Looking Over His Shoulder

Michael Ignatieff was in my home town of London, Ontario yesterday speaking at a special Chamber of Commerce breakfast. The room was full with hundreds of curious people and the media was out in force. They were there to see a man under assault, at a low ebb in popularity, and obviously struggling with the sheer vengeful nature of politics. Some were there to see "Michael Ignatieff" - international author and well-known figure. Still others wanted to hear what he would do about a region that has lost tens of thousands of jobs, whose communities are facing an infrastructure deficit, and whose unemployment rate will remain over 11 per cent for the next 12-18 months.  It's been bleak here and the Liberal leader opted to address a crowd in pain and insecurity. In that sense, both speaker and audience shared similar emotions.I had coffee with him prior to the speech and he seemed exhausted. He could have talked about his ordeal, but rather he asked about the London Food Bank and how the numbers were? What kind of investment would it take for the region to recover? How were the unions faring in such dismal times?  The university, colleges, small businesses, private sector - all these formed the object of his natural curiosity.Speaking before an audience of leaders from this region, he demonstrated early that he comprehended the gravity of what it was facing and how the federal government had cut back on recent promises to invest more in the area. Heads nodded at that one because they had pinned a certain measure of hope on an infrastructure funding arrangement that inevitably arrived stillborn.Then he moved on to speak of the remarkable leadership in the room and the promise of tomorrow if they could just find a federal partner that understood the region's inherent strengths and talents. He closed with two five-point plans on how a Liberal government would invest in the future of green technology, research, post-secondary and other institutions of education, ramp up Paul Martin's successful initiative of sharing the gas tax directly with communities to build their infrastructure.The applause was sustained and appreciative. Ignatieff then circled around the room while everyone lingered to just shake hands or have their pictures taken with him. A snapshot of those moments would never reveal a political leader struggling in the polls. His wife moved off on her own and talked to everyone she encountered, her own natural curiosity creating delight in others.And then it was time for the media scrum. Michael asked me to stand with him, so I took my place behind his left shoulder, facing the media. The initial questions were about the economic fragility of the area and how he felt about the federal government's unfulfilled promises on infrastructure. Then came the questions that were inevitable. How does he feel about his low personal polling numbers, or the sagging fortunes of the Liberal Party at present? It went on and on for the remainder of the brief session and it was disheartening. Following a well-received speech where he evidenced a quick grasp of the region's struggles and for which he laid out not one, but two plans to address those woes, it all came down to this. The media fascinated on his pain instead of the region's deep struggles.Peering over his shoulder, I watched a media doing what they believed was their job, macabre as it was, and a man personally accepting responsibility for his troubles. But of the two, he was the only one who dealt with the subjects of poverty, joblessness, loss of hope, and building for the future. And I realized that my place in politics is standing behind people like Michael Ignatieff, and anyone else in Parliament, whose own deep struggles have provided a natural empathy for what my community feels. It was a proud moment.