Six years ago, I ran into a prominent Conservative at one of those boring diplomatic receptions in Ottawa. He was unusually animated that day, as if shaken by some biblical reordering of the natural universe, like an earthquake or volcano, threatening the end of the world. Then again, given his Vesuvian anger, it could have been all those things.
A few days earlier, on April 13, 2013, Justin Trudeau had become leader of the Liberal Party of Canada. For my friend, this seemed a great abnormality, the descent of national politics.
My friend was a senior minister in the government of Stephen Harper, then in its seventh year. He had been elected in 1997, first for the Reform Party, and he was considered a star.
He was elected, from Alberta, with a majority in his riding larger than Harper’s, he noted proudly. Over his years in Ottawa, in opposition and in power, we had many conversations about many things: history, citizenship, Judaism, Taiwan, food.
He was funny, charming, and smart. “If I visit your synagogue one more time,” he used to say of his interest in the Jewish community, “the rabbi is going to make me a member!”
To my friend, Trudeau was an imposter. He was a lightweight, an amateur, a poseur.
He worked the ethnic communities tirelessly. He knew not just the synagogues, but the mosques, churches and temples. He was ubiquitous.
On this day in April of 2013, all he could talk about was Justin Trudeau. My friend’s contempt was withering. He was scornful, dismissive, angry.
That Trudeau had been in Parliament since 2008, that he had won a difficult seat in downtown Montreal, that he had won the party leadership with some 80 per cent of the vote – all that didn’t matter to my friend.
To my friend, Trudeau was an imposter. He was a lightweight, an amateur, a poseur. He said, my friend did, that he had faced other opposition critics in his portfolio, and he respected them all – except Trudeau. He said Trudeau never understood or grasped the portfolio, which was immigration.
Such a disaster was Trudeau, my friend said, that he would breathe life into the New Democrats. The Liberals would collapse – which would have been hard, given their disaster in 2011 under Michael Ignatieff – making the NDP the default choice of progressive Canadians.
His voice rising, his face flushed, I had never seen my friend this animated. I have since wondered about his antipathy that day, though with Trudeau’s success, it has become clearer.
And while I don’t think he would have cared – his artless frankness is his signature – I had always treated our conversation as between us. I did not record it.
But I noticed, over the last two years or so, that my friend is now saying in public what he said in private. I respect his consistency and transparency.
In May 2018, he called Trudeau “an empty trust fund millionaire” with “the depth of a finger bowl” who “can’t read a briefing note longer than a cocktail napkin.” That was what he said to me, in so many words.
So, why did he think that way? Perhaps because he knew, at some level, that Trudeau could win power – which is what he did, with a majority, in 2015. Shortly after that, my friend joined other senior Conservatives – John Baird, Peter MacKay – who realized they would not be prime minister.
So, my friend left Ottawa, returned home, and entered provincial politics, where he has flourished.
His name is Jason Kenney, and Tuesday, he became premier of Alberta. He will be seeing a lot more of Justin Trudeau.
Andrew Cohen is a journalist, professor and author of Two Days in June: John F. Kennedy and the 48 Hours That Made History.
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