Jacinda Ardern’s resignation underscores the rising violence in our politics

For as long as they’ve both been in office, Jacinda Ardern and Justin Trudeau have been kindred political spirits. Both bring the kind of youthful glamour to public office that only seems to come around once in a generation. Both share the same progressive values on issues like climate change, diversity and social inclusion. And both have seen their popularity at home decline in the face of proactive pandemic policies and the vocal opposition to them.

But while Trudeau has been adamant about sticking around to fight the next election, Ardern shocked everyone with her recent announcement that she would be stepping aside after just over five years in power. “I am human, politicians are human. We give all that we can for as long as we can. And then it’s time. And for me, it’s time,” she said.

It’s been tempting for Canadian pundits to draw a line between Ardern’s decision to leave and Trudeau’s insistence on staying, especially since both have faced similarly underwhelming poll numbers of late. But there’s another line they should be drawing, one that points to the spike in abuse and violent threats these leaders have contended with.

For Trudeau, that abuse has become part of the background noise of his political life over the last couple of years. Sometimes, as with the ugly protest in Hamilton the other day that saw an angry crowd surge toward the prime minister and his police protection, it gets a bit scary. But Trudeau, who has yet to back away from a fight in his political career, wasn’t about to let it cow him. “We’re not going to let a handful of angry people interfere with the democratic processes that Canadians have always taken pride in,” he said.

But in some respects, they already are interfering in the democratic process.

Anti-vaccine activists routinely consume far more of the political oxygen than their numbers would suggest is appropriate, and they often pride themselves on directing vitriol and abuse at elected officials. That makes it more difficult for those officials to meet with constituents, interact with the public and otherwise do their job. “Those kinds of things suck your energy,” Liberal MP Hedy Fry told the Toronto Star. “I can understand the concept of burnout but I also think contributing to that is all the threats [Ardern] got online.”

And make no mistake: there’s a different kind of vitriol that gets directed at women in public life right now. Ardern refused to blame the threats she faced for her surprise departure from politics. But as Michelle Rempel Garner, the Conservative MP for Calgary Nose-Hill, pointed out in a post on her Substack, it’s hard to ignore the correlation there. “While both Trudeau and Ardern have had to contend with increased threats of violence, Ardern has battled a higher degree of sexualized violence,” she wrote. “Indeed, unlike Ardern, Trudeau hasn’t had to deal with things like being asked if he was going to have babies as a qualifier for his suitability for serving as prime minister or being asked if he met with another world leader because of his age and gender.”

Ardern’s departure may represent a victory for the anti-vaccine movement and the misogynists in their midst, but make no mistake: it’s a loss for almost everyone else. We’re facing a tragedy of the political commons, one that is rapidly eroding the public’s trust in both elected officials and the offices they hold.

And the more our political commons are polluted with things like rage-farming, conspiracy theories and toxic partisanship, the less attractive it becomes for anyone of standing or substance to run for public office.

This is not a new problem, and it didn’t just start when Trudeau was elected prime minister. As Harper-era cabinet minister James Moore noted on Twitter, “I, and many other cabinet colleagues, had multiple death threats and elevated security at work and at home. It was frequent.”

There should be an incentive, then, for everyone involved to reduce the temperature and restore at least a modicum of civility to our politics.

If they don’t, they’re painting themselves — and us — into a pretty dangerous corner. Who, other than the political lifer (hello, Pierre Poileivre!) or the hereditary torch-bearer (that’s you, Justin Trudeau!), would want the job of prime minister right now? If you’re an accomplished doctor, lawyer, business person, social worker or teacher, do you really want to give up your livelihood, move to Ottawa and get abused on social media 24/7? And how are we supposed to attract more women and other underrepresented groups to public life when they’re the ones who tend to receive the brunt of this abuse?

The answer, if we stay on this path, is that we won’t. That probably suits some people just fine. But if people like Jacinda Ardern are finding the cost of public service to be prohibitively high, it’ll be the rest of us who end up paying the price in the end.