by Monia Mazigh
“I’ve never thought of getting into politics,” I answered.
She’d had the idea, Alexa said, and she wanted to share it with me. I could think it over, of course, but she would be very happy if I would agree to become a candidate for her party in the upcoming federal elections. Her words made me feel proud; she was one of the few people who understood my potential and my abilities; she took me as I was, without trying to change or criticize me. She wasn’t ashamed to talk to me because I was the wife of an alleged terrorist; she knew our family situation was difficult, but she treated me like a normal person. Alexa’s proposal restored my self-confidence – but it also made me stop and think. I didn’t know whether it was a good idea to get involved in politics at this point in my life, or if I should keep on trying to find a university position, even though two years of my career had evaporated as I struggled to free my husband and put our family life on an even keel.
EARLY DECEMBER 2003. More and more voices were calling for a public inquiry. Seemingly each day the name of a political figure or a human rights organization was added to the list. My own feelings were mixed. If the inquiry took place, Maher would have an opportunity to ask questions about what happened to him and hope to clear his name of accusations of terrorism. Yet I had the feeling that the inquiry would never take place, that our demands would never be heard, that uncertainty would continue to rule our lives. Jean Chrétien’s government could not easily retract its decision, but everyone knew that Paul Martin was the prime-minister-in-waiting. Our job was to convince him and the people around him. Just how we would go about it was not clear, but we kept our hopes up. Meanwhile, we went ahead with our letter-writing campaign to the Prime Minister’s Office.
It was becoming clear to me how much the nature of my work had changed. Before, when Maher had been in prison, I worked day and night to bring him back to Canada, so that he would be treated with dignity and justice. Back then, people around me had no difficulty in understanding what was at stake, and in giving all the support they could. But with his liberation and return, it became harder to explain why it was important to question the government, to know the role Canada had played in his arrest, deportation, torture, and imprisonment. The whole issue had become highly sensitive, it was slippery ground. Who would dare question such highly regarded and powerful agencies as the RCMP and CSIS? Who would dare call them to account without worrying about repercussions, short-or long-term?
Yes, Canada is certainly a democratic country and not a police state. But it seemed some people were reluctant to embarrass the police when no one knew for sure whether Maher was innocent. In the meantime, leaks published or discussed in the press and on television had done their work. People had begun to wonder about Maher Arar; maybe he really was a terrorist hiding behind a mask of innocence. Nothing was clear. Many politicians were choosing to remain silent and not to join the chorus calling for a public inquiry so as to avoid any fallout from eventual revelations. There were political risks in taking a stand for or against a public inquiry. As the days went by, I felt more and more certain that the idea had become a political issue. If that were the case, then we would have to lobby to build support. It was hardly the kind of job I was familiar with, a job in which human suffering no longer mattered. All that counted were political gains and points scored.
DECEMBER 12, 2003. Paul Martin officially became the new prime minister of Canada. The same party was still in power, but I saw the change as a positive sign for our campaign. Even though the same MPs were still sitting in the House of Commons, we knew that the incoming prime minister would want to distinguish himself from his predecessor, Jean Chrétien.
Still, we weren’t naive enough to believe that Paul Martin would break completely with the previous government and the morning after his victory proclaim that he would accept all the demands that the outgoing government had rejected, including our call for an inquiry. But I was pleasantly surprised when I found out that Irwin Cotler had been appointed minister of Justice.
“What luck!” I said to myself when I heard the news. Mr. Cotler had been acting since the previous June as Maher’s lawyer. We could hardly have hoped for better. He had supported the idea of a public inquiry, but it was not clear that as Justice minister he would be able to speak freely without being accused of conflict of interest. I rang up Cotler’s office and spoke with his assistant:
“Congratulations on Mr. Cotler’s appointment,” I said. “I just heard the news.”
The assistant seemed cold and distant. I immediately regretted having called; instead of getting carried away, I should have kept quiet. One month later I understood the assistant’s reaction when I learned that Irwin Cotler had withdrawn from Maher’s case. It was not a big surprise. I knew that as Justice minister, he didn’t want to be accused of bias. His position was logical, but deep down I felt hurt, even abandoned.
JANUARY 2 1, 2004. I was not working today. As usual, I’d driven Barâa to school and straightened up the children’s room. Houd was following me around. Maher was sitting in front of the computer reading the news. The phone rang. It was Kerry:
“Something serious has happened!”
Now what? I thought.
“The police have raided Juliet O’Neill’s house. They’re looking for the documents she based her article on. The journalists are all hot on the case. My phone is ringing like crazy.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “What are the police up to, trying to scare journalists or what?”
Stunned, I stood in front of the window and watched the cars go by.
“I don’t have any idea,” Kerry said. “We’ll soon see. For the moment, everybody’s waiting to see what will happen next. Everybody wants to know if they’ll raid other journalists.”
It was to be a day of excitement. It was the top story on radio and television news. Journalists were outraged at the humiliation of a colleague; protection of sources once again became the object of controversy, but the heavy-handed police raid also showed Canada to be a country in which journalists were vulnerable. Maher’s name was mentioned time and time again. Once more the media were after us, while we continued to demand a public inquiry.
Our position was a difficult one to sum up. Juliet O’Neill’s article had depicted Maher as a dangerous terrorist. It had caused us grief; it had reminded Maher of his jailers and given anonymous sources a platform for attacking his reputation. But I didn’t understand why there had been such a spectacular police raid, or why someone’s house had to be searched.
It would have been so much more effective to have raided the police and intelligence headquarters to find out who had leaked the information. We’d never wanted to settle scores, find guilty parties, and punish them. We were looking for a civilized, equitable, and transparent process in which each party could present facts and proof, and would be questioned by a judge – which, I was certain, would allow Maher to effectively refute the allegations against him. This police raid had taken us by surprise. I couldn’t figure out exactly what it meant and what impact it might have on our demands for an inquiry.
JANUARY 28, 2004. I hadn’t yet replied to Alexa’s proposal that I become a candidate in the upcoming federal elections. It was a hard decision to make. I didn’t want to lose my freedom of thought, and I didn’t want to get involved in partisan politics. At the same time, I found many of the social principles I believed in and could defend in the New Democratic Party. But from there to becoming a candidate, promoting a program, and lining up behind a common electoral platform was not something I felt comfortable with. In primary school, and later in secondary school, I’d always asked questions and raised doubts. I still remembered how much I’d enjoyed completing my essays or my dissertations on new subjects. I was always proud to find new aspects of the situation that were just as important as the subject I’d been asked to write about. To me, becoming a candidate would mean repeating political slogans; I found the idea rather stifling.
But I hadn’t entir
ely ruled out the thought of a political career. Over the course of the past year, I’d learned to speak in public. I’d been able to convince people around me to act on my husband’s behalf. I was sure I could bring the same qualities of perseverance and hard work to bear for the benefit of my fellow citizens. It would be an excellent opportunity to learn from my personal experience, to focus all that energy, all that desire for change, but this time over issues such as health, labour, the environment, and peace. The idea of a political career was tempting because it would allow me to do something else with my life, to get out of a vicious circle.
Life was becoming more and more difficult. At home, all we talked about was Maher’s case, about our calls for a public inquiry, about our campaign to convince politicians and organizations how important it was. It had become our favourite subject of discussion, an objective to be attained, almost our raison d’etre. The pressure was so intense that I sometimes worried about my own sanity. For me, the idea of political involvement seemed like a way out, a safety valve for venting the daily pressure that was building up inside me. But I couldn’t make up my mind.
Alexa and I met that morning at her Ottawa apartment. We were to have a nice calm discussion, and I was to ask her my questions. She had arranged for one of her assistants to be there to explain the technicalities of being a candidate. By the end of the meeting I was feeling more confused than at the start. I still didn’t know whether I was ready to leap into the political arena. I would have to solve the problem on my own.
I was getting up to leave when the telephone rang. It was Anthony, Alexa’s assistant. He told her to switch on the television; the minister of Public Security, Anne McLellan, was making an important an nouncement concerning Maher Arar. None of us knew what to think. We sat there watching the television screen, as if hypnotized.
As the minister spoke I immediately understood that the government had decided to hold a public inquiry into Maher’s case. Alexa turned to me; both of us were in tears.
“What wonderful news,” Alexa kept repeating.
I didn’t know what to say. I thought of Maher; did he know? Right away I called home. The line was busy. He knew, I was sure of it. I hurried out of Alexa’s house. I wanted to get home as fast as I could. I’d forgotten all about my career in politics, all my hesitations. The public inquiry had been announced; it was another giant step toward justice. The trip downstairs in the elevator seemed to last an eternity. The car was parked next to a huge, dirty grey snowbank. I got in and drove off. On the way home, my whole life seemed to be passing in front of my eyes, the moments of despair followed by moments of brightness where hope had emerged, flooding me with light. One year ago, on this same date, I didn’t know if I would ever see Maher again. Today, Maher was here with me in Canada, and the government had just announced that a public inquiry would be set up to answer our questions, and to give Maher the chance to refute the allegations against him.
I wondered what the inquiry would be like, and what the results would be. We would have to be patient and wait for the proceedings to begin. When I walked in the door Maher was waiting for me; for the first time since his return to Canada I could see a gleam of hope and joy in his eyes.
The Commission of Inquiry into the Actions of Canadian Officials in Relation to Maher Arar was established on February 5, 2004, in order “to assess the actions of Canadian officials in dealing with the deportation and detention of Mr. Arar.” The Honourable Dennis R. O’Connor, associate chief justice of Ontario, was appointed commissioner of the inquiry.
The story I wanted to tell you in this book – of my struggle to have my husband freed – ends here. For not only was he released from prison and brought home to his family, but the commission of inquiry that we had been asking for so urgently was now going to free him of the false allegations that were weighing against him.
EPILOGUE
Man’s hope is his reason to live and to die…
– André Malraux
I have written this book for the same reasons I have given hundreds of interviews over recent years: to honour my husband, who has suffered unjustly; to make sense of the terrible and uncommon adventure we have had; and to wave a warning flag under the noses of all those who take human rights for granted. Human rights will always be fragile – this is demonstrated again and again, even in democratic societies. We cannot afford to let down our guard.
This book is not intended to be a report on “the Maher Arar affair.” Still, for readers who are not aware of the aftermath of the story, in the Report of the Commission of Inquiry into the Actions of Canadian Officials in Relation to Maher Arar, the Commissioner, Judge Dennis O’Connor, examined a number of questions, from Maher’s innocence to possible complicity in his arrest in the United States on the part of the RCMP and CSIS, and including “leaks” of information damaging to Maher made to the Canadian media before and after his return to Canada.
I shall quote from the Commission’s summary of the main conclusions in its press release of September 18, 2006, when the Report was submitted in three volumes. Excerpts from the Report itself are in italics.
I had known from the start, of course, that my husband was innocent, but in our unfortunate circumstances, it had to be proven.
In the Report, Mr. Justice O’Connor declared: “I am able to say categorically that there is no evidence to indicate that Mr. Arar has committed any offence or that his activities constitute a threat to the security of Canada.”
How much it had cost us in tears, tenacity, disappointment, physical and mental separation, and above all, hope, before we could finally read and reread that single sentence!
The Commissioner continued:
The public can be confident that Canadian investigators have thoroughly and exhaustively followed all information leads available to them in connection with Mr. Arar’s activities and associations. [They made] extensive efforts to find any information that could implicate Mr. Arar in terrorist activities… The results speak for themselves: they found none.
On the role of Canadian officials … the Commissioner found: No evidence that Canadian officials participated or acquiesced in the American authorities’ decision to detain and remove Mr. Arar to Syria … and there is no evidence that any Canadian authorities – Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) or others – were complicit in those decisions. However, the Commissioner also notes that: It is very likely that, in making the decisions to detain and remove Mr. Arar to Syria, the U.S. authorities relied on information about Mr. Arar provided by the RCMP. Although I cannot be certain without evidence of the American authorities, the evidence strongly supports this conclusion. CSIS did not share information with the Americans at this time.
The Commissioner also found that both before and after Mr. Arar’s detention in the U.S., the RCMP provided American authorities with information about Mr. Arar which was inaccurate, portrayed him in an unfair fashion, and overstated his importance to the[ir] investigation. Also that some of this inaccurate information had the potential to create serious consequences for Mr. Arar in light of American attitudes and practices at the time.
[…]
While he was detained in Syria, the Commissioner found that Canadian agencies relied on information about Mr. Arar received about him from the Syrians which was likely the product of torture. No adequate reliability assessment was done to determine whether the information resulted from torture.
[… The Commissioner] observed a failure of communication between Canadian agencies involved in the Arar case. There was also a lack of a single, coherent approach to efforts to obtain his release.
Finally, the Commissioner found that both before and after Mr. Arar’s return to Canada, Canadian officials leaked confidential and sometimes inaccurate information about the case to the media for the purpose of damaging Mr. Arar’s reputation or protecting their self-interest or government interests.
This detail in the Conclusions has not, i
n my opinion, received the response it deserved. Unfortunately, there was no real debate in the journalistic community on the impact of material from anonymous sources on the individuals targeted. Few journalists undertook any examination of conscience whatsoever; the subject appears to remain taboo in journalistic circles, hidden behind a wall of secrecy.
The Commissioner was able to confirm Maher’s statements about torture by appointing as Fact Finder Professor Stephen J. Toope, a former Dean of the McGill University Faculty of Law, to determine whether Maher had actually been tortured, and what the consequences had been. After several interviews with Maher, his physicians, other detainees from the same prison, independent physicians, psychologists, myself, and other individuals, Professor Toope concluded on October 14, 2005 that: “Mr. Maher Arar was subjected to torture in Syria. The effects of that experience, and of consequent events and experiences in Canada, have been profoundly negative for Mr. Arar and his family. Although there have been few lasting physical effects, Mr. Arar’s psychological state was seriously damaged and he remains fragile. His relationships with members of his immediate family have been significantly impaired. Economically, the family has been devastated.”
Our lives will bear the scars forever. When I was a little girl, I didn’t fully understand my mother’s words when she told me, “Human beings don’t know what’s good for them.”
Why is she telling me that? I wondered. Isn’t it easy to find out what’s good for us? Seeing things through my child’s eyes, I accused adults of complicating things.
