I didn’t know Jack Layton, never spoke to him, never saw him in person, and I’ve never read his writings on homelessness or other matters of concern to him. But, strangely enough, I felt I knew him all the same; a sentiment apparently shared by many other Canadians. I’ve never been a member of any political party, including the New Democratic Party (NDP), of which he was the undisputed leader until his untimely death today, Aug. 22, 2011. I follow politics, but I’ve never been involved, per se, in politics.
Yet, sometimes a political leader comes along, or eventually pervades the public consciousness after being around for a long time, who really makes a strong, positive impression on you—regardless of whether you know much about his or her politics, or agree with them. Jack Layton was that kind of politician; he seemed to be that kind of person. At least that’s what I’ve ascertained from watching and listening to him over the years, in newspaper and magazine stories, in radio and television interviews and in other performances, such as televised leaders’ debates; and from reading what other politicians say about him.
I was surprised when Layton held a brief news conference a few weeks ago to report he was taking time off from his positions as NDP Leader, and Leader of the Official Opposition, to fight another kind of cancer that required his full attention. I was surprised because, until then, he’d seemed fit and hearty, despite the presence of the cane he used—sometimes for show, it seemed—during the May 2011 federal election. In making his critical announcement that he was taking a break to fight for his health so he could continue fighting for Canadians, he seemed brave, determined, and hopeful; the story of his life, and nothing unusual from what I’ve read about him. Being hopeful, or pretending to be endlessly hopeful seemed his stock-and-trade; an admirable quality, to be sure. Did he know or sense the odds were stacked against him? Was he feigning his optimism? Does it matter?
In retrospect, of course, that short news conference ultimately was, sadly, Layton’s farewell televised address to the country. Watching him during that news conference, he looked gaunt, so frail and physically vulnerable I wondered if he wasn’t being somewhat naïve in believing, and telling the country, he’d be back to work in September. Maybe, though, it was just his genuinely optimistic and hopeful way of doing things. I wanted to put my arm around his shoulder and help him off the stage; to tell him he didn’t have to be making that speech; that it would’ve been easier to just issue a news release and give it to the media, or have someone else read his statement for him.
But, apparently that wouldn’t have been Jack Layton’s style. I’ve read he had the strength of character and the courage of his convictions to never run from a confrontation or a fight; that he always believed in meeting challenges head-on, win or lose; that he thought meeting his opponents face-to-face was important because it might lead to some kind of positive or otherwise worthwhile exchange or sharing of knowledge, understanding, or agreement. He seemed to be demonstrating that mettle during that news conference as I watched him announce his supposed temporary departure from his work—as he clearly was fighting the fiercest and most-powerful challenge of his relatively young life; after all, he was only 61 when he died today.
Watching Layton that day, I wanted to believe he was right; that he would, in fact, lick this new cancer and soon be back on top of his political game, and of course personally as well. But when I watched him, to me, his physical appearance belied the reality of his terrible, tragic situation. I just didn’t picture him returning to work, or to public life in general, anytime soon. I even predicted, to myself, I’d open a newspaper before the end of the summer and read that he’d died. Yet, I hoped I was wrong, and he was right; that he would be back on Parliament Hill in September when the House reconvenes. But today, the day of his death, I take no joy in being right.
Before Layton died, however, he was able to do something for his party that previously was unimaginable; a pipedream at best: leading his beloved once-last-place NDP in the House of Commons to its new heights as the Official Opposition; the government-in-waiting. What a feat. By most accounts, he was able to do this, in large part, because of his oversized personality, obvious friendliness and charm, his fabulous and seemingly ever-present smile, his caring nature and perpetual message of optimism and hope, and no doubt voters’ disillusionment with the other political parties in last spring’s federal election. In these various contexts, then, his death is a sad event for many reasons. So much so that, although I’m not an ‘NDPer,’ I felt sad today when I learned he’d died. I wanted him to be able to justifiably reap the personal and professional rewards of his recent huge political achievement.
After all, through the years the NDP has variously been derided as, among other things, inconsequential and a party for aging, hapless hippies whose heads were in the clouds of one thing or another; who idealistically thought peace and love and caring about others were the answers to everything. Dr. Jack Layton, during his eight years as NDP Leader, seemed to single-handedly change critics' perceptions of the party, while still epitomizing the ideals for which the NDP was once mocked. He is now being widely praised, and being held up as a role model for other politicians to emulate, as one who made a conscious effort to bring some 'humanity' into the House of Commons. In a farewell letter to Canadians, reportedly written shortly before he died and released today, the day of his death, he continued espousing those 'human' and clearly heartfelt ideals, seemingly knowing the end for him was near:
In the months and years to come...we can be a better, fairer, more equal country by working together. Don’t let them tell you it can’t be done...love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.
All my very best,
Jack Layton
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