Mark Carney and judo politics

I had to turn to martial arts to describe one of Prime Minister Mark Carney’s key tactics in the political arena.

Seiryoku zenyo in judo means “maximum efficient use of energy,” referring to the idea of leveraging your opponent’s own momentum to subdue them. Carney has neutralized his political adversaries — paradoxically — by giving them exactly what they ask for.

Why not call it judo politics?

Carney’s aptitudes in judo politics were on full display in late November when he signed a memorandum of understanding committing Canada to supporting new pipelines to support Alberta oil exports.

Carney heard Alberta’s call loud and clear, and Ottawa needed to get out of the way.

So, what did he do? Exactly that. In the single stroke of a pen, Carney largely reframed the federal government’s role from obstructionist to champion of Alberta economic growth.

Any future pipeline, of course, has no proponent and little economic viability. The very idea also faces stiff opposition from British Colombia and Indigenous groups.

In other words, Carney consented to a project that will never see the light of day.

In exchange, Ottawa obtained material progress on Alberta’s commitments to carbon capture and increasing its industrial carbon price.

Carney’s prowess in judo politics was also on full display when he last visited Washington, notably when he reopened the idea of building the Keystone XL pipeline.

Much like a future Alberta pipeline, Keystone XL is, according to industry experts… a pipe dream. Carney bought himself a good meeting and perhaps a little good faith by selling to a fickle president his own unviable idea.

His first major move arguably employed judo politics. Recall that in the years leading up to the federal election, Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre devised a surefire path to victory predicated on two simple ideas: Justin Trudeau had to go, and that, if elected, he would axe the carbon tax.

The twin pillars of Poilievre’s pre-election strategy came crashing down on March 14. Trudeau was out as prime minister, and Carney — in his first official act — axed the consumer carbon tax.

Indeed, on his first day on the job, Carney effectively realized Poilievre’s core political program. Lost in the wilderness, Poilievre never recovered.

Carney went on to win the election and has since come close to forming a majority government with dissatisfied Conservative MPs.

One wonders if Carney learned political judo on that day, or whether it’s part of his inner fabric.

It’s also possible he learned it from his predecessor, former prime minister Justin Trudeau.

In early February, U.S. President Donald Trump signed executive orders which would have seen 25 per cent tariffs applied to imports from Canada and Mexico for supposed inaction in preventing the illegal export of fentanyl into the United States. Disaster was averted when Trudeau negotiated an 11th-hour deal that contained little besides Canada’s prior commitments to bolster border security.

Trump declared victory on something Canada was, more or less, already committed to doing.

All of this isn’t to say Carney came out of these battles unscathed. Carney believed that the consumer carbon tax was a powerful tool to curb greenhouse emissions, one of his ministers resigned after he made a deal with Alberta and many were scratching their heads when he reopened the Keystone XL project.

The common denominator across these issues, however, is that Carney appears to be willing to suffer public and symbolic losses in exchange for real and discrete victories.

He’ll make the other guy look good while stealing his wallet in front of the cameras.

Of course, the question is whether and to what extent these tactics will work in renegotiating Canada’s trade relationship with its continental partners.

Whatever the outcome of a re-negotiated Canada-United States-Mexico Agreement may be, perhaps we should all hope for a loud declaration of victory down south.

It might just mean, after looking under the hood, that we’ll have made it out all right, after all.

Stéphane Allard is a former diplomat who writes from Winnipeg.