The Conservative brand is on life support

One of the oldest brands in Canadian politics is facing its most modern crisis: grievance politics has become its pulse, and governance a departing spirit.

Image courtesy of Copilot

“Conservative” is one of the oldest brands in Canadian politics— and the Westminster Parliamentary system— and we’re watching zealots destroy it in real time. While I know there are those who would celebrate its demise, I don’t think it’s necessarily going anywhere; it’s just going to be horrible when they finally manage to get themselves into the seat of government— like the Wildrose in their UCP masks.

What we’re watching isn’t just ideological drift; it’s grievance politics overwhelming governance politics inside a party that once understood the difference.

Not that long ago, I offered the foundation of a political theory: governance and grievance politics. While the two can be used to describe individuals of any political lean, it was borne out of watching conservative parties in Alberta and beyond. Unfortunately, we now have B.C. conservatives offering themselves up as yet another walking disaster of a test case.

The destruction of the conservative brand isn’t just an Alberta problem— it’s a national one that is spreading— because grievance politics travels faster than governance politics can contain it.

Governance politics is the discipline required to win; grievance politics is the performance required to remain angry.

Alberta is very, consistently, and frustratingly familiar with grievance politics. There is another side to that, however, and it’s governance politics— or what we more commonly refer to as “moderates”. They’re not the same, however. Few people would consider Stephen Harper a “moderate” in its common definition, and that’s why we needed to find another way to explain the difference.

When people use the term “moderate” in politics, it gives the impression that their “lean” or values are tempered. “Progressive conservative” would be a good example. Those who easily managed to hold both “conservative” and “progressive” views— especially after the demolition of those similarly-named parties— became “moderates” in comparison to the “burn everything down” types, even if they weren’t at all “moderate”. Additionally, we have the Overton window that changes what “moderate” actually looks like in a given time and space.

Moderates are defined by temperament; governance politics is defined by purpose.

Governance politics avoids the pitfalls of the term ‘moderates’ because it describes intent and purpose, not ideology or personality.

While governance politics focuses on process and ascending to the instrument of government— actually finding solutions for problems— grievance politics begins and ends with the expression of itself. Grievance politics thrives in opposition because it requires no solutions; only— as Kory Teneycke so eloquently put it— “running your mouth”.

I’m not saying “moderates” don’t actually exist, mind you. I’m simply saying that governance politics is a better definition of those who are not at all moderate but are more interested in forming government than alienating their own supporters to maintain the dopamine boost they get from airing their own grievances.

In Alberta today, the separatist movement is the purest expression of grievance politics— and the clearest example of how governance politics attempts to subdue grievance for electoral viability.

A socio-political case study in grievance and governance politics

The foundation of the separatist movement in Alberta is multi-generational grievance. I’d argue that it began before we even became a province. Those who were sent to settle the west faced harsh conditions and were tasked with building what already existed in the east in service of a monarch and a plan that probably seemed very, very far away at the time. Instead of pride— though there is an abundance of that as well— bitterness became embedded in the culture that grew from it.

Alberta’s political culture was built on extraction— of land, labour, and resources— and extraction cultures can produce grievance in response to times when the perceived flow of benefits changes, as it has during the boom-bust cycle of oil.

The feeling of being cut off from the east remains; though not as strongly as it did before technology was able to bridge that gap. With that being said, technology itself plays an outsized role in grievance politics. Social media has afforded us not just the ability to keep tabs on politicians in real time but to demand a constant diet of that which sustains our use. It also consists of a feedback loop that makes certain groups feel much bigger, and more supported, than they are.

The separatist movement in Alberta has had many faces but more recently, it was led by individuals chasing their five minutes of fame like Dennis Modry, Jeffrey Rath, and Mitch Sylvestre. People who were big fish in the small pond of dedicated separatists whose entire identity is grievance politics that had a single common enemy: Liberal governments.

These individuals, as well as the ones that Preston Manning is chasing for his virtual townhalls, just want people to listen to them complain about how their lot in life was made worse by a federal government whose policies rarely, if ever, actually affected them. That is not to say that federal policy has never directly affected people living in Alberta; I’m saying it never directly affected them.

Dennis Modry, a former surgeon, is rooted in professional displacement due to healthcare cuts; Mitch Sylvestre’s in personal resentment over provincial pandemic restrictions; and Jeffrey Rath in an anti-institutional identity.

These three are the typical purveyors of grievance politics in its simplest form: intensely local resentments projected onto a physically, and politically, distant villain.

Enter Keith Wilson and Cory Morgan. They have grievances— a lot of grievances— but they are governance politics types who are not just interested in their own complaints, they want to win. Essentially, they’re doing more work to launder the accumulated grievances of a province rather than eliminate them.

Hence, the change from “separation or bust” to “just send Ottawa a message; a message never hurt anyone did it?”

Wait until they hear where the phrase “don’t shoot the messenger” came from.

The grievances still exist in their original form, just like Stephen Harper’s did; the difference is that they want to win and are willing to temper those aspects of their intentions that are not at all popular with the general public.

Just like how Danielle Smith is able to force a separation referendum on Albertans without campaigning on doing so; she knew that she needed to appear like someone who would take governing the province seriously while playing down her desire to take a wrecking ball to it. And it worked.

Before anyone gets too excited, Rachel Notley did the same thing. For her entire life, the NDP was in opposition. When they realized they had a shot at winning the election in 2015, the NDP removed items from their platform that could have caused them issues with the general public.

However, Danielle Smith tempered grievances to win power, as evidenced by the resurgence of petty grievances she once claimed were for “likes and clicks”, and Rachel Notley tempered an ideological rigidity that is favourable in opposition to win government, and governed like someone willing to take on that responsibility for all Albertans, as evidenced by how quickly the party could pivot when they were wrong.

There’s obviously a difference between running to remain opposition and running to form government, too, of course, but the shift— knowing that the two positions require a different tactic— is why Rachel Notley managed to form government and voters didn’t run back to the PC’s at the last second like they did to Danielle Smith in 2012.

That shift gave Stephen Harper the ability to become Prime Minister and Pierre Poilievre’s inability to do so is why he couldn’t manage the same.

After his time as Prime Minister, Stephen Harper once said that he believed populism is true conservatism. Tommy Douglas and Rachel Notley would disagree. So would Justin Trudeau for that matter.

What Mr. Harper had that allowed him to achieve two minority governments and then a majority was governance politics. He lost in 2015 because he let the foundation of his own politics— grievance— take over.

Canadians didn’t change; Mr. Harper stopped governing and started performing grievance again.

It’s already on the national stage

What began decades ago as a grievance-based movement in Alberta reached the national stage first with Reform and then Stephen Harper. Its spirit lives on Pierre Poilievre, and is offering us a front row seat for the next performance in the B.C. Conservative Party. Grievance politics is now overwhelming governance politics inside of a political brand that once knew the difference.

Conservativism, likely since the party’s formation, may have had at its heart a preference for grievance politics but they relied on governance politics— with the strength of discipline and a desire to govern well once they achieved it— to win. Aspects of the brand which seem to have been left behind in the quest to gain power.

What we’re seeing now, especially under Pierre Poilievre’s leadership, is that grievance politics is impatient. Just look back to Rachel Notley in opposition— she never lost her air of competency; never reverted back to an opposition leader who only wanted to play in the mud of grievance. She had discipline, and a desire to govern well that she held onto with ease because her goal went beyond airing grievances. She had, as former Stephen Harper advisor Ken Boessenkool once said, “a conservative disposition.”

The conservative brand is in danger of collapsing because it is losing itself in grievance politics. It’s becoming their entire identity. And once grievance politics becomes the identity of the party, people who want conservative government— those who believe in and work for and build up conservative movements— will leave. Just like Stephen Harper left a completely safe Reform seat in Calgary in 1997.

That is the crisis facing conservatives today: a political brand that once relied on discipline now rewards performance. A movement that once sought power now seeks to lick its wounds and heckle from the sidelines. A party that once governed the country now struggles to govern itself.

The conservative brand is mutating into something that can win opposition, but not government. And unless governance politics reasserts itself, the brand will continue to be defined not by what conservatism is, but by what it once was.

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