Politics: Populism Isn’t Always Xenophobic. Just Ask Ontario’s Premier.
Originally published in Foreign Policy. Read the full text here.
In mid-May, as COVID-19 infections approached their peak, Doug Ford, the Canadian politician often branded the “Donald Trump of the North,” put out a viral video on Twitter. Ford, the premier of Ontario, Canada’s most populous province, wasn’t burnishing his legislative record, spewing conspiracy theories, or fulminating against his enemies. Rather, he was making cheesecake. “I learned this recipe years ago, off my mother,” he said, wearing disposable gloves and a T-shirt reading “We’re all in this together.” “These are some of the fun things you can do when you’re self-isolating.”
Ford is a self-styled man of the people, and his was a people’s cheesecake, made with Dream Whip and a hefty amount of refined sugar. A few pundits attempted to follow the recipe and reported mixed results, but that’s about the worst thing most of them had to say on the topic. For weeks, Ford’s popularity had been surging. The cheesecake video—an affirmation of small, domestic pleasures in an uncertain world—was remarkably well received.
In 2018, Ford came to power much like insurgent politicians everywhere—as a pugnacious outsider and an enemy of elites. (He is the older brother of Rob Ford, the late mayor of Toronto whose crack cocaine habits made him a global celebrity in the early 2010s.) During the campaign, major international newspapers reported that Canada was having its Trump moment. The comparisons were too easy to resist. Like Trump, Ford was a burly, blond-haired man, hostile to the press, popular at rallies, and inexperienced in government.
In Ford’s early days as premier, his actions seemed to vindicate the Trump comparisons. He attempted to appoint a friend as superintendent of the provincial police, and he redrew polling districts, cutting the size of city councils just as municipal elections were getting underway—a disruptive measure that led to a series of court challenges. His inaugural budget was wildly unpopular, pushing his approval rating below 30 percent. It was a disastrous first year, and detractors predicted more chaos to come.
Then the pandemic hit, and Ford struck a conciliatory tone. He not only recruited public health experts but also praised and deferred to them. In early April, he released epidemiological projections about COVID‑19 and enacted a stringent lockdown regimen followed by a cautious reopening. At daily press conferences, he was plain-spoken, respectful, and candid about the tough times ahead. In many democracies, right-wing populists have struggled to weather the COVID-19 storm: Trump, Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro, and Matteo Salvini, the former deputy prime minister of Italy, have all seen their approval ratings tumble. But in May, 76 percent of voters approved of Ford’s performance, a figure that put him in company with New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern and German Chancellor Angela Merkel.
So, how did Canada’s Trump suddenly morph into a sober, decorous statesman? The simple answer is that Ford isn’t—and never was—Canada’s Trump. True, Ford has built a center-right coalition by tapping into the restless, anti-establishment energy that is as prevalent in Canada as it is in Trump’s America and seemingly everywhere else. But he is channeling that energy into a style of politics that is heterodox and surprisingly nimble. Globally, right-wing populism isn’t likely to disappear anytime soon; the cultural forces that sustain it are much too powerful. Ford, however, offers a more durable, less dangerous vision for what it could be.
This is an excerpt. Read the full text here.