The Trudeau Separation and Political Privacy
That the biggest story in Canadian politics of the last few weeks, if not months, is the separation between Justin Trudeau and his wife, Sophie Gregoire Trudeau, is a shameful indictment of politics in Canada, of how our news-press covers politics and politicians, and how the body politic enjoys a far too celebrity-driven political culture. Lacking any insight into the Trudeau family, beyond the prime minister as a governing figure, it’s both irresponsible and indecent to say anything beyond “I wish the Trudeaus, especially their three young children, the best in their difficult times.”
Trudeau, just the day previous, dismissed growing concerns over the shambolic state of the Canadian housing market by washing his and the federal government’s hands of responsibility for housing. And just a few days ago, it was revealed that Michael Chong, a sitting MP, was, yet again the victim of a disinformation campaign by the Chinese state because of his stalwart criticism of authoritarianism by the Communist Party. These two stories alone are far more pertinent to Canadians and their political well-being.
Yet this didn’t stop a set of op-eds and analyses from being published about what effect the separation will have on Trudeau’s career in politics, and given how many people searched Trudeau’s name on Google after he and Gregoire Trudeau announced their separation, much of the public ate the drama up. As technology advances and it becomes harder and harder for traditional media to remain relevant and profitable, it makes sense why elements of the media made so much content out of the Trudeau separation, even if, in the long term, diminishing news-media to mere celebrity content will only hasten the decline of traditional media.
In any case, given my disregard for the supposed significance of the prime minister’s family life in a political context and my disdain for much of the way the Trudeau separation has been covered, why am I writing this column? Am I not just as bad as the outlets I just criticized?
My goal, in this column, is discussing the principle of privacy in politics, especially when it comes to the highest leaders in a society. Clearly, there are elements of anyone’s lives, regardless of how powerful they are, that are no one’s business but their own. What a politician and their family eats for breakfast, how long they walk their dog for, or just how many times they’ve watched their favourite movie, are details that are utterly outside the public interest.
Of course, you regularly do hear these kinds of tidbits about politicians all the time. Joe Biden’s love of ice cream is well known, for example, and we hear about these snippets of politicians’ personal lives because they tactically mention those details to become more affable to the electorate. I don’t know if Andrew Yang revealing that his favourite anime is Akira swayed any votes, just as I doubt that Trudeau incessantly tweeting at Taylor Swift to come to Canada will change the minds of any Canadians to support the Liberals in the next election.
But, as aforementioned, we hear about these details because it gets at an important principle; a politician’s character should matter, and for that reason, politicians, especially those at a level like Trudeau, cannot be entirely private individuals. Looking back to the Trump era in the States, it is readily apparent that Trump’s character made him (and still makes him) unfit for the office of the President of the United States, irrespective of his regularly poor policies. Of course, not every mundane thing Trump did was a scandal, but Trump’s political aspirations have always been transparent; his interest in higher office is winning the prestige that accompanies the office, wielding ultimate power over others, and, now, avoiding the judicial consequences of his actions.
Going back a bit, look at the Clintons. Bill Clinton was impeached for having had a blowjob in the Oval Office, and Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign in 2016 experienced a fairly major crisis after she collapsed during a 9/11 memorial event. The important part of both of these examples are not that either of them happened, but that there was an effort to lie about both. Was Bill Clinton’s perjury over him lying about having an affair with Monica Lewinski an offence so great that it warranted impeachment? No, especially when the then-speaker of the House of Representatives, Newt Gingrich, is a chronic and cruel philanderer himself, but Clinton also shouldn’t have lied under oath about his affair. Was Hillary Clinton healthy enough to vote for her in good faith in 2016? Almost certainly, but her campaign needlessly shot itself in the foot by lying about her health after she had whatever event she did that September day. For both Clintons, these events were highly revelatory of some sharply negative characteristics.
Fundamental matters of a person, like one’s real character and health, are in the public interest. If a politician has poor health or character, voters should be informed accordingly so they can vote the way they see fit. And yet, even if there are deficits in one or both of these regards, a politician can still be a tremendous success! Franklin Delano Roosevelt ably led the United States through almost all of the Second World War all while his health deteriorated. Likewise, to go back to the Trudeaus, Pierre Trudeau was one of Canada’s most accomplished prime ministers despite being, by almost all accounts, a bastard.
Nevertheless, it seems that the separation between Justin Trudeau and Sophie Gregoire has been amiable, and that this particular matter is not the business of Canadians beyond hoping that the Trudeau family are able to find some kind of working arrangement between them. But we should not stray too far in embracing politicians’ privacy. Our leaders are the pinnacle of the public sphere, and we ought to be knowledgeable about just what kind of people they are before empowering them thusly.