Dalton McGuinty is 70 years old today. For those who remember him as the 48-year-old Premier of Ontario in 2003, it’s hard to believe he’s that old. He looks pretty much the same. We recently spoke at Queen’s Park about his milestone birthday, and his exhilarating and tumultuous time as the province’s 24th premier.
Steve Paikin: What was it like walking into this building after so many years?
Dalton McGuinty: I was met by capable, friendly, security personnel who wouldn’t know me from any other passerby. They did not know me. Time marches on, right? It’s been 12 years. But I have all kinds of warm memories from this building.
Can you believe you’re about to turn 70?
No. But they’ve been full years, filled with opportunity and hand-to-hand combat. Life is so much more convenient and comfortable and anonymous in the stands. Why would you ever set foot in the arena? Because of all the rewards to be had there. And so, yeah, seven decades. Life goes on, right?
Are you where you want to be for a 70-year-old?
Yeah. I feel very lucky. I’ve reduced life to six questions I already know that I’m going to ask on my deathbed. 1: Was I a good son? 2: Was I a good brother? 3: Was I a good husband? 4: Was I a good dad? 5: Was I there for my friends? And 6: Did I just occupy space and consumer goods, or did I make a difference for others? There’s nothing in there about fame or fortune. To me, that’s what I want my life to be about.
How do you answer all the questions you just asked?
Well, I’d like to think I’m trying hard to be able to answer a ‘yes’ to all those.
What are you spending your time on these days?
I discovered that when I got out of politics, the first thing I had to do was get to know myself again. You spend so much time being consumed by the responsibilities of premier, you begin to think that you are the premier. It’s a job. It’s a great job. But you’re not going to have it forever. And when it’s gone, you’re actually going to be who you really are. So, I got to know myself again after getting out of politics and discovered that I’m quite entrepreneurial. And so, I have a buffet of things that I like to do. I serve as chair of the University of Ottawa Heart Institute. I am working on developing a new gap-year program for the City of Ottawa. Ideally, it will have a spillover and be adopted by other communities around the country. I do work with an education technology company, a rowing machine company, a cancer drug development company. I’ve just written another book that’s coming out shortly.
What’s it called?
“Be a Good One.” It’s based on a quote from [philosopher] Jeremy Bentham who once said: “Whatever you are in life, be a good one.†This one is dedicated to politicians.
And maybe my most important responsibility these days is, I’m a granddad. I’ve got six grandkids, and I’ve discovered that the interest is even sweeter than the principle. I’ve learned that my job is, first of all, I don’t have to raise a responsible citizen. That’s the job of the parents. My job is to introduce them to mischief they haven’t even thought of yet. So, they keep you young. We are so consumed by our immediate responsibilities in building a life that we miss a lot of the magic.
When I was practicing law, if my oldest, Carlene, turned over in her crib, my wife Terri would call me. And I’d say: “Great, I’m with a client. I’ll try to get back to you later.†But, if my daughter were to call me and tell me her daughter had turned over, I’d say, “Okay, we’re baking a cake, I’m coming over right now!â€
So, you get to understand, as you see life in greater relief, what’s truly precious and ephemeral and transient. And you begin to understand it more and treasure it more than you might otherwise have.
There’s a post-political life that many former premiers take: get ensconced at a very big law firm, and then sit on a dozen different boards of directors, and frankly, get rich. And you have not taken that path. Why not?
You got to do what moves you, inspires you, turns your crank. Life is short and you better spend it doing things that you really enjoy. And, you know, one of the things my dad said to me once — I’m sure I rolled my eyes when he told me this — he says, “You know what a boxer needs, Mick? [McGuinty’s nickname as a youth]. A boxer loves to fight. A boxer lives to fight. But a boxer needs something else. A boxer needs a manager who tells him or her what fights to fight, when to fight those fights, how to fight those fights, and where to fight those fights.â€
The point is, when you wake up in the morning, you’ve got to ask yourself two things: “What do I want?†That’s the easy question. But the manager in you has to ask, “What do I need today?â€
So, when I try to manage myself, I say: Do what you want to do, and what you need to do.
When does a Premier stop rethinking all of the decisions that he or she made and think, “You know, if only I’d done this,†or “I should have done that.†Do you still do that?
I don’t do that. I live with what I have done. I draw what lessons I can from that. I think back to my dad again. He had a Latin maxim for the family: “Ne umquam respicere,†which means “Never ever look back.†So, no, I don’t look back on any of my time in politics with deep regret. Could I have done some things better? Absolutely. Who couldn’t in any endeavor? But on the whole, I just feel very grateful. I mean, there are 16 million people in Ontario now. I got to serve as premier for ten years. What a privilege.
Let me ask you a tricky question. Your brother David is now in the federal cabinet [Defense Minister], but he had to wait a helluva long time to get there, probably because when you were in politics, you sucked so much oxygen out of the room, there may not have been space for another McGuinty. Did you cost any of your siblings their chance for a better political career?
I think there’s some truth to that. I think I may have overshadowed, eclipsed for a time, some of the progress that others might have made. But let me tell you a true story. There was a [federal] election [in 2004]. My brother Dave and I shared the same riding [Ottawa South]. I’ve got the provincial riding. He holds the federal riding. The election was shortly after we had adopted the HST. So, he’s loving me, right? So, I’m wearing a David McGuinty button. I scamper up some stairs, knock on a door, and a woman comes to the door. She says, “I see you, David. Don’t worry about it. You got my vote. But if that idiot Premier brother of yours keeps it up, it’s going to be another story next election!â€
You know what I said? “I’ll be sure to pass that on to the Premier ma’am,†and I kept moving. So, yeah, there was that reality, right? How could there not be.
Have you ever thought about coming back into politics?
Terri says, I can go back any time —- with a new wife. You have a certain shelf life in the business, and you are going to absorb toxins. The longer you are out to sea, the more barnacles attach themselves to the hull of your ship. At some point, you’ve got to say, okay, I’ve had enough.
You’ve got four kids. Might there be a third generation of McGuintys who are interested in public life?
I think they’re all too smart. No, I’m joking. If they want to get in, and they wanted to get in for the right reasons, to do some good for the community, you never know.
You have had some high highs and some low lows. Would you do it again?
Absolutely. In a minute. The real privilege of government is you get to define the public interest. That’s heady stuff. What do you think is the best for all of us? And to be in a position to define that and flesh that out and lend shape to it and put in place policies. To me it was just so exceptionally rewarding.
Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request.
There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again.
You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our and . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google and apply.
Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page.
To join the conversation set a first and last name in your user profile.
Sign in or register for free to join the Conversation