Rob Ford: The Death of a Canadian Cowboy

Like most people in the United States, I grew up on a steady diet of cowboy bravado. From Daniel Boone to Marion Berry to Donald Trump, aggressive male leaders have been revered here for centuries. We grant those men the right to engage in all sorts of behavior that ordinary citizens are taught to avoid. Infidelity is so common that it barely raises an eyebrow, and we even give the nod to violent brawling and hard drug usage.

It’s common for people in the US to believe that Canadians are more civilized than we are. Growing up in Chicago, I imagined Canada as a magical place, full of polite folks who spent a lot of time outdoors. Later, I was unsurprised to learn that the country had a socialized health care plan and a sensible attitude towards firearm regulation. Canadians seemed to lack the boorishness that characterized the average US citizen. They said “eh” a lot, and rarely swore or raised their voices. Too bad I was stuck in Illinois.

My vision of Canada persists to this day, in defiance of all evidence to the contrary. Over the years, I’ve witnessed many Canadians behave in a manner shockingly similar to their US neighbors-drinking to excess, swearing, punching each other at sporting events, and so on. This has whittled away at my idealism, yet failed to destroy it entirely.

Perhaps the greatest affront to my cuddly view of Canada was the 64th mayor of Toronto, Rob Ford. Ford flew in the face of the polite Canadian stereotype with such force that he shattered it into tiny pieces. During his 2010-2014 mayoral term, he was involved in numerous scandals, including public drunkenness, drinking and driving, and domestic violence. In 2013, in the midst of a gang-related investigation, the Toronto police department received a video of Ford enjoying a stash of crack cocaine.

Reports of Ford’s coke use had already surfaced in Gawker and the Toronto Star, and the mayor initially tried his best to deny the allegations. One of his associates, Sandro Lsi, was later charged with extortion for offering marijuana in exchange for the video. The police corroborated the existence of the video, and hinted that another, similar one had surfaced. Ford admitted to everything, explaining that he had ingested the crack during one of his “drunken stupors.”

To make matters worse, Ford was unabashedly unrepentant, refusing to resign his office in spite of mounting pressure to do so. Photos of him posing in a doorway with three gang members were circulated widely throughout the news outlets. It was later revealed that the drug house belonged to an old high school friend of Ford’s.

After the second video was released, Ford reacted like any good politician might, by firing his chief of staff, granting himself a leave of absence, and entering rehab. Presumably, his stint in the rehab center was helpful, and the staff encouraged him to share his feelings, embrace a deity, and eschew sinful behavior. Upon his release, Ford returned to his job, as if nothing unusual had happened. Since the Toronto City Council was prohibited by law from removing him from office, they had to settle for drastically reducing his duties and allocating them to somebody else.

Still, Ford hung in there like a stubborn wart. He registered for re-election in January 2014, only to be derailed by medical issues. He had developed an abdominal tumor, a by-product of a rare kind of stomach cancer. Ford decided to run for his old city council seat and leave the mayoral race to one of his brothers. However, the combination of illness, chemotherapy and radiation was too much for the plucky, corpulent mayor. He frequently proclaimed that he was feeling better, when in fact his condition was worsening steadily. By the end of 2015, Ford was forced to reveal that his tumor had grown larger. By doing so, he betrayed a vulnerability he had never displayed during his tenure as mayor. He had to admit that something was about to beat him.

Ford’s family stood beside him until the end, and he received many get-well wishes from citizens. These entreaties proved useless, as they so often did when he was alive. Rob Ford died on March 22 at Mt Sinai hospital, at the age of 46. His upcoming funeral is scheduled for March 30. It promises to be a very well-attended social occasion, with scores of people mourning his exodus from the planet.

This begs the question — why do we so willingly grant privileges to assholes who engage in despicable behavior? Though it’s tempting to believe that we do so because of tolerance, the truth is more sinister. We deeply admire such people, and wish we were more like them. This is the secret of Donald Trump’s personality, and it is the secret of Ford’s, as well. Most of us fear that our loved ones would leave us if we allowed our egos to run rampant. Ultimately, it is easier to remain within the boundaries of acceptable social interactions. So we go to our boring jobs, pay taxes, and avoid using crack. Deep down, though, we wish we had the guts to do whatever we want, untethered from the yoke of laws. When a guy like Ford comes along, we can’t stop staring in fascination at the train wreck.

Ford’s legacy will live on, but it’s too soon to say exactly how. Perhaps Justin Trudeau will recognize him in some manner, but this is hard for me to imagine. Meanwhile, the current mayor of Toronto, John Tory, has completely eschewed cocaine use and public intoxication. He has, in fact, enjoyed an utterly unremarkable term, one unmarred by scandal of any kind. Most likely, the people of Toronto feel relieved about this, but life in the city isn’t as exciting as it was during Ford’s tenure. He will be an impossible act to follow.