42nd & Grace

The New Democrats – the national version – are disappointing.

Those were the first words I jotted down for this column. For the first time in years, I can write them without worrying about the ramifications for an employer. But before I could continue, a news alert arrived: Charlie Kirk had been shot in Utah. Then, the confirmation of his death.

While not having much truck with Kirk’s politics, I had a sneaking admiration for his approach – going into the lion’s den of campuses that, theoretically, were awash with people opposed to his ideas. He was open to debate, welcomed it in fact. And that is as it should be.

The problem is, somewhere along the line, we stopped debating. Political discourse has devolved from metaphorical enemy camps into something far more literal. You’re either with ‘em or against ‘em. The middle ground has vanished.

Kirk’s killing is a stark example – as was the assassination of a Minnesota state senator, the attempted murder of another, the firebombing of Governor Josh Shapiro’s home, the plotted kidnapping of Governor Gretchen Whitmer, and of course, the assassination attempt of Donald Trump. The list is far too long, and it keeps growing.

Canadians like to think we’re above this. We are not. The language of confrontation has seeped into our politics too. Vitriol is rising. Debate has shifted from the realm of ideas to the trenches of ideology. The belief that an opponent might hold a valid, even worthwhile, perspective has become anathema.

Back in my early days in Victoria, the New Democrats were down to two seats and had little staff. Much to the annoyance of some colleagues higher up the food chain, I spent time with NDP staffers. For a few, that signaled a lack of loyalty. But I saw it differently. We disagreed on policy, not purpose. We shared the same desire for a better country – just with different routes to get there. Conversations with Jim, Jamie, Sara, Gwyn, and Rich offered a window into alternative, viable solutions. I never regretted those talks.

Even during my time in newspapers, I actively sought out voices unlike mine. One columnist I approached – now a respected academic – asked why I wanted to publish her views. My answer was simple: debate is healthy. Isolating yourself from differing perspectives is not. I never believed my opinions were the only ones worthy of print.

That’s not to say we shouldn’t draw sharp policy lines. After four decades in and around politics, I believe clarity is crucial. People need to know what they’re voting for. Then they get to choose. I’ve played my part in drawing those lines — but I’ve always tried to respect the people standing on the other side of them.

The blame for this new political climate is not one-sided. The urge to be “right” above all has infected every corner of the spectrum. The tendency to overreach is universal. Today, simply voicing a dissenting opinion can get you labelled – sexist, racist, fascist – regardless of intent or nuance. So many choose silence over engagement. And who can blame them?

In high school, as a member of the debate team, one of the most enjoyable aspects of competing was being prepared to debate either side of the proposition. It required you to think, to see value in other concepts and ultimately helped to refine the argument for what you actually believed.

Sadly, Kirk’s death has already been politicized and in all the wrong ways. If there’s any legacy worth taking from it, it would be a return to honest debate. A willingness to listen. To consider. To evolve.

Because after all this time, one thing remains true: you win some elections and you lose some. Your ideas rise and fall. And if you’re paying close attention, sometimes even your ideas change.