A couple of months ago, the CBC aired a documentary chronicling last year's federal election campaign from the perspective of the journalists who covered it and the spin doctors who tried to sway them. An array of Ottawa insiders -- a senior communications guy from each party, plus a handful of press gallery types -- made up the cast. But it was Scott Reid, one of Paul Martin's most loyal and long-serving aides, who stole the show.

Most political staffers are passionate about their bosses and their work; it's the only way to get through the long hours, excessive stress and constant job uncertainty. But rarely are they quite so devoted as Mr. Reid. Having fiercely defended Mr. Martin's honour throughout, he capped off the program by literally weeping as he sang the praises of the prime minister he's spent much of his adult life working for.

I don't raise this to embarrass Mr. Reid, who seemed a little uncomfortable having such a moment caught by the cameras. It's to his credit, I guess, that he believes so passionately in his boss.

The problem, though, is that those closest to the PM - Mr. Reid, and a relatively small number of others who share his passion - continue to delude themselves into thinking that every Canadian sees Mr. Martin the way they do.

That, really, is why Mr. Martin turned up on our TV screens Thursday night.

Most politicians handle scandal by trying to turn our attention elsewhere, ideally by trying to spark debate on some other major policy front. But not Mr. Martin. His handlers' belief, from the moment Adscam broke, has been that the best way to handle it is to have the PM talk about it as much as possible. He's just so darned earnest and trustworthy and visionary and likeable, they figure, that Canadians will conclude that he's better suited than Stephen Harper, Jack Layton or anyone else to deal with the scandal's fallout - even though he was the most senior minister in the government responsible for it.

It can't possibly work. If Canadians go into voting booths thinking about Adscam, the Liberals will lose. Period. But instead of trying to change the subject, Mr. Martin's people think he's such a sympathetic character that he can actually use the issue to his advantage - which is exactly what he's been trying to do, and failing miserably at, since last year's Mad As Hell tour.

It's an extension of a much broader approach that has served Mr. Martin - and the country -- very poorly.

Ever since he took office, and even before it, Mr. Martin's inner circle seems to have believed he can get by merely on charm. For all the lofty talk of fixing medicare, of reaching a new deal with cities, of restoring Canada's place in the world, of leading the way internationally on relieving Third World debt, he took power without a concrete idea of how he was actually going to achieve any of this. The thinking, clearly, was that his sheer force of personality and his better intentions would be enough to bring people together and effect immediate results.

Naturally, it didn't work that way.

For one thing, Mr. Martin isn't really all that charming. Blandly likeable, sure. But he hardly has the sort of personality that other politicians and the general public gravitate toward.

But even if he had the charisma of Pierre Trudeau and the personal appeal of Ronald Reagan, it still wouldn't do much for good government, absent a decisive plan of action. And it would be equally useless in winning back the public confidence he enjoyed before taking office.

What the Martinites seem to think is that the public was clamouring for their guy to take over from Jean Chretien because they really, really liked him. But that actually had little to do with it. The reason Mr. Martin was so popular as an heir apparent was that everyone assumed he had an activist agenda and a sense of vision and purpose that would replace Mr. Chretien's cautious adherence to the status quo -- an act that was appealing in the aftermath of Brian Mulroney's chaotic prime ministership, but had grown tiresome by his third term.

What Mr. Martin needs, what he has always needed, are advisors prepared to light a fire under him. That he is instead surrounded by people who view him the way Waylon Smithers views Mr. Burns, minus the sexual undertones, is largely his fault for responding so badly to criticism. But it's a shame nonetheless, depriving us of a prime minister who might have been something special if he'd done more than just try to slip by on charm.