Hell or High Water

by Paul Martin

  From Tokyo, I went to Beijing. I had been to China many times before, of course. The first time I went was in the 1970s, when China had not yet really opened up. When I applied for my visa, I was told that it had been granted in recognition of my father’s early support for China as Canadian foreign minister. I also remember going to China in the 1980s when I was in business and my dad, who had retired by this time, coming with me. There was a large dinner where our hosts introduced us each in turn, after which we were expected to stand and be duly applauded. The fact that we both bear the same name caused some difficulties when introductions were made, perhaps not enhanced by the simultaneous translation. It is bad enough going through your life with your father known as “senior” and you known as “junior,” but on this occasion the translator introduced “Paul Martin the Great” — that would be Dad — and me — “Paul Martin the Not-So-Great.”

  Things went better on this trip, when I met with President Hu Jintao and Premier Wen Jiabao, whom I had first met in Ottawa just before becoming prime minister. I regarded this visit as very important, because we were able to raise the status of the Canada-China relationship to that of “special partnership” — something the United States and the European Union had achieved, but few others. These were not empty words. This partnership would give Canada priority attention through what is a surprisingly decentralized bureaucratic system managing trade in China. We also had Canada designated as a preferred tourist destination for China’s burgeoning middle class, something that could prove of growing importance in the years to come. Unfortunately, the Harper government, with its truculent approach to the Chinese, has not been able to take advantage as others have of the special partnership nor to negotiate the details of the tourist designation that would give it effect, and would bring a huge influx of Chinese tourists and their money to Canada.

  Just before we arrived in Beijing, Zhao Ziyang died after fifteen years of house arrest. Zhao had been purged from his post as Communist Party chief for opposing the crackdown in Tiananmen Square in 1989. Conservative MP Jason Kenney, who was part of a parliamentary delegation accompanying my mission, went to visit Zhao’s widow, despite the fact that the family asked that we not draw greater attention to them during our visit. In fact, Kenney missed a meeting we had arranged to discuss human rights with Chinese officials in order to do so. Unfortunately, it is precisely this kind of grandstanding, to no useful effect, that has become the dominant strain in Canadian foreign policy toward China since Stephen Harper became prime minister, and threatens to disrupt our relationship at a time when it is vital to our national interest. The situation leaves many China experts shaking their heads.

  I don’t think we can ignore China’s failings on human rights. In fact, we have engaged with the Chinese on many levels over many years, helping build rule of law in their justice system and working to improve their universities. I was the first Canadian prime minister ever to meet with the Dalai Lama, for example. And the meeting sent a subtle message to the Chinese over their treatment of the Tibetan people. But the meeting, which took place in Ottawa, was not an official one and took place in a religious venue, at the residence of Ottawa Archbishop Marcel Gervais.

  When Hu Jintao later came to Canada, the meetings in Toronto and Ottawa went very well. I was especially glad that he agreed to come to Vancouver, because it gave B.C. premier Gordon Campbell the chance to talk extensively with him about his province’s trade with China. Along with Jean Lapierre, who as minister of transport had made it a priority, I had put great importance on establishing the province as this country’s — and the continent’s — “Pacific Gateway,” which involved building up infrastructure as well as strengthening commercial and human ties.

  There is no doubt that there is a cultural and political divide with the Chinese that is sometime difficult to bridge. For instance, while the meetings in Vancouver went well, the Chinese were upset with the fact that demonstrators outside his hotel kept President Hu up during the night, and the state luncheon was almost cancelled as a result. The Chinese could not understand how we could treat a guest like that. It was only with great difficulty that I was able to explain to Hu that under our system, the protestors were doing nothing wrong, and that it was certainly not within the powers of the Canadian prime minister to stop them.

  This kind of divide affects foreign policy in unexpected areas. I witnessed a similar difference of understanding in Santiago in 2004 at an Asia Pacific Summit. Our hosts, the Chilean government, organized a reception for the attending leaders and made a special request that all bodyguards be left at the door. The Chileans asked this of all leaders, without exception. The United States chose not to comply, and the difference of opinion was felt quite strongly on both sides.

  During my time in office, I had the good fortune to visit a number of the scenes of Canadian military heroism around the world, including Juno Beach in Normandy, Appeldoorn in the Netherlands, and the cemetery in Hong Kong where many Canadian servicemen now rest in peace. Many of these were return trips for me. Sheila and I had taken the boys on a European trip years earlier where we visited Canadian battle fields from the two world wars. One of those battlefields had a very personal connection for our family.

  Sheila’s father, Bill Cowan, had landed in Normandy as a Canadian tank commander a few weeks after D-Day in 1944. He and his crew eventually became part of the battle of Hochwald Gap. His tank was destroyed and one member of his crew was killed, while he was captured and was sent to a prisoner-of-war camp. His family did not know this, however. The first notification that Mrs. Cowan received told her merely that he was “missing in action.” Naturally, she feared that he might have been killed. In fact, he was alive and being shuttled from one POW camp to another. At one point, as the war neared its end, and the Nazi regime had nearly exhausted its resources, he found himself being transferred under guard on a public tram! When he was liberated and returned home in 1945, Sheila met her father for the first time. She had been born after he had shipped out four years earlier.

  Mr. Cowan accompanied Sheila and me on our trip to commemorate the sixtieth anniversary of the D-Day landing (at his expense — for those who keep tabs on these things). He sat with other veterans at the ceremony, which was attended by Queen Elizabeth and the Allied leaders. What meant most to him was the time he spent with the other vets, while Sheila and I followed the official itinerary. Like many of his generation, Bill Cowan was not in the habit of talking much about his experiences in the war, but the few days in Normandy allowed him to open up his storehouse of memories for the family to share. It was a very moving experience for him, and for all of us accompanying him.

  Although building a more capable military had been one of my objectives from the start of my government, prior to becoming prime minister I had not given much thought to the more symbolic element of rebuilding pride in our military tradition among the Canadian public. Indeed, when I appointed Albina Guarnieri to be veterans affairs minister, she might well have taken the attitude that it was a post better suited to sound management than to great vision. Fortunately, she did not. For my part, I did not come into office intending to make 2005 the “Year of the Veteran.” I am very glad Albina did. She set herself a goal: to celebrate our veterans during the year that marked the sixtieth anniversary of the end of the Second World War, a time of great military achievement for Canada as Albina pointed out at cabinet. Remembering and recognizing our fighting men and women from that period when we were preparing to take on new responsibilities internationally in Afghanistan and elsewhere was a fitting reminder that we had a proud military past.

  Despite my genuine enthusiasm for rebuilding pride in our military, I was not always the stirring patriotic orator I might have liked to have been. One time at the forces base at Gagetown in New Brunswick, I gave an impassioned speech to some of our troops about Canada’s history at arms. It was my intention to invoke the heroics of the Normandy invasion on D-Day in the Second World War. It was only
when the speech was over that my assistant, Jim Pimblett, took me aside and informed me that on several occasions I had referred to Canada’s invasion of Norway — an event otherwise unrecorded by history.

  An important stop in my Asian trip in 2005 was Hong Kong, where there was a gathering of Canadian veterans who had been prisoners of war there — among the most harrowing of Canada’s experiences during the Second World War. Albina suggested I attend their annual memorial, and I eagerly accepted. It was a moving ceremony commemorating an episode in Canada’s war history that is often overshadowed by the battles to liberate Western Europe. While I was there, I met a veteran in his eighties who told me that when the Japanese first invaded Hong Kong in early December 1940, but before they managed to conquer the territory in its entirety, he was a young soldier stationed there. Hearing that some Canadian nurses had been captured by the Japanese and were being held in a commercial building in another part of the city, he managed to sneak behind the Japanese lines in a truck and find where the nurses were being held. To his astonishment, when he entered the building the Japanese sentries did not react. As he led the nurses out, he stumbled in the dark over what turned out to be a wine bottle. He quickly figured out that this was a wine warehouse and the Japanese soldiers had passed out from drink. He helped himself to what he said were only a few bottles and fled with the nurses to safety (although he was later captured).

  The next day I bumped into him again, this time as I was crossing the lobby of my hotel about 10 a.m. He called out to greet me and suggested we have a drink, which I resisted because of the early hour.

  “It must be twelve o’clock somewhere,” he replied. And so I joined him at the hotel bar.

  1 Stephen Harper later twisted the facts in this matter in order to wriggle out of Canada’s commitments to Africa. Because Canada’s spending on Africa turned out to be somewhat lower than anticipated in the base year used to calculate the doubling of spending under the Gleneagles agreement, he lowered his government’s commitment to $3.1 billion — double the lower base. The fact is, even before Gleneagles, our government had committed to the $3.8 billion figure, which everyone knowledgeable understood at the time went beyond the Gleneagles commitment.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Friends and Traders

  Like many prime ministers before me, I came to office hoping to improve relations with the United States. Growing up in Windsor, I had a special window on America from early childhood, with a clear view of all its strengths as well as its warts and imperfections. From Windsor, you could see the bright towers of Detroit and in a few minutes be walking amid the shambles all around them. The automobile manufacturers that dominated their side of the border also dominated ours, and when I was a youngster the same was true of the unions. No one growing up in my hometown could fail to see how enormous our trade (legal and illegal!) as well as our exchange of people and ideas truly was. But understanding how important our relations are, is not the same as slavishly following the American lead. When I was in business, I was very conscious of the fact that the United States was proving itself more successful than we were as Canadians at adapting to a globalized economy, even though as the smaller country it was more important to us. As a political leader, I believed that our relationship was primarily one of ally and trading partner, but I never forgot that our companies were also economic competitors in North America and around the world.

  There is a tendency sometimes in analyzing world events to overemphasize the role of personal relationships among leaders as opposed to enduring national interests and values. Obviously, that tendency may be even greater with the leaders themselves, who experience international relations in a very personal way. On the other hand, there are those who go to the other extreme and dismiss the personal element from international relations, and I think that is a mistake too. With the United States, for instance, I believe it is important to get along with the president if you can.

  My relationship with George W. Bush was cordial; he is a sociable guy. He was receptive, at least in a general way, to my notion that the United States cannot possibly lead on every issue, that Canada is in some cases better placed to lead, and that others, sometimes including the United States, should see some advantage in this. Eventually, this did happen, for example, on Darfur. President Bush and I got along well, but we also had our differences. The fact that we were able to talk frankly with each other helped produce some progress, although I wouldn’t exaggerate this. I ran into the same wall that many others have done with the United States. The truth is that it is extraordinarily difficult to move administration policy at the international level if there are significant domestic forces at play in Congress.

  I had met George Bush before, of course, when I was finance minister, but it had never been much more than a handshake. My first meeting with him after I became prime minister was in January 2004, at the Summit of the Americas in Monterrey, Mexico, just a few weeks after I took office. It was a friendly meeting and memorable, at least in the eyes of one person in attendance, for an inimitable George Bush moment. The president’s press secretary at the time was Scott McClellan, who, as it happened, was the same age as Scott Reid, who was my friend, adviser, and now once again my communications director — a job he had held once before when I was at Finance.

  “You’ve got a pretty face,” the president remarked to Scott Reid when he met him. “You’re a good-looking guy. Better looking than my Scott anyway.”

  “My” Scott, who is blond and boyish-looking, told the media he would have preferred to be described in other terms. “But I’ll take what I can, I guess,” he said. “When a Texas Republican says you’ve got a pretty face, then I guess there is just no way around it.” Needless to say, all of us made Scott’s life miserable for at least two weeks after that.

  That first meeting was in any event primarily a get-to-know-you session rather than a substantive policy discussion. We did talk a little about U.S.-Canada relations, but mostly it was about baseball, football, and hockey. The president, who had been an owner of the Texas Rangers, was obviously very knowledgeable and was quite interested when I mentioned in passing that the Montreal Expos, who were on the move to Washington D.C. at the time — much to my regret — had an excellent farm system. I also talked hockey and football with Condoleezza Rice. She was a hockey fan, having known many Canadian hockey players in her university days in Denver. She was also a big Cleveland Browns fan, while as a Windsor boy, I hoped in vain for the Detroit Lions.

  More significant was my first visit to Washington for one-on-one meetings with the president at the end of April. It was important to me that this meeting occur in Washington, and not at Camp David or at President Bush’s Texas ranch because having had the introductory session I wanted to get down to business. The day before I went to the White House I gave a speech to the Woodrow Wilson Center in which I raised in public some of the issues I would discuss in private with President Bush. I addressed softwood lumber and “mad cow disease” at the beginning of the speech because I believed it is important in our relationship with the Americans that the need to resolve our disputes not get lost in the glow of good relations and warm words, which is always the danger of high-level meetings.

  I also talked in that speech more broadly about how I saw Canada’s relationship with the United States and the world. We share democratic values, of course. We have a common commitment to free trade, though it is sometimes honoured more in rhetoric than in practice on the American side. I emphasized our commitment to addressing the security issues that preoccupied Americans in the aftermath of September 11. But I also talked about how Canadians see the issues of development in the poorer parts of the globe being intimately tied with those of security. And specifically, I talked about our efforts in Haiti, Africa, and the Middle East. All of this led directly to one final message I would deliver to the president later in the day: if we were going to undo the gridlock that prevented progress — on issues as various as climate chang
e, global pandemics, and nuclear proliferation — the G8 would have to be reformed by bringing the leaders of the emerging economies to the table. That is what finance ministers had done at their level when they created the G20 following the Asian crises, and it had been a lasting success.

  One other set of issues that I raised frequently with the president was our joint responsibility to be stewards of the North American ecosystem. Very early on, I expressed my concern about the plans to divert water from Devils Lake in North Dakota into the Red River system, with potentially serious ecological consequences for Manitoba. This was a clear violation of the spirit under which the International Joint Commission was set up by Canada and the United States to deal with boundary waters. Devils Lake has no natural outlet, and historically only lost water through evaporation, which meant that pollutants such as arsenic, sulphates and phosphorus built up to very high levels. It also contained potentially invasive species, including parasites, which could find their way into the Red River basin for the first time. Every bit as serious was the threat that the lake might be opened up to inflows from the Missouri River, which would introduce further invasive species into the system. Reg Alcock and Manitoba premier Gary Doer spent a great deal of time working with their American counterparts in Congress and in the state government to press Canada’s case. In the end, we were successful in persuading the Americans to install a filter on the Devil’s Lake outlet, which would limit the harm. This was to be an interim filter, however, with a permanent and more sophisticated one to follow. Unfortunately the second filter has not yet been installed, and the government should be pushing Washington to do so.

  An issue on which Bush was dug in hard was the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge in Alaska (ANWR). I knew from my own experience as a young man working in the North how delicate the Arctic tundra was. I was deeply disturbed by the president’s desire to bring oil drilling into the refuge, which borders on the Yukon. Drilling in the North is an entirely different proposition from drilling elsewhere, and what might be a containable environmental issue in southern climes could leave the Arctic landscape and wildlife blighted literally forever. On a number of occasions, I went into this in considerable detail with the president, explaining to him, for example, that the migrating caribou herd that would be affected by drilling in the area was unique — and that disturbing it could destroy the way of life of the Gwitch’in people who live just on the Canadian side of the border.