(Image credit: CFJC)

By Mel Rothenburger

ARMCHAIR MAYOR

ROTHENBURGER: The hidden pain of all those candidates who run and lose

Nov 5, 2022 | 7:22 AM

INAUGURAL MEETINGS are, in essence, a victory celebration for the winners. Throughout the province, City councils, regional district boards and school boards have been holding their inaugural meetings to swear in their new members.

This week, Kamloops council held its meeting; Monday, the Kamloops-Thompson school board will do the same, followed in a week and a half by the Thompson-Nicola Regional District. For newly elected or re-elected, it’s a happy time as they look forward to holding public office.

They have plenty of help from the public and the pundits figuring out their roles. During the past two weeks, they’ve been advised, chastised and sermonized by those who think they know how the job should be done.

They’re told to be honest, accountable and respectful, and to learn the complicated rules and systems of municipal governance before they try to do too much. Most of all, they’re admonished to work together in harmony. Well, OK, good advice. But how about some advice for the losers?

The vast majority of people who run for public office, after all, lose. They aren’t losers in the pejorative sense; running for office takes guts. But the fact remains, they ran a race and fell short. There’s a deep sense of personal loss that accompanies the loss on the ballot.

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That loss is experienced to different degrees depending on which category of candidate you’re in. For those who frequently run with little real chance of winning, the loss may be slight.

You might have no name recognition, no experience and no community credentials but keep running more or less for the enjoyment of being part of the process and the hope that what you say might eventually click with voters. When you find your name towards the bottom of the candidates’ roster on election night, it’s no surprise.

The election campaign was simply an interlude in your life, something you did for a summer and autumn. Still, it hurts at least a little. For others, losing has deeper implications. It’s bad enough if you ran hard, gave it your all and had real hope that you could get in there and get something done.

If you’re an incumbent, the sense of loss is even greater. First, there’s the inescapable feeling of rejection. There will be second-guessing about what you could have done differently.

Most of all, you will miss being at the table where decisions are made. You will miss being on a first-name basis with cabinet ministers, and miss lobbying for projects and concepts you hold dear. You might even miss the many public engagements you used to be invited to, where your presence was invariably acknowledged by the hosts.

Probably, you’ll miss the public venue you once had for making speeches and comments, whether it be cutting a ribbon on a new building or imparting your wisdom on a major public issue. If you’re the type who enjoys the conference scene, you’ll miss the opportunities to get together with like-minded civic politicians to chew the fat over all the challenges facing communities.

When you’re out of office, the attention you once commanded is gone. The media stop calling. You’re no longer acknowledged at public gatherings. Suddenly, the connections you had with those in power are severed. You’re just another average Joe or Josephine with no more influence over what happens than anyone else. It’s somewhat the same for those who choose to leave, who decide not to run again.

Though you left on their own terms, there will be days when you miss it. You’ll shake your head and think about how a particular issue might have been handled better if you were still in office. Citizens have many ways to make their views known — social media, letters to the editor, public hearings, how they cast their votes every four years — but none is as “good” as being able to raise your hand to determine the outcome of something.

After he left provincial politics of his own accord, Terry Lake joked, “I used to be somebody.” It bears repeating that politics is an addiction. It gets in your blood. That’s why politicians keep running. It’s why Lake tried a comeback in federal politics after leaving the B.C. Legislature.

It’s why Nancy Bepple kept running again at various levels until she found success in the election just finished. Why John Ranta ran again after losing the previous mayoral election in Cache Creek. It’s why Arjun Singh ran again when he lost his seat years ago after one term.

And why he’ll very likely run again, whether he knows it or not at this point. Politics is rough. It’s a lot more fun winning than losing. When you lose, you have to grin and bear it. You have to congratulate your opponents and wish them well, and mean it. Like any other kind of personal loss, there’s no clear formula for dealing with the pain of loss at the polls. It’s not a linear process.

You might not ever get over it entirely. And you deal with it all alone — there are no therapy groups for defeated politicians. But though you might never hear us say it, you deserve our respect for trying, and being willing to risk that pain.

Mel Rothenburger is a former mayor of Kamloops and a retired newspaper editor. He is a regular contributor to CFJC Today, publishes the ArmchairMayor.ca opinion website, and is a director on the Thompson-Nicola Regional District board. He can be reached at mrothenburger@armchairmayor.ca.