Skip to content

THE CONVERSATION: Tim Hudak, a year out

Twelve months after leaving politics, the former MPP and PC leader talks about life in and out of “the arena" BY SAMUEL PICCOLO The VOICE D uring the 2014 provincial election Maclean’s magazine ran a story that said, “If everyone in Ontario could int
IMG_0467_EDIT
Tim Hudak speaks with David Gallagher, a veteran of the Korean War, who offered the opinion that both Donald Trump and Kim-Jong Un were “crazy.” VOICE PHOTO

Twelve months after leaving politics, the former MPP and PC leader talks about life in and out of “the arena"

BY SAMUEL PICCOLO The VOICE

  During the 2014 provincial election Maclean’s magazine ran a story that said, “If everyone in Ontario could interview Tim Hudak, this election might go better for him.” Of course everyone in Ontario could not interview Tim Hudak and the election did not go well for him at all.

Initially expected to win easily, the Hudak-led Progressive Conservatives lost nine seats and the Liberals earned another four years in power. Hudak resigned as leader on election night. Though departing leaders often leave politics at the same time as they relinquish the helm, Hudak chose to keep his Niagara West - Glanbrook seat for another two years. A year and one month ago he announced that he had accepted an offer from the Ontario Real Estate Association (OREA) to become its next CEO.

Hudak was first elected to Queen’s Park in 1995, but for someone who spent most of his adult life in politics, there were always doubts as to whether he was comfortable. TVOntario’s Steve Paikin remembered asking Hudak, “Why the congenial guy I was talking to off-camera disappeared whenever the red light came on.”

“Don’t you think I want to know that, too?” Hudak replied. “I’m working on it.”

Perhaps all of that time in public life worked against Hudak as leader—like a golf prodigy who has been so long suffocated by coaching that any inherent ability has long been papered over.

The same Maclean’s article observed that Hudak “locks onto an interviewer’s eyes with a steady gaze, in the manner of a man who has been taught by professionals to lock onto an interviewer’s eyes with a steady gaze.”

“It’s unnerving,” wrote the reporter. “Am I allowed to look away?”

A year out of politics, Hudak has seemingly begun the process of un-learning the instruction.

When I met with him in Grimsby recently, he was in congenial off-camera mode—and, I might add, held eye-contact for a regular amount of time. His assistant accidentally arranged for us to meet at a drive-thru-only Tim Horton’s, so Hudak invited me to hop in his car and we headed down the road to a McDonald’s. He was in Niagara on OREA business and was dressed in a suit, something he says far increases the chances that he’ll be recognized. Inside the McDonalds several people did and Hudak happily chatted with them as we waited for our order.

It was particularly striking to speak with him a shortly after interviewing Sam Oosterhoff, his successor. While Oosterhoff has had little contact with the media and was likely hearing the questions I asked for the first time, forcing him to think as he spoke, Hudak has heard it all before.

This isn’t to say that his responses were mechanical—only to suggest that years of practice don’t simply disappear when handing over the keys to the constituency office. Hudak was a polarizing figure during his two decades in office. He was first elected in Mike Harris’ government, a time that saw tens of thousands of people protesting, and the name of a premier—dubbed “Chainsaw Mike,” for his eagerness to cut—that still raises the blood pressure of labour activists.

Despite it all, Tim Hudak displayed few regrets during our conversation. He stood by his 2014 platform, saying that he thinks, “The only time that you can truly believe a politician is when they’re telling you something that you don't want to hear.” But he was happy to talk about his new job at OREA too. It’s easy to be cynical about a former politician joining the lobbyist ranks, though the position seems to mean more to Hudak than a different means of earning an income.

TVO’s Steve Paikin wrote that there were three Tim Hudaks—number one being was the congenial guy. Number two was “the over-rehearsed, too robotic, message track machine.” And number three was something of a more Machiavellian character, one who was sued by the Premier for defamation and who threw his former finance critic Peter Shurman under the bus.

Some will only remember Hudak as one or both of the second two. But he, at least, now no longer has to worry about that. He can just concentrate on being Hudak number one.

PICCOLO: You’ve been out of politics for about a year now—

HUDAK: Yeah, it was mid-August of 2016 when the Ontario Real Estate Association offered me the job of CEO, and we announced that publicly. I was still an MPP, so it was important to let people know. I said I’d spend one more month on the job to tie up some loose ends, and I though a nice end to my political career would be the barbecue at Balls Falls—that was my final day on the job. Plus the House wasn’t sitting in the summer, so I wanted to have the chance to say some last words in the legislature during the last week.

A few years ago after Michael Ignatieff left politics, he gave an interview in which he said something like, “If I were still in politics, I would still have to be thinking strategically about everything I’m saying, and consider how it could perceived or twisted.” Do you sympathize with what Ignatieff said, now that you’re a year out? Do you feel a little freer?

Absolutely. It’s a tricky balance that’s easier to achieve as an MPP than as leader, the balance being that in life people like authenticity, and increasingly so in politics. They want their politicians to be more open, more honest, more transparent, more authentic. They want to know that you understand what they’re going through. And even if you make mistakes from time to time—if you say something dumb or your facts are wrong—they want to feel that you mean well and that your values line up with their values. In hindsight, it’s better to be the opposite of Ignatieff, a bit less scripted, a bit more relaxed. This is the advice I give to young politicians.

But this can be tough, too, because sometimes you get in trouble for doing this.

People aren’t foolish. They get it. We’re all human beings, and we all say things that we’ll later regret. But if they believe that you’re passionate about something they’ll respect that. If you make a mistake and then you correct the mistake, or if your intentions are good, they’re very forgiving.

I’m glad you brought up that idea of authenticity. Recently I spoke with Sam Oosterhoff, and one of the things that we talked about is the way that politicians interact with each other. He said that he’d really been impressed with how well he’s gotten along with the other parties, especially the other Niagara MPPs, behind closed doors. That led me to ask whether he ever doubted the value of the performative aspect of politics. Did you ever feel that if members spoke to each other during question period and press conferences and such—as they do in private—that perhaps politics would be different? That maybe there’d be less polarization?

As leader, it’s a little more difficult, because you have the opposition parties and media that will try to parse your every word. All in all, it matters what your beliefs are. Are they sincere? And are you fighting for the right thing? To answer your question, politics can be a bit like pro wrestling. You put on a big show and then go have a beer after. That’s a rewarding part of politics [the camaraderie], and that’s what happens for the most part. In all the parties, most politicians are pretty honourable. They were elected because they were fighting for an idea, or maybe a project they want to see done. You will encounter, from time to time, the unfortunate creature who has blinders on—who thinks that if you’re not a part of their political party you’re a bad person. Fortunately, that’s a relatively rare beast. And let me continue this way: if I had won the race as premier, one of the reforms I would have implemented—and hopefully someone still does this—is to loosen up the bounds we have around party politics in Canada. We have one of the most strict partisan approaches when it comes to adhering to the party line. In the United Kingdom, in a lot of cases, members of the governing party vote against the government. And that’s normal. In the states, Republicans can vote for Democratic bills and vice-versa, or they come together to co-sponsor legislation. That’s the way life is. We’re relatively unique in parliamentary systems, where somehow if you disagree with the leader of the party, the world has come to an end. So we should loosen that up. If there’s an issue that you feel strongly about, or that your constituents do, you should vote against the government, vote your will.

That would certainly make the leader’s job a lot more difficult.

Yeah. You’d have to work a lot harder.

Perhaps especially difficult, in some ways, for leaders of conservative parties. This is one thing that I was talking to Sam Oosterhoff about. The conservative party is often a big tent, especially on social issues. That’s probably something that a lot of people appreciate about the conservative party, that there isn’t a forced orthodoxy. But at the same time, that orthodoxy can be important in having an electoral cohesiveness and trying to get things done. Do you think that it would be particularly difficult for conservative parties to govern under that proposed change?

I don’t think that it would be different across the parties. It would make the leaders work harder to make sure that they had the votes to pass things. If you’re challenging the leader on some sort of core election promise, then that’s different, but I think that for the most part allowing people to vote their conscience and vote against the party line would be healthy.

And it could add some of that authenticity you mentioned.

Yeah. Any person that agrees with themselves a hundred percent of the time is rare commodity, let alone agreeing with other people.

We’re on the idea of conservatism, and progressive conservatism, which is an interesting combination of terms. In the big tent of conservatism there’s a wide variety—there’s a more corporate conservatism, the free market economics, the emphasis on growth. For you, coming from a more rural riding, but also having experienced a lot of the Bay Street-style conservatism, what does conservatism mean to you?

Talking about the different views in the tent—when I ran for leader, I saw that it broke down into four different tribes, and each tribe had a leader. I was the Blue conservative, a small government conservative—low-growth, lower taxes, a government that spends within its means, with an emphasis on the private-sector delivering services. A government that does fewer things but does them better. Then you have the Libertarian side, which is basically, “government, get out of my way.” Very much focused on a small role for government, including personal decisions on matters like abortion or who you marry. The Red Tories were a bit closer to the liberal positions—bigger government, more intervention. And then the Social Conservatives, more concerned about social issues, from how our kids are taught, to abortion, to marriage, and values. The job of leader is to make sure that you try to include some elements of all of the family and bring them together into the platform.

That has to be one of the challenges of being leader—no longer are you advocating just for what you yourself think, but you’re trying to create a vision that everyone can get behind.

It’s a big-tent party, and conservatives tend to be very much motivated by ideas and values, and if you don’t represent those values, they tend to stay home. That’s the voting base that is most volatile in the electorate.

Sam and I also discussed the fact that people often question conservatives’ motives. And I think that this is why you hear the party pushback that says, “We need to put forward a compassionate conservatism.” What are you thoughts on why this might be?

Well, I think that our message is the most complex. And like Thatcher said, “Eventually, you run out of the ability to spend other people’s money.” You’ve got to make choices. The complexities are there, keeping taxes low, while having regulations that streamline and allow people to hire more people. It can take more time too, as opposed to a different type of government that might say, “We’re going to spend a billion dollars and are going to create jobs by giving this factory a big cheque or by building a big infrastructure project.”

One of the things that you argued for in the last election was improved training for skilled trades—

Yep. A big part of my platform.

Education is a tough situation these days. I just spent some time in university politics and I can say firsthand that many are cash-strapped and are being pulled in many different directions. Do you think that the skilled trades have been devalued? And if so, what can society—and the government—do to revalue these jobs? I was at a public meeting in Wainfleet, and heard some farmers and skilled tradespeople speak, and many said that they no longer felt that their positions were valued any more because they didn’t have anything to do with higher education.

Yep. I think that an important piece of advice to current politicians is to light a fire under the skilled trades in our province. The jobs are in demand. They’re highly-skilled, and they tend to pay quite well.

You can’t outsource plumbing.

Right. We have a bias in our education system that steers people away from the skilled trades, and that’s a big mistake. We should track back into the high schools, give students the opportunity to take college courses at the same time, and give them more exposure to the trades. We should encourage more women to go into the trades. Quite frankly, some of the labour laws we have in our province, particularly the journeyman to apprentice ratio, intentionally limit the number of jobs. There are small businesses today in Pelham and Niagara that would take on an apprentice in a minute, but they can't because labour laws prevent it.

As CEO of the Ontario Real Estate Association, your role is mainly to liaison between realtors and the government. Is that right?

Yes—the association represents over seventy thousand realtors in the province. We have thirty nine local associations, including the Niagara one. We run the real estate college. Currently, if you want to be a realtor, you have to go to our college. That contract expires in 2020. We do government relations to advocate for realtors, homeowners, and those who want to become homeowners. A big part of our work has been to make sure that home ownership stays within reach. We also provide services to our realtor members, including training, programs, technology, and we run conventions that give realtors exposure to new ideas and techniques.

You’ve said in the past that the main problem in the real estate market right now is on the supply side—that there just aren’t enough homes. When you have twenty people bidding on one home, it’s just never going to work out well. People are going to be priced out of the market. What are some of the steps that you'd like to see taken so that homeownership feels attainable. I know for a lot of people in their 20s, it just doesn't feel attainable.

It’s true. When I decided to leave politics after losing the 2014 election—you know, I never wanted to be a lifer—I said that I wanted to find a job that was as motivating as being an MPP, where you wake up every morning on a mission. And this job came along with the real estate association, where the mission, basically, is to help more people experience that joy of home ownership. When my wife Deb and I recently bought a home, I remember my daughters dancing in the dining room, which was then empty of furniture. And Miller, my eldest, said, “Now I understand what you’re going to do—you’re going to help the people who help other little kids get a house.” That’s motivating, and that's what I really like about my job. The best way to ensure that the millennial generation can get a home is to make sure that there’s enough supply. We’ve had significant demand increases, and that’s a good thing. We have millennials now who are developing careers and starting families, so they’re looking to move out of their parents place. The “Bank of Mom and Dad,” which is the wealthiest generation ever—the Boomers—are helping to finance their kids’ homes. Mortgage rates, though now slightly higher, are still very low. About two hundred thousand immigrants come every year to the Golden Horseshoe area. Our economy, while it needs to be stronger, is good relative to the rest of Canada. All of that is bringing more demand, and we’re not building enough houses to keep up the supply. After spending twenty one years in the political world I speak the language, so I can go back to my former colleagues and communicate to all three parties some ideas that they can embrace. Because all parties agree that they would like to see more homeowners.

That’s a good story about your daughter, because you can call a home an investment, but it’s not really an investment. It’s something so much more.

You can’t live in a stock, and you can’t go to bed at night on a bond.

That’s right. You don’t have memories of your Sobeys shares.

It is an investment you make, but it’s where you raise your family, it’s where your most treasured memories are made. It’s where you can be most comfortable and be yourself. That’s why our mission is so vital. There’s been so much red tape that’s been put on the housing sector, usually with good intentions, but pile after pile after pile means that it takes up to ten years to get a new subdivision approved. Every month of delay means higher prices at the end of the day. So the best thing that we can do is accelerate the home-building process so that we can get more stock out of it. Another one is that we need to target infrastructure funds. Every provincial budget, no matter which party, will have money in there for water, sewer, roads, and rail. So why don’t we target those funds to municipalities that have housing-ready land as an incentive, and a disincentive to those that are trying to choke off growth. It’s certainly true that most of that increased demand is in the Golden Horseshoe area. A lot of people, especially in rural areas of Niagara, know that increasing the supply means a lot of homebuilding here. It means that a lot of the rural Golden Horseshoe is going to be developed, because seemingly the only other option is to have unaffordable housing pricies. So we're caught in this torque where we don't want to pave over paradise, so to speak, but we also want people to be able to afford homes. Is one of the real solutions not having an economy that is so centred around this part of the province? The realtors are now taking on issues that have a broader public benefit. Now we’re talking about fighting for homeowners that really don’t have a voice in government. One of issues we’re taking up is telling the government to invest more in transportation. So accelerating GO transit in Niagara, or expanding our highway system. That's going to give more housing opportunities for people and dramatically improve their lifestyle, because it means less time stuck on the road or living in a shoebox.

Those two things are certainly ones that everyone can get behind. Is there anything you’d like to add?

I just want to thank the people of Pelham and Niagara for sending me back to Queen’s Park in six straight elections. It’s a tremendous honour that I’ll always remember, being able to represent this beautiful part of the province, that these great people put their faith in me for six straight elections.

Your riding moved a lot too, didn’t it? You started off in Fort Erie, and by the time you finished you were all the way over here in Grimsby.

Ha! I had to keep on moving so they wouldn’t catch up with me. I’d keep moving just so they wouldn’t get tired of me.

So every time the pitchforks came out—

Exactly. I moved. But yes, by the end of my career the riding had moved so much that I didn’t represent a single inch of the original riding.

You weren't expected to win that first election, were you?

Oh no. I ran for the hell of it. To practise, lose—

So you expected to lose?

Yep, right up until the last couple of days when I realized “Holy smokes, I might actually win this.” I wanted to practise, but also to carry the banner for the party and get a job as a political advisor. So watch out what you wish for…

You went from running in a riding where you expected to lose to one of the safest—though we have to be careful about saying that—conservative seats in the province.

I’m always careful about that, because as soon as you get complacent, voters are always quick to pop that bubble. And good for them. I’d also like to say to anyone thinking of getting involved in politics, whether at the federal, provincial, or municipal level, or working on a campaign—it has been tremendously rewarding. There’s nothing like going through life working for a cause that gets you up in the morning and gets your heart beating. When my grandfather gave me that advice he said that some people chase money, and some people chase where their heart is. And those who are happiest are those who go where there heart is, and if you’re good at it, money will come. There is nothing more rewarding than fighting for a cause you believe in, to be one of those individuals who has a microphone and can use it. I think that there’s no more loathsome creature than the barstool critic who will always complain but never actually get up and do something.

So your 20 years were overwhelmingly positive, even though it has got to hurt, losing, because in some ways it’s a personal rebuke.

All careers are checkered by victories and defeats, but even in defeat to be about to stand up for what you believe in. Not to be facetious about this, but I do think that the only time that you can truly believe a politician is when they’re telling you something that you don't want to hear. To stand for a platform that was honest, that was bold, that would have lowered taxes and made energy rates more affordable, and had a government that spent within its means—that was worth the fight even if not enough voters endorsed it.

And because of this faith, despite all that came along with it, the fight was worth it? I remember a very vivid door placard that depicted you laughing as you blew up a hospital.

Absolutely. There’s nothing like having been in the arena. To have stood on principle and have fought, with some successes and some losses—there was nothing more rewarding than having the chance to be in the arena. And there were a lot of local victories that made a huge difference. Investments in our highway system, for instance, even here in Niagara having worked early on with the wine sector and now seeing how far it has come. The craft beer sector and long-term care homes built. We have a new hospital being built in Niagara, too. Now these things aren’t the result of one person, but it was great to be involved and to see a difference. It’s an interesting way to go through life, and those skills that you learn in politics—policy analysis, communications, working the media, advocacy, building a team—they all transition well into my new position in the real world.

And you came out with very few grey hairs. That’s an accomplishment.

There you go.

Thanks very much.

Any time.