Hell or High Water

by Paul Martin

Afterwards, Bush came up to me and thanked me for my remarks. I took the opportunity to make a point. “Lookit, I am out there making the case for free trade — something that you want — and yet you aren’t respecting that principle with your NAFTA partner in the face of judgment after judgment against you on softwood at international tribunals. How can you be credible on free trade of the Americas when you won’t respect the deals you’ve already signed?” It was the first time I felt the message really penetrated.

  I also raised the issue of Canada’s energy resources, which I knew were central to the administration’s thinking on energy security for the United States. I never threatened, but I did say that American access was guaranteed through NAFTA and that the Americans had to understand that they could not cherry-pick the agreement, ignoring the clauses they disliked but insisting on our scrupulously following the clauses they did like.

  After that conversation, I asked Jonathan Fried to approach Stephen Hadley, the president’s national security adviser, to press the point. The result of that conversation was that within a few days, the Americans appointed an interlocutor to mount a serious push on the softwood file. In fact, in very short order, we were tantalizingly close to reaching a deal, even though we were adamant that all of the money the Americans had collected in harassment tariffs — $5 billion by that time — must be returned, and none be diverted as subsidies to U.S. timber companies.

  At that juncture, we were forced into the 2005–06 election. When the Harper government picked up the thread of our negotiations in the spring, they yielded on this point, settling for an agreement that returned a billion dollars less than what had been improperly collected, and inexplicably allowing half a billion dollars to flow directly into the pockets of our American competitors.

  This was blood money the Americans had won through a policy of harassment. It was a dagger in the heart of NAFTA. The Harper government said there was no alternative. But there was — even if the negotiations fell through. The American policy on softwood lumber did not even conform to domestic American law, and ultimately we could have taken the matter to court in the United States. We would have won, and won in a way no U.S. administration could ignore. The Harper government chose the easier alternative, conceding, in effect, that what Canada won through the disputes settlement mechanism could, with enough bullying, be taken back at the negotiation table.

  The Harper government’s excuse was that the Canadian companies couldn’t hang on any longer. They had to settle quickly. Of course they had to settle, but that was because David Emerson as a Conservative minister accepted a deal he had rejected as a Liberal minister! His new prime minister in essence threatened a very reluctant Canadian industry: “Knuckle under, because you won’t get any help from us if you don’t,” he said. Think of the message this sends not just to the United States but to the other major economies such as Europe, China, or India, whose large populations will always give them a huge advantage over countries such as Canada, with comparatively small populations, and who will always be able to fight a battle of attrition in trade disputes and win, unless Canadians, including their government, stand together. In the lumber dispute with the United States, Canada’s companies and their communities said, “We’ll hang tough, but you have to support us.” My government said, “We will, and we’ll win.” The Harper government said, “Give up or else!”

  This, perhaps more than anything else, defines the difference between Stephen Harper and me on trade. Of course the United States is, and likely always will be, our most important market. But that the Conservatives have turned their backs on China and have ignored India is simply incomprehensible. I believe the time has come, after decades of false starts, for Canada to hammer on the European door, to build on the natural resource investments of Canadian companies in Africa, and to recognize that within our lifetime the Chinese, Indian, and Brazilian markets will be crucial to our economy.

  But of course, it is not enough to simply open up foreign markets. Global trade is in many ways a game of muscle. This was important in the context of our NAFTA disputes; it will be even more important in the future when we will be trying to compete in the Chinese and Indian markets against local companies who will not hesitate to use the methods pioneered by the U.S. lumber industry. It is important that the Canadian government stand behind its industries when they are getting the shaft. We need to fight and win trade battles and earn a reputation for doing so, because the problem is not going to go away as we expand our trade worldwide.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Tough Calls

  The origins of the American ballistic missile defence (BMD) program lie in a Reagan-era scheme dubbed Star Wars by its critics. It aimed to end, or at least vastly reduce, the possibility of a massive Soviet attack on the continental United States through yet-to-be-developed U.S. technology, some of it based in space, that would shoot down Soviet missiles long before they reached their targets. It was much more ambitious than practical, and it was put on the back burner under Bill Clinton. The second Bush administration revived the idea in more modest form, aiming to develop an Earth-based system that could knock down missiles from rogue states, such as North Korea, or limited volleys, perhaps launched by accident, from Russia or China. Personally, I did not think it was a particularly cost-effective approach to the Americans’ genuine security concerns. Realistically, they were more likely to be hit by a ship-or submarine-based missile, or terrorist-style attacks mounted with even more primitive technology, than by a ground-based intercontinental ballistic missile. Like Star Wars, BMD required the United States to modify the old Cold War principle, enshrined in treaties, which held that defence systems designed to stop incoming missiles could be “destabilizing.” The idea was that if military planners began to think they could defend against incoming missiles, they might launch a preemptive attack believing they were safe against a return strike.

  Of course the 1960s logic of what used to be called “mutually assured destruction” has looked a little stale since the collapse of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. And George W. Bush’s version of BMD did not involve the militarization of space, as some of its critics suggested — something to which I am strongly opposed. The most important factor for Canada was this: as a practical matter, the United States did not need Canada’s help or co-operation to mount the BMD system. It could and would go ahead without us. At its root, what the Bush administration really wanted was our political and diplomatic support. So, the case for getting on board with BMD was one of diplomatic prudence rather than enthusiastic support for the principle. If the Americans were going ahead with BMD anyway, I thought there might be some virtue in Canada being at the table. (This was not the view of most of my party, as was shown by the introduction of a resolution against BMD at a subsequent Liberal convention.) Interestingly, prior to my administration, every Canadian prime minister had adopted a position of studied ambiguity over the long history of this issue going back to the Reagan era, never giving the U.S. administration a final yes or no.

  Gordon Giffin, who had been President Clinton’s ambassador to Ottawa, made the case for us supporting BMD in a particularly arresting way. Like many Democrats, Gordon was skeptical of the BMD plan, thought it would be enormously costly, and did not think it would work well enough to add to American security. On the other hand, he said, the United States is Canada’s neighbour and closest ally. It has a right to do what it thinks best to defend itself and Canada, as a friend, should accept that. He was right, of course. But that did not mean we had to participate.

  In any event, BMD was not our first priority in terms of military co-operation with the United States when I came to office. That was the North American Aerospace Defence Command (NORAD) agreement, to which the Americans had requested some modification. NORAD, in place since 1958, is a cornerstone of Canada’s defence of its territory and security. It makes Canada and the United States partners in the detection and interception of airborne threats from outside of Nor
th America. It allows us to shape our defence while leveraging the vast American military power to defend North America. The American military took the view that the existing agreement prevented the passing of information about incoming missiles from NORAD to “Northcom,” a purely American military organization whose mission is to defend the security of the United States, and which was integral to BMD. We did not agree with that interpretation, and some felt it was just a pressure tactic. That being said, we could understand that, if true, it could potentially make NORAD an impediment to the Americans’ defence rather than an important part of it, thereby jeopardizing our entire bilateral military relationship, and ultimately the security of Canadians. So we chose to address this concern rather than contest it. Preserving NORAD was my priority, and I wasted no time after the spring 2004 election in making the necessary changes to the NORAD agreement through an exchange of letters with President Bush. The result of the new arrangement was that NORAD would share access to tracking data on incoming missiles, which the Americans might use on their own for managing the BMD system.

  Although support for BMD was not an American condition for the renewal of the NORAD agreement, a decision to spurn it obviously would not have helped. With NORAD secured, we were able to concentrate on the elements of the BMD scheme that were critical to Canadian interests. The first was money. The Bush administration said it was not expecting us to support BMD financially. The Americans would put the thing up themselves, and what they wanted from us was our moral support. That was fine for the moment, but my concern was that down the road the American attitude would change. It would not be the first time. Talk was already beginning to circulate that they might request forward installations on Canadian soil. Or, as costs escalated, as they inevitably would, or as the bidding on contracts was opened to Canadian companies, we were concerned that the Americans would turn around and say, “Wait a minute, you’re benefiting from this. Why don’t you pony up your fair share?” I wanted a commitment stating plainly that Canada would not be asked to fund the system now or at any later point.

  My second concern was even more serious. I was under no illusion that if the Americans spied an inbound missile and had two or three minutes to decide whether to push the button and launch an intercept they would politely pick up the phone and ask Paul Martin or his successor for permission to do so first. But I did not want to have a situation, to put it starkly, in which the Americans sacrificed Edmonton to save Denver. The trajectory of missiles heading for the United States would in many cases take them over Canadian territory. I wanted to make sure that the system was designed with as much concern for Canadian lives and territory as American. To this end, I wanted Canada to be involved in the design of the BMD system and its technical parameters to ensure our interests, and I made it clear if I was not prepared to proceed without this undertaking.

  As the weeks passed, I could not get the answer to my questions and it became increasingly obvious that someone, either in the U.S. Defence Department or at our Department of National Defence was stalling on my requests. I was getting increasingly frustrated. At that point, however, George Bush was deep in the final weeks of his reelection campaign against John Kerry. I was becoming more and more doubtful about signing onto BMD, but to have gone public then — and inject the issue into the U.S. campaign — would have been impossible. Indeed the real question is: Why did I have to make an announcement at all? The conventional wisdom at the time was that I was delaying the decision unduly, but a forthcoming book on the subject by Professor James Fergusson of the University of Manitoba will put the issue into better context.

  When Professor Fergusson — who doesn’t necessarily agree with my decision not to participate — met with me as part of his research, his question to me was not, Why did you take so long to make your decision? It was: Why did you not do as your predecessors as prime ministers had done and continue to put off the decision indefinitely? Given that I had not received an answer to my inquiries, it’s a perfectly valid question and I believe it is what future historians will ask. The answer is twofold. First, the anti-American rhetoric in Parliament and across the land was becoming increasingly shrill, and I felt to delay much longer would only feed this, which would not benefit Canada, the United States, or our relationship. Second, very soon after his re-election in early November, President Bush decided to accept a previous invitation I had extended to visit Canada. I was seriously concerned that the visit might turn into an embarrassment for him. There was the potential of street protests, and who knew what the NDP and the Bloc would say in Parliament. In retrospect, it might have been wiser to declare my intentions on BMD in advance of his visit, but that also ran the risk of embarrassing the president. Instead, our offices arrived at what turned out to be a clumsy compromise: we agreed that the president would not raise the BMD issue in public while he was here.

  When he arrived in Ottawa, one of the first things President Bush did was take up the matter directly with me, as he was perfectly entitled to do. It was not a long conversation, but long enough for me to realize he was not aware that we had a host of unanswered questions. I simply said that he should not count on our support for BMD, and reminded him of the agreement not to discuss the matter publicly. And then we moved on. The next day, at a speech in Halifax, however, Bush turned up the pressure, publicly urging us to get on board. That was a clear violation of the agreement worked out between our officials and it infuriated me. Clearly, the issue could not be left dangling much longer. Unless I could get reasonable answers to our concerns, I was going to announce that we would not participate, and the announcement would have to be soon.

  In December, I held a meeting at my Parliament Hill office with Bill Graham and Pierre Pettigrew, along with senior officials from their departments. I peppered the officials with questions about the concerns that I had been raising for months. I was still not getting clear answers. I did get the sense, though, that some of the public servants involved in discussions with the Americans on this issue had an exaggerated view of how important it was to the Bush administration. I came to believe, frankly, that their only argument for signing up for BMD was that the United States would be angry at us if we didn’t. But while it was clear to me that President Bush would like us in, I never had the impression that it was crucial to our overall relationship — nor did my officials at the PMO and PCO.

  The time had come to make a firm public decision.

  Bill Graham gave Donald Rumsfeld a heads-up by phone, and Tim Murphy did the same with his counterpart, White House chief of staff Andy Card. They both took it in stride, as did Condoleezza Rice when Pierre Pettigrew communicated the decision to her. When I saw the president at the NATO summit in Brussels, there was no time for a meeting, though he would have been informed by then. The problem wasn’t that we delayed; the problem was there were significant policy considerations that never became part of the public debate. In retrospect, however, we could, and should, have done a better job of managing public expectations and communicating our decision-making process.

  Frank McKenna, who favoured participation in BMD, was on his way to become ambassador to the United States at the time. Frank and I had not discussed the matter, and in a scrum on Parliament Hill he told reporters that since we had agreed to have NORAD supply information about incoming missiles to Northcom, we were already effectively involved. This was read by the media as a signal that we were about to sign on formally to BMD, when the fact was that we had already decided the opposite and, a few days later, said so publicly.

  When I next saw President Bush at Baylor University during a visit to Texas, I walked him through the reasons behind my decision. I explained my concerns over targeting and financing of the BMD system. He understood, and when it was raised at a press conference, he handled it deftly, saying that he accepted our decision and that we were moving on in our relationship.

  One odd footnote to the BMD controversy is worth adding. In the autumn of 2004, while all this was going o
n behind the scenes, I met with Russian leader Vladimir Putin in his office in the Kremlin. He asked me what we intended to do about BMD, to which I replied that he would know once we made an announcement. He said that BMD would provoke an arms race and I answered very forcefully that the system was not aimed at Russia, and so that there was no need for that to happen. He immediately responded by denouncing NATO and what he saw as its encroachments on Russia’s sphere of influence in central Europe and parts of Asia. And then he did something remarkable. He pulled out a piece of paper on which he drew a rough map purportedly showing the location of American anti-ballistic missile installations and the trajectory along which the American weapons were supposed to intercept Russian missiles. Then he said, “But we have developed a low-flying missile that zigzags along a path that the American missiles will never be able to hit.”

  “That will be hard to do,” I said.

  “We already have it,” he replied.

  In the spring of 2007, more than a year after I left office, press reports revealed publicly that Russia was planning to deploy a weapons system specifically designed to flummox the BMD.

  In comparison with BMD, a far more important measure of our friendship and alliance with the United States — though I do not think it was always acknowledged as such — is our commitment to the mission in Afghanistan. The principles behind the mission there are simple, though the specifics of our participation are complex.

  The attacks of September 11, 2001, were an assault on the very idea of our civilization, as the rhetoric of Osama bin Laden and his imitators and followers subsequently confirmed. They were not related to any particular grievance or any identifiable military, social, political, or economic objective. There was no demand, however outrageous, that could be met. September 11 was simply an attack on our way of life.