CHELSEA, QUE.—One of the most enticing promises Prime Minister Mark Carney made in the immediate aftermath of his ascension to majority government last week was to dial back political “show-boating.” As he said: “We’re going to have less of that; we’re going to have more substance.”

He was referring, in particular, to the time-wasting shenanigans that have overtaken parliamentary committees as opposition members berate and interrupt witnesses rather than listening, asking questions that are not questions but pocket rants—often widely off-topic and designed only to garner newsworthy video clips.

This tactic isn’t novel, but, in recent years, it has metastasized so that most committee hearings are an extension of Question Period with all the shouting, personal attacks and canned outrage that has made politics such an unappetizing viewing experience for normal Canadians. The issue notionally under consideration—be it crime policy, affordable housing, or the cost of living—is often secondary to the tremendous fun opposition committee members have making headlines.

In post-byelection remarks last week, Carney specifically referenced MPs at committee reciting stories about “dogs and cats” in increasingly commonplace filibusters intended to slow controversial legislation. Some argue this is a legitimate tactic for an opposition in a minority situation. But these brainless distractions seem to be aimed primarily at impressing fellow committee members, since no one else is paying attention. 

How the prime minister will remake committees to reflect the new numbers—i.e. to ensure Liberal control of proceedings—involves some procedural muscle-flexing and Conservatives are already accusing Liberals of trying to make committees “less accountable.” What Carney is attempting—what he claims to want—is to make them more substantive. Amen and godspeed.

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Indeed, this most serious prime minister and his self-described “serious” government are speaking for many when he calls out the nonsense, threatens to take away the keys, and ground anyone who rebels. He is doing so with the population’s widespread support. That, at least, is one extrapolation from polls giving the Liberals an enduring advantage over the opposition, and from those byelections that returned three new Liberal MPs and which saw Conservative numbers plummet.

Voters are fed up with performative politics, particularly in this moment of global and economic disruption. So, out with the Bibles-as-props, dog whistles, personal slurs, and red-faced rants; in with respectful, fact-based debate, intelligent compromise, and collaborative outcomes. Time for the adults to restore order.

The message was not lost on Yves-François Blanchet, the attentive and often-subtle Bloc Quebécois leader. While his party did not regain the Terrebonne riding, Blanchet took solace in the fact that “we’re again in the position of being able to be the adult in the room.” 

Whether he, or Carney for that matter, follows through is another question. But what is interesting is that in this era of United States Presiden Donald Trump—a showboater in the way the Titanic was a luxury liner—“serious” and “adult” are clearly vote-getters.

Even Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre—with his engine constantly revving, his lacerating tongue, his rhyming-couplet-policies and taste for wild distortion—is getting the message (which is being delivered by worried Conservatives with fingers to the wind.) But Poilievre’s latest makeover, his attempts to don the mantle of statesmanship, to tone down personal attacks on opponents is unsteady to say the least.

Last week, his claim that Carney was not educated in economics, but “badly educated,” probably earned him more incredulous chuckles and outright ridicule than friendly attention. Carney, of course, has three degrees, including from Harvard and Oxford, has chaired both the Bank of Canada and the Bank of England, and has worked internationally for blue-ribbon investment firms. On the other hand, what does he know compared to someone with an undergrad BA, completed online in 2008, and a career spent entirely in politics?

That will read as an elitist sneer and it needs qualification: mainstream economics has not prevented recessions, oil price jolts, pandemic downturns, widening income inequality, or other twists and turns in the global economy. But Carney’s amused reaction to Poilievre’s criticism—he apparently hadn’t heard it until a reporter alerted him—didn’t convey arrogance. Instead, his self-deprecating chuckle suggested perspective, a refreshingly mature reaction to the childishness of some critics.

Carney is a surprisingly agile politician, but a showboat he is not. His keynote speech to the large Liberal convention in Montreal last week featured familiar content, and a rather laboured delivery: it was obvious he was trying to perform excitement, rev-up the crowd, but it didn’t come naturally—unlike his press conference a few days later where he provided his typically detailed answers to reporters’ questions, along with spontaneous amusing asides. 

The normalcy—for want of a better word—of Carney’s behaviour was underscored by his predecessor’s brief video remarks to the party convention in Montreal. With his usual breathy showmanship—still the great hair, dressed in an open-neck shirt and looking like the coolest teacher in high school—Justin Trudeau reprised his greatest hits: diversity, global leadership, hope and hard work. He finished by declaring “but we’re Liberals. We’ve got this!”

Some applauded, others cringed. While Trudeau’s policies—an increased child tax benefit, universal child care, dental care, and the beginnings of a pharmacare plan—significantly helped many lower income and middle-class Canadians (a fact pointed out by Carney in his speech, in a rare tribute), Trudeau’s love of both the limelight and the sound of his own voice is glaringly out of sync with the times. 

The tide is even turning (to torture a metaphor) on the biggest showboat of them all. Trump, a certified case of political attention deficit disorder, is losing ground in public opinion polls as his performance becomes increasingly vulgar and incoherent. Americans don’t just need an adult in the room; they need an adult in the Oval Office—the sooner the better.

This moment will pass, of course. Politics in an inherently competitive game and it often attracts big, loud personalities. But not right now. The prime minister has put showboats on notice: that ship has sailed. Let’s hope he is right.

Susan Riley writes regularly for The Hill Times.

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