Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre speaks to supporters, with his wife Anaida Poilievre at his side, at his election night headquarters in Ottawa on April 29.Shannon Vanraes/Reuters
Pierre Poilievre spent 20 years being a certain type of politician: the prosecutor, the pest, the attack dog. He’d bare his teeth when he sat in the government front benches, even when most cabinet members would tuck their tails and flip on their backs to defuse opposition attacks. That wasn’t Mr. Poilievre’s way.
That’s why he was so perfect for the political moment in late 2023 and 2024, when Canadians’ economic anxieties and frustrations about this country’s many deficiencies bubbled over. Mr. Poilievre became a vessel for that anger: someone who could give literal voice in Parliament to all the ways they believed the government had failed them. Canadians needed a pit bull, and Mr. Poilievre provided.
Then, the moment changed. All of a sudden, Justin Trudeau was no longer prime minister, Donald Trump was U.S. President again, and this country’s economic security – and indeed, our very sovereignty – was in danger. The mood across the country shifted almost instantly: The climate no longer called for a rabid dog, but a careful, confident shepherd who could lead the country through this time of turmoil.
Mr. Poilievre tried to embody that, somewhat awkwardly, by toning down his attacks during the leadership debates and dropping the slogans about “Sneaky Carney” being “Just like Justin.” But he had spent 20 years being one type of politician, and less than a month trying to be another. It wasn’t enough. Not only did the Conservatives lose the election on Monday, but Mr. Poilievre lost his long-time Ottawa-area seat of Carleton in a stunning upset.
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Nevertheless, Conservatives will spend the next days, weeks and months extolling their election performance, and with some justification. The party added more than 20 seats, flipped ridings in both British Columbia and Southwestern Ontario, and increased its share of the popular vote to the highest it’s been since 1988. That is a positive result, especially considering the complete and utter implosion of the NDP.
But the point of being a political leader in Canada is not to increase your party’s share of the popular vote. The point is to earn a plurality of seats and form government. Mr. Poilievre, who was poised to win a massive majority just a few months ago, failed to do that.
The Conservative Leader was a victim of changing circumstances, yes, but he was also a victim of his own obstinance; his refusal to adapt to changing circumstances when the conditions of the race made it clear he needed to do so (if not necessarily to broaden his own voter base, but to make him seem less “scary” to progressive voters who would opt to vote strategically for the Liberals).
The decision to keep journalists off his campaign bus was a mistake; Mr. Poilievre needed reporters around to capture those organic, unpredictable moments that humanize leaders. Instead, he squabbled with a reporter over the size of his rallies.
Mr. Poilievre was excellent in longform interviews, but he shunned the mainstream media. A sit-down interview with a national news broadcaster could have helped him reach the demographics with which he was struggling to connect, but instead he mostly stuck with alternative media, forgoing the opportunity for broader support. He made himself the central feature of his campaign, effectively sidelining very capable members of his team such as Melissa Lantsman, who could have made up for some of the Leader’s deficiencies.
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The Conservatives’ platform, released after advanced voting, seemed like an afterthought, which is curious for a party that had been pushing for an election for a year. And Mr. Poilievre never quite found a way to publicly oppose Mr. Trump, whom he would occasionally implore to “knock it off,” which seemed more like a message Mr. Poilievre felt he had to deliver than one he wanted to. In those moments, he looked like an attack dog who had sniffed out his owner’s bottle of Valium and chewed off the cap.
Mr. Poilievre showed his first real sign of humility during his concession speech early Tuesday morning, when he said that his party needed to “learn the lessons of tonight so that we can have an even better result the next time.” Those lessons will necessarily mean looking inward, which is an unfamiliar tactic for someone who, for the past 20 years, has growled at just about everything that has crossed his path (save for Mr. Trump, ironically). There is clearly massive support for what Mr. Poilievre was selling, but when his circumstances changed, he needed just a little bit more.
He can blame whatever he likes – but ultimately this failure was Mr. Poilievre’s. He was the right man for the moment, until he wasn’t, and he never quite came to terms with the fact that he needed to adapt.