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Everyone loves Kai Nagata, it seems. The former CTV on-air journalist who quit his job and then wrote a 3,000 word blog post explaining the rationale behind it has become a minor celebrity. Just about every journalist in the country, and many thousands of their friends and associates, have already read his original post and the follow-up over the last two days, and most have responded with either admiration or adulation. He’s even received a few marriage proposals from his more ardent admirers. I’m not one of them, and I want to explain why.

I was initially tempted to write off his saccharine scribblings as just another unwitting subject of Macbeth’s famous soliloquy: full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. I can’t, though, because it signifies something that deserves to be carefully identified and closely scrutinized: the utter puerility of my generation. Nagata’s blog post wasn’t the selfless act of truth-telling that so many have described it as but a love letter to his own virtue – and his vanity. His blog post amounts to the existential equivalent of a temper tantrum, and we’re not doing him any favours by giving it the attention it so plainly seeks to attract.

His complaints about Canadian politics might resonate among those who share his views – and I consider myself one of those people, for the record –  but his thoughts about journalism and how it ought to be conducted make far less sense. For example, his objections to the Harper government’s policy direction and the drift that it has charted away from what he perceives as Canada’s true values are fair, but his discomfort with being unable to express them on-air is downright bizarre: that’s the job description of a television reporter, and it hasn’t changed appreciably over the last twenty years. “As a reporter,” he writes, “I feel like I’ve been holding my breath. Every question I asked, every Tweet I posted, and even what I said to other journalists and friends had to go through a filter, where my own opinions and values were carefully strained out.”

Well, sure – that’s sort of how it works, and how it is supposed to work. Unless you’re a columnist you’re expected to bite your tongue, set aside your political views and cover the facts of the matter as best you can. Equally puzzling is the objection he registers to the superficial nature of television journalism. “I admit felt a profound discomfort working in an industry that so casually sexualizes its workforce,” he writes. Fine. Fair. But when has it ever been anything but? And has it really changed so much in the year or so that he’s worked as an on-air reporter?

If he were quitting his job because of some principled disagreement with his employer, be it over the way they were covering a certain issue or the way they were assiduously ignoring another, I’d be cheer-leading Nagai’s resignation as loudly as the next person. But there’s no tangible reason, no ethical deal-breaker, for him quitting – just some nebulous thoughts about the problems with journalism in 2011  (thoughts that I can assure you every working journalist has on a daily basis) and an apparently insatiable desire to feed his ego. It’s not even a case where he became so frustrated with the demands of his job that he just had to quit, like the hilarious (and genuinely inspiring) episode involving JetBlue flight attendant Stephen Slater. It was, instead, an act of naked – and rank – self-indulgence.

But what really bugs the shit out of me about this, and why I’m willing to stick my neck out to criticize the left’s new favourite son, is the fact that this whole production is both more cunning and more contrived than most people are willing to acknowledge.  Nagata told the CBC that he never imagined he’d get this kind of response for a blog post explaining why he was quitting his job, but I think he knew exactly what he was doing. From the design of the blog to the method of his message’s dissemination, Nagata was aiming to get noticed. Whether he wanted to score a book deal, get a column or just put his name more squarely on the media map is something that only he knows for sure, but it’s clear – to me, anyways – that he wanted something more than to simply tell the truth.  What it really comes down to, I think, is that he was in a hurry and didn’t want to take the time to grind out a career the way most journalists do. Forget the daily grind of compromises and small sacrifices in the service of something more important. No, for Kai Nagata, it was now or never. “I thought if I paid my dues and worked my way up through the ranks, I could maybe reach a position of enough influence and credibility that I could say what I truly feel,” he writes.” I’ve realized there’s no time to wait.” Indeed.

To be clear, I don’t think Kai Nagata’s a bad person. He’s an obviously intelligent guy who thinks about things in a way and with a level of seriousness that most people would do well to emulate. But like so many people my age, he’s a talented individual who insists on placing his own ego at the centre of every conversation. And while his impatient narcissism may end up advancing him further down the professional playing field than if he’d stayed in Quebec City and paid those dues he so easily dismisses, it might also ultimately do him harm over the long run. In making the most of himself, he may end up making the least of his abilities.

We don’t change the world by shouting about it, after all, or by immolating ourselves (literally or figuratively) when things don’t go our way. We change the world by changing it, one agonizing compromise after another. I think Kai Nagata could have done more good for his career, and yes, even his country, if he’d stuck around and done the dirty business of building a career. But like most people my age, he didn’t want to put in the work to do that.