The Public Intellectual

Concordia's journalism program invited Michael Ignatieff to deliver a thirtieth anniversary lecture Friday night. The topic, "The Journalist as Public Intellectual," left something to be desired (though it did allow the speaker to get in some needed self-deprecation). On the shuttle ride over to the renewed Loyola campus, I tried to figure out what Ignatieff would talk about. His credentials, both as journalist and intellectual, are world class; the rumours of his eventual foray into federal politics would humidly surround his remarks, if not his body language. So I thought he might talk about the journalist and the intellectual as catalysts for meaningful social change; a nice set-up for an observer to enter the political fray.

I wondered how an activist journalist can make the transition from observer, dissenter and gadfly to defender of Her Royal Majesty. If Canada's political order is ready for it, what about the rest of us? Presumably, a Prime Minister Ignatieff would lead Canadians along an international human rights interventionist path - finding areas around the world where Canadian minds, might and money could make a meaningful difference, and deploying there. Would welcoming such an agenda signal a shift in Canadians' attitudes toward sacrifice? If so, will the political reality of minority governments and assymetrical federalism allow for more talk about a greater good? And how will Ignatieff's journalism fit in?

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Ignatieff enters a room with little of the fanfare that accompanies those who seek the highest office; he's no rock star, which means that, for now, he's got to win every room he enters - if he does have political ambitions. Early on in his remarks, it became clear that he does, and the answers he provided during the extended Q&A suggested that his political antenna is sharper than you might think.

Ignatieff approached the issue of the journalist as public intellectual well enough. It seemed that he too had trouble with the topic, though his points about it were well taken. Basically, he argued that the journalist must always ask himself, "Que sais-je?" - "What do I know?" That sense of self-awareness, of understanding the limitations of your knowledge as a stepping stone, not a restraint, is particularly worthwhile for those interesting in pursuing questions of truth and understanding and translating the answers into action. Ignatieff spoke of his journalistic endeavours in Kosovo as providing the spark for his shift toward international interventionism.

He addressed Iraq head on, accepting that he had cheerleaded the war into being (with a long liberal-hawk piece about the American empire in the New York Times Magazine in early 2003), but providing an acceptable rationale for it: he had spent time with the Kurds in Northern Iraq, learning firsthand of the atrocities committed by Saddam. Que sais-je. The experience of being there - of being a journalist - when combined with the work of the intellectual - taking the big view - left him with no choice but to advocate for Saddam's removal.

It's a shame that a man with such an excellent mind and such a grand reach could read the tea leaves about Iraq so badly. Yes, Saddam had to go. Yes, he was a toturer and a threat. But the faith that the pro-war crowd put in the American ability to gather intelligence and nation-build was a tragic disaster.

The question that will dog candidate Ignatieff more than any other is about his reading Iraq so badly. Were his critical abilities swayed by the influence of his admittedly short time in Northern Iraq? Does a man of his pedigree and prestige - groomed in the halls of Harvard and displayed on the BBC - have anything close to an ear to the ground? Will Canadians rally around a genius with the grandest of international ambitions?

OK, a few questions.

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In any case, Michael Ignatieff's counsel to the crowd Friday afternoon was very useful for a group of budding journalists (not to mention those who'd been around the block, and those of us who've taken lateral moves). It's most important to know what you know, as Don Rumsfeld might put it. But don't stop there. Step back, inform yourself of the context, the existing schools of thought, the critical perspectives you lack. And recognize that sometimes things don't go as planned: "Bieng there really matters, and being there can lead you wrong."

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Andrew Potter, co-author of "The Rebel Sell: Why the Culture Can't be Jammed," argues that the Michael Ignatieffs of the world should stick to better things than government. We treat our political leaders like garbage, thereby asking for the same in return. The talent of our country deserve better. And voting for a Michael Ignatieff wouldn't be easy to do. His comments about the CBC (a sacred institution) and the military (fund it and give it a raison d'être) gave his answers to the Q&A a politician's leitmotif. They also proved that his sense of judgment has recovered since the war began. But it's hard to imagine Ignatieff faring better than any potential challengers in the gladhanding that seems to matter in retail politics. His mind may be sharper than Trudeau's, but his flair, if it exists, hibernates. He'd be crazy to run and most of us would be crazy to vote for him.

That said, a section in James Surowiecki's excellent book "The Wisdom of Crowds" ends with a relevant thought: "Individually irrational acts, in other words, can produce a collectively rational outcome."