Liberals are up in arms over Michael Ignatieff’s new memoir. They are angry because he is insufficiently willing to assume responsibility for the disastrous election outcome that occurred on his watch.

Yet an equivalent amount of crow should be served up to the Liberal party itself and the media that flocked uncritically to the Ignatieff leadership candidacy.

When Ignatieff’s name for Liberal leader first surfaced in 2006 some of us asked questions, like: Does he have sound political instincts? Is he a good communicator with the public? Having lived abroad for three decades, does he know anything about the great Canadian debates that shape our politics today? What policies is he likely to pursue? Is he a Liberal?

These were questions that should have been asked of Ignatieff by his supporters and the star-struck media. Yet they were brushed aside. Ignatieff, we were dismissively told, was a man of great intellect, a policy mind, an excellent communicator whose political skills, instincts and knowledge are self-evident. Liberals were lucky he was even considering this venture. Canadians were fortunate he had chosen to return home.

For his supporters, Ignatieff’s credentials rested principally on his international reputation as a writer. This marked the first time in Canadian history that being shortlisted for the Booker Prize was considered vital to political success. In the final analysis, the brilliant communicator on the page demonstrated a unique inability to connect verbally and emotionally with voters.

Nevertheless, this first-rate public intellectual was bound to produce a visionary policy agenda, Liberals were told. Yet in the 2011 general election, Ignatieff put forward the weakest platform in living memory, anchored as it was in the “family pack,” a risible attempt to connect with voters by analogizing social policy with a sleeve of chicken legs.

But at least Ignatieff was a true Liberal — as opposed to that old socialist named Rae. Yet whenever Mr. Ignatieff was asked about his Liberal pedigree his stock answer was to point to his involvement in the 1968 federal Liberal leadership, apparently oblivious to the fact that the party, not to mention the country, had changed in the intervening 40 years.

The skepticism I harboured of Ignatieff the politician was validated in the spring of 2009 when I was invited to be part of a group that met with him to discuss policy.

A conclave of about 15 people — all white men, I might add — was convened one night at Stornoway. About half the guests were Ignatieff’s factotums, the other half being of less constrained objectivity.

We assembled in the living room and sat in armchairs arrayed in a half moon. At the centre was the Liberal leader, perched on a white sofa, legs elegantly crossed, cradling a glass of red wine from Stornoway’s fine cellar.

Ignatieff asked his guests for policy ideas he should promote in the election. In other words, what should the Liberals stand for? It was a rather fundamental question, and in short order it became apparent that Ignatieff, the celebrated man of letters, had few policy convictions and no concept of governance whatsoever.

At this time, Ignatieff was leading Prime Minister Stephen Harper by a small margin in opinion polls, and he reminded his guests of this fact. The implication being that as a result of his popularity, not much in the way of policy was needed. He seemed blissfully unaware of the first rule of Canadian politics, namely that every Liberal leader heads the polls for a while after winning the leadership.

The assumption in the room that night was that the prime ministership would come Ignatieff’s way naturally, based on his unique combination of intellect, international renown and natural charms. The only question was whether he would win a minority or majority.

Then one of the grey beards of the Liberal Party intervened. He bluntly told Ignatieff that he would not win on personality and character and therefore needed a strong platform. The tension in the room was palpable. Truth had finally been spoken to apprehended power.

The meeting soon adjourned. The group was invited to reconvene in future to continue the dialogue. A second meeting was never scheduled.

The responsibility for the Liberals’ crippling defeat in the 2011 election rests as much on the shoulders of the party itself as it does on Ignatieff. Liberals selected him as their leader without due diligence. They were seduced by an illusion. An excellent writer that they wrongly assumed had to be a skilled political communicator. A public intellectual they assumed had a deep understanding of Canada, something that was obviously impossible given his 30-year absence from the country. A creative mind who was assumed to have visionary policies, but who had no such thing. A scholar who was expected to understand the complexities of modern politics, but who in fact saw politics as little more than acting.

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Ignatieff was manifestly unqualified to be Liberal leader, let alone prime minister, and that was abundantly clear to anyone who took the time to look under his hood. It is something Canadians quickly grasped when they were exposed to him. It’s a pity the Liberal party couldn’t figure it out a little earlier.