Meet yoga dad: The mellowing of B.C. Attorney General David Eby
Credit to Author: Rob Shaw| Date: Thu, 26 Sep 2019 10:00:11 +0000
Before the briefings on transnational money laundering begin each morning, before the updates on auto insurance crash rates, the flurry of cabinet meetings, ministerial orders, phone calls and decision notes, there is only calm for David Eby. One breath in. Another out. Silence and focus. Slow and measured movement.
B.C.’s attorney general starts most days on a yoga mat in a stiflingly hot studio. It’s a remarkable sight — partly because Eby’s dry and stodgy work demeanour doesn’t quite match up with the guy enthusiastically doing the warrior pose, but also because it’s simply impressive to see a six-foot-seven man contort his body into all sorts of difficult yoga positions.
The morning routine is a mental and physical reprieve for one of the busiest politicians in the province.
“To have something in my life that is not conflict-oriented … has turned out to be very important,” said Eby. “It’s an hour where you can’t think about all the things you have to do. I’m a better person with yoga.”
B.C. Attorney General David Eby takes time out from his busy schedule to attend a yoga class at The Hot Box Yoga in Vancouver on Sept. 16, 2019.
It’s also part of a personal transformation that’s been slowly building in Eby for years.
The hard-line activist, protester, low-income Vancouver housing advocate, civil rights lawyer and noted workaholic is mellowing out a bit at the age of 43.
He’s not the same man who almost ran for the leader of the B.C. NDP five years go.
And that’s an interesting development for a politician many have pegged as the successor-in-waiting to NDP Premier John Horgan.
Most people know Eby for the high-profile jobs he’s tackled: reforming auto insurance rates at the Insurance Corp. of B.C., launching a public inquiry into money laundering, identifying real estate loopholes exploited by foreign investors in Metro Vancouver’s housing market, crafting the NDP’s legal challenge against the Trans Mountain pipeline, and banning union and corporate donations to end cash-for-access political fundraising.
Along the way he’s earned a reputation, even among critics, as a politician who works relentlessly long hours, stays on top of all the latest research and briefings, and maintains a high media profile.
His friends and family say that reputation is still valid.
But they also point out: Eby has quietly rebalanced his life. And his career ambitions.
The reason why is inside Eby’s three-bedroom rental apartment at the University of B.C. His wife, Cailey, is feeding a bottle to his two-week-old daughter Iva, before Eby takes over burping duties. Their five-year-old son Ezra is bouncing around the room, searching for his swim trunks so dad can take him to the pool.
During a rare quiet moment, Eby remarks on the impact of fatherhood on his life.
“It was transformative, really, because I have always loved my work a lot,” he said.
“All the way through since becoming a lawyer, and I don’t mind working a lot of my jobs, and I get satisfaction from that. But now there’s this counter draw, to be at home, and to be hanging out with my son and now Iva.
“It’s not hard to leave the work behind. And that’s what surprised me about it. It’s almost the opposite — it’s hard to go back to work. It’s been a big shift. But a healthy shift.”
David Eby with wife Cailey, and their kids Ezra, 5, and Iva, just 16 days old, at their home in Vancouver on September 15, 2019. Photo: Arlen Redekop/Postmedia
Eby admits his obsession with work led him to crash a decade ago while working at the Pivot Legal Society, helping low-income and homeless residents fight illegal housing evictions. It didn’t get any better as executive director of the B.C. Civil Liberties Association, where he clashed with government and police.
“I totally burnt out,” he said. “I worked crazy hours for almost no money and tragic stories.
“And I didn’t recognize the need to have any kind of balance because I saw that if I didn’t help person X that nobody else would. But it wasn’t that they didn’t want to; everybody was working at capacity. And so I just burnt myself out, got divorced, didn’t have a particularly healthy lifestyle, and really hit bottom. And so it took a while to build it back.”
What has emerged in the last five years or so is a newer, mellower David Eby. He’s now a baby-swaddling, diaper-changing, toddler-chasing fish-etarian who spends weekends at the municipal pool tossing his son around, who is an expert at building pillow forts, who cracks dad jokes and watches standup comedy on Netflix, and who is as well versed in Paw Patrol as he is in transnational organized crime.
That this transformation has occurred during the busiest time of his professional career is also not an accident.
For one of the first times in his life, Eby has simply chosen something other than work.
A big step to balance was putting his phone away.
You might imagine one of B.C.’s most senior cabinet ministers, who is constantly in the media, to be tied to his electronics. But his wife Cailey, as well as his friends, say Eby makes a particular point of rarely checking his work devices while at home.
All of his ministerial work is stored in a small cardboard box stuffed under the kitchen table on a floor scattered with Ezra’s Lego pieces and Pokémon cards.
In the apartment, you’ll find almost no visible signs that this is the home of the sitting attorney general. The walls are filled with unique art and personal mementoes, not framed degrees and political literature.
Four electric guitars hang in an alcove off the kitchen that Eby jokingly refers to as the “museum.” There are photos of a shaggy-haired younger Eby when he played and sang vocals in several electro-indie rock bands, including Ladner and World of Science. He hasn’t played since he became the MLA for Vancouver-Point Grey in 2013.
“You can tell there’s still that part of Dave that has career ambition and fire for his career, but it’s a total switch he turns off now,” said Chris Payne, a friend who met Eby while their kids were at daycare and whose families now hang out almost every weekend.
“Part of his career is having his family. He’s really embraced that side.
“Whenever we are hanging out or with the kids he is intensely focused on what the kids are doing or a group. I never get the sense he’s being pulled back to work or yearning to go back there to work.”
The balance is even more impressive, considering Premier John Horgan admits Eby is unrelenting in his work assignments.
“In reality, I rely on David,” said Horgan. “He’s very well briefed. I know that if I ask him for something it comes very quickly.
“I think that’s his biggest strength. He’s a workhorse. I can pile on tough files and he just keeps working, with a really good sense of humour and a sense of self-deprecation that I find quite endearing.”
Many of Eby’s reforms have become major success stories for the early days of the B.C. NDP government.
He’s also had missteps. Eby set the rules for the government’s proportional representation referendum — a key part of the Green-NDP confidence deal — that were so complicated they were widely criticized by all sides. The referendum, which Horgan had supported, failed.
Eby’s cap on minor injury claims at ICBC may have extinguished what he infamously called the financial “dumpster fire” at the Crown auto corporation, but his overhaul of risk ratings has also caused insurance rates to jump for young drivers, families and even adults with relatively clean records.
He also faces challenges within his riding of Vancouver-Point Grey. The NDP government’s decision to place an additional school tax of 0.2 per cent on homes worth more than $3 million led to protests outside Eby’s constituency office from angry residents in the more affluent Point Grey portion of his riding. It will likely make a difficult riding for Eby even tougher to win in the next election.
The Opposition Liberals portray Eby as a radical activist.
“I think David Eby loves to get into the headlines and he’ll do anything to get there,” said Liberal leader Andrew Wilkinson, who is also a lawyer.
“Having practised law for 25 years and been in the courts for hundreds upon hundreds of trial days, I can tell you David Eby’s reputation at the trial bar is he’s a flamboyant politician and not much of a lawyer.”
Other critics see an evolution.
“I think he’s stepped up and done a good job,” said Tom Stamatakis, president of the Canadian Police Association, who was president of the Vancouver Police Union during Eby’s civil liberties days when many police officers viewed his criticism as unfair.
“Some of the attributes that probably drove me crazy when he was working for BCCLA or Pivot are things that serve him well in his current role.”
Eby’s growing political influence extends across virtually every ministry in government.
“In cabinet there are three chairs taken, mine at the end of the table, the minister of finance at one side and the attorney general at the other — and then everyone else just takes their seats wherever they can find them,” said Horgan.
Yet Horgan has also seen the maturation of his attorney general.
“It’s not to say David doesn’t have a bright future in the NDP, but he also has new interests that didn’t exist,” he said. “Becoming a dad changed my world. I think all of those things are coming together to shape and well-round David.”
At the legislature, Eby’s lawyerly tendency toward arcane debates can sometimes make him the legislative equivalent of a sleep aid.
But outside of work he is, surprisingly, a bit of a goofball.
At a recent dinner with three other families at a brew pub near his apartment, Eby finished his food early and gathered up the four children to play while the other adults relaxed.
Outside, the attorney general, minister of the Crown, Queen’s Counsel, and keeper of the Great Seal of British Columbia, transformed into “Uncle Dave” with his “monster hands,” chasing the whooping children around a courtyard, lurching like a giant scarecrow zombie until one of the shrieking five-year-old girls took a header into a fountain pool. She suffered catastrophic injuries to her knee: the skin was almost broken.
Earlier, Eby executed a lengthy dim sum lunch with five adults and five toddlers — a feat of enormous balance and precision that required him to strategically deploy toy cars, stacks of paper and a lunch box full of felt pens amid an explosion of wayward noodles, dropped shrimp balls and half-eaten dumplings.
At one point, the conversation turned to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and the table was momentarily stumped as to the name of the cartoon series’ main antagonist. “Splinter is the good guy,” Eby told them all, as he patiently explained the origins of the mutant rat turned ninjutsu instructor like he would ICBC’s new insurance rate model. “Shredder is the bad guy.”
David Eby with his son Ezra, 5, at their home in Vancouver. Photo: Arlen Redekop/Postmedia
On a morning in mid-September, five-year-old Ezra donned a T-shirt with a picture of a robot, and while walking to kindergarten casually informed his father that he had invisible laser beams for eyes. “It’s a secret — Ez is a robot from the robot factory,” Eby said as he helped push his son on his bike. Ezra kept yelling “Shoom!” as his laser beams cut down the trees along his bike path, transforming the peaceful woods into a post-apocalyptic wasteland of robot destruction. “I’m not sure what the park board will think of that,” Eby said.
Dressed in his work suit, the attorney general would occasionally leap off the trail and into the bush to avoid his son’s devastating invisible beams while pleading for Ezra to be careful where he pointed his eyes for the sake of humanity’s safety.
Eby dropped his son off at kindergarten, resisted the urge to peek into the classroom window, gathered up Ezra’s extra bike helmet, walked a few blocks across the UBC campus and strolled into a press conference where, with minimal briefing, he stood beside UBC president Santa Ono to announce a $3-million B.C. government capital infusion to build 91 childcare spaces in new modular campus buildings. Then he shook hands, did a quick site tour, and took off to hot yoga.
“It’s kind of unbelievable,” said Eby’s younger brother, Matthew, who is one of his three siblings.
“It’s funny to see him go from money laundering and the issue of the day and how complex and nuanced and difficult it is, and then 30 minutes later he’s at home and has a huge smile on his face and doesn’t have the weight on his shoulders.”
Eby has spent much of his life fighting for causes he believed in. Matthew recalled how, as a teenager, his brother once invited him to the circus near their childhood home in Kitchener, Ont. — only for Matthew to discover the trip wasn’t to enjoy the rides, but to videotape the treatment of elephants and demand answers from circus officials.
Eby was always “naturally curious,” reading books, digging something up, tracking down source material, said Matthew, who runs a New York-based foundation that researches flooding. He successfully ran for president of his high school, using a “Super Dave” campaign slogan that was a riff on the early 1990s comedy character of the same name. And he protested against globalization and corporations, while advocating for the environment and human rights.
Their mother was a teacher, and their father a personal injury lawyer. Eby took his undergrad degree at the University of Waterloo in “rhetoric and professional writing.”
At one university protest, he met lawyers who were training activists on their rights against arrest. “I saw those lawyers and it was like a lightning bolt and I was like — this is exactly what I want to do,” said Eby. He took off to study law at Dalhousie University in Halifax.
Law degree in hand, he fell in love with a girl and moved with her to B.C., where in 2002 he articled with the federal Department of Justice in the residential school section. “It was all the right issues, on all the wrong sides,” he said.
Vancouver lawyer John Richardson recruited Eby to help the newly formed Pivot Legal Society, where his activism and legal training meshed into a fight to protect vulnerable residents and the homeless, while advocating for more low-income housing.
Years and years of relentless work at Pivot and B.C. Civil Liberties followed. Then, a divorce and burnout.
Cailey Eby holds 16-day-od Iva while David plays with his son Ezra, 5, on the couch in the family home in Vancouver. Photo: Arlen Redekop/Postmedia
A key to Eby’s resurrection has been wife Cailey, a doctor who is even smarter and more focused than he is. They met in 2011. Shortly after, the NDP recruited Eby to run in the Vancouver-Point Grey byelection against then Liberal premier Christy Clark. Eby surprised political observers by coming within 564 votes of victory.
He ran again in 2013, this time stunning Clark in an upset. The day after the election, Cailey, then a nurse, got into medical school. They’ve tried to balance and support each other’s ambitions and goals ever since.
Eby built up steam as an opposition NDP critic on housing affordability, foreign buyers, cash-for-access fundraisers, real estate loopholes, political donations and money laundering.
Some in the Chinese community felt singled out by Eby’s criticism of wealthy foreign owners who exploit real estate loopholes to avoid paying taxes. Eby has quietly taken three years of Mandarin lessons, and can now hold passable conversations with Chinese critics.
He rubbed others in the party the wrong way with his one-man media show that paid little deference to the leader’s office. But he was so successful that he was encouraged to run for B.C. NDP leader in 2014. Eby had his campaign team in place, with big backers. “I was inclined to support him,” Horgan said.
But at the last minute, Cailey told him she was pregnant with Ezra. Eby cancelled his launch, convinced Horgan to run instead and co-chaired Horgan’s campaign.
Two years later, with New Democrats lagging in the polls, some party members whispered in Eby’s ear to take over from Horgan and lead the NDP into the 2017 election. Horgan and Eby met. Horgan offered to step aside. But Ezra had just turned two. Eby, citing his family, reiterated his support for Horgan.
The NDP would form government after the election — Horgan as premier and Eby, the almost-leader, as attorney general.
“I’m so glad I made the call to drop out of the NDP leadership,” said Eby.
“Because I feel like I am doing all the things that I want to do right now. I’m addressing all the files that I want to address right now. And I’m really enjoying it. And I don’t have to travel the entire province every week and I don’t have to be accountable to all these different stakeholder groups as the leader of the party and the leader of the province. So I’m glad John is doing that work.”
For most New Democrats, Eby remains the party’s leader-in-waiting for whenever Horgan retires.
The only question will be: Does the more mellow David Eby still want the job?
Cailey has a motto for their marriage and careers that’s already applied to the risks of going to medical school and running for provincial office. It also applies to Eby’s political future, and the idea of him one day taking a run at the premier’s office.
“Everyone gets to swing big if they want to,” she said.
It means she’s there to help maintain their family-life balance, should he one day want to take that swing at the top job. But he’s also promised the same balance as she pursues her medical career.
At the end of a hot yoga session near his apartment at UBC, Eby walks home covered in sweat from his workout. He’s going to check in with Cailey, and hold Iva, before his next work event. He’s got a big, goofy smile on his face.
“I feel incredible,” he says. For once in his life, he’s not talking about work.
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