Apologies to the World’s Greatest Mayor but Naheed Nenshi is Hardly Perfect

In the four and a half years that Naheed Nenshi has been mayor of Calgary, it's been more than well established that he's the coolest municipal official in the country. (Sorry, Jim Watson of Ottawa.) It's an odd suggestion, to be sure—bylaws, amendments, and budgets tend to be deeply dull for those who don't spend their afternoons watching Question Period on CPAC or critiquing the accuracy of Parks & Recreation's depiction of civic politics.

Somehow, Nenshi's figured it out. A glowing profile in Marketing magazine. An interview with Richard Florida for The Atlantic's CityLab. A segment on the Rick Mercer Report. Oh, and the esoteric World Mayor Prize. All those honours were bestowed upon the 43-year-old in the past year alone, cementing his Obama-like status as an astute legislator with a sleek public image. (It's worth noting that Nenshi has a better following than Obama on Twitter based on the number of citizens he governs: 20 percent vs. 17.8 percent.) Not bad for a former business professor with a less-than-stellar average ranking of 2.8 on RateMyProfessors.

But that doesn't mean the Purple Revolution's proceeding without interruption. Over the past few months, a handful of tax-averse councillors have started publicly warring with Nenshi. A first-term councillor actually suggested in a council meeting that a plaque be given to Shane Homes, the company whose CEO is currently suing the mayor for defamation. Another junior councillor (and global warming-denier) painted him as being divisive. There are plenty of other examples. But in short: shit's getting personal.

Paul Fairie, who's currently teaching a class on local government at the University of Calgary, says of the situation: "Building a coalition is important, but ultimately it is politics and it is OK to have divisions on council. It doesn't necessarily mean that it's dysfunctional if people are opposed to one another."

Fairie's incidental use of the word "dysfunctional" is of particular significance. Back in 2012, the mayor hired a clinical psychologist to help what he dubbed a "dysfunctional" council to get along. It's a theme of sorts. Nenshi has many great ideas (in the eyes of an urban progressive voter, that is). If council doesn't vote for them, the mayor implies that the system's broken—or "partisan," like he recently told an audience in Halifax, an insinuation that caused a backlash in council.

"The mayor's not the boss of council: he's the first among equals," says Jeromy Farkas, a research fellow at the Manning Foundation for Democratic Education. "What he did in Halifax was really unprecedented. He really raised the stakes. Never before has one of our mayors gone to another city and broadcast on national news that our council is dysfunctional."

Farkas, who also runs the foundation's highly informative Council Tracker, notes that Nenshi's insinuation that council is "partisan" just isn't accurate. Instead, he suggests that councillors work together depending on the issue. In the case of individual secondary suite applications (i.e. allowing homeowners to add a basement apartment or whatnot), only one councillor has voted negative every time. It's a mistake, Farkas says, to conflate disagreement with obstruction.

The lack of rigid voting habits is something Fairie has noticed via his work on CityBlocs, a project that converts voting patterns into easy-to-read graphics. Compared with other cities, he says, Calgary's doing quite alright. Especially compared to the divisive and often counterproductive Toronto city council during the "Mayor Rob Ford crisis." But Coun. Ray Jones, who's represented Ward 5 since 1993, hints at the possibility of that changing due to recent events.

"I never saw former mayors [Al] Duerr or [Dave] Bronconnier call out their council colleagues before," he says. "That's something that's new. I don't necessarily think it's a good idea because at some point in time we all have to get along. I'm hoping people are voting not because of a spat, but because it's either a good or a bad project."

Calgary voters are very much into reminiscing about the good ol' days. Bronconnier, the city's mayor from 2001 to 2010, was legendary, in policy wonk circles at least, for his phrase, "as long as you have eight votes you can control whatever happens." He'd always get those eight; Jones mentions that if "Bronco" (the painfully Calgarian nickname he rolled with) would only forward a motion if those votes were guaranteed.

It's a strategy that obviously only works if you've got a party-like blocs behind you. Such "fiefdoms," as Ward 8 representative Coun. Evan Woolley jokingly refers to them, take time and discipline to curate. But Jones says, "I don't think Nenshi's ever been to my office." Similarly, Coun. Diane Colley-Urquhart, delegate for Ward 13, suggests that "Naheed doesn't lobby for votes," electing instead to let the superior perspectives rise to the top in the chambers.

On the other hand, Nenshi promotes open debate. Very open debate, in fact—a recent report suggests that overtime costs about $10,000 per session, something new to this council. "I think the other difference I experience with him is that he's always open to what your opinions are," says Colley-Urquhart, who notes that Bronconnier's council was far more partisan than the current. "He's a policy geek. He really loves to hear what your ideas are."

Efficiency was essentially guaranteed under Bronconnier's watch, with debate unnecessary due to the aforementioned blocs. Now, items that should take 30 seconds to pass often take over an hour, according to Jones, who adds that "decorum went out the window."

Marc Henry, Bronconnier's former chief of staff and president of ThinkHQ Public Affairs, says of the extensive debate: "Discussions in council today tend to be a little bit more freewheeling and longer. People arguing multiple times and maybe not being quite as strict with the procedure bylaw as they used to. It's a different mayor, different of leadership."

Even with the extra verbosity, Nenshi's managed to push through many of his goals set during his inaugural campaign, including implementing a poverty-reduction strategy, constructing the airport tunnel, and getting the New Central Library underway, just to name a few. Passing the most recent budget was a massive success. But there have been misses. Take the issue of secondary suites, the first on the list of Nenshi's 12 "Better Ideas" and a critically important stopgap for the crippling housing crisis.

Despite widespread support from business and residents, the motion to legalize suites in existing neighbourhoods was shot down in an eight-to-seven vote. Prior to the session, Nenshi had petitioned business leaders to hound some of the councillors critical of the motion in order to change their minds. The tactic didn't work. It may have even backfired. Partway through the proceedings, Nenshi stated that he would boycott further discussions on the subject if the motion didn't go through.

Ivan Zendel, the clinical psychologist Nenshi brought into council back in 2012, warns against such a response to disagreement: "When you leave the room and talk to the public, it becomes critical that those many voices coalesce into a single voice and work together to make those things happen, whatever is decided," he says.

But there appears to be growing concerns that the "single voice" often seems to be Nenshi's, not council's. Fairie explains that Canada features a "weak mayor" system, with the mayor's responsibilities restricted to serving as a normal councillor, chairing meetings and performing ceremonial functions. That means Nenshi's powers to push through ideas like secondary suites or eliminating hidden subsidies for suburban developers, can become tricky. Since he doesn't have veto power like "strong" mayors do, that leaves a couple of options: there's the Rob Ford approach, bullishly trying to stop the "gravy train" with strong-arm tactics; or a more diplomatic approach founded in strong persuasive techniques. At times, it can be tough to tell where Nenshi falls on that spectrum. He's got unparalleled wit and charisma. But implying fellow council members get drunk on the job doesn't help his mission.

Nenshi is indeed an excellent ambassador, but the voices on the opposite side of the spectrum don't always seem to get the same adoration.

Chris Harper, a business consultant who missed out on becoming Ward 1 councillor by 87 votes in 2013 (and who also got in a bizarre Twitter spat with Nenshi during the election over whether Harper was an operative for the Manning Centre), notes: "The celebrity status is a good thing for the city. But what I'm not a big fan of is how he sometimes uses it to punish or potentially scare councillors into going in particular direction. That's where I start to have a concern with it."

Nenshi's camp turned down an interview request for this article.

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