Oakville North—Burlington Liberal MP Pam Damoff, who was first elected in 2015, isn’t running for re-election because of disrespectful dialogue, a toxic drive for social media likes and threats and misogyny online and in public. Photo: Dave Chan
For politicians, having a thick skin is necessary. Oakville North—Burlington Liberal MP Pam Damoff, who was first elected in 2015, thought she was used to the criticism and scrutiny that comes with the job. She says the pandemic changed that.
In May, she announced she won’t run for re-election, calling out disrespectful dialogue, a toxic drive for social media “likes” and threats and misogyny online and in public.
“It feels really vulnerable to be out there,” Damoff says during an interview on Parliament Hill. “And it's a sad reflection when somebody approaches me in public and my first thought is ‘Oh, no.’ I get nervous, as opposed to thinking, ‘This person just wants to chat.’”
Damoff isn’t the first politician to pack it in over incivility. Former Liberal cabinet minister Catherine McKenna quit in 2021 after enduring six years of harassment, which ranged from being called “Climate Barbie” to public confrontations when she was with her children.
Political spouses have also been affected. In 2022, Jeremy MacKenzie, the leader of the Canadian far-right group Diagolon, made threats on social media, suggesting he and a guest rape Anaida Poilievre, wife of now-Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre, as a power move.
Issuing threats in politics has become normalized, says Chris Tenove, assistant director for the Centre for the Study of Democratic Institutions at the University of British Columbia.
“For politicians and most people, there isn't an easy separation between what happens online and offline. Anyone who's being hostile and aggressive online, [the] concern is that person will show up at the constituency office or somewhere else.” He says some people or groups seem “incapable of finding the line” between protesting or criticizing policies and intimidating or disparaging individuals.
It’s changing how politicians interact with their constituents.
“On the advice of parliamentary protective services, we're supposed to take in-person meetings by appointment only,” Damoff says. “Most of the stuff we do is virtual now, unless I know who the person is.”
Her riding office is in a building with several medical offices. She says people used to stop by after their doctor’s appointments.
“That doesn't happen anymore,” she says. “The door's locked and there’s a security system.”
The anger and contempt aren’t limited to federal politics.
Pierre Leroux, the mayor of Russell, Ont., stepped down in April to take a less public role with The Nation municipality. The move came after he posted online about the abuse he’s endured.
“When I got into politics [in 2010], one of my strongest points was engagement and social media,” he says. “I got off of social media completely when I left the role and it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done.”
He’s not the only mayor to exit politics this year. In February, Gatineau Mayor France Bélisle resigned after receiving death threats. According to the Union des municipalités du Québec, she’s one of at least 741 elected municipal leaders who have quit since 2021, many saying they left because of intimidation and harassment.
To slow the tide of resignations, the Quebec legislature recently adopted a controversial law that includes fines for anyone who intimidates a politician and allows officials to ask for injunctions against harassers.
Pierre Leroux, the mayor of Russell, stepped down in April after posting an online rant about the abuse he endured on the job.
Fears that online threats could become real-world violence have resulted in some MPs and senators now carrying panic buttons. In January, CBC reported that the RCMP had already spent a record $2.5 million on security for MPs in the 2023-24 fiscal year — which doesn’t include the cost of protecting the prime minister.
Even public servants have faced harassment. As part of the Standing Committee on Public Safety and National Security, Damoff reviewed Bill C-21, gun control legislation that’s now law. She says some Conservative MPs were “ramping up outrage” for the cameras and had to be scolded several times by the chair for how they were questioning officials from the departments of Justice and Public Safety.
Civil servants “were getting death threats for doing their job,” she says. “It was really disturbing.”
Lori Turnbull, director of the School of Public Administration and an associate professor of political science at Dalhousie University, doesn’t think there’s an easy fix to the issue. She says the economy, housing and affordability crises, and the polarizing effects of the pandemic have created conditions in which harassment and misinformation thrive.
She also points to changes in how political parties are financed. In 2004, Jean Chrétien ended corporate and trade union donations. In 2015, the per-vote subsidy was eliminated. Political parties are left scrambling for individual donations. Turnbull says even though the majority of Canadians don’t like inflammatory tweets, politicians can rack up cash and votes from a small, angry minority.
“In a swing riding, that could be enough people to make the difference between whether you come first or second,” she says. “And all that matters in our elections is whether you come first.”
It’s created a situation where some politicians are contributing to the toxic culture that’s threatening their safety.
With the push to win votes and donations, there’s little incentive for politicians to tone down the rhetoric. Turnbull worries that the only way we’ll have a real conversation about the issue is if someone gets seriously injured or killed because of a political protest.
Even if we avoid that, she says lack of civility can discourage people from running for office. And if voters are turned off, it could get to a point where voter turnout is so low it will bring the legitimacy of our elections into question.
What she’d like to see is more action from leadership.
“We have to find a way to choose political leaders who are willing to take risks and police their own members' behaviour,” she says. Party leaders have the authority to kick people out of caucus or assign them to an unwanted House duty or committee if they’re out of line. Turnbull asks, “Why not use some of that power for good?”
Tenove agrees, adding all parties and their members need to commit to being respectful, it can’t be one party “telling the others to play nice while their leader gets out the brass knuckles.”
He points out other ways to push back against the problem. Individuals can call out toxic behaviour. Policymakers can clarify laws and set a national standard so police responses to harassment are consistent. He says the proposed Online Harms Act, which aims to define and address hate speech on the internet, could help hold social media platforms accountable for the harmful content they host.
For Damoff, it’s encouraging that people are talking about the issue. And despite the vitriol she’s received, she considers herself lucky to continue to serve and represent her community, at least for now.
“It's hard work. But there are opportunities to make a big difference,” she says. “I just think people need to go in with their eyes wide open as to what it's going to be like, particularly for women.”
Leroux says he also found his tenure as councillor and mayor rewarding, despite the trolls. He’s hopeful that more young people will get into politics and clean up the toxic culture.
One of those young persons might be his son, Jeremy. He’s watched Leroux’s political career since he was six, and recently said he’d like to run as a councillor one day.
“I was like, you’ve got to be ready for this,” Leroux says. “But I was proud.”