The attempted assassination of Donald Trump was, for many in public life, cause for reflection.
Alberta Premier Danielle Smith used it as a moment to reflect on how bad the rhetoric from her political rivals has gotten.
“I certainly hope that some of the progressive politicians here are careful of their language because they’ve been talking about conservative politicians in the same way and they need to dial it down,” the premier told reporters as a premiers’ conference began Monday in Halifax.
Two days earlier, a 20-year-old with a semi-automatic rifle pierced the former president’s right ear with a bullet — and no motivation has since been established. That has not prevented some of Trump’s fellow Republicans, including his new vice-presidential running mate, from blaming the heinous act on rhetoric from President Joe Biden and other Democrats.
Absent from their political swipe was any self-criticism of violence in conservative rhetoric.
Up north, in a country with a comparatively negligible history of revolution or attempts to murder leaders, Smith pointed a finger at the language of New Democrats and Liberals against herself and the federal Conservative leader.
“Have you not looked at the headlines about how Pierre Poilievre is described as dangerous?” the premier said. “How the leader of the Opposition in Alberta has described me as dangerous? When you start using that kind of rhetoric, that ends up creating an elevated risk for all of us.”
It’s true that Naheed Nenshi, the Alberta NDP’s new leader, has taken to repeatedly slagging Smith as “immoral” and “dangerous,” often with “incompetent” to form a triad of epithets. He wields the D-word that Smith despairs of because of her forthcoming transgender rights policies, though Nenshi uses such terms in more sweeping, broad-based ways than his predecessor Rachel Notley had.
It would help Smith’s case for reproaching only progressives if she was angelic on this front. She’s not — who in our nose-bloodying politics is these days?
Her most they-are-apocalyptic rhetoric has long focused on the federal Liberals, once saying Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s father “almost destroyed our province” and the son “wants to finish the job” with an energy-sector profits tax (which Liberals never enacted or proposed).
Earlier this year, Smith told famously inflammatory commentator Tucker Carlson she wanted him to put Environment Minister Steven Guilbeault in his “crosshairs” — and had accused the federal minister of “continued treachery” against Albertans because of his climate positions.
Smith was asked about those comments, shortly after she cast blame on others for calling her and Poilievre “dangerous.” She offered no regret for demanding Guilbeault be fired, and said she’ll “continue to be robust” in her commentary about him.
Alberta Premier Danielle Smith responds to questions about her use of the words “treachery” and “crosshairs” when it comes to her comments on Environment Minister Stephen Guilbeault’s policies.
One partisan’s cause for elevated risk is another partisan’s robustness; or sometimes it’s the same partisan, but it depends whose mouth the words came from.
Trudeau has said the anger his chief opponent is drumming up is “dangerous for Canadians” — Poilievre last week called Trudeau and the NDP “extremists,” “ideological lunatics” and more. You could single out one side for their tone, while outside observers may declare a pox on both their houses.
Is all extreme rhetoric a risk to politicians’ security? Is none of it, and shooters will do as their violent minds will regardless?
Politicians’ concern about rhetoric and political metaphor has a history of being reactive and momentary.
After the 2011 shooting of Arizona Rep. Gabby Giffords, some critics highlighted a map with politicians like her in crosshairs, posted by the political action committee of former governor Sarah Palin. No cause and effect was ever established between those two points, but it was grist for the post-shooting discourse.
Intense focus surrounds these terms for a while, and then they return to being standard parts of the language around competitive politics.
This isn’t to say there’s nothing to see here.
Canadians aren’t immune from an increasingly toxic political atmosphere and its real-life dangers. Threats against members of Parliament have risen to the point that MPs get panic buttons.
Liberals, Conservatives and New Democrats alike have faced increased risk of harm from angry constituents or social-media-fuelled haters.
It can get normalized, too. Throughout Alberta and elsewhere, flags and bumper stickers saying “F–k Trudeau” have become a routine part of the urban and rural landscapes.
There are any number of situations Smith could have chosen to remark upon as part of the threat to politicians’ security in wake of the Trump shooting.
She instead opted to emphasize only those who protest her and Poilievre, her political fellow traveller, and publicly shrugged off invitations to be self-reflective.
It’s rare to find politicians willing to offer concern about what’s happening on both or all sides of a political divide.