Rogue Tory

by Denis Smith

  That afternoon Davie Fulton reported to a press briefing that Diefenbaker had told the conference “it is time for the Commonwealth to draw up a declaration of the principles for which it stands,” and admitted to a questioner that other prime ministers had agreed with him. There was a “considerable body of support,” but he could say no more because “we are in the midst of a pretty tense and important discussion and ways are being sought of finding an acceptable solution to this problem.”125 Robinson could see that Diefenbaker, “while not seeming or aspiring to form a coalition with his non-white colleagues, had drawn apart from Macmillan, Menzies, and Holyoake of New Zealand and, of course, Verwoerd.”126

  Macmillan opened the second day of discussion on South Africa by offering a draft statement on racial policy for the final communiqué. After Verwoerd and Menzies objected that the language intruded into domestic affairs, Diefenbaker responded that the issue was an international one. The Commonwealth, he believed, could unite only on the principle of non-discrimination. If South Africa wished to maintain its membership after becoming a republic, it would have to acknowledge that its racial policy was inconsistent with the Commonwealth’s principles. That required a statement of principles in the communiqué. The effect would be to force a choice on South Africa rather than on the other members. South Africa could either acknowledge the divisions its request had caused and withdraw its application as premature, pending completion of its constitutional changes and “clarification” of its policies, or it could remain a member by recognizing “the same principle of non-discrimination on grounds of race and colour as is recognized in the United Nations Charter.”127

  When Macmillan produced a revised draft statement at the afternoon session, Verwoerd complained once more that it prescribed too much. The Canadian prime minister read to him the final paragraph about South African policy.

  They considered that this policy was inconsistent with the basic ideals on which the unity and influence of the Commonwealth rest, and with the Charter of the United Nations. They affirmed their belief that, for all Commonwealth Governments, it should be an objective of policy to build in their countries a structure of society which offers equality of opportunity for all, irrespective of race, colour or creed.

  Diefenbaker asked Verwoerd two questions. Would he accept this paragraph in the communiqué? Verwoerd said “No.” After Macmillan suggested adding that “this could be the view of others but not Mr. Verwoerd’s,” Diefenbaker asked whether Verwoerd “would allow this paragraph to be included in final Communique.” Verwoerd replied “Definitely not!”128 Instead, he defended South Africa’s policies as “separate development,” and asked that the paragraph “should be erased completely.” “This,” Diefenbaker recorded, “means we accept application.” He handed a note to Fulton: “Do you perceive any hope of agreement?” to which Fulton replied: “Not yet. Some are moving towards delay, but not yet enough.”129

  That evening Robinson wrote that “everyone is looking for a formula to prevent extreme action” - which he later interpreted to mean “that the mood did not favour an active measure to expel South Africa.”130 Under Nehru’s guidance, the non-white members had insisted firmly but decorously on a decision, while Macmillan managed the debate with supreme skill in his search for a means of keeping South Africa in.131 Diefenbaker stood in the middle, but in the end found himself in principled agreement with his non-white colleagues as they pressed Verwoerd backwards towards the door. Renewal of South African membership on the Commonwealth’s terms had been ruled out by Verwoerd’s intransigence; postponement remained unacceptable to the non-white members; and no one wanted a bitter decision to expel. That left the initiative - for retreat - to Verwoerd. “South Africa,” thought Robinson, “is being confronted with a take-it-or-leave-it proposition.”132

  The next day Macmillan made one more effort at compromise. Verwoerd, he said, would accept the previous draft communiqué if he could add a substantial paragraph in defence of South African policy. Eventually a new draft was circulated in which Verwoerd “deplored the accusations of racial discrimination levelled against South Africa by member countries which he considered to be themselves guilty of such practices,” while other members simply “adhered to the views they had expressed.”133 This was too much. Diefenbaker, Nehru, Nkrumah, and Nigerian Prime Minister Abubakar Tafawa Balewa objected, and any hope of agreement collapsed. Verwoerd requested a recess, met alone with Macmillan, and returned to say that South Africa was withdrawing its application to remain in the Commonwealth.134 According to Diefenbaker’s notes, the South African prime minister departed in full defiance, defending his country’s “national pride and self-respect … shocked by hostility at this meeting,” and predicting imminent disintegration of the Commonwealth.135

  Once the South African issue was resolved, the other members abandoned the task of drafting a declaration of Commonwealth principles; but Diefenbaker told reporters that non-discrimination was an “unwritten principle” of the association. That was “in keeping with the course of my life.”136 On March 17, after an overnight flight across the Atlantic, Diefenbaker came to the House of Commons at 11 am. He offered a sober and untriumphant account of the conference, noting that “we tried to do whatever was humanly possible to avoid a break without making a sacrifice of basic principles.” Diefenbaker saw dignity and restraint all round. “Those who belonged to non-white races showed an attitude of endeavouring to bring about some compromise”; Dr Verwoerd did not reciprocate, “but I do not want hon. members to conclude that he was lacking in forbearance. He is a wonderful personality; he is a kindly burgher. In the face of strong and sometimes provocative criticism he maintained throughout an impressive courtesy and calm.”

  Was the result unavoidable? I think it was. Over the years I have contended that in a multi-racial association it had become clear beyond doubt that if the commonwealth is to be a force for good, as it should be, there must be a measure of general agreement that discrimination in respect of race and colour shall not take place. I do not think we can compromise that principle if we believe that the commonwealth has a mission for all mankind. It would lose its power to meet challenges and opportunities in the future. I am more convinced than ever as to the power of this institution touching every part of the world…

  There will be some who will say, and they will speak with great energy, that we should have pressed for the expulsion of South Africa. I remind those that speak in that vein that Ghana, Nigeria, India, Pakistan, Malaya and Ceylon did not follow that course. I think the fact that this break had to come and that South Africa should have withdrawn its application was the best course that could be followed.137

  For his contribution to this prudent and principled result, explained without flamboyance, Diefenbaker received general praise. Unexpectedly, the occasion marked a high point of his prime ministership. Both in the United Kingdom and in Canada, press reports tended to exaggerate his active role in the affair. What was notable was not that he had assumed a role of leadership, but that Diefenbaker, alone among the representatives of the old Commonwealth, had sided with the new, non-white members on a matter of principle. That had prevented a division along racial lines that might have been destructive. But in the end it was Verwoerd who had taken the decision and relieved other members of their embarrassment. Diefenbaker’s initial idealism about the Commonwealth had now been tempered by hard political experience, while Macmillan’s early and interested regard for the Canadian as a useful partner had distinctly cooled.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Hazard… Our Constant Companion”

  1960-1961

  WHEN THE 1960 SESSION OF PARLIAMENT OPENED ON JANUARY 14, THE Diefenbaker government had lost its novelty, the Liberal front bench had grown in confidence, and the rebirth of the political left was advancing with labour and popular endorsements of a “New Party” to take the place of the CCF. The Conservative Party’s fragile dependence on Quebec’s Union Nationale government was shaken by t
he death of Premier Duplessis in September 1959, briefly infused with energy by the succession as premier of Diefenbaker’s friend Paul Sauvé, and shaken anew by Sauvé’s sudden death in early January. Diefenbaker told his mother: “Tomorrow I am going to St. Eustache, just out from Montreal, to attend the funeral of Premier Sauvé. He was only 52 years of age and had a brilliant future ahead of him, and many have expressed their views in the past few months that he would succeed me as leader of the Conservative party and probably PM.”1 Diefenbaker’s vision of Quebec politics began at the top and never penetrated far below, where an awakening was beginning after a sleep of decades. Although Sauvé sensed the change, his Union Nationale - so long in alliance with traditionalist and reactionary forces - was an unlikely means of leading or containing it.

  The speech from the throne of January 1960 announced a modest legislative program for the session. In his response, Mike Pearson called the government’s plans “unimpressive and superficial,” failing to confront the problems of unemployment, defence, agriculture, and public finance. Saturday Night pronounced Pearson’s speech “a logical, carefully documented indictment of the administration” which had kept “the jaded members of the press gallery” in their seats. The columnist Austin Cross, once Diefenbaker’s admirer, termed Pearson’s opening “a good speech, a brilliant speech, a humorous speech.” But the prime minister used a smart trick to gain the advantage: He kept the major revelations of policy for his own speech, which followed Pearson’s. Diefenbaker announced a royal commission on government organization, an effort to amend the Constitution without recourse to Westminster, a proposal to reform the parliamentary committee system, and continuing negotiations with the United States on double key control from both capitals of nuclear warheads on Canadian weapons. Then he turned on the Liberal Party for its unpardonable arrogance. The CCF member for Port Arthur, Douglas Fisher, lamented that “the government and the Prime Minister have their second wind now, but it is still the old wind we hear soughing; attack, attack, attack interminably.”2

  In January 1960 Diefenbaker unexpectedly announced the resignation of his secretary of state, Henri Courtemanche, and his appointment to the Senate for what the prime minister discreetly called reasons of health. Later, in 1961, Courtemanche was disbarred for accepting $60,000 in kickbacks from federal grants to the Jean Talon Hospital in Montreal, and resigned his Senate seat on the Chief’s demand.3 Diefenbaker was not faring well with his Quebec ministers: O’Hurley was stumbling in Defence Production; Comtois was little more than comatose; Sévigny was an object of suspicion after December 1960; and Balcer’s talents remained untested. André Laurendeau commented in Le Devoir in September that “French-Canadians have never, since R.B. Bennett, felt themselves so distant from the country’s business as they are under Mr. Diefenbaker.”4 But there were weaknesses elsewhere as well. George Pearkes had become a Blimpish target as he fumbled over the Bomarc missile and the confusing imperatives of American defence policy; Gordon Churchill was performing indifferently in Trade and Commerce and ineptly as House leader; Alf Brooks, the minister of veterans affairs, was, like Pearkes, an aging veteran of two wars who was ready to accept retirement to the Senate.5

  After three years in office, the cabinet had produced only a handful of demonstrably capable ministers: Green, Fleming, Fulton, Hees, Harkness, Alvin Hamilton, Nowlan, and Starr. It would need rearrangement and bolstering before another election. By mid-summer Diefenbaker had decided to provide Pearkes with a parachute into the lieutenant governor’s mansion in British Columbia, and Brooks a seat in the Senate. Those departures would require a general shuffle. Diefenbaker began his consultations in August, and fussed over a decision for more than three months. His parliamentary strategist Gordon Churchill encouraged the hesitation by telling him that “if an election is likely next year, it would be advisable to make as few cabinet changes as possible.” He offered a barrage of reasons. Ministers were now experienced in their jobs; thrown into new portfolios they would be unsure of themselves and subject to “a lack of co-operation” from their senior civil servants. The existing cabinet could be presented to the public as a team. And the key prairie ministers, Harkness, Hamilton, and Churchill, would be especially vital in their present posts to hold the rural vote. Churchill therefore recommended only two major changes: Fulton should move to Defence, where he would be “fully competent to stand the strain of a difficult position”; and the recently defeated Conservative premier of New Brunswick, Hugh John Flemming, should come in to the newly created Department of Forestry.6

  Diefenbaker also made a casual canvass of old cronies; on August 27 he noted the suggestions of the reporter Jim Oastler and the Manitoba senator Solly Thorvaldson.7 Several times he produced tentative lists for himself, before finally announcing his changes on October 11. They were substantial: six shifts of ministry and four new members of cabinet. Douglas Harkness became minister of defence; Alvin Hamilton, minister of agriculture; Gordon Churchill, minister of veterans affairs but still leader of the House; George Hees, minister of trade and commerce; Léon Balcer, minister of transport; and W.J. Browne, solicitor general. As expected, Hugh John Flemming joined the cabinet as minister of forestry; the old Union Nationale insider Noël Dorion came in as secretary of state; Walter Dinsdale of Manitoba was appointed to Northern Affairs; and Ernest Halpenny of southwestern Ontario became a minister without portfolio. Diefenbaker considered George Nowlan for Transport, but kept him in National Revenue where he could remain a key adviser on unemployment and maintain responsibility for the CBC. With Balcer promoted and Dorion in, Quebec prospects suddenly looked better. But representation from French-speaking Canada remained remarkably thin, given the party’s tenuous hold on fifty Quebec seats.8

  Almost three years in cabinet had not taught the prime minister anything about organizing government business, and the haphazard schedules and endless meetings had increasingly frustrated his ministers. In February 1960 Diefenbaker told cabinet - as it already knew - that “the increasing frequency of Cabinet meetings was causing concern.” He proposed a new system of cabinet committees that would take on “preliminary review of policy questions” and thus “reduce the work of the Cabinet as a whole.” Some ministers responded that a regular schedule of meetings would offer relief, since that would allow them “to make other appointments on a firmer basis.” They awaited Diefenbaker’s proposals.9 Within days Robert Bryce pointed out to the prime minister that there were already seven principal committees of cabinet: “It is not a complete list but gives you an idea of the number that are available and could be more effectively used if you wished to do so in order to lighten the load on Ministers generally.” Bryce added that ministers should be encouraged to consult with one another before bringing issues to cabinet, and that major policies should be discussed with the prime minister “in order to acquaint him with the issues involved before the matter comes to Cabinet.”10 This seemed fairly basic good sense, but the advice had little effect on cabinet proceedings. Three new committees were created, but only one of them ever met. By early July there had been eighty meetings of cabinet since the new year. Coupled with the backlog of government business in the House of Commons and a growing list of unfilled senior civil service appointments, the cabinet’s disorganization seemed to signal a progressive loss of direction and control.11

  BY EARLY 1960 THE SOVIET UNION CLAIMED A SUBSTANTIAL FORCE OF intercontinental ballistic missiles. When the Paris summit meeting collapsed in May with the Soviet leader’s blustering departure, Western leaders were plunged into gloom. Khrushchev, it seemed, was both unpredictable and subject to close control by his military advisers. Renewed Soviet pressure on Berlin - the Western island in the communist sea - seemed likely. Khrushchev had vowed in Paris to deal no more with Eisenhower, whose term was in its last year. That meant at least eight months of uncertainty and danger in East-West relations. In June the Soviet Union walked out of the disarmament conference, and Harold Macmillan told his diary that the Paris sum
mit had wrecked his own work of years, brought “an ignominious end” to Eisenhower’s presidency, set back Khrushchev’s “more conciliatory and sensible ideas,” and brought the world “a step nearer to ultimate disaster.”12

  In this atmosphere of increased international anxiety, John Diefenbaker’s instinct was to draw closer to his American and British allies. “This is not the time,” he told a television audience on May 19, “to enter into criticisms or recriminations of our friends.”13 The Washington correspondent of the CBC, James M. Minifie, had stimulated wide debate in the country with the publication of his book Peacemaker or Powder Monkey: Canada’s Role in a Revolutionary World, in which he urged Canadian withdrawal from NATO and NORAD in favour of diplomatic neutrality; but that was not something that Diefenbaker, Green, and their associates could contemplate. The government’s renewed commitment to NATO and NORAD was echoed by the Liberal Party. In early June Diefenbaker travelled to Washington to reinforce that commitment and to urge closer consultation among NATO members in times of crisis. At Washington National Airport he told his hosts, “We must maintain our unity and strengthen it, and while striving for peace must maintain our defences against the propaganda of delusive ideas and the dangers of accurate missiles.”14 During Eisenhower’s White House dinner that evening, Diefenbaker noted genially that Canada’s creation had been hastened by the American Civil War, and that “during the war we sprang to the aid of both sides - we fought in the armies of the North and the South, and when the war was over we exulted with the North and shed tears for the South, and have been glorifying Lincoln and the Union ever since … These United States have reached a primacy of power with an awesome accountability to history and in that decisive role which calls for wisdom and patient courage and unity Canadians will be your friends.”15