A misspent Liberal youth

In the end, it was all so anti-climactic. A small, half-empty Montreal banquet hall. A scattering of Liberals grimly watching the screens as their government fell. A humbled, defeated prime minister who suddenly looked all of his 67 years, putting on a brave face as he announced his retirement. And the veteran strategists and advisors for whom he'd been the meal ticket for 15 years, slumping as they tried to digest that their time in the corridors of power was already over.

It was hard to believe, standing among them, that this was what remained of the unstoppable political force that once steamrolled anyone that got in its way. And I say that as someone who got steamrolled.

Nobody exits a political party as idealistic as they entered it. But rarely is the loss of faith such a brutal process.

A decade ago, I became a bit of an accidental Liberal. Interested in politics, and tilting left of centre, I got a summer job in a federal minister's constituency office. Shortly thereafter, an acquaintance drew me into a provincial leadership campaign. Before I knew it, I was sitting on the provincial Young Liberals' executive, actively involved in riding associations, helping out campaigns and working part-time at Queen's Park. Even my social life took on a distinctly Liberal flavour -- not least because I began dating a young woman I met at a convention, to whom I'm now engaged.

Until then, my only exposure to the divide between Jean Chretien and Paul Martin had been through the odd media report. So when I decided to run for the presidency of the provincial Young Liberals -- hardly one of the country's most prestigious offices -- it never occurred to me that leadership organizers would pay much attention.

Naively, I ran my campaign the old-fashioned way -- driving around the province to meet high school students, earnestly canvassing MPs for their support, raising money with keg parties and a modest "campaign launch" that I organized myself.

At that launch, I was introduced by Veronique de Passille -- then the president of the federal Young Liberals of Canada. I was vaguely aware that she was a Paul Martin backer, but thought little of it until I started getting inquiries from her and others as to whether I was on board.

It wasn't that I said no. I just didn't say yes, because I hadn't given it much thought. And that was enough to raise suspicions. Throw in that my girlfriend had taken a summer job with potential leadership candidate Allan Rock (one that, ironically, de Passille helped her get) and that the incumbent provincial president was a staunch Martinite, and my campaign was suddenly seen as an anti-Martin plot.

I hadn't realized, to that point, that most party officials were Martinites. Then they started helping the incumbent president bend the rules to ensure his re-election.

It was only when we got to Windsor for the convention that I realized just how much the Martinites had invested in the campaign -- literally. With the money I'd scraped together, I'd rented a couple of cheap yellow school buses to transport my supporters. My opponent's voters turned up in a fleet of Greyhounds. The bulk of them rounded up from a couple of high schools, they had everything -- food, board, delegate fees, liquor -- paid for. Some of the kids were informed they wouldn't get a ride back to Toronto if they didn't vote the right way.

Not surprisingly, I lost. But I'd come close enough to winning that the Martinites were convinced I had another leadership campaign running the show. And from that point, they made a concerted effort to ensure I had a minimal role in the party.

Later that year, I was helping Ontario premier Dalton McGuinty (then toiling in opposition) prepare for his leadership review. McGuinty needed every vote he could get, and that meant staying on decent terms with the Martinites.

In the run-up to the vote, I was told, McGuinty's office got a call from one of Martin's most senior advisors to the effect that if the provincial leader wanted Martin's support, he'd do well to get me out of Queen's Park, the provincial legislature.

To their credit, McGuinty's people ignored him -- I suspect because they'd been asked to fire various other people as well. But it was a signal to me that rather than just passively sitting by, I might as well finally live up to their suspicions by actually working against Martin.

Until then, my girlfriend has been active in Allan Rock's leadership efforts; I'd taken only a very moderate interest. And when I decided to step it up, it was immediately apparent that I was wasting my time. Rock may have been Martin's most serious leadership challenger, but he didn't have a prayer. The Martinites controlled virtually every riding association, and because they held most senior posts in the party, they were setting all the rules.

It was around this point it first occurred to me that maybe it was time to move on. I was going to be endlessly targeted and harassed so long as I refused to pledge my allegiance to Martin, and that was something I had no interest in doing.

Still, it took a couple of incidents in early 2000 to convince me the Liberal party was the last place I wanted to be.

One night in January, an acquaintance (who, as it happened, later worked for Paul Martin) called to ask if I'd like to go to as a delegate from her riding to the upcoming national convention. I agreed, sent her a letter of intent because I couldn't get to that night's delegate selection meeting, and thought nothing more of it.

Then all hell broke loose. The mere mention of my name had apparently convinced the local MP and her supporters that there was a nefarious plot to undermine the Martinite slate they were trying to send to the convention. The next thing I knew, one of the most prominent Martinites in the country was apparently running around telling people that I had turned up at the meeting with a team of Allan Rock supporters bent on taking it over.

It was the sort of thing I'd come to expect. But what caught me off guard was that the local MPP, whose campaign I'd helped run less than a year earlier, took their side. Ambitious and street-smart, he'd evidently concluded he couldn't afford to do otherwise.

The final straw came a few weeks later. Still working at Queen's Park, I was asked why I was spreading rumours about Martin's plans for that same convention. It turned out a young Liberal I'd generally been friendly with had been warning senior Martinites that I was claiming they were planning a coup attempt against Chretien.

As it happened, they actually did attempt a coup against Chretien. But I had no advance knowledge of it, and I'd never discussed it with anyone.

When I called the young Liberal to ask why he was making up stories about me, he started crying. The reason was obvious: In the paranoid Martin universe, this was the way to get ahead.

It had all gotten way too weird. That convention was the last event I ever went to as a Liberal.

In hindsight, I actually owe the Martinites a debt of gratitude. It's slightly embarrassing to look back on my time in their party: the obsessing over meaningless youth politics ... the unquestioning commitment to whichever politician I was working for ... the embrace of a party that was so much more about ambition and opportunism than any sort of values. Truth is, I'm infinitely happier doing what I do now -- where I get to ask politicians questions, rather than just defer to them -- than I ever would have been in the party.

What's sad, though, is how many others were similarly driven away. It was a time when even supporting Martin wasn't necessarily enough. If you weren't sufficiently staunch in your support, you could easily be replaced by someone with a more slavish commitment.

I was a small fish in a big pond. But the Martinites also drove out some very big fish -- from competent ministers to veteran staffers and volunteers. And many of them won't come back.

Standing there in Montreal last week, I'd expected some schadenfreude. But there was too much pathos for that -- a once-proud party lying in tatters, the victim of the bloody, almost Shakespearian rise and fall of its crown prince.

To my surprise, I felt a tinge of sadness at what had become of the party I'd once felt privileged to join. But mostly, I was just relieved to have gotten out when I did.

...the embrace of a party that was so much more about ambition and opportunism than any sort of values

..values?....what values?....we don't need no steenking values!....from the 1948 movie.."The Treasure of the Sierra Madre"

"Not surprisingly, I lost. But I'd come close enough to winning that the Martinites were convinced I had another leadership campaign running the show. And from that point, they made a concerted effort to ensure I had a minimal role in the party...Still, it took a couple of incidents in early 2000 to convince me the Liberal party was the last place I wanted to be...Standing there in Montreal last week, I'd expected some schadenfreude. But there was too much pathos for that -- a once-proud party lying in tatters, the victim of the bloody, almost Shakespearian rise and fall of its crown prince." -- Adam Radwanski

Adam, you're a sucker. You wear it on your forehead. And 10 years from now, you'll still be a sucker.

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