© Liberty Films
I suspect — and I do so with the weary confidence of one who has seen this show before — that many Albertans, like myself, spent Monday night and much of Tuesday morning not so much watching but enduring the latest federal election returns. As the results trickled in, and then poured in like an unwelcome flood, a rather vivid cinematic analogy presented itself to my mind.
You may recall a perennial Christmas classic, It's a Wonderful Life. Therein, skulking with pursed lips and an icy heart, is one "Old Man Potter" — the archetype of miserly menace, a banker with no love for community, no trust in goodwill, and no concern for anyone's welfare but his own. Watching the triumphant return of the Liberal Party — and with it, the spectral figure of Mr. Mark Carney — I could not shake the image. For the Liberals, with Carney at their shoulder, now bear an uncanny resemblance to Potter himself.
This isn't merely a poetic musing, nor is it some cheap theatrical metaphor. The likeness is rooted in conduct, in consequence, and most pointedly, in the cunning manipulation of fear.
Over the past decade, this party has managed what can only be described as a systematic impoverishment — of our young, of our economy, and of the once-vital Canadian spirit. Ten years of listless economic performance, unchecked crime, and a relentless push toward centralization have hollowed out not only Alberta, but much of what once constituted Canadian promise.
And yet, when the writing on the wall could not have been clearer — when young Mr. Poilievre seemed on the verge of sweeping a fresh wind through the fetid halls of Ottawa — we witnessed instead what may stand as the greatest act of political misdirection in recent Canadian history.
For just as the tide turned, in stepped "Old Man Carney," that financial conjurer, who with the sleight-of-hand worthy of Houdini himself, pivoted the public's gaze southward, to the ever-convenient bogeyman of Donald Trump.
And as the nation peered, horrified, across the border, they failed to notice what was being handed to them at home: a reheated dish of stale policy, draped in the tinsel of "stability" and "experience." Policies, mind you, many of which bear Carney's own signature from his Bank of Canada days. But no matter — the misdirection worked. Enough voters bit, and the trap was sprung.
The Potter parallel solidified in my mind with one specific scene from that treasured film. During the run on the banks, George Bailey — the everyman hero, community-first, salt-of-the-earth — implores his fellow citizens not to fall prey to panic. "Don't you see? Potter's not selling. He's buying. He wants you to panic so he can own everything."
That line could serve as a précis of modern Liberal politics. It is not optimism they trade in, but apprehension. Not prosperity, but panic.
For fear, dear reader, is the coin of their realm. And fear, when properly stoked, can eclipse any record, conceal any fault, and render even the most ruinous decade into a refuge from imagined terrors.
In It's a Wonderful Life, George Bailey prevails. Integrity wins. Fear is beaten back. But in our northern adaptation, the ending was less cheerful. The Liberals, with Carney as their Potter, won. The NDP — long the conscience of progressive politics — were dispatched to the margins. And in a twist of postmodern irony, the Bloc Québecois now stands poised to play kingmaker once again. I suspect their fate will soon mirror that of Mr. Singh — loud applause at curtain-up, and a silent shuffle offstage by the second act.
But amid this darkened theatre, there is another set stirring — a western outpost called Alberta, or, in this recast narrative, Bailey Acres. Here, a new resolve is taking root. It is not based in rage, nor rooted in fear. It is forged instead in the steel of experience and the memory of betrayal. These are a people who now understand that confederation, as currently constructed, offers them no seat at the grown-up table.
And they will choose. Not in panic, but in purpose. Not with trembling, but with grit.
So let the media preen. Let Old Man Carney polish his trophy. For he may have won the scene, but he has not written the ending. That, dear friends, may yet be composed under Alberta skies.
- Bruce Pardy"