Basic Instinct…the political version

Work in Progress By Ivan Morgan

Here’s something I have learned over the years: instinct plays a big role in politics.

At university you can study political science. I did, it was my major, so I feel qualified to state I don’t think it’s a science. Wasn’t then, isn’t now. There are lots of clever people who teach and study political science, trying to fit their academic square pegs into reality’s round holes, but politics is an art not a science (we’ll save whether it’s a dark art for another day).

A lot of politics involves instinct. Instinct can’t be taught.

Years ago, a St. John’s city councillor tracked me down and wanted my opinion on a local issue. There was a new supermarket being proposed and a group of people were very opposed to it. Loudly opposed to it. Dead set against it.

They made a lot of noise on the loss of green space. They made it clear woe betide any politician fool enough to support it. They got busy. They got active. They got a lot of media coverage.

As an elected official he was worried about this (of course he was, he wanted to get re-elected). His instincts told him there was a lot of support in his ward for the new supermarket, so he dug deep into his own pockets and commissioned a local survey (there’s the science in political science).

He showed me the results: Survey says . . . over 75 percent of voting age residents were really excited about the new supermarket. He also learned that precious few would say anything for fear of being publicly attacked (and this was years before social media.)

His question to me? What to do?

I dispensed common sense (which is not very common in politics). I told him to say nothing publicly but to make his views – that the supermarket is a good thing for the neighbourhood, and he’d be voting for it – on the campaign doorstep. He thanked me for agreeing with his instincts.

On election day he won handily.

My point? In politics instincts are very important. The politician in question had a hunch the protesters didn’t speak for the majority. He acted on that instinct, and it paid off.

Decades ago, when my kids were infants, I found myself at a federal political campaign event with my two youngest daughters – ages 1 and 3 – in tow. My friend, a federal cabinet minster, was running for re-election.

I had been worried about his future as an MP. My instinct told me he was in trouble in his riding. Wearing jeans and a sweatshirt my youngest had just hucked up over, I approached one of his top officials. I doubt I made a compelling figure. I expressed my concerns. Wearing a very expensive suit, the official smiled condescendingly and blew me off.

“Ivan . . . We have national – dare I say international – responsibilities. We are not concerned about losing the seat.”

The official thinking was it was one of the safest seats in Canada. I wasn’t so sure. My instinct told me he was in trouble.

A month later I sat in front of my TV, drinking beer and scarfing down cheese doodles and watched as Kim Campbell’s government dropped from 156 seats to 2. A total rout. My friend lost his seat.

I can’t tell you anything about how instincts work. I can’t tell you my instincts have always been right. I can tell you I trust mine, and I have been right a lot more than I have been wrong.

I can also tell you, while it is only early days, the emergence of Mr. Poilievre on the national scene has my Spidey sense tingling.

Ivan Morgan can be reached at ivan.morgan@gmail.com