By Sheila Copps
First published in The Hill Times on July 24, 2023.

OTTAWA—To do a makeover or not to do a makeover: that is the question.

‘Tis better to have tried and lost than never to have tried at all. At least that seems to be the approach taken by Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre.

His decision to wait until the House of Commons adjourned for the summer to strut his new look was wise.

Summer is the best time to usher in a political makeover because politicians are heading to barbecues and picnics with a casual demeanour belying their obvious search for votes.

The first big event was the Calgary Stampede where just about every politico was photographed wearing a pair of jeans, boots, and a Stetson.

Some looked very natural in their attire, and others appeared somewhat uncomfortable. The verdict on Twitter was predictable.

Liberals thought the prime minister looked natural and the Conservative leader looked awkward: surprise, surprise. Conservatives thought the Liberal leader looked awkward and their leader was the natural.

Poilievre’s summer solstice is not just about a stampede getup. He has chosen this time to pursue a personal makeover, ditching his slicked-up haircut and nerdy glasses for some contact lenses and a softer do.

He has also decided to dress down, possibly taking a page from Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s relaxed sunny disposition and clothing back in his first successful election.

In the case of Poilievre, the north of the Queensway beltway has been abuzz with comments about his image makeover.

Some purists think he should never have messed with his image because it simply reinforces the fact that he is a politician just like everybody else.

The reality is that he is a politician. And every politician needs to put their best face forward. If that means taking the pomade out of one’s hair, then that is a good thing.

Woe betide the politician who refuses to listen to advice on image.

Sometimes the advice is well-meaning, but difficult. When I was running for the Liberal leadership against Paul Martin and Jean Chrétien, one of my supporters wrote a critique about my look, which was quite blunt. It involved changing my wardrobe—which I did—and losing 20 pounds, which I didn’t.

It’s not that I refused to lose the weight. It was just so difficult to put in the 16-hour days required on the campaign trail while eating healthy. It was not until I left politics that I shed excess weight, and even now it is an ongoing struggle.

My leadership opponents also made subtle changes that might have passed unnoticed but certainly enhanced their electability. In the case of future prime minister Jean Chrétien, he had his teeth capped, which offered up a much better smile when he was pictured in a jean shirt in the official campaign photographs.

At the time, the jean shirt attire was quite avant-garde. Like the Liberals’ policy package, the Red Book, no one had ever launched a campaign in anything less than the blue suit, white shirt and blue tie that was the go-to dress-wear for all successful leaders.

Nowadays, most politicians try to dress down so they don’t appear snooty to the voters.

But not every politician is open to advice on their appearance. When New Democratic Party leader Tom Mulcair was nipping at the heels of government, he was advised to shave his beard.

Millions of Canadians wear beards, but for Mulcair, his bushy appearance played into the unflattering narrative of “Angry Tom.”

Like it or not, beards make men look fierce, and his refusal to even consider a shave was a mistake. Politics is the art of the possible, and a good politician needs to be flexible enough to change their viewpoint—or appearance—as the situation warrants.

Mulcair’s refusal was probably one of the factors that ultimately contributed to his defeat.

When David Peterson was chosen Ontario Liberal leader, he wore glasses and perspired a lot.

He was given early advice to ditch the specs and powder up before he went on air in any television interview.

From a once-bespeckled opposition leader, Peterson used the changes as a springboard to victory.

He was followed as premier by New Democratic leader Bob Rae, who also ditched his glasses at some point in his political career.

The absence of eyewear didn’t deliver victory, but it did help to look people directly in their eyes.

Political willingness to soften an image can help a politician achieve their goals.

Poilievre has gotten that message. Going glassless won’t win over opponents.

But it could certainly help with voters.

Sheila Copps is a former Jean Chrétien-era cabinet minister and a former deputy prime minister. Follow her on Twitter at @Sheila_Copps.

There has to be a reasonable way for elected representatives to receive police protection when necessary.

By Sheila Copps
First published in The Hill Times on September 5, 2022.

OTTAWA—Former energy minister Marc Lalonde used to be accompanied by armed guards when he visited Alberta back in 1980.

As the minister responsible for the introduction of the National Energy Program, he and then-prime minister Pierre Trudeau were hated by many Albertans.

“Let the eastern bastards freeze in the dark” was a popular Alberta bumper sticker in the seventies.

Stephen Harper, in his pre-prime ministerial days, advocated for a firewall around Alberta, including a withdrawal from Medicare and the Canada Pension Plan, and replacement of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police by a provincial force.

Today, a major candidate for the United Conservative Party leadership is calling for Alberta sovereignty.

All this animus is not the result of social media or a twisted citizen. It is a political strategy practiced by some politicians to gain favour with constituents.

Hate sells. Just ask Donald Trump. Divisive campaign slogans drive votes. And if you can convince citizens that a politician from another party is an interloper, that is a guaranteed vote in your corner.

It may be a little rich for politicians who specialize in division to disavow the traitorous and misogynistic claims of an Albertan couple attacking Deputy Prime Minister Chrystia Freeland.

Dog whistle politics sends a message out to ordinary citizens. The message is simple: it is okay to attack a politician from another province or party because they are not one of us. They are enemies out to plunder our fields and steal our oil.

Ironically, Freeland was born in Alberta.

As for the misogynistic slur directed at the minister, that should come as no surprise.

The good news about social media is that people can now be filmed saying horrible things, and risk being exposed for the miscreants that they are.

But the content is nothing new.

I was called a slut in the House of Commons. And that didn’t come from a random passerby, the insult was from the mouth of another Member of Parliament in the middle of a heated debate.

I was stalked by a constituent who had already been arrested for attacking a journalist. He entered Hamilton City Hall with a magazine bearing the image of a soldier carrying an Uzi, and slammed it on my mother’s desk. She was an alderman at the time, and he swore at her, and said that was the gun he was going to use to kill me.

I called the RCMP, which was responsible for ministerial protective details. Its local detachment was closed for the weekend, so early the next week, an officer got in touch to discourage me from pressing charges, claiming this action was clearly only the work of one crazy person.

I insisted, and when charges were laid, it was discovered that the individual had already stabbed a journalist.

Regular death threats, and a brick through my office window were common. My provincial counterpart, New Democrat Bob Mackenzie, suffered the firebombing of his office. The perpetrator, an angry constituent, was never arrested.

Those incidents occurred in one riding in one city in Canada.

Threats to politicians are nothing new. It will only be a matter of time before someone’s verbal attacks go deadly.

The government has ordered a review of Freeland’s security. But it should actually undertake a review of security measures for all Members of Parliament, especially when they are outside of Ottawa. Round-the-clock security may not be the answer, but there has to be a reasonable way for elected representatives to receive police protection when necessary.

An angry constituent can quickly turn into a dangerous constituent.

And the level of respect that used to be afforded politicians of all political stripes has gone by the wayside.

People think nothing of parading a Fuck Trudeau poster in their truck window or on their property. That is not against the law, but violent language can lead to violence.

The number of Canadians embracing the rhetoric of the Ottawa anti-vaxx occupiers is truly disturbing. Those politicians who align themselves with anti-democracy movements are also contributing to the problem.

Conservative leadership candidate Pierre Poilievre characterized the Freeland attack as “unacceptable” and said he has hired a private security firm to protect his wife from social media attacks.

But Poilievre’s whole campaign has been based on the same dynamic of people versus elites.

With the advent of social media, everyone is a critic. Civil discourse is past history.

But politicians who use venom as their tool of choice must bear some of the responsibility.

Sheila Copps is a former Jean Chrétien-era cabinet minister and a former deputy prime minister. Follow her on Twitter at @Sheila_Copps.

In the old days, the House Speaker would host a Christmas party for all MPs, with plenty of carols sung to ring in the holiday season, and MPs really were friends, even those on opposite sides of the House. We all knew we had a job to do involving politics, but after hours, a lot of us socialized together. The result was a more humanized working environment.

By Sheila Copps
First published in The Hill Tiimes on December 23, 2021.

OTTAWA—Christmas used to be a time when parliamentarians on all sides of the House would get together in the holiday spirit.

Sometimes, the spirit had a twist. One Christmas, during a Progressive Conservatives majority, Santa Claus joined the children’s Christmas party dressed in blue from head to toe. Unfortunately, the colour change startled some kids and they ran out of the place crying. The next year, he returned in his regular red suit.

The other thing that political parties would do at Christmas is get together for a sing-along. After the swords were put down during the parliamentary debate in the Commons, the House Speaker would host a party for all, with plenty of carols sung to ring in the holiday season.

Even the public broadcaster joined in, with the CBC usually running a radio show featuring Members of Parliament from all sides of the house with a new take on an old Christmas carol. In those days, parliamentarians really were friends, even those on opposite sides of the House.

We all knew we had a job to do involving politics, but after hours, many would all adjourn to the National Press Club across the street from the Hill to join in holiday chatter and drinks, invited by members of the media to raise a glass together.

The result was a more humanized working environment. Most members of the press gallery knew politicians as human beings, and in some cases, friends. That didn’t mean they backed away from a story. But it did mean that they approached their work with the notion that the subject of their interview was a person with family, friends, and a likability quotient. It meant that all stories were viewed through a human lens.

Nowadays, there is no time to humanize the Hill. Reporters have little time to pursue more than the basics of their stories.

And politicians certainly don’t have the opportunity to sit around a piano and share a holiday song.

In the interest of past history, I reworked an old classic with a political twist.

“On the first day of Christmas elections sent to me, a Trudeau in government—yippee.

“On the second day of Christmas elections sent to me, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in Parliament—yippee.

“On the third day of Christmas elections sent to me, three legal challenges, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in government—yippee.

“On the fourth day of Christmas elections sent to me, four votes completed, three legal challenges, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in government—yippee.

“On the fifth day of Christmas elections sent to me, five golden handshakes, four votes completed, three legal challenges, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in government—yippee.

“On the sixth day of Christmas, elections sent to me, six members braying, five golden handshakes, four votes completed, three legal challenges, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in government—yippee.

“On the seventh day of Christmas elections sent to me, seven scribes a scribbling, six members braying, five golden handshakes, four votes completed, three legal challenges, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in government—yippee.

“On the eighth day of Christmas elections sent to me, eight lobbyists milking, seven scribes a scribbling, six critics braying, five golden handshakes, four votes completed, three legal challenges, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in government—yippee.

“On the ninth day of Christmas, elections sent to me, nine members mumbling, eight lobbyists milking, seven scribes a scribbling, six critics braying, five golden handshakes, four votes completed, three legal challenges, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in government—yippee.

“On the tenth day of Christmas elections sent to me, ten judges judging, nine members mumbling, eight lobbyists milking, seven scribes a scribbling, six critics braying, five golden handshakes, four votes completed, three legal challenges, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in government—yippee.

“On the eleventh day of Christmas, elections sent to me, eleven gripers griping, ten judges judging, nine members mumbling, eight lobbyists milking, seven scribes a scribbling, six critics braying, five golden handshakes, four votes completed, three legal challenges, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in government—yippee.

“On the twelfth day of Christmas, elections sent to me, twelve maces marching, eleven gripers griping, ten judges judging, nine members mumbling, eight lobbyists milking, seven scribes a scribbling, six critics braying, five golden handshakes, four votes completed, three legal challenges, two premiers whining and a Trudeau in government—yippee.”

Happy Holidays to all and hopefully the new year will bring peace and joy to Parliament!

Sheila Copps is a former Jean Chrétien-era cabinet minister and a former deputy prime minister. Follow her on Twitter at @Sheila_Copps.

I thought long and hard before writing today’s column because I wasn’t sure I wanted to spread my bad news far and wide. But if my experience can help any other person facing a cancer diagnosis, it will be worth it. I am not going to let this cancer get the better of me.

By Sheila Copps
First published in The Hill Times on August 2, 2021.

OTTAWA—Three years ago, I joined a very elite group of Canadian women. At the ripe old age of 65, I was diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer.

We all hear the numbers on cancer. But they don’t really mean much until it hits home personally.

My first diagnosis was not a major surprise. My mother suffered from breast cancer at the age of 56. She underwent a radical mastectomy, standard procedure in those days, and lived cancer-free for another 35 years. Not a bad track record to imitate.

So, after a surgical lumpectomy and radiation, I figured that was it. I did not need chemotherapy because the lymph node involvement was microscopic and detailed tumour analysis suggested the magic treatment formula excluded a full-body chemical assault.

I was told by doctors that there was a chance the cancer could come back elsewhere, but it was extremely unlikely it would return in the same breast where it first presented.

Once you have been diagnosed, the surveillance system of cancer patients is pretty amazing.

But COVID did require a cutback on cancer treatments so an ultrasound that was supposed to happen last year was delayed.

In my case, COVID may save my life. Because the ultrasound was so late, doctors decided to order a full MRI of my breast area, exposing minute breast changes that might have missed detection in an ultrasound.

The MRI exposed two masses, which could be simply necrotic scarring or cancer. Only a biopsy would tell the whole story.

Within three weeks, I was biopsied and both attending physicians said they thought the sample was not cancerous, so I went home feeling very relieved.

But their initial visual optimism was not borne out in the biopsy.

I ended up being diagnosed with one small cancerous mass, measuring in the millimetres, situated very close to the initial tumour.

I had done enough of my own research to know that a second tumour in the same breast can only be treated by full removal.

My first reaction was panic. I was not afraid of the mastectomy, but I certainly could not explain why the big C was back. I had followed all the rules, including post-surgical, estrogen-reducing medication.

And then I began scouring the internet for information on life expectancy. That freaked me out even more. A first-time breast cancer patient generally has an 85 per cent chance of survival beyond the benchmark five-year lapse. For a recurrent cancer, that drops to somewhere around 50 per cent.

Fifty per cent odds would be great at the casino, but life is not a casino, and the chance that I could be dead within the next five years is pretty hard to swallow.

But then my fight gene kicked in. I am not going to let this cancer get the better of me.

The fact that it was discovered at a very early stage is obviously operating in my favour. And I know the oncology team in our region is the best in the business.

I have no doubt that they will recommend the best treatment possible. My family is also fully supportive.

My wonderful husband, Austin, immediately went out and got his hair shaved in solidarity.

He came home to show off his locks and I burst into tears, telling him I do not want to be reminded every moment of my cancer.

With his near hairless head, I cannot run away from the diagnosis. But nor do I want to.

I thought long and hard before writing today’s column because I wasn’t sure I wanted to spread my bad news far and wide.

But if my experience can help any other person facing a cancer diagnosis, it will be worth it.

Just last week we mourned the loss of a beloved long-time Liberal organizer, Hamiltonian Marg Stewart. She was taken by an aggressive cancer that could only be treated by respite.

Marg was diagnosed too late to bring her considerable fight to the game.

But I am not. I plan to bring all my power to this battle.

Within weeks, I expect to undergo a mastectomy and whatever else the doctor orders. If chemotherapy is needed, I want as much as they can throw at me.

I would be lying if I said I was not scared. The uncertainty of cancer is probably the element that makes it one of modern medicine’s most dreaded diagnoses.

But there are more survivors today than ever before.

I fully intend to be one.

Sheila Copps is a former Jean Chrétien-era cabinet minister and a former deputy prime minister. Follow her on Twitter at @Sheila_Copps.

Great book launch on the 25th anniversary of the Chretien government! pic.twitter.com/p2vg6M3vlo

— Hon. Sheila Copps (@Sheila_Copps) October 27, 2018

Order your tickets today on the website of the Churchill Society for the Advancement of Parliamentary Democracy.