Last week, a radio host in the nation's capital asked Ed Broadbent what he thought of Richard Mahoney, the Liberal candidate running in Ottawa Centre, the riding he was vacating.
"He's nice. Richard is a very serious candidate," said Mr. Broadbent, outgoing NDP member of Parliament -- who was actually campaigning for Paul Dewar, the NDP candidate.
Nice? Serious? Why not call your competition liars, whores or traitors, as other MPs do? This was, after all, a year in which:
Stephen Harper accused Prime Minister Paul Martin of delaying a crucial no-confidence vote until two cancer-stricken Conservative MPs were too sick to participate.
Belinda Stronach dumped her party, voters and boyfriend to join the Liberals.
Her Conservative ex-colleagues then attacked her as a "dipstick," "whore" and "prostitute."
Tory Gurmant Grewal taped a series of his own why-don't-you-cross-the-floor conversations with a carefully coy Liberal cabinet minister and the Prime Minister's chief of staff.
Liberal campaign literature shows Mr. Harper whispering suspiciously into the ear of Bloc Québécois Leader Gilles Duceppe. Mr. Harper says the photo was taken at a Holocaust memorial service.
The Bloc and Tories paralyzed Parliament for three days to show their control over the House.
In a year that saw civility, decency and mutual respect hit a new low in Parliament, John Edward Broadbent is The Globe and Mail's Nation Builder of 2005. Because this was the year in which Mr. Broadbent:
Declared that he would abstain from a no-confidence vote so that a Tory MP would not have to drag himself to Ottawa following bladder-cancer surgery.
Declined to take credit for the gesture, suggesting that it was his party's decision rather than his own.
Focused his energies on the cause of electoral reform.
Quit his seat to care for his ailing wife, Lucille.
Farewell, Honest Ed, the best prime minister Canada never had. In an era of contemptuous, mean-spirited public discourse, Mr. Broadbent is an oxymoron -- a decent Canadian politician.
Sure, he has little charisma. And, sorry, he's 20 pounds overweight, has a comb-over and looks like a worn-out bulldog. Even his wife burst out laughing when a magazine once inexplicably chose him as one of Canada's sexiest men. "There are many good things I would call Ed," she said, "but sexy? No."
But he's definitely nice. And he's very serious. In his goodbye speech to the Commons in May, Mr. Broadbent said: "I have been here for the great debates of my time -- on the Constitution; on the national energy program; on the War Measures Act; on the recognition of Japanese Canadians, their place in history and our unpleasant, to put it euphemistically, treatment of them historically. Many debates went to the root of what this country is all about."
He also played his part in the abolition of capital punishment, the great abortion clashes and the recognition of same-sex marriage.
And imagine this: In the year of the Gomery inquiry into the Liberal sponsorship scandal, he is leaving office without the slightest whiff of scandal.
"People always say there're no honest politicians," says Lowell Green, a right-wing commentator in Ottawa, who holds the record for North America's longest-running talk show. "I say, 'What about Ed Broadbent?' That shuts them up."
The day Mr. Broadbent was leaving for Christmas holidays at the cottage with his wife, two adult children and four grandchildren, he sat in his Dijon mustard-yellow parliamentary office, down the hall from the one Ms. Stronach vacated when she crossed the floor. The radiator hissed. The phone beeped, and went unanswered. He had kicked off his shoes, exposing navy blue socks, his 5-foot-11-inch bulk reclining in a leather rocker.
The night before, he had dined with CBC Radio broadcaster Stuart McLean and then went to the National Arts Centre to watch Mr. McLean perform one of his Vinyl Café monologues. To his surprise, Mr. McLean ended the show with a tribute to Mr. Broadbent. The house lights went on. There was a standing ovation.
