Bob Woodward was recently in Canada regaling journalists with tales of his exploits. As they marvelled at Woodward’s accounts of virtually unimpeded access to powerful politicians, one could practically see the thought bubbles above their heads: “Why, if we had similar opportunities to interview our politicians for dozens of hours, we could really dig up some dirt!” There are a number of regrettable conclusions to be drawn from the episode. It is regrettable, for instance, that Canadians have comparatively less opportunity to hold the powerful to account. But let us focus on something which may, at first, seem less consequential, even insubstantial, but is of at least equal importance in the long run: We are missing the opportunity to take an account of power. And, given that, in the form of Michael Ignatieff, we may soon have an intellectual wielding public power as prime minister, this failing will affect us all.

The perpetual refrain is that we want smarter people in politics. More thoughtful people, less nakedly partisan, more introspective, more willing to engage with ideas, assess their merits and implement the best ones. We prefer, in short, “intellectuals" to "politicians."

But what does it mean for an intellectual to become directly involved in the political process, not as observer or commentator, but as actual participant, vying for elected office? This isn’t a new dilemma, of course, though it is of relatively fresh pedigree for Canadians. We haven’t had the benefit of a surge of “intellectuals” seeking public office. One could query whether we’ve had any, at least of the calibre of Michael Ignatieff (Pierre Trudeau’s status as an “intellectual” has long been somewhat artificially burnished; Ignatieff, measured by volume of output, breadth and clarity of thought, however, is the real deal).

Central European countries such as Hungary and the Czech Republic grappled with the advisability of public intellectuals holding office after the displacement of communist regimes and the assumption of power by former dissidents. Vaclav Havel, former president of the Czech Republic, Vaclav Klaus, current prime minister of the Czech Republic, and Timothy Garton Ash, Oxford professor and raconteur, engaged in a lengthy public debate about the relationship between intellectuals and power. As Ash memorably phrased it (expanding on an expression of Havel’s), intellectuals are obliged to live in truth, while politicians toil in half-truth.

And so arises the crux of the problem: the breaking of the covenant between intellectual and audience. When Michael Ignatieff writes as an intellectual, the compact with his readers revolves around truth – he is striving to express it, we are entitled to expect good faith in his efforts. But when Michael Ignatieff acts as a politician, well, truth assumes a somewhat lesser role in the proceedings. To what extent do his activities as a politician compromise his writings as an intellectual? Will we have lost a valued thinker only to gain just another politician? Is that really going to be a fair trade, one for which we’ll come out the better as a society?

Are the compromises inherent in electoral politics so great that they will overwhelm his past and future work as a thinker? Will we ever be able to trust the transparency of his thoughts again? Even now, can one re-read his earlier works without thinking, “Well, sure, Michael, but when you had a chance to effect change, you then did this instead…”? And what about future works, as yet unwritten? What have we foregone by Ignatieff’s change in career? Can one read his latest work, True Patriot Love, without interrogating every line, “Does he believe this, or does he merely believe it will get him more votes?”

What will be the consequences for Canadians to have intellectuals as politicians? Just as salient is what the consequences are for intellectuals who become politicians. If any of those journalists who were listening to Bob Woodward ever get the chance to sit down with Michael Ignatieff for the proverbial seven-hour interview, that should be the first question on their lips.