The Outsider

ONLINE ONLY: Listen to an audio Q&A with William Johnson, or watch a video of Johnson and Allan Gregg discussing Stephen Harper at the first Walrus Lively Lunch Debate.When Stephen Harper stepped up to the podium at the Conservative party’s convention in Winnipeg last November, the grassroots members were expecting a triumphant pep talk. He delivered. This was the party’s second convention. At the first, in Montreal in 2005, he had arrived as the Opposition leader, with little chance of defeating the Liberals. Now he was back before them as the prime minister of Canada. They basked in his aura.

The Conservatives had returned to power with an increased plurality. True, a setback in Quebec had kept the government to a minority. But outside that province, where they had won 133 seats to their opponents’ 100, they were now the undisputed majority party. The Liberals, their constant adversaries since 1867, had been crushed, humiliated, deserted by long-time supporters, and were now stuck with a lame-duck leader in Stéphane Dion. Despite the economic storm gathering over the country, for the Tories the future looked bright.

Harper’s speech, more than a cry of victory, suggested the Exodus story, set in Canada. The Conservatives had wandered in the wilderness. Now they had fought their way back to the promised land. “The Conservative party is Canada’s party,” he announced. This proud claim became his leitmotif, the counterpoint to the travails his people had known.

“As we gather together here as a party, let us pause for a moment, and truly reflect and appreciate how far we have come, in so short a time,” he told his supporters. “Five years ago, the Conservative movement in this country was divided, defeated, and demoralized. The government of the day ridiculed us. The pundits discounted us. And the public said, ‘Don’t bother talking to us until you’ve got your act together.’”

Two former warring parties, the Canadian Alliance and the Progressive Conservatives, had united under a new vision, which had led them through the desert. Harper enumerated its tenets: “Lower taxes and prudent spending focused on the priorities of Canadians. A commitment to free enterprise, free markets, and free trade. La croyance en un gouvernement plus responsable, plus transparent. A justice system that puts the welfare of law-abiding citizens before the interests of criminals. Strong support for rebuilding this country’s too-long neglected Canadian Forces. An unwavering commitment to asserting our sovereignty over the Arctic. A belief in a foreign policy that is both strong and independent. And a passionate belief in the unity of this country!” These were the principles that Harper had long fought for; now they were embraced by a mainstream party. His party and Canada were moving closer together, and closer to him.

Not so long ago, the Conservatives had been considered ideological aliens, outside the pale of Canadian values. But things had changed. “We made important inroads with women voters and with new Canadians,” Harper reminded them. “From Comox to Iqaluit to Summerside, we painted large swaths of this great country Tory blue. Because, friends, the Conservative party is once again Canada’s party!”

His exuberance, although understandable, was overstated. True, only the Conservatives were strong in almost every corner of the country. But their share of the vote was only 37.6 percent. Their 143 members in the Commons improved on the 124 of 2006, but Canadians had also returned 165 MPs from other parties: 77 Liberals, 49 members of the Bloc Québécois, 37 New Democrats, and two independents. The Conservatives remained weak in the largest metropolitan centres: Toronto, Montreal, and Vancouver. The country was still a rainbow, not Tory blue.

But Harper was already looking to the future. He had come to elected politics reluctantly, only because he believed that something was terribly wrong with the country, and that its elites were blind to the danger. Derided at first, he had seen Canada gradually move closer to the vision he’d formed in the wilderness. The Conservatives were still poised for a breakthrough, if Harper could stay the course, continue to learn from his mistakes, and adapt. A steady hand on the economy, a new strategy in Quebec, and next time the majority would be theirs. If they weren’t yet Canada’s party, they would be soon.

It would be a challenging task. Harper had always been something of an outsider, unable to bend to conventional wisdom. His vision for the country had been forged in isolation, his political life guided by conviction — and in conviction lies the potential for overreach.

See Jason Sherman and David Parkins’ new comic strip for The Walrus on Stephen Harper.Growing up in the Toronto suburbs of Leaside, then Etobicoke, in the 1960s and ’70s, Stephen Harper was an unlikely prospect for prime minister. At Richview Collegiate Institute, he was renowned for his “very reserved and private manner,” in the words of Bob Scott, his grade thirteen history teacher. As a student, he was both inner directed and brilliant. His friend Larry Moate described a stellar intellect: “Stephen was smart in the humanities, math, science. Anything he wanted, he excelled at.” Tall, thin, and asthmatic, Harper eschewed team sports, preferring long-distance running. He took piano seriously and reached the grade nine level at Toronto’s Royal Conservatory of Music.