In freezing drizzle, in sun, in all kinds of early spring weather Canada has to offer, people are showing up by the thousands to hear Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre speak.
They’re standing in line for hours to get into different versions of packed airplane hangar-type venues. And they’re motivated and engaged.
I’ve been on the road for much of the first three weeks of the Canadian federal election campaign. I’ve been inside Poilievre and Liberal Leader Mark Carney’s rallies in B.C., Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec.
“He’s a hero for Canada,” Jason Delaney said at a Poilievre rally in Sault Ste. Marie, Ont., Tuesday night. “Everything he’s doing, everything he says just makes sense.”
Delaney’s been following Poilievre on YouTube for a “very long time,” and brought his whole family to the event. Children aren’t an uncommon sight at rallies.
It’s stood out night after night that crowds are most diverse in terms of age. Children sit on shoulders. Seniors lean against walls, some get the few reserved chairs available. Many complain about the hard concrete floors to stand on, and some leave early — but most stay.
In Kingston, Ont., groups of Queen’s University students (as far as I saw, mostly male) were thrilled for a shoutout from Poilievre. From what I’ve seen, women who attend largely come as part of a couple or a family, while men (especially young men) will attend together as a group of friends.
In Oshawa, Ont., there were some medical incidents. Someone collapsed and was aided by a nurse in the crowd. A couple other people either fainted or became lightheaded. The room was packed and people had been waiting for hours to get inside, but it wasn’t particularly hot.
“That’s what happens when you get 6,000 people in a room,” a campaign staffer quipped to me. The impression left was that while they didn’t want anyone sick, they were happy to suggest going to see Poilievre was akin to attending a packed rock concert.
The script at these rallies is largely the same, with some regional colour. A popular local candidate or two speaks first, and one introduces Anaida Poilievre. Pierre Poilievre’s wife speaks for about five minutes. Most sentences involve the words “my husband.” She tells the story of being a young, single woman able to buy a small home in the east end of Ottawa for about $230,000 in 2012, “three years before the Liberals took office.”
She introduces her husband. They kiss. Often they bring their kids, Valentina and Cruz.
Then Poilievre speaks for between 45 minutes and close to an hour. The speech is largely the same, highlighting policy promises, slamming Carney and the Liberals, and going after individual candidates as well, depending on the area he’s in. “Axe the tax” still gets a lot of cheers, even as this is no longer an election over the carbon tax.
Poilievre maintains his energy throughout and feeds off the crowd in a symbiotic way. They’re happy to cheer him and boo for the Liberals, and it keeps the energy up.
Outside of the obvious difference in crowd sizes, with Poilievre attracting thousands in almost every city he visits, leader energy also stands out as a stark contrast between Poilievre and Carney events.
Poilievre speaks with the air of someone who knows he’s going to pump up the friendly crowd no matter what, and relishes the process.
Carney appears as if he’s maybe enjoying figuring out this whole stump speech thing, but certainly not at ease. His voice doesn’t swell with passion or excitement — it’s fairly monotone. He’s still figuring out what to do, too, when people cheer or chant his name. He seemed most at ease in a smaller crowd (about 400 inside and a few hundred more outside, says the campaign) in Victoria, B.C.
There, he liked the reaction to his joke about sending Ontario Premier Doug Ford on Fox News, that he got almost fired up (by a more-muted Carney standard): “We’re not messing around up here!”
He used the line again the next night in Richmond, B.C., although didn’t repeat the joke about not sending Alberta Premier Danielle Smith.
Carney’s wife, Diana Fox Carney, introduces her husband at rallies, too, telling the same story about their first date and his upfront-but-lacking-in-romance disclosure that he was committed to returning to Canada to work in the public service.
Both Fox Carney’s introduction and Carney’s speeches are shorter, 15 minutes to half an hour for the latter. They hug instead of kiss.
There are cheers from this crowd, too — especially around commitments to strengthening Canada in the face of a stark new relationship with the United States.
Sometimes the sense in the room is of a group that wants to see the person in front of them succeed, but is nervous for him about his performance.
Carney’s crowds aren’t tiny, but no one on the Liberal campaign is attempting any comparisons to Poilievre.
All but one I’ve covered has involved more people than can fit in the space — the campaign much preferring to fill a room than have one look empty. Carney has mostly spoken to the overflow crowds after his main speech.
An estimated 2,300 in Calgary had even Carney surprised. He opened with a joke — “I thought I was in Calgary!” — referencing the size of the group in the Conservative stronghold of Alberta.
So, what difference do these rallies make? They certainly show there’s a segment of the electorate that is engaged.
But University of Toronto professor emeritus Nelson Wiseman doesn’t put too much stock in them, saying polls are a much better indicator of voting intention.
“It’s a massive crowd size, but as a percentage of the people who go out to vote, it’s minuscule,” he said.
“To claim crowd size is a show business indicator. I’m looking at the hard numbers of the polls,” said Wiseman.
Many attendees of Poilievre’s rallies are certainly not paying attention the polls.
“He’s behind in the polls? I had no idea,” said Jason Delaney in the Sault.
“I thought he was like, way ahead. That is surprising. I’m shocked,” referencing the large rally crowd as his indicator.
With files from CTV News correspondent Judy Trinh and CTV News producer Menna Elnaka
