Municipal Elections: Hollywood for Ugly People

Here we go again. Another municipal election. At this point, they’re not democratic exercises as much as they are long-running soap operas.

Politicians once cultivated deception as a talent. They had to charm, persuade, and occasionally even accomplish something before disappointing you. Today, deception has become inherent in administration. Deception hides itself neatly inside policies, procedures, delegated authorities, and obscure chapters of municipal governance. Until everyone inside the system treats them as though they’ve been handed down on stone tablets. “That’s just how it’s done.” The four words I hear repeatedly are responsible for more democratic erosion than almost anything else.

I had a conversation with the Chief of Staff for our local councillor, whose defensiveness was doing a remarkable amount of heavy lifting beneath a minuscule veneer of authority. During the discussion, I stated that the people are the government and always have been. Councillors, their staff, and every public servant work for the people and not the other way around. He stared back at me, genuinely struggling with the concept. At one point he casually referred to himself as being “the government.” Now, I’m generally a nice person; however, in that moment my smile disappeared, and deep inside me my inner bitch put down her tea and clocked in for duty. Somewhere along the way, people have mistaken elected office for ownership. It isn’t. City Hall rents office space from the taxpayer every four years. That’s an important distinction.

It’s adorable to think that municipal politics are supposed to be non-partisan when it’s really more like The Young and the Restless. One door slams shut, a villain storms off, a hero emerges promising to save everyone, alliances are formed, and betrayals follow. Everyone blames the previous season, and the producers renew the writers’ contracts for another four years. Only instead of dramatic music, there’s another bike lane consultation.

The most fascinating part isn’t even the candidates. It’s the voters. Some already know who they’re voting for before a single platform has been released, running on the Kool-Aid and habit. Others vote through the rear view mirror, trying to solve today’s problems with yesterday’s stale politics. And some publicly back the socially acceptable choice, then privately vote for the candidate who actually reflects their values. Then some proudly announce they don’t follow politics because “they’re all the same.” That’s like saying I’m not interested in knowing who my surgeon is because they’re all wearing masks anyway. Older generations still read, compare and research and increasingly, many younger voters-not all, but enough to matter would like an entire municipal platform condensed into a forty-five-second Instagram reel narrated by someone holding an almond milk latte. Attention spans have become the new marketing plans.

I’ve spent over a quarter-century volunteering on the front lines as a small-business advocate and have worked with only one exceptional councillor. The rest have all been beyond dreadful. I’ve watched brilliant ideas die because they came from the wrong person, and terrible ideas pass because they came dressed in seductive ideology to disguise their consequences. Over the past decades, I’ve witnessed an enormous number of spectacularly underqualified candidates.

One observation I can’t shake is that municipal politics too often attracts people whose first meaningful position is public office itself. That’s terrifying. They arrive with remarkably thin résumés for critical roles, then disappear behind layers of staff who aren’t adequately trained but become the real decision-makers. Can you spell delegated authority? It’s when the minions are handed the keys to the zoo. Public office was never intended to be an internship. It requires judgment, leadership and the confidence to own difficult decisions and not delegate accountability. Staff are there to advise. They were never meant to substitute for leadership. If you campaigned for the job, you should be prepared to do it, not hide behind it.

I’ve often joked that too many people who didn’t make it onto student council eventually make it onto city council. It’s funny until you realize there’s truth to it. Running a city with a multi-billion-dollar budget, complex infrastructure, housing, transportation, policing, economic development, and public health isn’t student government with better microphones. It requires demonstrated leadership, executive experience, knowledge and intellectual humility. Those aren’t optional extras. They’re the job description.

What determines my support in any election is surprisingly simple. I believe in something philosophers call the Principle of Charity. It sounds like something your grandmother knitted, but it’s one of the most powerful ideas in the liberal democratic process. Before debating the issue, each person must understand the opposing position well enough to articulate it as fairly, accurately, and persuasively as its strongest advocate. Only then do you debate. Not slogans, labels or caricatures. The actual argument. The best position wins because it’s the best idea. Not the loudest voice. Not the largest special-interest group and not the person with the biggest lawn signs. Just…the best reasoning.

Imagine if City Hall operated that way? If committees genuinely worked at understanding opposing viewpoints instead of tapping their fingers impatiently for their turn to speak. Imagine councillors actually changing their minds because better evidence appeared, and public consultations truly mattered. Imagine accountability becoming more important than ideology. It’s hard to because it’s alienated from the process when it should be inherent.

Instead, we’ve built a culture where labels do most of the thinking. Progressive. Conservative. Cyclist. Driver. Business. Resident. Activist. As though human beings arrive with only one identity attached. The moment we label someone, we stop listening. That’s convenient because listening is hard and labels are easy. A careless and cavalier shorthand we weave into a basket that we put all of our eggs in.

The people I’m supporting in various wards in this upcoming election don’t impress me because we agree, but because they ask difficult questions. That’s leadership. They aim to govern the city, not a facsimile designed to look best on a development application that would harm the people and small businesses already here. They are seasoned, smart, and have a healthy dose of humility. They research before acting and welcome abandoning any personal agenda in favour of their constituents’ priorities. They keep their ego in check and let their conscience and empathy guide their actions. They have compassion with a spine and understand that disagreement isn’t an act of war but an opportunity to learn something they may have missed. They have decades of professional experience and recognize that they report to taxpayers, not X, and that respect for the taxpayers is reciprocated with accountability. They’re aware that being elected to office is not being elected to a throne. They understand something that should be obvious but somehow isn’t anymore: the government isn’t City Hall. The government is us, the people, the taxpayers. Always has been. Always will be. Everything else is temporary employment.

Critics describe politics as a Hollywood for ugly people. There’s more truth in that than anyone would like to admit. Politics attracts ego the way porch lights attract moths. Recognition. Status. Power. Attention. Images of elected officials who should be confronting critical social issues are instead photographed dancing at an event.

Two kinds of people pursue public office: those who genuinely want to serve and those who desperately want to be seen. The difficult part is distinguishing between them. My test is simple. Do they welcome scrutiny? Do they seek opposing viewpoints? Can they fairly understand the other side’s position before criticizing it? Can they set aside their own agenda? Do they remember who signs their pay cheque? Will they be accountable? Can they relate to the issue so they can carry it forward towards a solid resolution? And, most importantly, do they listen? If the answer is no, they’re auditioning for the wrong role.

Studying democracy has taught me it isn’t about how loudly government speaks, but how carefully it listens. It’s not the government’s authority that matters; it’s its willingness to hold itself accountable to the people who lent that authority. And authority is temporarily granted through an election, whereas accountability is permanent and earned daily.

We must avoid confusing public office with public ownership and leadership with power. Instead, we need to choose curiosity over perceived certainty, evidence over ideology, and service over ego. Citizens sustain democracy by remembering they are the government, and elected officials by remembering whom they serve.

Democracy doesn’t collapse overnight. It gently drifts, one assumption, one policy, and one delegated authority at a time. Most importantly, it drifts one neglected truth at a time. The reality is that people never stop being the government. We just forgot to act like it. Perhaps this election isn’t really about choosing who governs us but about us reminding those we elect who they actually work for.

This concludes today’s episode of The Young and the Taxpayers. Tune in after the election to see whether the cast remembers who signs their pay cheque.