On 6 January 2025, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau stepped out of his official residence in Ottawa and stood before the press. Dressed in black, sombre and composed, he addressed his nation not with hope, but with a resignation. In that moment, it felt as if Canada’s ruling Liberal Party was attending its own political funeral.
Parliament was gridlocked. Trudeau’s finance minister had resigned days earlier. Polls had the Liberal Party trailing the Conservative opposition by 25 points. Support for Trudeau himself had cratered to 20%. The Conservatives, under Pierre Poilievre, were cruising towards what many believed would be a certain landslide victory.
Three months later, everything has changed.
On election night – 28 April – Mark Carney stepped onto the stage to the roar of a jubilant crowd, a sea of red and white flags waving around him. Grinning and visibly moved, he leaned into the microphone and called out:
“Who’s ready? Who’s ready to stand up for Canada with me?”
The room erupted. Behind him stood a group of supporters—young and old, urban and rural—cheering not just a political victory, but a moment of national renewal. For many watching at home, it felt less like the continuation of a fourth term and more like the beginning of something new. The party once thought to be in terminal decline had not only survived but re-emerged with fresh energy and a renewed sense of purpose.
In a decisive result, the Liberals have secured a fourth consecutive term in government, winning both the popular vote and a strong parliamentary mandate. It was an unusual election: the third- and fourth-largest parties suffered significant losses, effectively collapsing in key battlegrounds. What emerged instead was a starkly polarised contest, centred on who was best suited to lead the country through a period of deep uncertainty. With sharply contrasting figures at the helm of both major parties, the election became a referendum on leadership in a more divided Canada—one feeling the political and cultural crosswinds blowing north from the United States.
As a result, a party once seen to be entering a political winter has instead reasserted itself as the dominant force on Canada’s political stage. While the unusual nature of this vote and its very specific context mean certain elements may not be replicable elsewhere or in future – Canada 2025 may prove to be similar to the UK’s 2017 general election in that regard – this Liberal resurgence remains an extraordinary feat, one that did not happen automatically and which merits further study.
Learning lessons
So, how did they do it? How did a deeply unpopular incumbent party, facing economic pressures, divisive environmental policies, and years of pandemic fatigue, reverse a 25-point deficit in less than 90 days?
I believe there are three key factors and lessons for other progressive governments, particularly those grappling with the challenge of populism as the Labour government is here in the UK (staring down the barrel of a potentially strong Reform performance in this week’s local and mayoral elections).
In the case of Canada, the populist threat was embodied (albeit imperfectly) by Pierre Poilievre. Some may argue he isn’t a textbook populist, given his more mainstream policy proposals. But there’s no denying that he has consistently employed populist terminology and frames, railing against the “gatekeepers,” attacking elites, and leaning into anti-establishment rhetoric. Translating to the UK context, Poilievre is arguably closer to a Kemi Badenoch figure than a Nigel Farage—someone operating within the mainstream who nonetheless adopts populist tactics. The real challenge, then, is understanding how to respond when a major party begins to incorporate populist rhetoric into its political strategy.
A Clear Adversary
Populist leaders often thrive by casting themselves as outsiders, battling corrupt or incompetent elites. But their appeal wanes when voters are offered a sharper, external threat, something real, present, and unifying.
For Canada, that adversary was Donald Trump.
In his return to the White House, Trump reignited long-standing trade tensions with Canada from his first term. He imposed punitive tariffs, dismissed Canada’s sovereignty by repeatedly referring to it as “America’s 51st state”, and used Canadian institutions as rhetorical punching bags for his own political theatre.
Canadian voters responded not with apathy, but with alarm and an unwavering sense of patriotism. In a moment of national unity, Trudeau captured the mood perfectly. After Canada’s ice hockey team defeated the USA in February in a dramatic 3–2 overtime win in Boston, he posted on X:
“You can’t take our country – and you can’t take our game.”
The match, already emotionally charged, became symbolic of a broader political moment. As tensions escalated, Canadian sports fans began booing the American anthem.
The Liberals seized the opportunity to recast the coming election not as a referendum on their record, but as a choice about sovereignty, stability, and Canada’s place in the world. For once, it wasn’t just about domestic frustration—it was about defending the national interest.
In fact, early this morning, newly elected MP Leslie Church credited the dramatic turnaround in the Liberal Party’s fortunes over the past six months to “Donald Trump and Mark Carney”—in that order. Dressed in red and proudly wearing a Canadian flag lapel pin, Church told reporters: “Donald Trump set the stakes for this election, and people understood that at the doors.”
Not every progressive government will have an external enemy as obvious and immediate as Donald Trump is for Canadians. But the broader lesson from the Canadian election is about controlling the story and narrative—not allowing the populist to choose the ‘enemy’, but defining the terms of engagement. The Liberals succeeded by forcing Poilievre to fight on unfamiliar ground, shifting the debate away from his preferred populist framing and onto issues where they held the advantage.
A Fresh Face with Old Expertise
The second major shift was leadership. Trudeau’s departure marked the end of an era, but it also allowed the party to turn the page.
Enter Mark Carney.
Carney, former Governor of both the Bank of Canada and the Bank of England, brought economic credibility and a global profile. But perhaps more crucially, he carried none of Trudeau’s political baggage. Though he had advised the Liberal government in the past, Carney positioned himself as reform-minded, economically serious, and less ideological than his predecessor.
He made this distinction clear throughout his campaign. During the leaders’ debate, he even interrupted Poilievre mid-attack with a sharp jab:
“I know you want to be running against Justin Trudeau….Trudeau is not here. I am here”
His most effective move? Reducing the controversial carbon tax to 0%, without scrapping it entirely. This allowed him to de-escalate a flashpoint issue while retaining the architecture of the policy for future revision. It reframed the debate and removed one of Poilievre’s most effective attack lines.
Carney became a vessel for cautious optimism—trusted, competent, and notably, not Trudeau.
This wasn’t just a leadership change; it was a rebrand. It signalled renewal. The lesson here isn’t as stark or binary as “when times are tough, change the leader”. Rather, it’s about recognising that in the face of a populist threat, progressives—especially those already in office—need to show they can constantly adapt, offering renewal, a new vision, and a fresh outlook. Sometimes that can come through leadership change; other times, through the retirement of deeply unpopular policies or a reimagining of priorities. The public doesn’t always demand a revolution—often, they just want the page turned. This approach echoes arguments made by leaders like Keir Starmer, who has emphasised the need for incumbents to act as disruptors themselves rather than becoming tied to a failing status quo. It’s a point our Deputy Director, Adam Terry, recently laid out in more depth here.
An Opposition Stuck in the Past
Poilievre’s message had worked for years: attack Trudeau, attack the carbon tax, attack the elites. But when the context shifted, when Trudeau was gone, when the carbon tax had been neutralised, his song largely remained the same.
He tried to apply the same tactics to Carney, but they didn’t land. Carney’s credibility made him difficult to caricature. His technocratic background, combined with his cool confidence, blunted Poilievre’s populist fire. As geopolitical tensions rose, Poilievre’s inward-looking, grievance-focused rhetoric began to feel increasingly out of step.
While Poilievre’s failure should not be overstated – the new Liberal government will do well to remember that even in loss the Conservatives had a historically good night – the confrontation nevertheless revealed his limitations. He appeared flat-footed, remaining stuck as the context shifted. By contrast, the Liberals adapted to changing circumstances—showing that fortune tends to favour those who can adjust their strategy, not just repeat it.
A similar dynamic exists in the UK. Figures like Kemi Badenoch may struggle like Poilievre to pivot if the political context changes, relying heavily on grievance-driven populism even when the public mood moves on. In contrast, someone like Nigel Farage is far more nimble, capable of reframing his message and tactics to suit new political realities. Understanding the difference between a populist who can adapt and one who cannot will be crucial for progressives preparing for the battles ahead.
Populism depends on emotional resonance. But the music has to match the moment. And when the moment changes, so must the tune.
Lessons for the progressive governments
This isn’t just a story about Canada. It’s a case study in how progressive governments can renew themselves—even after long periods in office, even during economic hardship, and even in the face of rising populism—and win the public’s permission to keep governing and improving lives.
So what can we learn?
- Choose your enemy and control the narrative. Populism falters in the face of credible external threats. If progressives can clearly define those threats—not invent them—they can build unity across broad coalitions by aligning their priorities with patriotism.
- Constantly renew from within. Voters respond to signals of change. That can be a harder ask for incumbent governments than it is for opposition parties, but it is not just possible – it’s essential. And it doesn’t have to be as stark as a change of leader: breaking with unpopular legacies and offering a credible, forward-looking vision can be as powerful as changing the person at the podium.
- Adapt to the moment. Beating populism isn’t just about clever messaging—it’s about staying alert to what’s happening in the world and adapting as things change. The parties that win are the ones that can adjust their tactics and refresh their approach, without losing sight of their core purpose, vision, and values. Without that clear foundation, adaptability can end up looking like inconsistency—twisting with every shift in public opinion. But when you stay true to your core, you can change your strategy as needed while still showing people what you believe in and where you want to take the country.
The Canadian Liberals’ political resurrection offers a powerful but not revolutionary lesson for progressive governments like the UK’s: the story is never over. Politics is not linear. And with the right story, credible and inspiring leadership, and the ability to adapt to changing times, progressives can not only survive the populist challenge—they can defeat it.
