Justin Trudeau creeps me out

A progressive look at a progressive

If there’s a single, incontrovertible difference between what makes a progressive and what makes a conservative it’s that the progressive believes in the perfectability—or at least improvability—of humankind, whereas the conservative tends to think people are basically fixed and fundamentally corrupted (see: Original Sin) and the best we can hope for is a set of institutions and traditions that provide for an orderly, happy society. 

Because of this difference, the progressive is more prone than the conservative to runaway optimism that leads to a kind of hero-worship of glamorous new leaders promising sweeping change. It doesn’t hurt that progressives on the whole tend to be younger, and thus better looking and cooler, than the stodgy old farts the change-makers periodically come sweeping in to replace.

We saw this effect with President Obama and the not-unjustified excitement that surrounded the election of America’s first black—and easily most cool—president. And we’re seeing it now during the first months in office of Canada’s new prime minister, the dashing son of a dashing former prime minister, Justin Trudeau. But whereas Obama, once in office, switched off the cool-dad act, Trudeau has remained defiantly, relentlessly cool. I’m struggling to articulate exactly why, but Justin Trudeau creeps me out. 

Let me establish a few things up front. First, like most young Americans and Canadians, I am broadly in agreement with Trudeau’s liberal social positions—I have no ideological axe to grind. Second, I have a long-standing and wholly unjustifiable prejudice against Canadians, which might be all that is going on here. Third, I have good friends who are Canadian, so I’m not incapable of looking past my prejudice to appreciate the person trapped behind that hideous accent. You can put the xenophobia card down.

I think what irks me about Justin Trudeau is that he seems to take such pleasure in being Justin Trudeau. Every time some journalist prods him to call himself a feminist, and he calls himself a feminist adding that he’ll keep calling himself a feminist until it’s no longer a big deal to call oneself a feminist, and the Internet goes wild, you can almost see the warm waves of affirmation washing over him as he whispers to himself that, yes, he is indeed a special and wonderful boy. Trudeau reminds me of the guys I met at Boy’s State—a weeklong right-wing indoctrination camp put on by the American Legion for the biggest dweeb at your high school—who, at 16, were sincerely planning to run for Congress as soon as possible. 

The high-point of Trudeau-sycophant symbiosis came when, during a tumult in parliament, he told a group of fellow parliamentarians to “get the fuck out of the way,” elbowing one. He followed that impulsive, undignified gesture with a series of increasingly contrite apologies, at least one of which ended, bizarrely, with a standing ovation. In the recording, as his fellow MPs rise in growing applause you can hear Trudeau’s voice preachily crescendo, like someone accustomed to being given a pat on the back and a gold star for saying he’s sorry. 

Admittedly, part of what is irritating about Trudeau is that he’s just too good. The man doesn’t just smile and wave politely at a pride parade, he gets down, dancing and celebrating with the best of them. He is, by all indications, sincerely and fiercely pro-choice, against the drug war, and refreshingly cheerful. Also, it cannot be denied, the man is extremely good looking. And that hair.

As always, there is probably a letdown coming for Trudeau admirers. He’ll turn out to be more conservative, or less decent, than he has seemed to the world thus far.

In Obama’s case, the letdown involved little more than acknowledging that the president is way more Dad than Drake and less interested in sweeping progressive change than his incendiary campaign led many excited youngsters to believe. With Justin Trudeau, I get the feeling we’re in for something rather more disconcerting than realizing that the president wears dad jeans. 

Politically, Trudeau is so too good to be true—he’s almost too good to be human. Hopefully he’ll just turn out to be an entitled rich kid, like the one on display when he accosted fellow MPs, but if the alien invasion of planet earth begins with Justin Trudeau taking off his skin and eating his entire cabinet, you’re all going to wish you had listened to me.

For more from Denver, read his article on finding a way forward after the Orlando shooting.