Canada’s opposition parties need to think bigger, not smaller

At the same time, though, Trump wasn’t just de-woke-ifying D.C. and fixing cost of living, he was threatening territorial annexation and reconfiguring global finance. So, even though Poilievre’s policy agenda won the argument, Carney’s anti-Trump rhetoric, outsider resumé, and comparatively calmer disposition in Canadians’ eyes won the day. But amid all those choppy waters, the undercurrents didn’t change. Government spending has ramped up even more, provincial and federal regulatory environments remain oppressive, “industrial policy” continues to fail, inflation remains stubbornly persistent, and despite some token broad-based tax relief (or in the case of Ontario, cheap cheques in the mail), the tax code remains complex, investment remains stymied, growth remains sluggish, and productivity is virtually non-existent. How should oppositions oppose?  It can be tempting to read the political moment as one that has no time for the schoolmarm-ish chastising often required of an opposition party. It’s tempting to think that people are not in the mood for tough medicine, that short-termism rules the day, and that the easiest path to victory is rhetorical—a combination of monthly expressions of disappointment, weekly expressions of frustration, and daily calls to “fight back,” all of them impotent yet superficially gratifying. But what if the only reason people don’t seem excited by bold reformism is because there’s none on offer? What if Poilievre’s popularity last year was, yes, in part due to Trudeau’s own unpopularity—but also due to a core voter intuition that big problems require big, serious solutions? It’s risky to contemplate this, of course. If Poilievre were to call for severe reductions in government spending now, would it resonate? What if the Ontario Liberals were to call for blanket zoning reform to finally make housing accessible for under-40s? This kind of oppositional ambition certainly comes with risk. Some voters may chafe at the thought of losing their entitlements. Some homeowners may begrudge anyone proposing that the values of their assets go down. Indeed, this very risk explains why opposition leaders seem so fearful of the electorate right now. Ontario NDP leader Marit Stiles can’t seem to criticize Doug Ford’s handling of the Skills Development Fund (a scandal you’d think she’d be salivating over) without sandwiching her comments in effusive praise for…the very same Skills Development Fund she’s trying to critique. Poilievre can’t simply drive an assertive contrast on government spending; he feels he must mute his critique so as not to be accused of calling for deep cuts, settling for a still-massive $42 billion deficit number in his budget ask. But it’s hard to make an argument against corruption when you’re praising its vehicle, and it’s hard to argue that runaway spending contributes to inflation when you yourself are conceding that a great deal of spending is unavoidable. This fear-based and reform-averse political opposition leads to a wacky political discourse where, despite the country’s vital signs crying out for drastic life-saving open heart surgery, governments are deploying Victorian-era bloodletting while opposition parties stand at the bedside, wringing their hands and praying for mercy.1Case in point: Despite two major announcements from Stellantis and GM that clearly signal the federal and provincial governments joint electric vehicle strategy—a plan to pour billions into creating an industry absent market demand—has utterly failed, you see the political opposition in this country only mumbling half-hearted questions about investigating contract terms instead of raising big scary questions about whether state-mandated corporate welfare dressed up as industrial policy is in fact the appropriate solution to rising unemployment and stagnant wages in the first place. Go big or go home It might seem strange to suggest that Poilievre’s style of opposition is too governed by fear and caution when the narrative stoked by former Conservative PMO staffers turned commentators tells us that Poilievre is too fast and loose, too radical, and hasn’t learned to “change his tone.” But something closer to the opposite is true. Robyn Urback’s cutting Globe and Mail column hints at it: Poilievre could smell victory in the lead-up to last election, felt it drift away, ran a disciplined campaign to hold his territory, grew it slightly, and now wants to maintain his party’s gains. That will put the fear of God in anyone. Meanwhile, Doug Ford and his growing brood of Atlantic premier PC brethren are holding power by paying lip service to cost-of-living challenges while avoiding wholesale reform—the Carney approach with a shade of blue. So why risk political unpopularity by arguing for reform when no one else will? Well, same-same-but-better only works when your opponent is weak and vote splits are on your side. But when you need contrast to win, mild objections and concerns about rocking the boat leave you falling behind—always responding, never leading. Amorphous status quo-ism might hold you government, but it rarely sets you up to win it. More importantly, it’s bad for Canada. We need to be having big conversations. Indeed, we had begun to! Thanks almost entirely to the fearlessness of Poilievre, who spent years as CPC leader pushing back on elite consensus and building a movement for drastic change. The 2025 election was a weird one. Canadians put their strong desire for change on hold. Now they’re waiting to be told what’s next, to be convinced of what they should want. Opposition leaders at all levels have a moment to make a bold case for reform, to take back the agenda, and persuade. Canada’s on a bad track, and reform will come one way or another. The only question is: Who will be bold enough to fight for it?