From Maverick to Mascot: Nenshi's Submission to the New NDP

Politicians often contradict their past or present positions—it's the nature of the beast in politics. Pivoting from set political stances usually demands a kind of wilful blindness, and perhaps even cognitive dissonance. In his quest for political survival, former Calgary mayor Naheed Nenshi often traps himself in these mental loops.

Last week, he came out swinging at Alberta Premier Danielle Smith for her strong declarations that Alberta will no longer tolerate Ottawa’s treatment of its key economic engines: oil and gas, and agrifoods. She outlined a plan to counter the Ottawa trap. Despite Smith’s explicit denials, Nenshi labelled her “a separatist.” Ironically, while accusing the premier of separatist leanings, Nenshi himself was exploring ways to distance Alberta’s NDP from its federal counterpart, perhaps out of fear that the national party’s fading fortunes might soon haunt him too.

The federal Neodemocrats had their heyday at the turn of the century when Jack Layton was their leader, but they have been in free fall since he passed away and was replaced by former Quebec Liberal Thomas Mulcair, and later by former Ontario Liberal Jagmeet Singh. They have consistently lost electoral ground in every election since, reaching their lowest showing in 2025.

Some Albertans may be trying to secede from their dysfunctional countrymen to address structural disparities within the federation. There are fundamental issues at stake for the future of Alberta. That should not be equated with Nenshi’s desire to save his political skin, however. He still does not have a seat in the Legislature. Meanwhile, Albertans can expect a few spectacles as Nenshi navigates the turbulent waters of this landlocked political landscape.

Take, for instance, Nenshi’s performance on identitarian politics.

A few months ago, I noticed a bit of a transformation with former Calgary mayor Naheed Nenshi, now the leader of the provincial NDP opposition in Alberta. As reflected in the national polls, the NDP abandoned its Christian and labour roots a few years ago. It traded them for the new ideological vision grounded in radical environmentalism and sexual identity issues. It has been pretending that somehow such cultish redirection brought them to the cutting edge of politics and human rights. To add more confusion, the NDP are now staunchly anti-semitic supporters of the Hamas death cult, a preference that runs into direct conflict with the sexual identity fantasies—more cognitive dissonance.

Naheed Nenshi and Janis Irwin speaking from the Rotunda

The Purple Politics of Submission

Naheed Nenshi was Mayor of Calgary for 11 years—long enough to earn praise from the downtown commentariat and enough rope to hang a once-proud city budget with his own branding.

He carved his political path, like so many Prairie populists before him, claiming he didn’t care for partisan politics, while effectively carving out a party of one, loyal only to himself in City Hall. So committed was he to the myth of non-partisanship that he chose purple as his colour, arguing that it is a blend of red and blue. He even endured the inevitable Barney jokes of the rotund dinosaur. But purple, as it turns out, was a useful camouflage: it was neither Liberal red nor Conservative blue, but it masked a deepening shade of progressive political ambition.

He flirted with identity politics on the margins but never quite consummated the relationship, proudly embracing the label of “first Muslim mayor” of a major North American city, while pointedly distancing himself from suggestions that he was “the gay Muslim mayor.” In an interview with Jann Arden in the Fall of 2024, he referred to an ex of his, for whom Nenshi used “she” as a pronoun, but who knows exactly what that means these days. If there was a coming out, it was always about his ideas, never his orientation. That political calculation paid off. He resisted the temptations of identity theatre even as others tried to cast him in the lead.

However, Nenshi’s claim of neutrality was always highly selective. He routinely inserted himself into federal and provincial affairs, especially when it involved cheerleading for Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. There was no shortage of Trudeau photo-ops with the affable mayor at his side—props in a mutual admiration society.

But since announcing his leadership bid of Alberta’s NDP in 2024, that symbiosis went suspiciously quiet—no fresh snapshots with Trudeau; no fresh ones with Jagmeet Singh. Perhaps Rachel Notley advised Nenshi to keep his progressive dance card a little less... flamboyant.

What Nenshi Left Behind in Calgary

The legacy? A city in fiscal and moral drift. Under Nenshi’s mayoralty:

• Spending ballooned while services stagnated. The city’s operating budget jumped from $2.7 billion in 2010 to over $4.3 billion by 2021—a 59% increase, outpacing inflation and population growth. Meanwhile, core infrastructure aged and homelessness increased by 40% between 2014 and 2019.

• Downtown was hollowed out. Despite grandiose visions and multi-million-dollar plans to "revitalize" the core, by 2021, over 30% of downtown office space was vacant, one of the highest rates in North America. The tax base collapsed. Nenshi’s team responded by shifting tax burdens onto small businesses outside the core, squeezing mom-and-pop shops to subsidize failed utopian real estate dreams.

• Crime surged. By 2021, Calgary saw a 34% increase in violent crime over five years. Downtown became a cautionary tale of progressive neglect: safe injection sites, open drug use, and the habitual police understaffing of high-crime zones.

• Calgary Transit fell into disrepair, plagued by safety concerns and ridership collapse. Riders voted with their feet.

This was all during record intergovernmental transfers to municipalities from the federal Liberals and provincial NDP. Nenshi didn't suffer from austerity (He hiked taxes during the oil price slump in 2015)—he suffered from ideology and a chronic belief in his branding.

These days, the man who once resisted identity politics for years seems increasingly defined by them. His opponents failed to tether him to identity issues, but his new political correligionists successfully managed that coup. Consider an appearance with Janis Irwin inside the Rotunda at the Legislature last year.

The Theatre of the Rotunda.

Politics always involves performance, but not all performances are created equal.

Cue Janis Irwin, NDP MLA and standard-bearer for sexual-gender progressivism. In a video posted on social media (November 2, 2024), she shares the stage—awkwardly—with Naheed Nenshi, her party leader. The exercise and recording are meant as a rebuke to Premier Danielle Smith’s policies regarding “trans youth.” To most parents in Alberta, these policies are a measured attempt to reintroduce some sanity and parental consent into gender transitions for minors—a step away from the medical experimentation of ideological activists that have harmed so many minors.

The video opens up with Nenshi looking side to side, pretending hard to make eye contact with a surrounding scrum of journalists but avoiding it.

Naheed: There were some 4,500 emails in my email box this week [pauses and swallows hard, while shyly looking around]. They were not form letters. Every single one of them was a personal letter from someone deeply hurt by this legislation. I've never seen anything like it.

Irwin [comes to the forefront while Naheed looks on semi stunned with eyes closed. Her voices affects shaking]: As you said, these aren't form letters. These are real people impacted by this legislation.

Naheed [comes into the shot with eyes closed again]: Not just from trans people, not just from people in the community or parents of people in the community, but from Albertans of every stripe.

Irwin: They're teachers, they're parents, they're youth, people from all corners of this province…

Naheed [eyes closed and syncopatic, making a herculean effort to sound sombre and dramatic]: …saying, I just.don't.feel.safe.here. I don't know if I can have a future here. For the first time in my life [looking down onto the floor time and again for more effect], I'm thinking about this place as I love, that I love so much, that I put so much into, is a place that doesn't want me here [purses his lips].

Irwin [with more affected pathos in her voice, looking behind her shoulders to one side and the other while the camera cuts to show other NDP MLAs]: And it's hard, and I get it, and I don't begrudge anybody who thinks they might have to leave this province. But they need to know that they've got a whole lot of MLAs here fighting for them, and they've got a whole lot of people all across this province who are here for them as well.

Nenshi: Our job as the government in waiting is to show people there's a better alternative. We want everyone, not just people in the LGBTQ2S plus community, but every Albertan, to know they don't have to worry about whether their rights are next to be stripped. This government in waiting [looking down again] will always look after every single person's right to live a meaningful [here he purses his lips in anguish for more painful emphasis] life on this land.

Irwin: To any trans folks who are watching this, who are seeing what's happening in this chamber, we see you, you matter, and we love you, and we won't stop fighting for you [the video cuts just after Irwin looks down to convey some sort of shame, and swallows hard making a painful face].

Throughout the video, Nenshi appears stiff, even a bit disturbed. He presents his lines like an ISIS hostage blinking out Morse code for the rest of the world to understand his captivity. Half the time, his eyes are closed, as if scouring the recesses of his mind for the lines he is supposed to deliver. Throughout the whole exercise, Nanshi kept his hands in his pockets, his shoulders pulled back, making an effort to stand straight, fighting an urge to slouch. He looks comatose, standing in the background every time Irwin speaks. Here is the party leader having to play second fiddle to Irwin, and he does not look enthusiastic in the role of man prop in the background. The viewer never gets to see his hands and standard mannerisms, waving, pointing, jabbing. None of that.

So what? Have you seen other videos of Nenshi? His hands are typically very busy when he speaks, and the topic animates him. But at times, and this is a tell of his, his hands are in his pockets when he is not energized. What does that mean?

The literature on hands in pockets is prolific, and there is some consensus about what it means: Keeping hands in pockets while talking can signal various things, often indicating a reserved or closed-off attitude. It could suggest discomfort, disinterest, or an unwillingness to engage with the other person fully.

Alternatively, it might be an attempt to reduce tension or create a sense of safety, especially if the person feels anxious or insecure. In some cultures, it may even be perceived as arrogant or disrespectful. Some people may put their hands in their pockets out of boredom or lack of interest. It suggests that they aren't fully engaged in the conversation. If someone suddenly puts their hands in their pockets while speaking with you, you can assume that your speech is boring to them.

This is not the engaging, energetic, confident mayor of the past but a man forced to pledge fealty to a dogma he once avoided. Standing next to Irwin, he appears captive.

No one is forcing Nenshi, of course. He is a free man in a presumably free party. But the price of leadership in Alberta’s NDP now includes a public, performative allegiance to sexual-gender politics, and to the party’s elite players who have made their identities central to their political brands.

Janis Irwin and others like her—adept in mining sexuality for career capital—are skilled in emotional theatre. These are the bullies of inclusion we have seen before, and they seem to have domesticated their new “leader.” Tears on command. Righteous outrage when opposed. Moral coercion dressed as compassion. They don't merely seek allies; they demand disciples.

And Nenshi? Once the autonomous populist, he now submits, risking his carefully built political brand in hopes of leading a party that may never fully embrace him.