Massimo Bergamini

As the first anniversary of the Carney government election approaches, one thing stands out: Mark Carney’s impact on the Canadian political landscape has been as rapid as it has been improbable.

In less than a year, Carney not only secured an unexpected electoral victory — reviving a Liberal Party many had written off after of Trudeau government — but went on to build a parliamentary majority through a series of floor crossings. Something no Canadian prime minister had done before.

Part of this success can be explained by circumstance. Donald Trump’s repeated threats against Canada triggered a powerful wave of national solidarity which shows no sign of waning.

But it doesn’t fully explain Carney’s political success.

The question the is, what is it about Carney’s approach that makes it work? And what does that tell us about the current state of our parliamentary democracy?

Carney himself offered part of the answer months ago at the World Economic Forum in Davos. There, he argued for a policy of “variable geometry” — a form of realpolitik built on constant adaptation to shifting power dynamics.

Internationally, the approach was widely praised. It helped solidify his domestic image as a pragmatic, credible, and highly competent leader. That same approach now appears to be taking hold at home.

Across multiple policy areas, a pattern has emerged. Ambitious commitments are announced, then softened, reframed, or quietly set aside as priorities shift. Early signals on climate ambition have given way to a stronger emphasis on “competitiveness.” Promised regulatory clarity on emerging technologies like artificial intelligence remains tied up in extended consultations. Positions on foreign conflicts have shifted in tone and emphasis within days as political and economic pressures evolve.

Individually, these look like tactical adjustments. Taken together, they form a pattern and reveal a deliberate approach to governing – hard-nosed, calculating and grounded not so much in principles as much as in opportunity.

Government consultation offers a good example. In some cases, it expands political space and time — extending timelines without forcing decisions. In others, it contracts — particularly when broader input might constrain executive flexibility.

The contrast with the ongoing CUSMA review is striking. During the 2017–2018 renegotiation, Canada relied on broad, continuous consultations to build a unified and well-prepared negotiating position. Today, many stakeholders describe a more centralized, less transparent process.

A year in, the pattern is clear. When speed and control matter, consultation narrows. When delay is useful, it expands. What emerges is a form of variable governance.

The Carney approach does not operate in a vacuum. It is made possible by the environment in which it unfolds. It is this environment that distinguishes Mark Carney’s domestic realpolitik from the brass tacks pragmatism of a Jean Chretien.

We now live in a political and information ecosystem where attention is fragmented and memory is short. Issues cycle rapidly. Narratives turn over quickly. New announcements displace old ones before they can be fully evaluated.

In that environment, constant repositioning is not punished. It is normalized and forgotten.

And as an economist, Carney knows voters respond rationally. Faced with information overload, they rely on shortcuts — ideology, reputation, perceived competence — to make sense of politics. Increasingly, governments are judged less on coherent policy trajectories than on general impressions.

The shift is subtle but significant, as accountability shifts from programs to perception, and from trackable commitments to reputational cues.

This is where Carney’s approach dovetails with its environment.

His political strength does not rest on the success of his decisions – it is much too soon to draw definitive conclusions on the government’s policy directions.  His success rests on the strength of a brand – foresight, competence, seriousness, control –that he has been able to fashion.

And as long as that perception holds, consistency and outcomes matter less.

A recent example illustrates the point. On February 28, Carney was among the first Western leaders to support U.S. military action against Iran. Within days, as consequences and criticism mounted, the government shifted toward a position emphasizing international law and negotiation. At the same time, it rolled out measures to mitigate the economic fallout of a conflict whose geopolitical and economic fallout were wholly predictable.

In isolation, this looks like recalibration. Seen as part of a pattern, it suggests something else: the ability to occupy successive, difficult-to-reconcile positions without bearing sustained political cost.

The issue is not simply Carney’s style; it is the absence of effective political counterweights.

When opposition parties chase the story of the day — often set by the same accelerated media cycle — they reinforce the system they should be chipping away at. What is missing is not outrage. It is organized memory.

Effective opposition in this environment requires discipline. It requires tracking commitments over time, systematically connecting statements to decisions, and showing the real-world consequences — economic, social, human — of policies.

Not through one-off political hits, but through sustained, methodical work and fresh and credible communication strategies

Because this is the real battleground.

Carney’s governing approach is not just adaptive. It is also well suited to an environment where scrutiny struggles to keep pace.

Put plainly: it takes advantage of a system under strain, where brand perception trumps reality. Nothing will change until that changes.

As long as opposition parties — especially the official opposition — confuse reaction with strategy, the playing field will continue to be tilted in favour of the government.

For the opposition parties, the task ahead is more demanding. It is to rebuild continuity, slow the cycle and make commitments traceable, outcomes intelligible and accountabilities clear.

And a democracy where power can move faster than the scrutiny applied to it is a democracy whose foundations begin to crack.