That is the name the doorman at the Intercontinental Hotel gave to the Roy Thomson Hall as I made my way to the best debate of a very lean season of good political theatre.
Hip, full of hop, and all showbiz, Justin Trudeau stole the show last night. It was billed as a foreign policy debate. It was really about politics as entertainment. The guy who isn’t supposed to be “ready” wasn’t quite Donald Trump, but he knew it was all about playing to the crowd.
It started with the arrival of his bus at the place Toronto’s mucky mucks gather to celebrate culture. While both the other leaders pulled up at the main entrance and quickly disappeared inside, Trudeau’s bus stopped 50 meters from the venerable front doors.
A cavalcade of acolytes poured out, Justin following closely behind. It had the feel of a heavyweight boxer making his way to the ring for the main event minus the hoodie and the shadow boxing. Sort of like Mick Jagger taking to the stage at the El Mocambo in another era. A rock star in the age of the rock star.
And Trudeau didn’t just walk to the entrance of the Tin Can as Stephen Harper did with his parked bus blaring out Taking Care of Business — a dubious choice of marching music for a guy trying to convince Canadians he is not the mouthpiece for the ‘1 per cent’. Trudeau waded into the crowd of supporters standing behind the ropes on the sidewalk with that big bear embrace that excites royal photographers. The money shot. The guy with the royal jelly embracing the great unwashed. Democracy.
Someone, maybe Trudeau’s guru Gerald Butts, had figured out the photo-op to perfection: Justin wading into a wall of adoring fans surrounded by a praetorian guard of campaign workers would get the TV shot of the night. Bingo. The cameras whirred. Producers pointed and shouted. The 15-minute news cycle had its red meat; it was the guy who TKO’d Sen. Patrick Brazeau — it was Rocky.
By the time Trudeau flashed that high-voltage smile and raised his arms going into the Tin Can, I was ready for anything. Minutes before, Kory Teneycke, who wishes daily that I have a blunt encounter with the business end of a Go-Train, had asked to have a picture taken with me.
Remember. This is Stephen Harper’s voice box, alter ego, dare I say it, evil twin. To the PMO, I am the great Satan of the war and bullshit. But never wanting to be the curmudgeon, I agreed. None other than CTV’s Bob Fife snapped the immortal shot – Cain and Abel smiling amicably for the camera before the fratricide. I suspect I will be pickled in a Tory attack ad, but hey, I have to admit, Kory has a killer smile.
You will read a lot of stories about the substance of the issues discussed but don’t be fooled. This whole event was an exercise in three men trying to snip off the family jewels of the others. The script was foreign policy, but the drama was all politics. Trudeau excelled by doing two things: showing passion and touching the emotional buttons usually the domain of Harper.
Example: The Liberal leader stole Harper’s family values turf by standing up for his famous father, who died exactly 15 years ago yesterday. Justin defended Pierre Trudeau from the attacks of the two other leaders with whom he shared the stage. He talked about his pride in being the son of such a man as Canada’s most famous prime minister — a stark contrast to the image of Pierre Trudeau offered by NDP leader Thomas Mulcair.
Several times during this entertainment, Mulcair linked Bill C-51 to the invocation of the War Measures Act. As Tommy Douglas had stood against the War Measures Act in 1970, Mulcair’s NDP was now standing up against Bill C-51 — unlike Justin Trudeau, he insisted.
You will never catch me doubting Thomas Mulcair’s brilliance or his principles or his party’s right to be seriously considered as a legitimate government for Canada. Too much talent in the party. But the audience seemed to care less about Mulcair’s accurate historical references to the War Measures Act than it did about a deeply felt nostalgia for the man who gave Canada the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.
It turns out to be true. The beginning of wisdom is the suspension of judgement. Far more Canadians love Pierre Trudeau than hate him — at least the 3,000 or so who attended this event led me to believe.
Here is the irony. Mulcair, ever intelligent, blessed with a voice that could charm the pants off anything that has pants, and smarter than anyone in Canadian politics, looked a little old-fashioned in this contemporary gunfight at the OK Corral. There are new weapons in play these days – charm, charisma, and energy. In a word, Mulcair suffered from the defect of his best point; his calm, cerebral arguments were being directed against a younger man who is the incarnation of both generational and political change.
Mulcair was playing brilliant chess; Trudeau was engaged in a game of thrones.
And if that left Muclair looking outdated, it left Harper coming across as a political dinosaur. There is no doubt that the man who has ruled Canada for the last 10 years pleased his base. All the bases of the base were dutifully touched; war against the evil-doers, free trade as the panacea to everything, and the tried and untrue appeal to fear mongering. But it all looked a little tired last night, to the point that when Harper began extolling the virtues of his government’s approach to the environment, the audience actually snickered. No, more than that, they guffawed.
In the end, not much new came out of this debate. Harper offered the usual bromides that excite the right, complemented by absurd and opportunistic attempts to portray himself as a humanitarian and environmentalist.
Both progressive party leaders lamented Canada’s lost international reputation and urged a return to multilateralism and just plain soul. And no one touched the monster foreign policy issue of them all – the utter failure of the West to deal with the Assad regime while denoucing ISIS and making an ally out of an old enemy – al Qaeda.
When it was all over, I headed for the main entrance of the Tin Can. Across the street, two diligent aboriginals held up a sign about missing and murdered native women. As he left the building, they wanted Harper to see that not everyone present was obsessed with foreign affairs.
As for me, I hung around to hear the results of the Simcoe Street Poll, as the people filed out of the debate and offered their verdict in animated knots about what they had just witnessed.
No one was talking about Harper or Mulcair. They were all talking about Rocky.
Original Article
Source: ipolitics.ca/
Author: Michael Harris
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