If Trudeau loses the next election, it will be because of style, not policies.

In the battle of snark versus smarm, snark will win.

We all like to think our support for this or that political candidate stems from serious considerations of their policies, that we assess which policies best promote our own interests or the interests of the nation at large, and that we treat this decision-making process as a noble intellectual task of the highest order. 

But of course we know that isn’t true. Emotions lie at the base of everything. We hate a person viscerally, and then pretend we disagree with them. We feel joy at the every utterance of another, and pretend we approve of their analysis. The affect of a candidate - facial expression, posture, vocal intonation, even attractiveness - conjures in us a feeling of either delight or disgust, and then we move backwards to the policies to justify our feelings, for fear that we are acting like animals. 

There are people who love Justin Trudeau who hate Pierre Poilievre. There are those who love Poilievre who hate Trudeau. This has nothing, and will always have nothing, to do with passionate views on policy, whatever any partisan tells you. This has everything to do with affect, aura, the singular feel of the person and everything they say and do and exude. 

We are now presented with the perfect opportunity to observe the vast disparities in style and affect we find in the present contest between Trudeau and Poilievre. 

Pierre doesn't have the stature of Justin. He stands at 5’9” while Justin is 6’2”. Unlike Justin, Pierre doesn't look like he can twist himself into a pretzel and do yoga stands. He looks like he is built for more practical endeavours, like picking up his kids from school. 

Pierre, an orphan from a teenage pregnancy, was adopted by two school teachers. Justin’s mother, who partied at Studio 54, was the daughter of a Liberal MP, and his father was the Prime Minister for which the phrase Trudeaumania was coined, making him political royalty and a sensation before he took his first steps. 

Unlike Justin, with his wavy come-hither hair, Pierre's hair is straight and slicked back. Unlike Justin, Pierre is bespectacled. And while you will find no shortage of tweeters sharing pictures of Justin accompanied by schoolgirl sighs, I have yet to see a picture of Pierre shared by women gushing over his looks.

Unlike Justin, who “umms” and “ahhs” at what may be a more pleasing decibel to the ear, Pierre's pitch comes off as a bit jarring, though he speaks without hesitation. 

All these unconscious factors strike our alligator brains as we witness the political theatre of Trudeau versus Poilievre. For those who have been put off by the well-coiffed, agile, strutting magnificence of Justin Trudeau, Pierre Poilievre’s more mundane demeanour may offer some relief.  

Perhaps more important than any other factor is the speaker’s didactic style. 

It is undeniable that Justin's style is smarm, while Pierre’s is snark. This contrast plays out in Question Period every session. If Justin loses the next election, I suspect it will be due to his didactic style. In the age of the internet, in the battle of snark versus smarm, snark will win.

Cambridge defines smarm as "to be extremely polite or helpful or show a lot of respect in a way that is annoying or does not seem sincere." The Oxford English Dictionary describes it as “to behave in an ingratiating way in order to gain favour." Here is a comedic refresher from Justin Trudeau-impersonator Lucas Meyer for those who seek a visual representation of the concept of smarm. Inherent in smarm’s deaf and detached roteness, for those capable of detecting it, is arrogance and inauthenticity.

The Oxford English Dictionary, meanwhile, defines snark as "critical or mocking comments made in an indirect or sarcastic way." Snark is pointed, but it has in it the finding of fault, a criticism, an insight, and, often, wit. Most importantly, earned or not, it bears the mark of authenticity because it dares to critique the supposed consensus of the Smarmer. 

Justin recently spent a great deal of time smarming on the stage of the Liberal convention, in his hunt for Pierre, his Snark. Justin's smarming was detectable not only in his words, but also his expressions, his intonations. If you look closely, you will notice his mask of polite helpfulness and care is slipping. His teeth are clenching, each word more strained and breathy than the one before. This speech was like one final, exhausted performance of the sunny Trudeau persona. The smarm was strong in him. 

In a relaxed video response to Justin’s remarks at the convention, Pierre, the Snark, struck back. But you will notice that Pierre does not clench his teeth. His thoughts flow in a calm, natural progression. And, we can tell they are his own, and not a series of soundbytes approved by an expensive communications consultant. 

That is the authenticity of snark. It needs no cue card. At its best, it is informed, quick-witted, and critical. It challenges the self-satisfied smugness of the Smarmer. It’s not a coincidence that Pierre replaced Erin O’Toole, whose mild-mannered reasonability proved powerless against the smarm. The only weapon against smarm is snark.

While it is true that some Snarks are harmless, Justin may soon find himself softly and silently vanishing away - for this Snark is his Boojum, you see.