Rogue Tory
Page 74
I have been greatly disturbed by the lack of attention which, insofar as the file indicates, this matter received. The Minister was left in his position of trust.
I have decided that I cannot, in the public interest, let the matter lie where it was left and that I must ask the R.C.M. Police to pursue further enquiries.
I recognize that the file before me may not disclose all the steps that were taken. In view of this, it is my duty to write to you about the matter in case you might be in a position to let me know that the enquiries were pursued and the safeguards that were taken reached further than the materials before me would indicate. That material now indicates that the Minister of Justice brought the matter to your attention and that no action was taken.
Because national security is involved, this is the most serious and disturbing of the matters that have been brought to my attention. But I assure you that all incidents during the last ten years are being thoroughly examined and will be followed up without fear or favour if and when the evidence requires it.
If there is further information you can provide about the Munsinger case, I will be grateful if you will let me know.85
Pearson told Bruce Hutchison in February 1965 that he had called in the commissioner of the RCMP and asked to see “all the files you have on every MP since 1956.”86 The fishing expedition was a violation of cabinet convention and political decency unprecedented in Canadian history. Diefenbaker’s excesses were matched by this one. Pearson’s letter to Diefenbaker, reporting his discovery of the Munsinger file and his “very grave concern” about the apparent lack of attention Diefenbaker had given it, contained an implied threat that the information might be used against the ex-prime minister. Pearson’s purpose – as he admitted to Hutchison – was “that if he was aware that I knew about the affair he might take it a little easier on us.”87 In his memoirs, Diefenbaker characterized the letter accurately as “an attempt to blackmail Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition into silence on the scandals rocking his government.”88
Diefenbaker – who was ill in bed when he received the letter – consulted his House leader, Gordon Churchill, about it and decided that he would confront Pearson in person. One week later, on December 11, 1964, he met the prime minister in his East Block office. Pearson recalled: “He rushed over and started to wave his fists at me and said that he had a scandal on me too. That he knew all about my days as a Communist. I laughed in his face and said, ‘Oh, you mean that testimony to the McCarran Committee by that deranged woman in Washington. Well, there’s nothing to that. I remember at the time Dean Acheson sent a man up here to tell me about it and I told him to go ahead and publish it.’ Well Diefenbaker was pretty deflated so I asked him if he’d been involved any further in the matter on which I’d seen the file and he said no. So I said, give it to me in writing. But of course he never has.”89
Diefenbaker’s account of the conversation is consistent with Pearson’s, but he describes its ending in scornful terms.
I remember that Pearson got to his feet. He walked over to me and, in his most ingratiating way, said: “We should not talk to each other like this, John.” I rejoined: “I didn’t write the letter that you sent to me, Mike.” I added, “And neither did you.” Mr. Pearson admitted that the letter had been drafted for him. He then added, “You know I am not a politician. I am a diplomat.” I replied that I had heard a diplomat defined “as a person who lies away from home.” I turned to leave and added, “You are no diplomat.” I heard no more about the Munsinger case until January 1966.90
The two leaders were engaged in more than parliamentary combat: They were locked in distrust, contempt, and hatred, and that mutual obsession infected their followers and embittered the atmosphere of the House of Commons. For Diefenbaker, his old suspicion and jealousy of the urbane diplomat had deepened after Pearson had displaced him in power. Pearson, he believed, had gained power through an unfair conspiracy and had demonstrated his incompetence in office. He deserved to be removed. In a fair electoral battle, Diefenbaker was confident that Canadian voters would restore him to his rightful place.
Through the autumn the House committee on the Canadian flag conducted its contentious – and sometimes hilarious – proceedings, examining a large number of designs. The Conservative members of the committee, Diefenbaker admitted, were “badly out-manoeuvred.” By the end of October the committee had discarded Pearson’s three-maple-leaf design (Diefenbaker called it the “Pearson pennant”) and opted for George Stanley’s striking single red leaf with red bands. Diefenbaker commented that it was a flag Peruvians would salute. When the report was returned to the House, the opposition leader and his largely English-speaking caucus maintained their refusal to limit debate. Almost three dozen Conservative members wished to record their attitudes in a lost cause. Léon Balcer and the Quebec Conservatives, on the contrary, favoured a new flag without the Red Ensign, and warned that Tory opposition to it would devastate the party in Quebec at the next election. On December 11 he proposed that Pearson should use closure to end the debate, and a few days later the prime minister did so, leaving the Conservative Party deeply riven. Long after midnight on December 15, 1964, the House adopted the flag resolution, as partisans on one side of the House sang “O Canada” and those on the other sang “God Save the Queen.” As the debate concluded, Diefenbaker told Pearson: “You have done more to divide Canada than any other Prime Minister.”91
The Conservative Party found temporary relief for three days in September 1964, when politicians, academics, and critics of every political stripe gathered for Dalton Camp’s party conference on Canadian goals in Fredericton, New Brunswick. The leader attended briefly to insist upon his friendship for intellectuals; Marshall McLuhan offered cryptic comments on the need for charismatic leadership to match the celebrity of the Beatles; and other participants offered Quebec everything and nothing. The historian W.L. Morton warned Quebeckers that a decision to separate from Canada should be met by “every means including force if necessary,” while Claude Ryan doubted whether that approach would attract support in the province. Davie Fulton proposed constitutional reform to assert the equality of the two language groups; and Montreal lawyer Marc Lalonde believed that a firm commitment to federalism in Ottawa would easily vanquish the separatists and semi-separatists. The conference offered a feast of ideas, but little evidence of a clear direction for the Conservative Party. Diefenbaker congratulated Camp for “one of the most beneficial conferences that have taken place in many years,” and thought that the party should follow up with a new platform. He was disappointed that two caucus committees on policy had produced “very little of a constructive nature.”92
“If he says he’s the Leader of the Opposition, humour him.”
The flag debate typified Conservative woes. In mid-January 1965 the eight-member Quebec caucus, under Léon Balcer’s leadership, met in Montreal to consider its position in the party, and next day Balcer wrote at its direction to Camp asking him “to convene a meeting of the national executive … in order to fix a date for a national convention to decide upon the leadership of the party.” Balcer told Camp that the crisis involved more than the flag.
On every issue touching the taproots of Confederation, the hopes and aspirations of French Canada have been distorted, mis-represented and ignored. The repatriation of our Constitution; the opting-out formula; the B. and B. Commission; federal-provincial relations and even the Canada Pension Plan – each of them have been subjected to narrow, parochial, unreasoning criticism of the kind to which great issues should not be subjected. Our concern is not for criticism, or even opposition, to any of these, but to the disturbing pattern which the across-the-board opposition has revealed.
It is our firm conviction, reached after the most careful consideration, that the Conservative Party can no longer carry on as a great national party under its present leadership and the policies which that leadership have engendered.
Balcer struck at Diefenbaker’s jugular by asse
rting that the party had adopted policies that were “the direct antithesis of the great work of union wrought by Macdonald and Cartier – the first Canadians to master the art of governing this difficult country of ours.” He called for the executive meeting to be held before the House reconvened on February 16, and noted that the Quebec caucus had already made a public announcement of its request.93
Camp faced what he described to Diefenbaker as “a cruel dilemma.” Everyone he consulted thought that the Liberal government could and should be defeated; but equally everyone was aware of the public division in the Tory party. “All propose one or other ultimate solution to it, involving the leadership, but these taken together are mutually contradictory.”94 To confront the dilemma, Camp wrote to members of the national executive enclosing Balcer’s letter, asking them to tell him at once whether they favoured an early meeting to consider Balcer’s request. When 60 percent of the executive indicated their support, Camp called a national executive meeting for Saturday, February 6, 1965.95
During the last ten days of January the leader of the opposition was away from Ottawa, first in Prince Albert and then, for four crowded days, in London attending the funeral of Sir Winston Churchill. Camp did not consult Diefenbaker before calling the executive meeting, but explained his decision in a memorandum and an interview with the leader on February 2. Camp noted the extreme divisions between French- and English-speaking elements in the party, “agitation and unrest” among young members, a withdrawal of support for the federal party by the Ontario organization (“including its leadership”), shortages of candidates and funds, and the continued unrelenting opposition of the press. But he thought the executive retained “a strong sense of mutual confidence and solidarity among its non-Parliamentary members” and would not support Balcer’s proposal for a leadership convention. He hoped that it might somehow find a solution that would retain the pride and vitality of the party – without suggesting what it might be. He passed on some harsh personal comments to Diefenbaker: “The most helpful thing I believe I could tell you is that a number in the Party fear what they take to be your ‘political memory’; others admire your courage and your stalwart defense of what you think is right, but they also fear what they take to be an inflexibility of mind and an inflexibility in personal relationships. Someone said to me that ‘the difference in the Conservative Party between loyalty and subservience had never been learned.’ ”96 Salvaging the party’s pride, it seemed, would have to involve someone’s resignation. Probably nothing could save party unity.
Diefenbaker’s staff members Burt Richardson and Tom Van Dusen counselled attack.97 Richardson told Diefenbaker that Camp had committed “an act of perfidy” by calling the meeting of the national executive, designed “to assert power within the party, bringing the leader and all elements under the control of this clique.” He suggested a number of countermeasures: a press campaign indicating that “the Chief is on the warpath, ready to strike”; an order to Camp to “recant and denounce the clique”; a meeting of the parliamentary caucus before the executive meeting to declare its support for the leader; a grassroots campaign to launch “a deluge of mail and messages” in his favour; and a public statement by Diefenbaker declaring his intention to fight. Richardson identified the rebels as “the Quebec group” and “the Toronto Turks,” and doubted that they controlled the national executive. In any case, “the real power of the leader lies in the grass roots voters and in the caucus.” The executive should be told by its parliamentary members that “whatever leader the party has, he must have loyalty … Above all, the leader should not resign at this time, as public opinion is beginning to accept the inevitability of John Diefenbaker being Prime Minister again.”98
With only four days before the executive meeting, Diefenbaker and his supporters could hardly mount the campaign Richardson called for. But they did arrange a caucus meeting for February 5; and Diefenbaker – who was now receiving signals of a precipitate collapse in support among the faithful – engaged in a frenetic series of telephone conversations and personal encounters to measure his chances and rally his troops. Balcer announced his intention to boycott the caucus meeting, and plans for a motion to expel him from caucus were discussed. But Diefenbaker was also talking once more of his own retirement.99
By the time caucus gathered on February 5, Diefenbaker had put those thoughts behind him. He foresaw an early election, and called for a unified campaign aimed at victory. “I am not leading the Conservative Party into the wilderness,” his notes declare. “I intend to lead this party to another task ordered by Canada’s destiny. I am reminded of the motto of Count Frontenac: ‘I will answer the enemy from the mouths of my cannon.’ ” If there was any fighting in the ranks, “it must stop now … Ferment inside a Party is a sign of life. But ferment carried on when the time comes for political battle is something else. It is treachery. I have, therefore, an assignment for those who have been outspoken around the campfires in the bivouac. As the battle approaches, let them make clear where they stand … I myself have caused some ferment in the Party, as rank and file supporter in my time. I have always given the Leader under whom I have served, my complete loyalty and support. I expect no less today as Leader.”100
The caucus meeting continued for four hours, as supporters and critics had their say. David Walker, Allister Grosart, Erik Nielsen, and Terry Nugent led for the defence. But, as Peter Newman reported, “Diefenbaker, for the first time, was the subject of open laughter in the inner circles of his own party” when his old friend Senator Walker declared: “He’s an honest man who ran an honest government, and I can say that nobody’s ever found John Diefenbaker out.”101 A motion of confidence in Diefenbaker’s parliamentary leadership was adopted by standing vote, and the leader left the meeting in high spirits. Others reported that “about a dozen” members had remained seated.102
Next morning, after Diefenbaker and Camp had breakfasted together to discuss the day’s proceedings, 116 members of the national executive met in a warehouse room on the top floor of the party’s new headquarters. Camp explained that Balcer and Diefenbaker would speak before lunch, and that afterwards a questionnaire would be distributed asking for advice on the issues in dispute. Diefenbaker had agreed with Camp that this would allow members to express their opinions, but would leave the secret results available only to the party president and himself. Balcer spoke for a few minutes, simply reading his previous letter to Camp and thanking all those present for attending in such large numbers. Diefenbaker, with Olive close by, spoke for almost an hour and a half. He denounced those who had opposed him in 1956, who had continued, privately and publicly, to oppose him ever since. They were “termites” pursuing their own ambitions. “Those who have ambition,” he said, would have their opportunity in due course, but he recalled that Gladstone had won his last election at eighty-four. “You who have ambitions,” he mocked, “should not be other than hopeful.”
Diefenbaker surveyed his battlefronts and his enemies old and new. President Kennedy, he noted, had attempted to stop Canadian grain shipments to China, had stimulated the exchange crisis of 1962 to aid the Liberals, and had intervened in Canadian affairs in 1963. “The termites” accused Diefenbaker of being anti-Quebec: Was he responsible for the party’s record in Quebec from 1921 to 1940? Was he the one who boycotted caucus? Was he the one now “termiting across the country”? In 1922 he had defended French language education in Saskatchewan in the Boutin case. Was he responsible for the Liberal provincial victory or the separatist tide in Quebec? He believed in one Canada. Had he leaked Davie Fulton’s views on constitutional amendment to the Montreal Gazette?
As for himself, “I have no personal ambition. I have had everything. I don’t care how you vote, but put yourself in my position. If you vote against me you are voting for the pattern of Liberalism. I want to know if you want that … If you want a Convention, have it. Get rid of me … They offered me the Chief Justiceship of Canada” – but he would say more about that an
other time. He recalled the lamentable records of Manion, Bracken, and Drew in Quebec. He played out his themes, returning again and again to Balcer, to Fulton, defying the meeting to “call your convention … go to work and do some defending and fighting … Do what you will. I don’t come to you as a suppliant.”103
When the meeting adjourned for lunch, Diefenbaker emerged to tell reporters that it was a fine meeting and that he had proposed “new ideas to strengthen the party.” (He had called for two new party committees.) Nearly half the delegates left the building for lunch, while Diefenbaker ate sandwiches with those who remained. “In the old days,” reported the Toronto Star, “all the delegates would have stayed to lunch and the chance of a word with The Chief.”104
Dalton Camp opened the afternoon session by reading the questions proposed for the secret questionnaire: Should there be a leadership convention? Should the leader resign? Should there be a policy advisory committee? Should the party fully accept the new Canadian flag?105 Diefenbaker “suddenly became very agitated,” whispered to Gordon Churchill, exchanged notes with Olive and with David Walker, and then stood to complain that the national executive was an advisory body that could not pass judgment on the leader. He rejected inclusion of the second question. After a confused debate, five officers of the association withdrew to consider the problem. They returned fifteen minutes later to announce a unanimous decision to let the question stand. Now there was an angry impasse, broken by a motion from Erik Nielsen to delete the second question: a procedural motion that was, in effect, a veiled vote of confidence to be decided by a standing count. This, said the Star, was “the kind of question the rebels feared because some members dared not stand openly against the leader.”
About half of the delegates rose in favor of deleting the resignation question. When those opposed to the deletion stood up, Quebec and Ontario were almost unanimous and even one Saskatchewan delegate surprisingly joined them.