Par contre, ce texte du Globe and Mail m'a touché. Il m'a touché parce que je m'y suis un petit peu reconnue. Pour moi, la base de mon implication politique, l'élément central, c'est de faire une différence, de tenter d'améliorer le sort des gens. Mon sort, le sort de mes amis, de ma famille, des gens que je croises et de tous mes concitoyens. Et pour ça, il faut s'impliquer, il n'y a pas d'autre choix. Et pour moi, c'est le message de ce texte alors je voulais le partager avec vous.
Et ça me touche aussi parce que ce que l'auteur raconte, c'est aussi exactement la façon dont Stéphane Dion a convaincu ma mère. Elle qui était viscéralement opposée à Dion, j'avais réussi à la convaincre de venir le rencontrer lors d'un passage à Moncton de Dion en août. Dans la petite salle de la Galerie sans nom, où on suait à grosse goutte (pas d'air climatisé), avec au maximum une vingtaine de personnes, Dion et ma mère échangent donc les salutations d'usage et ma mère lui dit : en tout cas, bravo d'avoir pris le risque de mettre votre réélection de côté pour vous occuper de Kyoto, c'était dangereux pour votre réélection mais c'était vraiment important.
Et Dion lui a pris la main, l'a regardé directement dans les yeux et lui a dit "merci, ça me touche vraiment ce que vous dites". Voilà. Elle était sous le charme.
Oui, il est long l'article mais je pense qu'il vaut la peine...
A (political) engagement party
This was a classic head-versus-heart battle. I decided to vote with my heart. It was the right decision.
KALMAN GREEN
Globe and Mail
I've always been your quintessential political armchair quarterback. Whether glued to the television news, digesting the daily newspaper or scanning the Internet, politics has long been a favourite pastime of mine. Over the years, I have become rather good at analyzing, debating and criticizing from the sidelines. This past weekend that all changed. I got out of my comfortable chair and joined the fray. And in the process, I crossed a threshold and became truly political.
I attended the Liberal leadership convention and voted for the next Liberal leader.
My journey to Montreal and the leadership convention actually started two years ago when a federal politician exhorted me to stop kvetching and, instead, become engaged in the political process.
When the leadership race began in earnest, I knew the window of opportunity had opened. I scanned the list of potential leaders and decided to throw my political support behind Bob Rae. This meant I had to actually join the party, something that only about 2 per cent of Canadians actually do. But how else do we bring about change if we don't get involved?
But that wasn't all. If I wanted to go to the convention, I had to become a delegate. This meant calling upon people in my riding to request their support by asking them to become members and vote for me to be a delegate. So, not only did I have to cross the threshold from passivity to action, I had to encourage others to do the same. Was I uncomfortable trying to sell something, the concept I had shunned all my life? Absolutely! Did I go out and do it anyway? You bet.
I was elected as a delegate in my riding, after a weekend phone-blitz to get members in my riding to vote for me. I volunteered at the campaign office. I held a fundraising event.
I got engaged.
And then I went to the convention in Montreal. What an event that was! Exhilarating, exhausting, emotional. I met Canadians from all regions of the country. I met those with battle scars going back to the 1968 convention that elected Trudeau, to other first-timers, like me. I met those who ran to become MPs and lost and those who ran and won. I met previous cabinet ministers, back-room politicos, riding presidents and volunteer workers. I met each and every leadership contender. There was an openness and accessibility to people that is rare in our Canadian landscape. And yes, there were parties at hotels and bars and restaurants. They don't call it the Liberal "party" for nothing.
My candidate did not win. I campaigned hard for Bob Rae. I was disheartened when he lost. It also taught me that in politics, like in life, even when you put up a courageous fight for what you believe, you don't always win. Defeat stings. It is not how I would have wished the world had unfolded. And no sooner had I absorbed that news, I was forced to make a decision about whom to choose to be the leader. I had about 45 minutes to decide before the final ballot closed, all the while being hounded by Michael Ignatieff and Stephane Dion supporters, trying to sway my decision. I needed room to breathe. I found an isolated corridor to give myself some time to think.
I called my 17-year-old son in Toronto who castigated me for even hesitating. For him it was a no-brainer: Dion was the man. I met with a previous cabinet minister who was sporting Rae buttons but had wrapped the ubiquitous Dion green scarf around his neck. He said this was a classic head-versus-heart battle and in politics, he had learned to always trust his heart. No sooner had he said that, I saw Dion walking toward me surrounded by his handlers and a throng of media with cameras. I rushed up to him and broke into the inner circle and said "Stephane, I'm an undecided voter, why should I vote for you?" His handler curtly said he was simply the best candidate and brushed me aside. But I held my ground and said "I want to hear from you, Stephane."
Dion turned to me and took my hand and didn't let it go for the next 30 to 40 seconds. While literally being carried by the crush of the crowd, Dion explained to me the importance of environmental sustainability for Canada and the world. He never let go of my hand and didn't break eye-contact with me until he had finished making his point with me. He talked to me with passion, conviction and respect. He went to vote and then, to meet his supporters down another corridor.
I went outside to have my version of
Pierre Trudeau's 1984 "walk in the snow," where he decided to step down as prime minister. It wasn't long before I had made my decision. Despite reservations about Dion being able to win the country, despite having another leader from the province of Quebec, despite his relative obscurity -- I decided to vote with my heart.
I went back into the convention hall, draped a green scarf around my neck, and voted for Dion. Coincidentally, as I was coming out of the voting booth, so was Dion. Once again I broke through the phalanx of handlers and told him that I had voted for him. It was the right decision.
Whether the country agrees that this was the right decision, we will find out in due course. I now look back at my comfortable armchair and somehow feel sitting in that chair and being comfortable doesn't seem so comfortable any longer.
I have become engaged.
Kalman Green lives in Toronto
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