For all the noise, the talking heads, the threads, and the spin, the most fascinating part of the recent Conservative loss in Canada isn’t political – it’s organizational. It’s a textbook case in failed change management, delivered in real-time, by a party that had all the momentum, all the dissatisfaction in its favour, and yet somehow lost the plot right when it needed to write a new chapter.
This isn’t about left or right, about ideology or identity. This is about the mechanics of human systems. About timing, tone, transition. The kind of things we deal with when leading teams, managing change, or guiding organizations through uncertain terrain. The Conservative Party of Canada, especially under Pierre Poilievre, didn’t just lose an election – it missed the emotional pivot of a country ready for something different, but not quite what they had to offer.
Let me take a step back.
For the better part of the last few years, the Conservative strategy has centered around one man: Justin Trudeau. The brand of the Prime Minister had, by then, become weighed down by perceived economic mismanagement, pandemic fatigue, and a sense that he’d overstayed his welcome. It wasn’t entirely irrational. Canadians were frustrated, and the anger had found a vessel. Pierre Poilievre leaned into that with full force – every speech, every soundbite, every social media clip weaponized against Trudeau. It worked – until it didn’t.
Because then came the plot twist.
In a move straight out of a strategist’s playbook, the Liberals brought in Mark Carney. Clean-cut. Measured. World Bank credibility. Economic heavyweight. But more than anything, not Justin Trudeau. In less than a month, the Liberals pulled off a narrative reboot, swapping out the fatigued face of the party without dismantling the party itself. Suddenly, the oxygen left the room. The Conservative attack machine was geared for a man who was no longer the opponent. And yet, the messaging didn’t change. The volume didn’t drop. The tone didn’t evolve. It was as if the band kept playing even after the music had stopped.
This is where we enter the territory of change management – not as theory, but as human psychology.
Effective change requires recognizing when the ground has shifted beneath your feet, and then having the humility – and agility – to recalibrate. That’s lesson number one in every leadership workshop, boardroom pivot, or life transition. You don’t get to keep fighting yesterday’s battle with tomorrow’s tools.
To make my case, let me draw on three key steps from John Kotter’s widely taught 8-step framework for change management – steps that directly relate to timing and leadership choices, which seemed to slip through the cracks for the Conservatives.
Step one is establish a sense of urgency.
The Conservatives had that in spades. Canadians were ready for something new. But urgency isn’t a permanent state. It must be grounded in relevance, and relevance shifted the moment Trudeau stepped down.
That’s when step two should have kicked in: build a guiding coalition.
Expand the voices. Signal a different kind of leadership. Instead, it was business as usual, a narrow top-down push led by Poilievre’s hard edges and viral videos.
Step three is develop a vision and strategy.
But the platform wasn’t released in time. Canadians didn’t know what the Conservatives stood for, only what they stood against. And that’s fine if your opponent is deeply unpopular. But what if your opponent is now a well-spoken former central banker who hasn’t yet governed and, critically, hasn’t had time to be judged?
Carney understood something fundamental that Poilievre either underestimated or refused to acknowledge: Canadians don’t like confrontation. Not really. We tolerate debate. We endure frustration. But we don’t revel in conflict. Especially not when the threat landscape – Trump, economic headwinds, global uncertainty – is already making people feel uneasy. In that context, voters are not necessarily seeking revolution. They want competence. They want calm.
And so, Carney gave them exactly that. Within his first weeks, he made a few small but potent announcements: tweaks to the carbon tax, adjustments to capital gains. Nothing radical. Nothing that moved the economic needle in a material way. But that wasn’t the point. The point was emotional. He was signalling: I hear you. It was a masterstroke of symbolic wins – a known technique in change management that builds momentum and gives people something to believe in, even if it’s only surface-level at first. And by calling an election right away, he didn’t give Canadians too much time to ponder or dig deeper. What mattered was obvious: he wasn’t Trudeau, and he wasn’t going to lead like Trudeau.
Meanwhile, the Conservatives kept hammering the same message, seemingly unaware that the emotional climate had shifted. Negativity had served its purpose when Trudeau was the villain. But the, projected and perceived, villain had now exited the stage. And without a new story to tell, the criticism began to sound petty. Canadians, unsure about Carney but tired of the yelling, leaned into the new unknown because at least it didn’t feel chaotic.
This is what happens when you treat politics like a product campaign, instead of as a cultural conversation. You lose sight of the audience. You forget to evolve with the moment. And most dangerously, you mistake noise for narrative. The Conservatives, if I’m honest, were so focused on winning the argument, they forgot to read the room.
And here’s what’s most interesting to me – not just as someone who observes leadership, but someone who coaches it: this, in my humble opinion, wasn’t a tactical loss. It was a cultural one. The Conservatives didn’t just fail to beat the Liberals. They failed to emotionally transition a country that was already on the move.
You see this all the time in organizations. A new CEO arrives. The old guard keeps playing from the legacy playbook. They keep solving for problems that no longer matter, unaware that what employees – or customers – really want is a sense of safety, clarity, and emotional renewal. That’s the job of leadership: not just to decide the change, but to manage the journey through it.
The Conservatives, despite having months – if not years – to build a sense of what a post-Trudeau Canada might look like, didn’t prepare their audience. They offered little vision, limited reassurance, and few specifics until it was too late. It’s as if they expected the country to fall into their lap, simply because the other guy had run his course.
But change doesn’t work that way.
People don’t move just because the old thing broke. They move when the new thing makes sense and makes them feel safe. Carney made just enough sense, and just enough people feel safe, to pull it off.
There’s a lesson here beyond politics. In fact, there are many. About tone. About timing. About knowing when to pivot. About how negativity may fuel movements, but rarely sustains them. And about the real cost of failing to meet people where they are, rather than where you think they should be.
To be fair, none of this is simple. Leadership in moments of transition rarely is. It takes discipline, empathy, and the courage to let go of what used to work. But when you don’t, when you push the same message through a different world, you’re not leading change – you’re resisting it. And as we just saw, that resistance can cost you everything.
Canada didn’t necessarily fall in love with Carney. But they knew, instinctively, that Poilievre’s voice belonged to a different moment. And when the moment changed, so did the mood. That’s not just politics. That’s human nature. And understanding it is the first step in leading anyone – anywhere – through change.
And maybe that’s what this whole thing was really about. Not who had the better plan. But who understood the emotional journey a country was on – and who was willing to walk with them.
The Conservatives didn’t. At least not this time. But maybe they’ll read the room differently next time around.
And maybe, so will we.