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Imagine you’re the prime minister. Fort McMurray is burning to a crisp and the nation’s media have been assembled to hear you speak. The disaster is already getting global attention. What do you say?
“May the 4th be with you.”
OK, that probably wouldn’t have been your choice, but it was Justin Trudeau’s. Don’t worry if you didn’t get it, it cleared many a head. I’ll explain in a bit.
Suffice it to say, as lead balloons go, it was pretty heavy duty. Fortunately it buried itself so deep into the burnt ground it didn’t leave a mark. Not much does with this prime minister.
We’re six months into the Trudeau era and the world — bless it — is still wetting itself over Justin Trudeau. The latest hosannah came from the political masterminds at Marie Claire UK, who last month branded Trudeau “Mr. Hotsticks.”
Canada might well be back, but more monikers like that and we’ll start pining for where we were.
Team Trudeau has to date been thrilled by Marie Claire’s and others’ orgasmic commentary. They reckon it demonstrates a Canada that is fresh, dynamic and relevant. But even the boys in GQ pants in the Langevin Block know the good times can’t always roll.
Here, they face the inverse problem I had when working for the prime minister. Stephen Harper had no problem doing serious. Lifting policy binders was his peacock pose. It was the fun stuff that was harder to coax.
That was by choice. Politics is an inherently serious business. Deciding when to lighten up becomes one of the hardest political calls any government has to make. Most politicians don’t do funny or light well. That’s why many never try and those that do usually shouldn’t.
Whatever the political calculation, it’s terrifying to step out of your comfort zone. I can still remember being summoned on short notice to the NAC on a Saturday evening in October 2009 to be told the prime minister would be performing. Music. On stage. In front of cameras. If it went sideways no amount of effort would have squeezed off-key toothpaste back into the tube.
That’s why our office didn’t alert the media. It didn’t even alert our office. But thanks to local television and some video shot by a Canadian Press still photographer, the prime minister’s rendition of the Beatles’ With A Little Help From My Friends still managed to go viral.
This revelatory moment happened in the second Harper mandate, 3 1/2 years after he was first elected. As tie-loosenings go, it was a long time in the making. Most pundits wondered why it hadn’t been done before. Sunny ways, they suggested, could have secured an earlier majority dawn.
Maybe so. But you can’t make a politician into something he or she isn’t. It shows. Mr. Harper knew his strengths, and it wasn’t schtick. Mr. Hotsticks, on the other hand, knows his fluff.
Let’s just hope Mr. Trudeau doesn’t take as long as Harper to make the inverse journey, to the well of gravitas.
Early attempts at Trudeau statesmanship in times of trouble have fallen a bit flat. Trudeau’s response to the Paris terror attacks was a bit Bambi. The response to the recent killing of a Canadian hostage in the Philippines was more on point, but still not strong enough.
It needs to get better. The only time I think “politician” when I see Justin Trudeau is when I see him trying to be serious. Serious isn’t his comfort zone, but it will soon need to be.
The unfolding disaster in Fort McMurray is just the latest dreadful reminder of how serious the business of government can be.
And Mr. Trudeau’s instinct was to crack a joke.
Mr. Trudeau had originally invited cameras into his caucus meeting to celebrate six months of Liberal government awesomeness. It also happened to be May 4, the day Star Wars nerds greet each other with “may the 4th be with you.”
The only thing media wanted the prime minister clipped on that morning was Fort McMurray. It was a chance to look straight at the cameras and get prime ministerial on their lenses. But no, Mr. Trudeau couldn’t resist opening his remarks with the Star Wars crack before pivoting directly to Fort McMurray.
Now, I love my Star Wars as much as the next man, but any Force banter should have been banished from the caucus room that morning to a galaxy far, far away. Or, to put it in a syntax the prime minister would appreciate: an unforced error, it was.
It was a rare clunk from a enormously effective communications operation. Mr. Trudeau would do well to haul out the lint brush and stroke off some of the excess fluff of those well-tailored suits.
查看原文...
“May the 4th be with you.”
OK, that probably wouldn’t have been your choice, but it was Justin Trudeau’s. Don’t worry if you didn’t get it, it cleared many a head. I’ll explain in a bit.
Suffice it to say, as lead balloons go, it was pretty heavy duty. Fortunately it buried itself so deep into the burnt ground it didn’t leave a mark. Not much does with this prime minister.
We’re six months into the Trudeau era and the world — bless it — is still wetting itself over Justin Trudeau. The latest hosannah came from the political masterminds at Marie Claire UK, who last month branded Trudeau “Mr. Hotsticks.”
Canada might well be back, but more monikers like that and we’ll start pining for where we were.
Team Trudeau has to date been thrilled by Marie Claire’s and others’ orgasmic commentary. They reckon it demonstrates a Canada that is fresh, dynamic and relevant. But even the boys in GQ pants in the Langevin Block know the good times can’t always roll.
Here, they face the inverse problem I had when working for the prime minister. Stephen Harper had no problem doing serious. Lifting policy binders was his peacock pose. It was the fun stuff that was harder to coax.
That was by choice. Politics is an inherently serious business. Deciding when to lighten up becomes one of the hardest political calls any government has to make. Most politicians don’t do funny or light well. That’s why many never try and those that do usually shouldn’t.
Whatever the political calculation, it’s terrifying to step out of your comfort zone. I can still remember being summoned on short notice to the NAC on a Saturday evening in October 2009 to be told the prime minister would be performing. Music. On stage. In front of cameras. If it went sideways no amount of effort would have squeezed off-key toothpaste back into the tube.
That’s why our office didn’t alert the media. It didn’t even alert our office. But thanks to local television and some video shot by a Canadian Press still photographer, the prime minister’s rendition of the Beatles’ With A Little Help From My Friends still managed to go viral.
This revelatory moment happened in the second Harper mandate, 3 1/2 years after he was first elected. As tie-loosenings go, it was a long time in the making. Most pundits wondered why it hadn’t been done before. Sunny ways, they suggested, could have secured an earlier majority dawn.
Maybe so. But you can’t make a politician into something he or she isn’t. It shows. Mr. Harper knew his strengths, and it wasn’t schtick. Mr. Hotsticks, on the other hand, knows his fluff.
Let’s just hope Mr. Trudeau doesn’t take as long as Harper to make the inverse journey, to the well of gravitas.
Early attempts at Trudeau statesmanship in times of trouble have fallen a bit flat. Trudeau’s response to the Paris terror attacks was a bit Bambi. The response to the recent killing of a Canadian hostage in the Philippines was more on point, but still not strong enough.
It needs to get better. The only time I think “politician” when I see Justin Trudeau is when I see him trying to be serious. Serious isn’t his comfort zone, but it will soon need to be.
The unfolding disaster in Fort McMurray is just the latest dreadful reminder of how serious the business of government can be.
And Mr. Trudeau’s instinct was to crack a joke.
Mr. Trudeau had originally invited cameras into his caucus meeting to celebrate six months of Liberal government awesomeness. It also happened to be May 4, the day Star Wars nerds greet each other with “may the 4th be with you.”
The only thing media wanted the prime minister clipped on that morning was Fort McMurray. It was a chance to look straight at the cameras and get prime ministerial on their lenses. But no, Mr. Trudeau couldn’t resist opening his remarks with the Star Wars crack before pivoting directly to Fort McMurray.
Now, I love my Star Wars as much as the next man, but any Force banter should have been banished from the caucus room that morning to a galaxy far, far away. Or, to put it in a syntax the prime minister would appreciate: an unforced error, it was.
It was a rare clunk from a enormously effective communications operation. Mr. Trudeau would do well to haul out the lint brush and stroke off some of the excess fluff of those well-tailored suits.
查看原文...
