Canada Election 2025: Could Pierre Poilievre have won with Donald Trump's podcast strategy?

Pierre Poilievre should have cruised to victory. The Conservative leader had momentum, money, and a national movement against Justin Trudeau’s Liberal legacy. But instead of winning big, he lost his own seat in Carleton. And the reason might be found not in policy or polling—but in a microphone.

In a post-CNN, post-CBC world, where voters trust TikTok creators more than anchors, Donald Trump found a lifeline in 2024: podcasts. Long-form, low-interruption, emotionally resonant podcasts. Pierre Poilievre, for all his digital savvy, missed the wave. And that miss may have cost him Carleton.

Conservative Tsunami, Local Shipwreck

Heading into the 2025 federal election, the Conservative Party looked unbeatable. With inflation raging, housing unattainable, and Liberal fatigue setting in, Poilievre’s message resonated. The Conservatives were polling over 40% nationwide and trouncing the Liberals in swing provinces.

But in Carleton—a suburban Ottawa seat Poilievre held since 2004—the ground shifted. Liberal candidate Bruce Fanjoy, a local engineer with little national profile, flipped the riding by 3,837 votes. The turnout? A staggering 82%, among the highest in Canada.

Observers pointed to complacency. Poilievre spent the final weeks of the campaign hosting national rallies and viral townhalls, ignoring his own backyard. "I think he took the riding for granted," Fanjoy said post-victory. "I was knocking on doors while he was filming reels."

But beneath that surface-level neglect was something deeper: Poilievre’s failure to reach young, politically active voters where they actually are—on YouTube, on Spotify, and inside podcast apps.

Canada’s Lost Youth

Nationally, Poilievre won the youth vote on paper. According to Reuters, 49% of Canadians aged 18-34 backed the Conservatives. But polling data is a poor substitute for turnout. And in ridings like Carleton, young voters turned up in droves—but not for Poilievre.

This wasn’t because young voters didn’t care about housing or inflation. Many did. But while Poilievre’s economic message resonated, his cultural tone repelled. Women in particular reported discomfort with his combative persona. Socially conscious students saw him as antagonistic to climate and equity goals. Progressive youth turned out to stop him—not support him.

More crucially, the youth Poilievre did win over—economically anxious, politically fluid 20-somethings—weren’t engaged beyond the polls. They weren’t mobilised. And that’s because he never truly spoke to them on their platforms.

The Sound of Silence: Poilievre's Podcast Void



In 2025, nearly one-third of Canadian adults listen to podcasts monthly. Among 18–34-year-olds, the number is closer to 50%. Weekly podcast listeners consume over five hours per week—far more than linear TV. And 64% of podcast fans say they turn to them for news and analysis.

But Poilievre, curiously, skipped the podcast circuit. Despite being a social media native, he ignored long-form formats in favour of Facebook snippets and hostile press clips. His only notable podcast sit-down? A 2022 appearance on Jordan Peterson’s show—hardly a venue for reaching swing voters.

While Liberals appeared on CBC podcasts and influencers’ YouTube shows, and Bruce Fanjoy did old-school canvassing, Poilievre relied on algorithmic virality. His campaign racked up clicks, but clicks don’t cast ballots.

Contrast this with what happened south of the border in 2024.

Trump’s Podcast Blitz


Donald Trump’s return to the White House wasn’t just about Biden fatigue or economic angst. It was a masterclass in new media campaigning, and at the heart of it was a podcast strategy championed by his son, Barron Trump .

While Kamala Harris tiptoed through curated podcast appearances, Trump went full throttle. He appeared on The Joe Rogan Experience—the most influential podcast in the world—with over 14.5 million listeners per episode. That single conversation pulled over 46 million views on YouTube, dwarfing cable news primetime.

Trump also joined Full Send, Theo Von, Outkick, and even fringe Twitch streamers. UFC’s Dana White publicly thanked the Nelk Boys, Adin Ross, and others for helping mobilise young male voters. The campaign coordinated a $20 million get-out-the-vote drive—"Send the Vote"—that specifically targeted disengaged men under 35.

The results were staggering. According to Fox News, over 210,000 first-time voters were mobilised—many of them through podcasts, not ads.

Trump’s appearances weren’t polished. They weren’t even always accurate. But they were long, intimate, and humanising. He cracked jokes, shared memories, and riffed with hosts who let him speak uninterrupted.

It wasn’t just media strategy—it was persona rehab. For millions of undecided men, Trump became familiar. Not presidential, but personal.

Kamala's Miss, Barron's Masterstroke

Kamala Harris, by contrast, avoided shows like Rogan’s. Her team feared backlash. She stuck to safe outlets like Call Her Daddy and Club Shay Shay, which performed well—but lacked political edge. This caution left a vacuum Trump was happy to fill. And behind that aggressive podcast push was Barron Trump.

Though still in college, Barron played a quiet but influential role. He advised the campaign’s digital team, helped shape outreach strategies, and reportedly pushed for Trump to join Rogan and Rogan-adjacent influencers. Barron understood that podcasts aren’t just about exposure—they’re about accessibility. They make politicians feel less like elites and more like guests in your living room.

Pierre Poilievre had no Barron. And no Rogan.

What Poilievre Missed

Poilievre, ironically, had the profile to thrive on podcasts. He’s articulate. He’s combative. He thrives in debate and has a YouTuber’s command of pacing.

But he treated all media—legacy and alternative—with equal suspicion. He didn’t just freeze out CBC. He ghosted the new generation of independent platforms where Gen Z and millennials spend their time. Even a single appearance on a Canadaland, The Hub Dialogues, or This Matters might have softened his image, or explained his policies beyond slogans.

Instead, he allowed others to define him. His critics painted him as reactionary, angry, and aloof. And many younger voters, hearing only that narrative, believed it.



Lessons for the Next Election

Poilievre’s podcast blackout is now a case study in missed opportunity. His campaign was digitally slick—but not digitally strategic. He mastered short-form punchlines but ignored long-form persuasion.

Meanwhile, Trump’s strategy shows that podcasts aren’t just another comms channel—they’re now central to coalition-building. They provide depth, relatability, and the sense of an unfiltered conversation that young voters increasingly demand.

To win in the 2020s, a politician must be present in the spaces where opinions form—not just where headlines break. The CBC is optional. Rogan isn’t.

The Mic Is Always On



In 2024, Trump turned a hostile press environment into an opportunity. He sidestepped legacy media, embraced podcast culture, and let influencers do the heavy lifting. That strategy—more than any single ad or debate—may have won him the White House.

In 2025, Pierre Poilievre had the issues, the energy, and the edge. But he lacked the medium. While Trump spoke into millions of earbuds, Poilievre shouted into a void. In the end, it wasn’t Liberal strength that beat him in Carleton. It was his silence in a media format where the youth were most tuned in. He didn’t lose to Fanjoy. He lost to a missed mic. Next time, Canadian politicians might want to trade their press releases for a podcast booking. Because in modern politics, you don’t just need a message—you need a feed.