On Monday, Mulcair will confront a ruthlessly effective and ideologically-determined Prime Minister who is about to release a budget that will accelerate growing economic inequality, weaken environmental regulation, threaten pensions and undermine the public service.
Policy aside, Stephen Harper is widely seen as cold and nasty, one of the most polarizing public figures since Brian Mulroney. In progressive circles, he is deeply loathed.
Mulcair’s chief selling point was that he can be equally steely, equally aggressive. And in both official languages: it was widely conceded, that he, above all competitors, was best-positioned to hold Quebec.
But New Democrats didn’t do politics any favours.
Like it or not, we get two angry men—one icy and vindictive, the other hot-headed and ungiving, facing off across the Commons aisle. So much for Jack Layton’s oft-cited injunction to his party to be “loving, hopeful and optimistic.”
It was Nathan Cullen who best channeled that spirit, who offered a genial, inclusive style, a politics rooted in respect for the environment, for native culture, and for those who disagree with him.
His proposition that New Democrats make electoral alliances with Liberals and Greens where there is a chance of defeating the Conservative candidate, irked some NDP purists. But he wasn’t wedded to the details, he said—and the idea gained favour as time passed.
But the overlong leadership race was never about policy rifts, despite inflated claims that Mulcair was intent on moving the party to the “centre,” betraying its traditional values and “modernizing” its language. (Egads!) Jack Layton moved his party to the centre long ago; the more pragmatic its offerings became, the more it gained support.
This was, essentially, a personality contest—who had most public appeal, the best inter-personal skills, the most media smarts, the “toughness” to confront Harper. Cullen was judged too young at 39, and insufficiently belligerent, perhaps; puppy chow for Harper’s front-bench attack dogs. And insufficiently bilingual, too: Cullen should immediate ramp up his French lessons and start looking for a summer property in Quebec to prepare for the next time.
In a more mature culture, Brian Topp might have triumphed. He was the best candidate on points: beautifully bilingual, strategically adroit, experienced in government, substantial on policy, close to Layton, a fine writer with shy charm.
But he is a terrible performer and he never really got better, no matter what his supporters said. His convention speech, delivered from a TelePrompTer in a clipped, rushed, monotone was embarrassingly amateurish. When he was interviewed on television, he looked like a not-so-innocent bystander at a corner store robbery. Funny and smart, his default posture was irony. Politics hates irony.
Topp would never have survived the Harper wood-chipper: he would have been portrayed as a nervous, effete, wild-eyed socialist determined to tax everything that moves. Worse, he might have become, like Stéphane Dion, a object of ridicule.
And, for a strategic genius, he made a major blunder in not contesting Layton’s former seat in Toronto. Few New Democrats wanted another several months with a provisional leader, while Topp tried to cajole some sitting MP into sacrificing a seat for him.
That left Mulcair. Sometimes political parties elect people they don’t like, maybe don't fully approve of, to win power. New Democrats have never been in that uncomfortable position before, but they have never been so tantalizingly close to government.
Years ago, Progressive Conservatives held their noses and elected Mulroney, who went on to lead them to a decade of power. Stephen Harper, not chosen for his affability, is doing the same for his reconstituted Conservatives. Mulcair’s victory has that pragmatic feel.
He radiated relief in his prosaic victory speech, but little else. If he wants to inspire party unity, rather than impose it, he will appoint Cullen, Peggy Nash, and Brian Topp supporter, Libby Davies, to important caucus roles. He will re-establish relations with the media, which he has shunned for most of the campaign. He will resist a wholesale house-cleaning in the leader's office.
We’ll see. Maybe niceness doesn’t matter, even to the NDP. After all, politics is a brutal business. You don't bring a knife to a gunfight, as they say.
That probably tells you everything you need to know about Mulcair—and about politics as it is, rather than as it could be.
Original Article
Source: hill times
Author: SUSAN RILEY
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