The Unbearable Lightness of Being Carney
In The Unbearable Lightness of Being, essayist Milan Kundera described a condition in which choices become detached from the weight of their consequences. The longer we observe Mark Carney’s political journey, the more that image comes to mind.
This week, the Prime Minister said he was “very pleased” with the framework agreement reached between the United States and Iran. He described it as a “game changer.” Asked on CNN whether the war had been worth it, he answered in the affirmative.
The issue is not that Carney welcomes a de-escalation. The issue is that before concluding a war was worth fighting, one should first ask whether it was necessary.
Carney was not a neutral observer of this conflict. Within hours of the outbreak of hostilities on February 27, he was among the first Western leaders to publicly endorse the American and Israeli military action. That endorsement was not incidental. It forms part of his political record that now deserves scrutiny.
The agreement celebrated at the G7 is neither a peace treaty nor a definitive resolution of the Iranian nuclear issue. By all accounts, it is a framework that suspends hostilities, reopens the Strait of Hormuz and sends the hardest questions — inspections, enrichment, sanctions and regional security — into another round of negotiations.
In other words, after months of war, thousands of deaths and a global economic shock, the parties have returned to the negotiating table.
The problem is that the table already existed.
When the first American and Israeli strikes were launched in late February, negotiations were underway through Omani mediation. They were fragile, certainly. Success was far from guaranteed. But talks were taking place, progress had reportedly been made and further meetings were scheduled.
The question is not whether diplomacy would have succeeded. The question is why diplomacy was abandoned before it had failed.
The Prime Minister consistently returns to the same argument: the world is changing rapidly, circumstances evolve and leaders must adapt.
In Davos earlier this year, he championed what he called a policy of “variable geometry.” In Dublin last week, he spoke of a new international order built around coalitions of middle powers united by common values.
The vision is coherent. But it raises an increasingly difficult question.
What exactly are the values Carney believes should guide political action?
Values matter only if they impose constraints. They matter only if they continue to shape decisions when circumstances become difficult. Otherwise, they are little more than window dressing.
In the case of Iran, those constraints are remarkably difficult to identify.
If diplomacy is a guiding principle, why endorse military action while negotiations are still underway? If international law and multilateralism are meant to constrain the use of force, how does one celebrate a war that effectively bypassed the United Nations process?
Perhaps there are good answers to those questions. But we have yet to hear them.
What stands out about Carney is not contradiction so much as fluidity. The reference points shift constantly. The criteria for evaluation shift with them. The narrative evolves.
This is not necessarily bad faith. It is something more subtle: a certain lightness of being.
Under Carney, events seem to detach themselves remarkably quickly from their consequences. One position gives way to another. One crisis replaces the last. Attention moves on.
Yet speeches at Davos, Dublin or the G7 are not merely communications exercises. They claim to explain the world, guide public policy and shape collective choices.
Their value depends on their ability to withstand the test of events.
When they are never measured against the consequences that follow, they risk becoming nothing more than convenient interpretations of unfolding events.
For Canadians, that may be the lesson to draw from the Iran episode.
If a leader can endorse a war and then celebrate the agreement that follows it without ever being required to account seriously for the war’s necessity, its consequences or its relationship to the principles he invokes, what value should we attach to that endorsement?
And more importantly, what value should we place on his words?
