Two Liars and a Truth

The Illusion of Change Can’t Cover a Legacy of Failure

Something unexpected happened during the English-language leaders’ debate. Pierre Poilievre, normally as scripted as a YouTube pre-roll ad, let his guard down. He spoke about campaign stops, shaking hands, hearing people’s stories. His voice cracked. For the first time in a very long time, he didn’t sound like he was playing a part.

It was human. Authentic. Even touching.

And for a moment, it felt like maybe—just maybe—he’d finally figured it out. That all the cynical spin had worn thin, even to him. That he might actually be capable of change.

Then came the sequel.

His next appearance was a video, announcing he’d be running in a rural Alberta by-election. It had all the signs of a fresh start: calm tone, simple setting, his wife Anaida by his side. A wide-open prairie road. Pierre, reborn.

He talks about listening. About needing to grow. About learning from defeat. It all sounds promising—until you realize you’ve heard it all before. Word-for-word, beat-for-beat.

No new ideas. No accountability. No mention of his opponent, or the loss, or any reason Canadians rejected him in the first place. Instead, he runs through a list of vaguely patriotic sentiments—living on a safe street, protected by police and soldiers—classic, unimaginative motherhood and apple pie rhetoric.

Just a familiar rhythm: perform contrition, then pivot back to form.

The setting is quieter, yes. But nothing else has changed. There isn’t anything new here, it’s just reruns.

Meanwhile, the Conservative caucus handed the keys to Andrew Scheer, the most uninspiring man in Canadian politics not named Maxime. True to form, Scheer had just been on Power & Politics spouting the same tired line that inflation happened because the government “printed money.” Host David Cochrane interrupts, fact-checks him in real time, and reminds viewers that the Bank of Canada—not the government—controls the money supply. Scheer barrels on, unbothered by the facts.

He’s not interested in being right. Just in sounding certain.

Of course, this is also the same old, same old party leader. The same guy who, as Parliament wound down, stood in the way of a bill that would have enshrined the right to clean drinking water for Indigenous communities. Bill C-61 had broad support. It was ready to pass. It could have been fast-tracked with unanimous consent.

Scheer blocked it. He insisted that the motion include language condemning the Liberal government for what he called years of failure on clean water. But let's be honest—his own party's record isn't exactly sterling either. The Harper government had nearly a decade to make meaningful progress on Indigenous issues, and they did next to nothing. In his own words, Scheer accused the Liberals of trying to "rush through" the bill to cover up other controversies, a move that Indigenous leaders denounced as political gamesmanship. When that didn’t pass, the whole bill died on the order paper. And with it, a chance to guarantee safe water for dozens of Indigenous communities still under boil-water advisories.

Chief Erica Beaudin of Cowessess First Nation said it bluntly: Scheer used clean water as a tactic. This wasn’t about policy, it was about scoring political points.

So here we are. Two liars and a truth.

And if Poilievre is the liar who says he’s changed, Scheer is the liar who never even tried. He’s the would-be insurance broker who misrepresented his credentials, the dual American citizen who quietly held on to it until the headlines caught up, and the guy who diverted party funds to pay for personal expenses. He still claims to understand the economy, but it’s hard to take cues from someone who’s spent most of his political career dodging transparency and rewriting his own biography.

And the one truth is this: The Conservative Party of Canada cannot win—not really, not sustainably—until it learns how to speak with facts, collaborate like grown-ups, and show Canadians something other than tactical arrogance.

The party may talk about transformation. It may tweak the set dressing. But the core play hasn’t changed in decades—and voters can smell it.

Because here’s the thing. Poilievre’s comeback video? The one that seemed quiet and personal, just him and Anaida walking down a road?

Pull the camera back. Behind the frame: a teleprompter held by a crew member. A gimbal operator with a steady cam. A boom mic tech. A director. An entire PR team crafting the illusion of sincerity.

Just like the debate stage, where he stood alone in front of a flag, the crowd mic’d to cheer on cue, the press cordoned off far from the optics. All for the shot.

All smoke and mirrors. All projection. Just like the party he leads.

And the truth? Canadians are ready to change the channel.