Hell or High Water

by Paul Martin

  Whatever my predecessor’s calculations, the Auditor General’s report was not a preoccupation for me at the time. I had not seen the report, and did not anticipate how incendiary it would be. After all, the Auditor General had issued a previous report on the same program, and although it had been a problem for the government, it was hardly devastating. Terrie had warned me, when she tried to persuade me to leave before the 2000 election, that Jean Chrétien would try to “wait me out.” I think the jury is still out on whether that was his original intention. Where she was absolutely right was that he would leave a “time bomb” when he went — something I had believed he cared too much about the party and the country to do.

  Surprisingly, Jean Chrétien and I had virtually no direct contact during the transition. For some reason, however, he insisted on a face-to-face meeting to tell me his revised date of departure, which turned out to be December 12. We met briefly in his office, along with some aides, but our encounter was extremely awkward. He remained behind his desk and certainly had no intention of saying anything of substance. When we met the media afterwards, I said a few words, and he said quite a bit more. When a reporter asked me a question, Jean Chrétien announced the scrum was at an end. For a split second I was poised between continuing to speak or letting him have his day. I decided on the latter. My time would soon come.

  Over the next few days, my main preoccupation was putting together the cabinet — for me, as for most prime ministers, one of the most difficult tasks the job entails. As Frank McKenna once remarked to me, the problem in choosing a cabinet is not so much finding the people to do the jobs as it is having to say no to the many good people for whom there is no room. There were several principles with which I approached the task. The first was that this would very much be a transition cabinet. I was hoping to have many new Members of Parliament in caucus after the coming election, and to recruit quality candidates the newcomers needed to know that there would be opportunities for them. So everyone would be told that an appointment now would not guarantee a claim on a cabinet post after the election. Second, it was important that some of the prominent ministers from the previous government step aside, both to create openings for newcomers and to make it clear to the public that this government was as much about change as it was about continuity. Third, I wanted, through my cabinet selection, to demonstrate a commitment to greater representation by women, as well as a stronger voice for the West.

  Allan Rock indicated to me that he was prepared to remain in cabinet, but he also suggested an exit ramp, which was the post of ambassador to the United Nations. I was happy to offer him the latter, knowing that he would be superb at the job, which indeed he proved to be. John Manley presented a greater challenge. He wanted to be foreign affairs minister, but like most prime ministers, I was determined to play much of that role myself, and felt there was too much potential for conflict if he returned to a job he had occupied for a time under Jean Chrétien. As an alternative, he would have considered staying at Finance, but I had already decided on Ralph Goodale, who was a natural for the post. Of course, John’s very close association with Jean Chrétien in the latter years of his government meant that almost any differences between us on policy matters would play themselves out in the media as an extension of old battles now better forgotten. When I met with John, I raised the possibility of his taking on the job of ambassador to the United States, for which he would be well suited. He asked whether I would consider making the ambassadorship a cabinet-level job — a constitutional peculiarity in my view — and whether he could report directly to me; in both cases I said no. John said he would consider my proposal, but I did not hear back from him for several days. Then, word reached me that he was planning a press conference to announce that he had been offered the ambassadorial post but had turned it down. I didn’t believe this was possible. I called him to see whether he had made up his mind, but he said he wanted more time. In the end, I heard the news like everyone else, through the media.

  Sheila Copps was a special case, as so often in her career. There had been extraordinary bitterness in the Hamilton area between Sheila and my supporters, including two MPs, Stan Keyes — who had supported her leadership bid in 1990 — and Tony Valeri. Late in the 2003 leadership race, there was a signal through one of her organizers, Joe Thornley, that she would like to be appointed ambassador to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), which I was prepared to do. When I met with her during the transition, however, I was stunned to hear her declare that she intended to run again. Whether there was a miscommunication through Thornley or she had changed her mind, I do not know. However, her determination to run again created an inevitable clash. Due to redistribution, if she stayed where she was, she would be vying for the Liberal nomination with Tony Valeri, a man of great talent whom I was determined to put into cabinet. We suggested two alternative seats, one of them a safe Liberal seat, in fact. In this latter case, I asked John Turner if he might be able to help. He approached Beth Phinney, an incumbent MP from Hamilton who had intended to run again. Beth agreed to step down, which would have left the nomination open for Sheila. When John picked up the phone to relay the offer to Sheila, she declined.

  In retrospect, one regret I have about my first cabinet was not including Stéphane Dion. My advisers were split. David Herle and many of the other anglophones around me were enthusiastic about his inclusion. The advice I got from others, however, particularly in Quebec, was the opposite. In any event, I did not put Stéphane in my first cabinet, though I always intended to bring him back in at some point, as indeed I did as environment minister after the spring election.

  At the same time, I did something unusual on Stéphane’s behalf. I had made it policy that constituency nominations in the coming election would be open to all comers, allowing the party’s stock of candidates to refresh itself thoroughly for the first time in a decade. When it became clear that Stéphane was in danger of losing his nomination to a strong supporter of mine, however, I departed from my policy and stepped in to make sure he would be renominated.

  Putting together the Prime Minister’s Office confronted me with a different problem. As I soon discovered, while some MPs may be sitting by their phones waiting for the call, many people of quality not in elected office have personal or professional reasons to prefer staying out of the daily pressure cooker of the PMO. This challenge was all the greater when it came to Quebec. The Quebec media had long complained about the fact that my entourage was mainly anglophone, and that I was getting advice only from outside Quebec. This was just wrong. Montreal is less than two hours away from Ottawa, and throughout my years as minister Sheila and I never moved our home, continuing to return to Montreal every chance we had. I was in continuous contact with people such as Dennis Dawson, Francis Fox, Pietro Perrino, and Jean Lapierre, as well as Lucie Santoro, who was on my Montreal staff, and of course with my two former legislative assistants Benoit Labonté and Claude Dauphin, both of whom are now councillors for the city of Montreal. Such people didn’t need to be in my Ottawa office to contribute to my thinking on Quebec issues or national issues. The media just didn’t get it, because it all happened more than two hundred metres from Parliament Hill.

  The situation changed when I became prime minister. As some of my advisers who did not join the PMO quickly found out, if you are not on the staff, you cannot possibly remain in the loop on every significant issue. Too much happens too fast. There cannot be a “kitchen cabinet” second-guessing the staff at every turn, because at the PMO the thinking is in the doing. But it was terribly difficult to recruit people to pack up and head out on route #40 to live in Ottawa. Not only is there a feeling in Quebec that, politically, the National Assembly is where it’s at, the truth is that in Ottawa, for all the attempts over the years to make it bilingual, the working language is predominantly English, even including some meetings where most of the people in the room happen to be francophone. Even Francis Fox agreed only to a
six-month stay in the PMO as principal secretary. After the election, he was succeeded by Hélène Scherrer. Brian Guest was named deputy principal secretay.

  Among my advisers who were already in Ottawa, most were keen. Only Terrie and Elly declined to come on board. Tim Murphy became chief of staff, with Ruth Thorkelson as deputy. Scott Reid was director of communications, and Melanie Gruer became press secretary. Mario Cuconato was tour director of operations. Peter Nicholson came in as a senior policy adviser. After the election, Karl Littler joined as head of cabinet operations, Michele Cadario directed the regional political desks and Steve McKinnon was responsible for the party office. Véronique de Passillé was my new legislative assistant, preparing for question period and in charge of overall briefing, while Karen Martin became my director of appointments.

  A few days before my government was sworn in, we made a remarkable catch for the Liberal Party. Scott Brison, who was one of the brightest stars in the Progressive Conservative Party, a one-time candidate for the leadership of that party, and an opposition finance critic who had jousted with me daily from the Opposition benches, announced he was crossing the floor to join our party. Scott was very much a “progressive” conservative who did not feel at home after the merger of the PCs with the old Reform Party/Canadian Alliance under Stephen Harper. It was a clear signal that there was a large segment of the public that had lost their traditional home with the PCs and would be looking to us as an alternative.

  The day before the swearing-in of the new government I made my calls to the new cabinet, and a few to those who did not make it and perhaps hoped that they would. Some who had aspirations, such as Joe Fontana, took their exclusion with good grace. In Joe’s case, I always planned to bring him in after the election, as I did. Others did not react so well. I offered Maurizio Bevilacqua the cities portfolio, but at a below-cabinet rank. I wanted to make this a major focus of my government, but I had no intention of infuriating the provinces, in whose jurisdiction the municipalities were, right before an election by establishing a new ministry of urban affairs. But Maurizio declined. Instead, I appointed John Godfrey, who was to have had another portfolio, and he came into cabinet after the election a few months later.

  Finally, on December 12, 2003, Sheila and I went to Rideau Hall for the swearing-in. I had retained many of the strongest ministers from the previous Liberal government, but about half of the cabinet were newcomers to that role. It was a great moment.

  1 Stephen Harper set up an inquiry into federal polling contracts under the former separatist minister Daniel Paillé, which was clearly aimed at Earnscliffe. No doubt to the Harper government’s disappointment, Paillé found nothing irregular but did chide the Harper government for its own polling practices.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Taking the Reins

  The cabinet swearing-in at Rideau Hall was very special. In addition to the vice-regal ceremony with the Governor General, we had a “smudging” ceremony conducted by Elmer Courchene, the senior elder of the Sagkeeng First Nation, to which the grand chief of the Assembly of First Nations, Phil Fontaine, belonged. Elder Courchene burned sage, then enveloped us in the smoke by fanning it with an eagle feather in an ancient ritual of purification and healing. It was symbolic, of course, but I was determined that it was not going to be just symbolism. Our native peoples have had far too much experience of being brought in for decorative effect, then being ignored. I wanted Aboriginal Canadians to see that they were an integral and important part of our society. I wanted to establish a partnership with them based on mutual respect rather than dependence.

  For me, establishing a respectful relationship with Aboriginal Canadians and providing the means necessary for them to take control of their own destinies was a fundamental goal I set for myself as prime minister. It marked my last weeks in office just as it marked the first day. Though the achievements of the Kelowna Accord in 2005 have been squandered — the word is not too strong — by my successor, I believe that there will be a day not far off when the principles of that agreement are resuscitated as a matter of historical justice. The reaction of native schoolchildren to the smudging ceremony was especially gratifying to me; we received hundreds of appreciative letters. There is a limit to what we can do about what past generations have suffered; but there are no limits to what children may accomplish with their lives, except those we impose on them. Our Aboriginal population is the youngest of any demographic group in our country, which presents us with our greatest opportunity and our greatest challenge.

  There was also another symbolic change with larger significance that I made to the swearing-in. I had a special ceremony for parliamentary secretaries. One of the factors behind my push for parliamentary reform was the need to enhance the role of Members of Parliament. Under previous administrations, parliamentary secretaries were rotated to the back-benches every two years, regardless of how well they performed. They were also totally dependent on the goodwill of their ministers for any tidbit of responsibility that might fall their way. I decided to change the system, giving them a status akin to that of junior ministers in the British system. This meant they had special responsibilities assigned to them in a mandate letter from the prime minister. Many of them went on to do exceptional work.

  My experience with my own parliamentary secretaries gave me the insight to do this. A number have been mentioned in this book. All were accomplished individuals, some of whom went on to be successful ministers. Roy Cullen was a senior public servant before entering politics. Bryon Wilfert, once a successful municipal leader, has become one of the country’s leading experts on Asia. Despite being a rookie MP when I was prime minister, Navdeep Bains played a crucial coordinating role with caucus during the difficult times of minority government. John McCallum, one of Canada’s brightest economists, brought his expertise to bear as one of my parliamentary secretaries and as secretary of state for financial institutions.

  Andrew Telegdi was not only an expert on immigration, he was hugely helpful on dealing with the challenges of Canada’s Aboriginal people, and was from the beginning a driving force behind the government’s science and technology agenda.

  As I began this new mandate I had some overarching principles in mind. I have always believed that our generation has a duty to the next, and the one after that. Some people talk about “intergenerational equity,” which in plain language means leaving our country and the world in as good shape or better shape than what we inherited. At first, this can seem like not much more than a platitude, but it has been a constant aim through my career. Fairness to our children and grandchildren was a crucial reason for getting a hold of the deficit problem in the 1990s. The same was true with reform of the Canada Pension Plan. It had always been my intention that once we got Canada back on a sound fiscal footing, we would have the resources to invest in our children’s lives. That started when I was still finance minister and we launched the learning agenda and the National Child Benefit.

  Now as prime minister, I set out to do much more. When I took office in late 2003, health care was the dominant priority for Canadians, as it had been for many years. I made fixing the system my most important commitment in my first election campaign. I promised to cut the long wait times that frustrate and, in some cases, literally sicken Canadians. And within a few months, I achieved a historic ten-year health-care agreement with the provinces, with wait time targets and substantial additional funding to achieve them.

  What was equally ambitious was that I wanted to establish a national system of child care. Everything we have discovered during my lifetime about early childhood development has reinforced my view that cultivating young children’s minds would help improve their life chances. Some of my Liberal colleagues felt that since we had promised a national system of daycare in the Red Book, a new commitment would be met with derision. But we made the commitment, added the dimension of early childhood learning, and built a national system by the time I left office.

  There cannot be
a Canadian alive today who does not realize that the environment, also, is a generational issue. When I was a young man growing up in Canada’s industrial heartland but working most summers in the bush or at sea, I was moved by the need for conservation of our wilder spaces. Since then, like many people, I have seen the dangerous effects of the depleted ozone layer, a decline in biodiversity, and now climate change. Neil Armstrong made history when he stood on the moon’s dusty surface back in 1969. But for me and for many of my generation, the most dramatic image to emerge from the space program was that picture of the Earth, a green and blue round ball covered in clouds framed by the emptiness of the universe. I have never understood how anyone could look at that picture then look at their children and not ask themselves, What in God’s name are we doing?

  My economic policies, including the cities agenda and my efforts to enhance trade with the emerging economic powerhouses in Asia, were also about developing a long-term strategy that would hand future generations the tools to prosper in a changing world. This is why I thought it was so vital that Canada be part of reforming the international financial and trading systems along multilateral lines, to make sure that there would be a role for us. Even my belief in a more robust Canadian foreign policy — in Africa, Haiti, and the developing world more generally — had to do with the fact that the prospects of the young populations in these distant parts of the globe were intimately linked with those of our own children.