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resist those who self-select for public office? Do Canadians prefer a form of community endorsement and a candidacy unsullied by ambition? Or does the reluctance to admit to political ambition speak of something more pernicious: that a belief that politics, unlike most other demanding professions, is something for which one cannot admit ambition? No doubt it’s a reflection of the bad odour in which candidates realize Canadians hold their elected leaders. Canadian society seems not only to frown on political ambition—it frowns on politicians themselves. Statistics and surveys bear this out. EKOS Research data showthat the proportion of Canadians who trust their government to do the right thing has decreased from nearly 60 percent in 1968 to 28 percent in 2012. “The mistrust in government is much more focused on politicians and political parties, not officials,” wrote EKOS president Frank Graves. “The paucity of trust in politicians is almost cartoonishly low.” A different EKOS survey rated Canadian trust in various professions. Nurses and doctors rated high, with about 80 percent professing a high level of trust for these well-known clinical professions. Politicians were at the bottom of the pack, with only 10 percent professing a high degree of trust. The only profession that ranked below politicians? Internet bloggers. A similar poll, the 2013 Trust Poll of 2,020 people conducted by Leger Marketing for Reader’s Digest Canada, ranked politicians as the second-least trusted profession. Who ranked lower in this survey? Psychics.
    Our politicians’ attitudes reflect the data. In other words, even our politicians have a negative view of their own kind—such a negative view, apparently, that they are reluctant to admit interest or ambition in their own line of work. So perhaps our ballot boxes suggest that Canadians like a little reluctance—genuine or otherwise—in the people we choose as our leaders.
    TIME AND TIME AGAIN , we encountered MPs taking pains to portray themselves as outsiders looking to fix a flawed political system. Few used the exact word “outsider,” but certainly many made a point of underscoring how different they were from regular politicians. In other words, they were eager to secure their credibility as ordinary, concerned Canadians.
    “It couldn’t have happened to a guy who fit the role less. Since when is the busboy supposed to become an MP?” asked Liberal Don Boudria, whose first job in Parliament was clearing tables in the parliamentary dining room, and who styled his political career as an Upstairs, Downstairs story. “Somehow, with lots of luck and some elbow grease, it worked out. But still, it leaves a few people scratching their heads.”
    In some instances, this outsiderism was geographical (and, arguably, realistic). The size and regional nature of Canada alone can give citizens a sense of feeling a world apart from the capital. MPs from distant communities wanted to put their constituency on the map. “I wanted Ottawa to know where Vancouver Island North was,” said Catherine Bell. “It was about as far away from Ottawa as you can get.”
    For others, the outsider stance was rooted in ideology or the need for policy change. Ideologically oriented MPs articulated how their outlook on life, political philosophy or perspective on a policy issue wasn’t adequately acknowledged by the system. “I’m an accountant by profession, and was acutely aware of what the damage was to our next generation of our deficits accumulating at $40 billion per year,” said Randy White. Anne McLellan, describing what initially made her accept the invitation to run, cited her own strong “views on the future of the country, national unity and the role of the government in Canada.”
    And sometimes it was a matter of personal identity. Most women were aware that, despite advances in some fields, politics remains a male-dominated profession. “I had no role models. There was no black woman