ADAMS: I Went to a Poilievre Rally. Here’s What Really Stood Out.

My reflections on the experience and what it says about Canadian politics.

Crowd at a Poilievre rally hold signs reading "Canada First," "Protect Free Speech," and "Women for Pierre." Photo credit: Will Adams

When I heard that Jamil Jivani—the Conservative candidate for Bowmanville–Oshawa North—was hosting a rally with Pierre Poilievre in Oshawa on April 3rd, I knew exactly what I had to do. I had to go. Not because I support them. I don't. Not even close.

I’ve been to my fair share of political events—mostly NDP stuff, LGBT rights marches, that sort of thing. But this? This was different. I’m not Conservative, and I sure as hell wouldn’t vote any party led by Pierre Poilievre. Under his leadership, the CPC feels less like a political party and more like a TikTok content farm. Slogans and soundbites don’t put gas in the tank. But still... something about this felt like it needed to be seen. Whether it was genuine curiosity or just morbid fascination—I had to be there.

So when April 3rd rolled around, I grabbed my bag, jumped on the bus, and made my way to Ryan Terminal. I had no idea what to expect—but I was ready to find out.

First Impressions

Durham Regional Police responding to a call. Photo credit: @Oshawa Emergency Buff on YouTube

The rally was set up inside one of the hangars, the kind of place you'd usually expect to see a plane, not politics. I’d heard a lot of noise online from Poilievre supporters hyping up the crowd sizes. According to them, every single event this guy holds draws thousands of people, and every hangar he steps into supposedly transforms into a wall-to-wall sea of “patriots.” While I was waiting in line, I saw this bald dude with a beard livestreaming the whole thing to his X feed, claiming without a hint of hesitation, that there were “thousands” of people waiting to see Poilievre.

Yeah… no. Not even close. Once everyone had filed in and found their spot, I did a quick visual headcount. At most? 800 people. And I’m being generous. The hangar was maybe half full. It wasn’t packed, it wasn’t bursting, and it definitely wasn’t the mega-rally people were pretending it was online. Although, to be fair, it was brutally hot in there, so I can’t totally blame people for confusing heatstroke with high turnout.

Before I made it to the line this older gentleman started chatting with me and asked if I was there for the rally. Because I enjoy talking to people and getting a sense of where they’re coming from politically, I engaged. He looked like he was maybe a few years older than my parents. We ended up having a pretty casual back-and-forth, and once I got in line, I struck up a few more conversations. Kind of a vibe-check on what people were thinking, what issues mattered most to them.

And look, credit where it’s due: some of the folks I talked to were genuinely kind, down-to-earth people. The kind who just feel like Canada’s heading in the wrong direction and want something, anything, that isn’t branded Liberal red. Fair enough. Totally valid feeling, even if I don’t agree with their solutions.

But others? Oh boy.

Protesters wave Palestinian flags, hold anti-Conservative and pro-Palestine signs, and gather outside a health center expressing outrage and political dissent. Image credit: Will Adams

The overwhelming majority of people attending this rally were very loud, condescending, ill-informed, and mean-spirted. A good example of this was the reaction counter protesters outside the event faced. The protesters were protesting Poilievre’s unapologetic support of the Israel expansionist state, where Poilievre has declared before he thinks the international court should be disregarded, and his repeated implication that anyone criticizing Israel might not belong in Canada.

One man went over before the event started with his streaming set up and begun bringing their citizenship into question. Not their views. Not their signs. Just where they were born. He tried to use their potential nationality of origin to invalidate their opinions. The protesters were yelled at and heckled in a very harsh manner by several people in the line. It only got worst in the night when the event was over and the protesters were still their. Attendees went over and got into shouting matches with the protesters, in these exchanges very ugly things were said to the protesters. They were called terrorists. They were told to “go back to Palestine” by several event goers and that their opinion were invalid due to their faith of choice.

The shameless and unapologetically racist things said by Poilievre supporters before the event were appalling. For a political faction that loves to preach about free speech and wanting to unify and not divide, they were quick to contribute to the divide we face and they were even quicker to tell people what they are and are not allowed to say and think. But it was not just racist things said to those protesting the murder of children in the middle east that caught me off guard.

Protester holding a Canadian flag beside a controversial cutout of Justin Trudeau draped in a Chinese Flag. Image credit: Will Adams

At one point, I passed a life-sized cardboard cutout of Justin Trudeau—and this thing was decked out like someone lost a bet on bad taste. Whoever set it up had drawn a toothbrush mustache on him—you know, that kind of mustache. He was holding a Chinese flag in one hand, wearing another like a cape, and in the bottom-left corner, someone had slapped a cutout photo of Mark Carney’s face with the handwritten label: “black face racist.” Subtlety? Not exactly the vibe here.

It didn’t stop there. I saw multiple “F#CK CARNEY” flags waving proudly off the backs of pickup trucks in the parking lot—because apparently, that’s a thing now—and one guy even brought his flag inside like it was a family heirloom. Again: we’re at an airport hangar, not Thunderdome, but okay. Now, I obviously didn’t talk to every single person there. But I didn’t have to. You just had to listen. A lot of conversations were basically people rehashing vaccine mandates and COVID lockdowns like it was still 2021—despite the fact that it’s 2025 and we’ve long since moved on. But not them. Some were so far gone they straight-up admitted their own kids cut them off because of their obsessive political takes. And instead of maybe—just maybe—doing a little self-reflection, they decided the real issue is that Mark Carney isn’t stepping in to control what their grown adult children think. Yeah. That’s where we’re at.

The amount of detached-from-reality rambling I overheard that night was honestly unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed in a political space. And the weirdest part? Not a single mention of “gender ideology” or transgender people. I was honestly shocked. For a crowd that loves to blame all of society’s ills on anyone who dyed their hair in college, this was… uncharacteristically quiet. Almost eerie.

Gen Z Conservatives Are a Different Beast

Doors to the event opened at 6PM. And even though I got inside in decent time, it felt like an eternity before anything actually started. Maybe that’s just me being impatient. Or maybe it’s the smug, self-congratulatory energy that seems to hang in the air at these things like a bad cologne. Whatever it was, time crawled. Every minute felt like five. The whole setup had the vibe of a school assembly you didn’t sign up for—except instead of announcements and applause, it was a room full of people waiting to clap for someone who already agrees with them.

Quick sidenote: this experience reminded me exactly why I can hold a civil conversation with older conservatives—but Gen Z conservatives? Yeah, no. Not happening. Not for more than five seconds. See, the older folks usually come at you with some combination of lived experience and concern for the future. You can at least follow the thread. Gen Z conservatives, on the other hand, seem to have skipped that part entirely and jumped straight to being a walking PragerU video. They don’t just embrace the toxic edge of right-wing politics—they perform it. Like it’s cosplay. Like being a jerk is a brand.

Some of them—roughly my age—were standing close enough to me in the crowd that I couldn’t not hear them. And what did they decide to do? Vocally mock me. Loudly. Not because of anything I said. Not because they knew I wasn’t Conservative. Just… my clothing. That’s it. The windbreaker I wore. The way I looked. They openly mocked me like they were trying to win points with each other for being the biggest asshole.

They didn’t care who heard. Didn’t stop to consider that I might’ve been someone they’d actually agree with. Or that I could’ve been a stranger with zero patience for nonsense. It was all ego. All attitude. All performative cruelty masquerading as “being based.” Whether it’s ideological or just pure unchecked arrogance, most Gen Z conservatives come off as entitled and willfully ignorant. The only reason they weren’t immediately humbled on the spot was because I didn’t come there to argue. I came to observe. But trust me—if I had flipped that switch, it would’ve been over quick.

The Man Himself: Poilievre Up Close

After what felt like three episodes of a podcast you didn’t subscribe to—the event finally kicked off and the crowd snapped to life. First up was some new Conservative candidate I only recognized because my dad listens to AM talk radio. Can’t remember his name, and honestly? Doesn’t matter. The room popped for him, and even louder for Jamil Jivani, Ana Poilievre, and of course, the main attraction: Pierre Poilievre himself.

Now, I just so happened to be standing close to the little pathway where Poilievre made his entrance up to the stage. So yes, I got a close-up look. And let me tell you: he is a lot shorter in person than you’d expect. I figured he’d be eye level with me, maybe even a touch taller. But no. He’s probably a centimeter or two shorter. Not a huge deal, but it’s one of those things that sticks when you’ve only ever seen someone in carefully framed press shots or standing at a podium. And speaking of appearances—I don’t want to sound shallow, the man looked like someone dipped him in chalk. He was caked in makeup, this weird ashy beige that looked less like "TV-ready" and more like "whiteboard eraser." It was distracting. Not subtle. Not well-done. Just… dusted. On top of that, he’s clearly testing out a new look with the hair—subtle grey streaks, clearly dyed in, probably to bite Mark Carney’s aesthetic. It’s like he’s trying to cosplay as “financially competent dad” while still keeping that frat-boy energy.

And maybe this is petty, but I’ll say it: he looked way better back when he wore glasses and didn’t try to hide the fact that he’s just a regular, pasty guy with sharp elbows. Now he’s going for some filtered Instagram version of himself, and it just feels off. Manufactured. Uncanny. Seeing him that close—like, right there—didn’t change anything for me. If anything, it confirmed exactly what I already thought: this guy is pure stagecraft. There’s nothing authentic about him. Just layers of branding and chalk dust. But that wasn’t the most offensive thing that happened that day.

Slogans Over Substance

A crowd observes a Conservative Party rally inside a hangar with organized signs and barriers. Photo credit: Will Adams

Listening to that room erupt in applause like their team had just won the Stanley Cup every time a politician vomited out another empty slogan? It was surreal. It made me want to walk out. I came in expecting something—even just a sliver of substance. A new idea, a half-coherent policy, maybe even a crumb of vision. But what did I get?Nothing. Just more of the same tired rhetoric. Slogans repackaged with a fresh coat of smug. I’m not even gonna waste time on his bad-faith spin on what Donald Trump said about Mark Carney—that deserves its own reality show. Let’s focus on the original stuff, which was still painfully hollow.

He dragged out that tired “[verb] the [noun]” formula from 2022 over and over again, especially when it came to the carbon tax. You know, the one that literally doesn’t exist anymore? Yeah, that one. Poilievre went full technical, talking about how the law still exists, as if that somehow justifies fear-mongering about a policy that’s been effectively repealed. And let’s not forget—he was part of the government that cooked this thing up in the first place. You really think he’s gonna torch the legislation? Please.

At best, we got loose outlines. Vague gestures at ideas. Like his plan to ban safe supply programs and fund treatment facilities instead. Sounds good on paper until you realize… he has no plan for the fallout. No roadmap for preventing withdrawal deaths. No answers for addicts who’ll just end up using more dangerous street drugs—or worse, using in jail. Especially in prison, where overdoses skyrocket. But sure, let’s risk people’s lives to own the harm reduction crowd. Then there’s his “hard-on-crime” fantasy. The kind of thing that makes you think he read a Batman comic and thought it was a policy brief. Under his plan, the very kids he claims he wants to “bring home drug free” would be locked up for simple possession. Because nothing says healing from trauma like slapping handcuffs on it.

At one point, Poilievre spoke about his own struggles, including being adopted. I won’t take that away from him. But you can absolutely tell he grew up without ever having to seriously worry about money, because his budget “plan” is so out-of-touch it belongs in a freshman econ course. His whole idea? For every dollar the government spends, it must find a dollar in cuts. That is not how modern economies work—that’s how you end up gutting healthcare, veterans’ services, education—you know, things people actually need. All so you can pump billions into more cops with questionable training and vague military investments that’ll vanish into defense contractor spreadsheets.

And then—because no Conservative rally is complete without it—he turned his attention to Mark Carney. Said he’d “run him back to Europe,” which got a cheer. But the guy in front of me? Took it way further. He said we should hogtie Carney and do violent things to him. People around him cheered. This wasn’t an outburst. This wasn’t one unhinged dude. It was part of the vibe. And Poilievre clearly took no issue with the calls to violence made by his own supporters.

One thing that really needs to be brought up is how four people fainted in the audience during the rally. Not one. Not two. Four. And each time, Poilievre turned it into a little PR moment. A spectacle. A chance to look like a hero. I’m not gonna speculate on whether those faintings were real or staged—that’s a whole other rabbit hole—but what I can say is that his reactions felt incredibly performative. Like clockwork. The fact that no one around me seemed to notice or care about how shameless it was? That was its own kind of horror.

A billboard questioning Mark Carney's association with Ghislaine Maxwell, authorized by "FOR CANADA" with contact details. Photo credit: Will Adams

When it finally ended, I ran into former Durham MP Jamil Jivani outside. I’ve met him a few times before, so we caught up briefly before he and his entourage disappeared into whatever SUV they rolled up in. On my way out, I saw a “For Canada” ad trying to tie Mark Carney to Ghislaine Maxwell—and all I could think was: this is why Rebel Media lost their press badges.

What this says about us?

Campaign sign for Jamil Jivani, displayed outdoors with a CPC logo and authorization note. Photo credit: Will Adams

I can’t stress enough how hostile the crowd was to the counter-protesters. The treatment they received was nasty, dehumanizing, and filled with bigoted venom. They were shouted down, ridiculed, called terrorists, and told to “go back to Palestine.” And all of this for protesting the killing of children. It says a lot when peaceful dissent is met with that kind of hate.

The most satisfying part of the entire night? Honestly? It was leaving. Grabbing dinner at Arby’s. That’s the peak. And the real kicker is I could’ve stayed home, hit up SkipTheDishes, and avoided the headache altogether.

The Oshawa rally told me everything I needed to know: Pierre Poilievre’s base isn’t just misinformed—they’re actively toxic. Their rhetoric mirrors the worst elements of the PPC crowd, and Poilievre hasn’t pushed back on it—he’s amplified it. He’s normalized it. He’s invited it into the national conversation like it belongs at the grown-up table. The fact that people were openly wishing death on the prime minister in the middle of a political event and no one batted an eye? That’s abhorrent.

And what did we get for all that? A reheated version of his 2022 platform, served cold. No vision. No depth. No growth. Just makeup, slogans, and spectacle. Poilievre isn’t offering leadership, he’s offering a vibes-based brand of politics that runs on fear, resentment, and attention-seeking.

And unfortunately? That’s enough for far too many people.