of each president since Reagan are known. Instead, the leader of the free world channelled Oprah and, in real time, handed out a school-voucher scholarship, reunited a military family and awarded a Presidential Medal of Freedom to guests in the crowd. Each dramatic moment fit perfectly into a 90-second clip for digital consumption.

And just as the digital age has shaped our politicians, it has shaped the process of politics, too. Chaos descended on the Iowa Democratic primary this week as malfunctions with a newly implemented reporting app wrought havoc on the process. The historic success of the Buttigieg and Sanders campaigns was thus overshadowed by concerns about the accuracy and consistency of the results.

Trump surrogates were quick to point to Iowa as evidence that Democrats are not ready to run a country. But the Iowa debacle also spoke volumes about a reality of the 2020 campaign: Republicans’ vast dominance over Democrats’ in digital capacity. Even compared to President Obama’s formidable digital operation, the Trump team is miles ahead.

For context, between his 2008 and 2012 campaigns, Obama grew his digital database by roughly 55 per cent. Trump’s team has already grown theirs by 150 per cent and are aiming for list growth closer to 300 per cent. They have invested four times more in social media than television. The reason is simple: in today’s world, digital strategy is the fundamental building block of campaign strategy.

Canadian political parties have been slower in taking this lesson to heart. In 2016, the Trudeau Liberals significantly outspent other parties’ social media advertising. That said, conservative platforms like Canada Proud and Rebel Media have changed the digital playing field, reaching millions of Canadians with highly engaging content.

In the current CPC leadership race, Erin O’Toole’s campaign has already signalled its belief in the importance of social media. In late January, the campaign rolled out a sizable Facebook ad buy.

But just as digital media can provide momentum, it can also kneecap an otherwise solid campaign. Peter MacKay’s campaign was criticized this week for an aggressive Twitter ad that mocked the prime minister’s penchant for yoga classes and spa visits. The reality is that most Canadians have no appetite for the kind of social media attacks that have become the norm in America.

And therein lies the rub. Just as I wrote last week about the lack of consensus when it comes to online grieving, we are now experiencing the same lack of consensus in online campaigning.

This article first appeared in the Toronto Star on January 26, 2020.

Here we go again.

Another race for the leadership of the Conservative Party, another case of medieval ideas rearing their ugly head.

This week it was former Harper staffer Richard Décarie, who shared his views on the LGBTQ community, the very name for which he condemned as a “liberal term.” I’m not about to waste time with a rehash of the rest of Décarie’s views, other than to say they are offensive, outdated and barely coherent.

What is important to note, however, is that every time the Conservative Party countenances such nonsense, Canadians punish them at the polls. Time and again, these kinds of comments on homosexuality have diminished the party’s brand and dashed its chances at electoral success.

Just ask Brad Trost. As a leadership candidate in 2017, Trost flaunted his disdain for the LGBTQ community, going so far as to say that “no leader of the Conservative Party of Canada should march in a ‘gay pride’ parade.” Not only did Trost’s gambit not win him the leadership, but this October, after being an elected MP for 15 years, he lost his riding nomination. So it goes.

The challenge, of course, is that comments like the ones Décarie made are unhelpful for all sensible Canadians searching for an alternative to the federal Liberals or NDP.

It is a tired old canard that Conservatives are, by definition, anti-LGBTQ. As a gay man who has been pilloried for my choice to be a conservative (and yes Mr. Décarie, that is a choice), I know that is not the case. Nonetheless, comments like Décarie’s unfortunately lead decent, pro-LGTBQ Conservatives to be lumped in with his antediluvian rubbish.

It is inevitable that in a country with only one viable right leaning party, there will coalesce a membership with differing views, opinions and lived experiences, which range from social conservatism to fiscally centred conservatism. While I may disagree (and do) with the personal views of certain Conservatives, I know the importance of a big tent party that finds common political ground from which to raise our standard.
People like Décarie, however, would turn that big tent into a circus tent.

One of the fundamental tenets of conservatism is respect: for the individual, for human rights and for the common decency of human beings. So, while I believe our party benefits from diversity of thought and opinion, there is absolutely no room for a leadership candidate who thinks that my rights — or those of any LGBTQ Canadian — are up for debate. They simply are not.

At a time when 91 per cent of Canadians tell pollsters they are comfortable with a LGBTQ person playing a large role in their lives and over three-quarters of Canadians support equal marriage, there are more important issues to address than the ramblings of a man who will never lead the Conservative Party, let alone the country.

Thankfully, this time around, the serious leadership candidates agree. Peter MacKay, Erin O’Toole and Marilyn Gladu all made it clear on Wednesday night that there is no room in the CPC for views like those expressed by Décarie.

Eric Duncan, a new and openly gay Conservative MP for Stormont—Dundas—South Glengarry, playfully offered on Twitter to have a chat with Décarie about Eric’s “life ‘choices.’” It speaks volumes that Décarie was politely rebuffed by an out gay man representing a rural riding for the very party Décarie is seeking to lead. As Canada has changed, so has the Conservative Party.

Hopefully this episode is the last time we are forced to give oxygen to these kinds of ideas, which only serve to distract from the important work of building an alternative to the incumbent government.

And the best way to ensure that outcome, is for Décarie to be humiliated on leadership election day when the results are announced and he has achieved two per cent of the vote.

Perhaps then it will be clear that the party has settled this issue and moved on. What great news that would be for Conservatives and Canadians alike.

This article originally appeared in the Toronto Star on January 19, 2019.

For the last 66 years, Queen Elizabeth has skilfully walked the tight rope between being a bulwark of tradition, keeping things more or less as they have always been and skilfully adjusting as England and the world spun forward around her.

Nothing was ever new; just enhanced.

As the Queen has adopted new technologies — from televising her coronation and annual Christmas speech to increasing the use of social media — who can ever forget her “phone drop” to promote the Invictus Games or her arrival by parachute with James Bond at the opening of the London Olympics — she has, by and large, sought to preserve the decorous traditions of the British monarchy.

The give-and-take (or lack thereof) between tradition and modernity is precisely the tension that fascinates so many. It is this tension that is the dramatic underpinning of Netflix’s biographical drama, “The Crown,” which this week got some real-life experience to add to this theme.

The makings of this new episode began when the Queen’s grandson, Prince Harry, and his wife, Meghan Markle, trademarked “Sussex Royal” and posted a photo to their Instagram account announcing their intention to step back from their royal duties, seek financial independence and take up a new life in North America, all the while honouring “our duty to the Queen, the Commonwealth, and our patronages.”

While news coverage has been devoted to the announcement’s substance, the medium here is equally as important as the message. The Duke and Duchess of Sussex have effectively used social media to leap over their 93-year-old grandmother and family. The Queen of England now finds herself embroiled in a singularly modern predicament: an asymmetrical communications campaign that pits individuals against institutions.

Again and again, we have seen a similar dynamic play out in such situations. While institutions are hamstrung by tradition, bureaucracy, and red tape, individuals are empowered by social media to be self-defining, agile and swift.

Case in point: While Harry and Meghan could rush out their campaign as if it were a lifestyle-brand-in-a-box, (along with the post they launched a website, complete with glossy photographs, inspirational quotations from the likes of Desmond Tutu with web copy written in the tone of an Instagram influencer), the Queen had to resort to issuing her rebuttal statement in two sentences printed on Buckingham Palace letterhead.

The generational divide could not be more clear; nor the implications. This is not a fair fight.

While it may be unpleasant to go up against one’s own family, this dynamic yields the couple a few distinct advantages. First, their new media relations strategy circumvents the depraved British tabloids, and their antiquated “royal rota” system.

While the Royal Family has tolerated no end of vitriol from the press (remember Waity Katie? Or Fergie, the Duchess of Pork?), rationalized by the adage, “We pay, you pose,” Harry and Meghan seek to change the rules, an objective made all the more urgent by the press’ clear double standard when it comes to covering Meghan Markle versus Kate Middleton.

As those same British tabloids have reported breathlessly on the behind-the-scenes machinations at work throughout this entire episode, another advantage has become apparent.

By staking out a clear, public position and then negotiating, the couple most likely stymied attempts by the Queen’s courtiers to delay or dilute their plan. Declaring their intention for a clean break was perhaps the only way for Harry and Meghan to break through the institutional monarchy’s resistance to doing things new.
But if there is a resistance to things new, the Queen, herself, demonstrated last week a willingness to enhance.

In the days since the launch of Sussex Royal, the Queen has followed a playbook of her own. She took charge, summoned all the influence of her court, gathered her family for the so-called Sandringham Summit, and after its conclusion, released a statement cautiously endorsing her grandson’s plan.

But the real news was how the statement was written. One royal historian, speaking to the BBC, remarked that its tone was “unusually personal” with its several references to “my family” or “my grandson.” What’s more, it abandoned the use of formal titles, referring instead to “Harry and Meghan.”

Her Majesty demonstrated, once again, just what it means to enhance.