I spent most of my time going through intercepted messages and writing assessments on terrorist actively around the world to feed the appetite among senior official and ministers for anything that could help them understand terrorism as a phenomenon. At Longstaff’s request, I sat in on the daily meetings of the Task Force, and generally made myself useful. One morning Longstaff told us the American president had called the prime minister but offered no insights on the conversation. On another, Longshaft was summoned to the minister’s office to sit in on a visit by Swift. The meeting hadn’t gone well, he said.
14: The Torture Directive
Then all hell broke loose. A policeman, checking out an illegally parked car on a road near Dorval Airport early in the morning of October 16, just hours after the expiry of the Patriot cell ultimatum, found Jolicoeur’s body crammed into the trunk, lying on a dirty spare tire, with a rosary chain twisted around his neck. All Canada mourned his death. There were cries for the suspension of habeas corpus and the arrest and jailing of anyone who, guilty or innocent, had displayed the slightest sympathy for the FLQ. The prime minister called a meeting of Cabinet for next day to decide what to do. Hankey brought me along in case ministers asked questions only an expert could answer.
As we walked across the lawn from the minister’s East Block office to the Centre Block, men and women emerged from a larger crowd to tell him it was high time the government got tough on the terrorists. Really tough. No pussy-footing around. Shoot them down like the dogs they were. We went in the West Entrance past saluting guards — there were no security checks in those days — to the staircase leading to the Cabinet room. Ministers were still arriving from their constituencies around the country. Longshaft, who had gone in ahead, was standing in a corner talking to the RCMP commissioner.
The mood among the Quebeckers was one of grief, anger, and worry. The ministers from the other provinces were concerned, but not as emotionally involved as the Quebeckers — a member of their cultural and political family had not been left to die in the trunk of a car. The Quebec ministers who had known Jolicoeur personally, there were many of them in the intimate world of Quebec politics, kept repeating they hadn’t believed the FLQ would go so far as to murder a hostage. A common criminal, someone holding a rich man for ransom for example, might do such a thing — but not a group of people who claimed they stood for justice.
They probably also believed the FLQ members, for all their extremism and fits of political outrage, were also family. If you went back far enough, you’d probably find they were blood relations, perhaps distant cousins. But they were misguided family. They didn’t seem to understand that the Quebec they were fighting against no longer existed. The province was already a decade into the Quiet Revolution — women had been liberated, the church had been put in its place, pure laine Quebeckers now occupied the seats of economic power. Violence was not needed to bring justice to the people. So why turn a wife into a widow and behave like desperate Third World freedom fighters when freedom had already been won?
Clustered around the coffee machine, the Quebec ministers shared accounts of developments in their ridings. One said rumours were spreading of other kidnappings and killings. Someone said he had heard the FLQ had enough dynamite to blow up downtown Montreal. Another said people in his constituency weren’t going to work, schools were closing, and universities were cancelling classes. Another claimed people who had stopped going to mass were now flocking to church services to seek divine help. Yet another said the stock market was on a downward slide. The ministers who didn’t speak French looked on with tight smiles, feeling excluded.
The prime minister came in, followed by the clerk of the Privy Council, and sat down. He was from a wealthy bilingual Francophone family, a man with a well-deserved reputation for intellectual rigor and honesty. He was also someone who wasn’t afraid to take tough decisions. The day after he authorized the deployment of the army to help maintain order, journalists waylaid him entering his office and accused him of turning Canada into a police state. He stared them down, saying “there are a lot of bleeding hearts around who don’t like to see people with helmets and guns. All I can say is go ahead and bleed. It’s more important to keep law and order in society than to be worried about weak-kneed people who don’t like the looks of a soldier with a helmet and a gun.” When asked how far he was prepared to go — would he authorize wire-tapping and other restrictions on public liberties? — he replied, “Just watch me. Society must take every means at its disposal to defend itself against a parallel power which defies the authority of the elected representatives in this country.”
The ministers took their places around the conference table, their assistants found theirs, and I sat behind Hankey. The prime minister started off by providing a briefing on the situation in Quebec as he saw it. “The premier and his Cabinet are in a state of panic,” he said. “They’re worried about their personal safety and that of that of their families. The top editorialists, the trade union and industrial leaders, the archbishops of Quebec and Montreal, the university presidents, and others of that ilk are saying the government has lost control of the situation. Incredible as it may be, these members of the elite are demanding the premier step aside in favour of a non-elected, self-appointed government of national emergency.”
“And the stock market is falling, don’t forget the stock market,” a minister called out from the end of the table.
“Of course we must never forget the markets,” the prime minister said. “But I’m mainly worried about public order and the confidence of the people in elected government. That’s why I called you here today — to find a way to bring this to an end while keeping the public on side.” He asked the RCMP commissioner to give a status report.
“I have bad and good news. The bad news is we have no leads in the hunt for the Che Guevara and Patriot cells. The murder of Minister Jolicoeur is an ominous signal. The Che Guevara cell can be expected to kill Peabody if their demands aren’t met. The police can’t control the crowds, hunt down the terrorist cells, and help the army protect politicians and public buildings at the same time. They’re stretched too far. To make matters worse, thousands of separatists are out on the streets trying to profit from the public’s fears by saying they are the only ones who can control the situation.”
“And what’s the good news?” asked the prime minister.
“The good news is the FLQ has the ability to cause a lot of fuss and bother but it in no way poses a threat to the democratic institutions of Quebec and Canada. It may take time, but we’ll round them up and bring the crisis to an end.”
Two of the Quebec ministers who had traded stories around the coffee machine before the meeting spoke up to dispute the commissioner’s account. The minister who said he had heard rumours of more kidnappings and killings now said he knew for a fact such things were going on. The minister who just a few minutes before had said he “had heard the FLQ possessed enormous quantities of dynamite,” now said someone “in a position to know” had told him the FLQ had placed cases of dynamite primed to explode at time of its choosing at strategic locations around the city.
“Is that true?” the prime minister asked the commissioner.
“With due respect to the ministers,” the commissioner said, “those are unsubstantiated rumours.”
“Then let’s get back to business,” the prime minister said. “I’d like to report that the American president called me to tell me to make an extra effort since Peabody was an old friend. I almost told him friendships should never be confused with national interests, but I didn’t. He wouldn’t have understood anyway, and I didn’t want to make him even more agitated than he already was.”
“What did you tell him?” Hankey asked.
“I said we were doing the best we could, but he didn’t buy it. He even said we should just let the prisoners go to Cuba if that was all what it took. He didn’t seem to understand how freeing prisoners could undermine law and order. He offered
to send their hostage-rescue intervention team to Montreal to find Peabody. I didn’t say no — although I wanted to — but thanked him for the offer and told him we’d let his people know in due course if it was needed.”
Hankey provided his update. “The embassy in Washington has reported the American media are saying Canada isn’t doing a good enough job in looking for Peabody. Apparently there was an editorial in the Wall Street Journal saying Canada was now an honorary member of the Third World, filled with anarchists and terrorists. It’s even predicting our international credit rating will fall.”
Several ministers said that if the stock market continued to fall, there would be factory closings, layoffs, and God knows what. The minister of defence proposed calling out more troops to help the police do their job. That was the cue for Garfield Whitcombe, the minister of public safety to say that sending in more troops wouldn’t be good enough. “Cabinet should invoke the War Measures Act,” he said. “My people have done some research and they tell me it hasn’t been used since World War I. It’s a draconian, martial law measure and bleeding hearts won’t like it,” he said, turning to look at the prime minister as he spoke. “But it would give the government the power to end the crisis once and for all.”
“What powers are you talking about?” the prime minister asked.
“Under the act, we would have the authority to declare the FLQ a banned organization, to suspend habeas corpus, to arrest suspects without warrants, to deny them bail, to keep prisoners incommunicado, and so on. Interpreted liberally, it would let the police to conduct a massive roundup of separatists such as university students and their professors, and while they they’re at it, poets, singers, and novelists. They’re usually separatists anyway.”
“There doesn’t seem to be much balance in your proposal,” the prime minister said.
“No there isn’t. But there’s nothing else on the books to deal with the unrest.”
“In that case, let’s go for it,” the prime minister said. “It’ll at least calm the public and make the Americans happy. And once the crisis is over, we’ll restore democratic rights and freedoms and hopefully never have to treat the people that way again.”
After Cabinet voted in favour of invoking the act, Whitcombe asked the ministers of defence, foreign affairs, and justice, their assistants, the RCMP commissioner, and Longstaff to remain behind to take part in a special meeting of the Cabinet Committee on Security and Intelligence.
“My advisers informed me a few days ago,” Whitcombe said, after the others left the room, “that clearing the streets of demonstrators might not be enough. They told me we needed to able to compel FLQ members to talk, to tell us where Peabody is hidden. They said we couldn’t allow them to hide behind the law. And I agree with them.”
“I see where you are going with this,” said the justice minister. “As a matter of fact, my advisers have mentioned to me you were thinking of bringing something like this forward. But I told them Canada isn’t a Third World country that tortures detainees as a matter of course.”
“I agree,” Whitcombe said, “and we wouldn’t do such a thing, even if we had the power to do so. But we need to close off all loopholes and take advantage of every opportunity that comes our way to hit back. For example, we have a list of FLQ members who are dual nationals — Canadian citizens born abroad and retaining the citizenship of their countries of origin. As we pick them up in the weeks ahead here in Montreal, we need to put them on planes and send them back to their homelands where the local police can question them on our behalf. They might unearth clues to help us in our search for Peabody.”
“And will the War Measures Act authorize that?” Hankey asked.
“It will,” said Whitcombe said. “Before the day is over, the FLQ will be declared a banned organization and the government will govern by fiat.”
“I don’t like it,” said Hankey. Looking at me, he said, “I’ve been told me the security forces down there torture their prisoners.”
“They probably do, but I’m told they get results. Would you rather we did the torturing ourselves?”
“Of course not,” Hankey said. “But could RCMP use information derived from torture?”
“Now that’s an interesting question. My legal people assure me that there’s a loophole in the law. There’s nothing in our jurisprudence to authorize it, but nothing to prevent us from doing so. My staff has prepared a draft directive from me to the law enforcement authorities which meets the letter, even if not the spirit of the law. I’d like to read out the relevant excerpt with you now. Please accept my apologies, Commissioner, for not showing it to you before this, but we’ve all been busy.”
In exceptional circumstances where there exists a threat to human life or public safety, urgent operational imperatives may require the Security Service to discharge its responsibility to share the most complete information available at the time with relevant authorities, including information based on intelligence provided by foreign agencies that may have been derived from the use of torture or mistreatment. In such rare circumstances, it is understood that it may not always be possible to determine how a foreign agency obtained the information that may be relevant to the threat. It is also understood that ignoring such information solely because of its source would represent an unacceptable risk to public safety.
“I don’t agree with this directive,” Hankey said. “We need to think about the long-term implications. Claiming torture is acceptable because Canadians wouldn’t be doing the torturing is pure expediency.”
“Striking a blow against the FLQ and finding out where Peabody is hidden would be a win for the good guys,” Whitcombe said.
“But accepting information derived from torture from a country that uses torture in its anti-terrorism programs means Canada’s implicitly approves the practice and makes it legitimate. That would encourage countries to do more rather than less torturing. Wouldn’t that be a win for the bad guys?”
“But haven’t you just made the case that the good cancels out the bad? In circumstances like this, we should look at what serves our direct national interest.”
“That’s not true,” Hankey said. “The bad far outweighs the good. I have it on good authority that South American countries are now torturing every suspected terrorist they pick up, innocent or guilty, and up and dumping their bodies into the sea. Canada should be putting pressure on them to stop such practices rather than sending them dual nationals to be tortured. ”
“I have no problem with directive,” said the commissioner.
“I bet you don’t,” said Hankey. “It gives you authority to do anything you want as long as the circumstances are exceptional, but then doesn’t say what it means by exceptional circumstances other than mentioning that lives or property might be at risk. An action one person might consider legitimate protest in the view of the police might be considered a threat to lives and property and trigger the exceptional circumstances clause. But what do you think it means, commissioner? Jamaican Canadians protesting police brutality outside Toronto City Hall? Armenian Canadians upset with Turkey for the genocide of their people during World War I and disrupting traffic in downtown Toronto? Indians blocking a road to prevent clear-cut logging on their traditional hunting lands? A bomb in a mailbox? A bomb on a train, bus, or plane? Someone being held hostage? The threat to the life of one person? The RCMP makes its share of mistakes. Why should we put such power in your hands? You get to decide and you’re not even an elected official.”
Longshaft looked at me and smiled. We had had had the same discussion when I was interviewed in May 1966, and I wondered if it would turn out the same way.
“But my main problem with this draft directive lies elsewhere,” Hankey said. “Approving it would mean Canada would have joined the torturers of the world. It would mean we have changed the Canadian way of life. It would mean we have decided to move from using the power of the state away from protecting rights and liberties of our people to becomi
ng a threat to rights and liberties, and I want no part of it.”
“We can trust the commissioner to do the right thing, Geoffrey,” Whitcombe said. And when the others agreed, Hankey left the room and the motion was adopted.
I returned to the ninth floor to carry on with my responsibilities, ill at ease at how easy it had been for Canada to accept torture as a legitimate tool in the fight against international terrorism. The next morning, as soon as the War Measures Act and the torture directive went into effect, the police raided ten thousand homes without warrants, arrested five hundred separatists, threw them into jail but did not charge them with any crime, and imposed press censorship on the media. Calm returned to the streets. In short order, the police arrested the members of the Patriot cell — the three men and a woman who had kidnapped and murdered the minister of tourism. I knew what was coming when I learned the captured woman was a dual Canadian-Colombian citizen by the name of Gloria Sanchez — the government would send her to Colombia to be interrogated under torture. That had been the contingency Whitcombe had in mind when he obtained the approval of the Cabinet Committee on Security and Intelligence for his torture directive. What I hadn’t expected was that I was to accompany her on the flight.
Longshaft didn’t ask me to do it. He told me in a tone of voice indicating I had no choice. My role, he said, was to gain her confidence and persuade her to tell me where the consul general was hidden. If she complied, the pilot would abort the mission and return her to Montreal. If she didn’t — too bad for her.
But I said, “She doesn’t know where the Che Guevara cell and Peabody are holed up. You know that, and so does Whitcombe. She won’t be able to tell me anything even if she wanted. Why don’t you get someone else to do the job? It’s just a public relations exercise to keep the Americans happy anyway.”
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