There’s no such thing as a perfect candidate. Anyone who’s worked a federal campaign knows that. But there are candidates who work hard, who organize, who understand that this is a team sport—and who don’t get in the way of the campaign’s core message. In fact, the best ones help amplify it. That’s who you’re looking for when you build a national slate.
In recent weeks, several federal candidates have been dropped, and stories have piled up around others who’ve made headlines for the wrong reasons. It’s led to calls for clarity on where the line is—and in some circles, questions about whether political parties should even be in the business of dropping candidates at all.
Let me be clear: running for a political party is a privilege, not a right. Parties are grassroots institutions. Their members elect national councils that oversee nomination rules, candidate vetting, and yes—removal decisions. In the case of the Conservative Party, those decisions aren’t made by the central campaign, or even by the leader. In fact, since Michael Chong’s Reform Act, leaders no longer sign nomination papers at all—the official agent of the party does. That’s how it should be. The system reflects the will of the members who set the party’s values and direction.
And despite what people see in the headlines, the truth is most of the work happens before the controversy ever begins.
I’ve overseen more than a thousand Conservative nominations, and I’ve lost count of how many would-be candidates never made it through the vetting process in the first place. That’s by design. Our goal is to avoid embarrassment for both the party and the individual by identifying red flags before someone is even nominated. Vetting isn’t just a rubber stamp—it’s a process where serious concerns are flagged and brought to elected party officials, who make the final call. And that decision can’t be based on a gut feeling. You need a clear rationale and evidence to back it up. That level of discipline means the system works more often than not—but like anything else, it can always be improved.
So what does that process actually look like in practice?
When someone applies to run, they submit a detailed nomination package. It includes personal and financial disclosures, all social media handles, any past media appearances, podcasts, and anything that could raise a flag. They’re expected to lay it all out—because surprises are what get you in trouble.
A desk officer at party headquarters goes through the package and starts digging—listens to podcast episodes, scans social media, reads the fine print. At the same time, a copy is sent to the candidate nomination committee, a group of local volunteers from the riding’s electoral district association. One party HQ rep also sits in. That group again reviews the file and interviews the candidate, flagging anything questionable.
If nothing turns up, the candidate is approved to stand. If concerns are raised, there may be follow-up calls, extra questions, or in some cases, a recommendation to disqualify. That recommendation goes to a committee of the elected national council. If they agree, the candidate can still appeal to the full council.
In practice, outright disqualifications are rare—because most people withdraw before it gets that far. Often, we have tough conversations with would-be candidates and encourage them to step back. And many do.
Still, things get missed. Sometimes a candidate doesn’t disclose everything. Sometimes human error creeps in. And sometimes the opposition finds something we didn’t think to look for. It happens.
There are cases where decision-makers genuinely like a candidate or see strategic value in keeping them—so they try to manage the risk. That might mean developing an internal issues plan, in case something breaks later. It’s an art, not a science.
The judgment calls are rarely easy. Times change. Standards shift. Someone might’ve tweeted something dumb ten years ago—do you throw them out for that? Not automatically. But they do have to answer for it. Voters can forgive a lot—if the candidate owns it, explains it, and shows that they’ve changed. What voters won’t accept is evasion.
We talk about “non-starters”—hard lines that, if crossed, mean you’re out. That list changes over time, and sometimes it depends on the context. But I’ll say this: every party has core values. And candidates need to understand the deal they’re signing up for. When you run under a party banner, you’re not just representing yourself. You don’t have to agree with the party on every issue, but you are carrying the message of a national movement and you owe it to your team—and the public—to be aligned with that message, not actively undermining it.
Some argue we should take a libertarian approach and let voters decide at the ballot box. That sounds nice—but it ignores political reality. Parties spend millions of dollars over the course of a campaign. Each day is carefully planned to deliver a message to the public. When a candidate derails that narrative, we call it the million-dollar mistake—because that’s about what it costs us in lost time and focus. If it festers over days, the cost multiplies.
That’s why timing is everything. If a controversy emerges late in the election, you have limited options. After Elections Canada’s nomination deadline, you can’t pull the candidate’s name off the ballot. You can disavow them, sure—but they’re still there, and they can still win. Just ask the Liberals about Kevin Vuong in 2021.
Worse, opposition parties know this. They don’t always reveal what they know right away. Sometimes they patiently wait—dropping opposition research just after the cut-off, when it’s too late to make a switch. You don’t even need to leak the whole file. Sometimes all it takes is a nudge to a journalist, pointing them to a tweet, a quote, a podcast episode—or even just a rumour. Then you let the reporter pull the thread.
That’s the game. And if you’re not prepared for it, you’ll lose.
Take the Paul Chiang affair. It was clear from the start where this was headed. But the Liberals dragged it out, tripping on their own message for days. All they accomplished by waiting was feeding the story—and looking indecisive in the process.
We’re seeing more and more of these cases—not because candidates are worse, but because the information is easier to find. Social media changed everything. Back in the day, we’d look through newspaper clippings and court records. Now, every podcast, every tweet, every comment is a searchable piece of a candidate’s public identity. That footprint is massive—and often more honest than anything in a résumé.
Disclosure is everything. It’s not always the content that gets someone dropped. It’s the fact that they didn’t tell you about it. If you’re not honest with your own party, how can we trust you to be honest with the public?
That’s why the vetting process has to evolve. AI will likely play a big role in that. But more than tools, campaigns need better timing. Start earlier. Ask deeper. Don’t assume silence from the candidate means there’s nothing there.
Ultimately, we don’t need perfect candidates. But we do need honest ones.
