Just Watch Me

by John English

  Politics mattered more than ever in the fall of 1978. The polls were bad; an election was unthinkable. As Trudeau hesitated to call an election, MPs resigned and others sought the sanctuary of the bench or an appointment, opening up their seats as they left. When times were good in 1977, the Liberals had appointed Conservative MPs to some positions, notably the excellent Gordon Fairweather as the first chief commissioner of the Canadian Human Rights Commission. As things started to go badly wrong, few vacancies were filled, and the empty seats in Parliament loomed as serious hurdles to be overcome before a general election. Keith Davey recommended that Trudeau call by-elections for half the fifteen empty seats; Trudeau defied him and called by-elections in all the constituencies they represented for October 16. It was a disastrous decision, particularly when party pollster Martin Goldfarb warned him that Liberal chances in the scattered ridings “ranged from slim to dreadful.” The Liberals had recruited several “star” candidates, notably University of Toronto president John Evans and leading feminist journalist Doris Anderson. They were among the thirteen Liberals who lost on election day: only two Quebec candidates won their seats.

  As the results came in, an official in the PMO phoned Trudeau at 24 Sussex Drive. Trudeau claimed he was not watching the results but agreed to come to the Parliament Buildings to make a comment. The next morning, as the staff pondered the results and set about revising their own résumés, they read two different interpretations in the morning papers: first, “the knives were out” for Trudeau because he was a “star” who focused “discontent with the government on himself in a dramatic way,” and second, the voters were trying to “teach Trudeau a lesson.” Both of these views pointed to a difficult winter—and an inevitable election in the spring of 1979.45

  The results illuminated the three fundamental problems the government was facing as an election neared: the government was tired, the economy was poor, and the separatists were now less menacing to English Canadians than they had been two years before. As Trudeau marked his tenth anniversary in office, commentators invariably noted who had left his side: the other two wise men, Gérard Pelletier and Jean Marchand; the expected successor, John Turner; the best anglophone minister, Don Macdonald; the wise elders Mitchell Sharp and Bud Drury; the brilliant Eric Kierans; the popular Bryce Mackasey; and the promising Francis Fox. Scarcely a week passed without reference to Turner’s critical views of the government, which were allegedly circulated in a private newsletter published by his Toronto law firm. Attempts to renew the party were unconvincing (as with Jack Horner in Alberta) or proved to be futile (as with Evans, Anderson, and the celebrated environmentalist-businessman Maurice Strong, who withdrew as a candidate not long after his nomination). Trudeau’s ties with the business community had not been repaired, and only Alastair Gillespie and, to a lesser extent, Barney Danson maintained strong connections with Bay Street.

  As minister of energy, Gillespie had worked with some success to improve the relationship with the oil patch and even the government of Alberta, but the cost of allowing oil to rise to the world price irritated the Ontario government, whose consumers and manufacturers believed that they bore the bulk of the pain. And there was real pain. When Trudeau called the by-elections in August 1978, the twelve-month inflation rate was 9.8 percent—almost three years after the imposition of wage and price controls. Unemployment stood at 8.4 percent, and pessimism was pervasive in the manufacturing and mining sector. Canada Has a Future, a bestselling book sponsored by the American Hudson Institute in 1978 and paid for by leading Canadian businesses, recognized that Canada had “a widespread lack of confidence in leadership—economic and intellectual, as well as political.” There was a crisis of identity, compounded by the serious economic problem of stagflation. The book’s principal authors, Marie-Josée Drouin and B. Bruce-Biggs, noted that, while American neo-conservatism had not yet established a base in Canada, there was a decided turning to the right in response to the economic problems. They agreed that Canada’s problems were shared by much of the Western world, and they made the point that “historically, the privileged classes have had approximately a U.S. income, while workers and farmers had lower incomes, which was a major impetus to the massive emigration to the U.S. Over the past generation this has changed—the middling Canadians have achieved near parity with their peers in the U.S., so the prosperous (except high civil servants) have suffered and are getting restless.”

  Indeed, they were. Evans lost in Toronto’s rich Rosedale riding, and Anderson in the upper-middle-class Eglinton riding. Reflecting their readers, the upper-crust Globe and Mail and Financial Post were grumpy; the liberal Toronto Star complained about Trudeau’s indifference to the plight of workers; and the sassy new tabloid, the Toronto Sun, echoed redneck complaints about welfare bums, Chardonnay-sipping bureaucrats, and fraudulent immigrants. It seemed that the Liberal hour had finally passed.46 Few denied that the economy would be the central issue in English Canada during the next election.

  When the Quebec issue dominated the political scene immediately after the election of René Lévesque’s separatists, Trudeau had emerged as the effective voice of Canadian unity. Fears gradually abated, however, as the expected referendum did not occur and as Lévesque’s government impressed even its federalist opponents with its competence and probity. Although the Quebec economy was suffering serious blows at the time, Lévesque’s popularity grew: “After two years in power, René Lévesque has delivered on practically all his electoral promises. Columnists unanimously praise his overall performance, his innovative reforms, and his responsible management while opinion polls show very high public satisfaction.” Yet his success did not bring greater support for separatism, even when it was cloaked in the more comforting notion of sovereignty-association. Once Claude Ryan became Quebec’s Liberal leader in 1978, Trudeau’s position as the sole powerful spokesperson for federalism was weakened. Ryan’s leadership probably reduced support for Trudeau more in English Canada than in Quebec because it reassured English Canadians, especially in Ontario and the Maritimes. Indeed, Daniel Latouche, then a member of Lévesque’s team, claims that Ryan’s reputation, particularly in the constitutional field, had the effect of freezing support for sovereignty and preventing a referendum in 1978 and early 1979. So, as Canada did not quickly disintegrate or face a referendum, the significance of the “national unity” issue waned, though resentment of Quebec’s language policies rose. It was a deadly combination for the federal Liberals.47

  By the late fall of 1978, Trudeau was exasperated. Lalonde told a November party executive meeting that English-Canadian Liberals had let the party down. The Pepin-Robarts report appeared on January 25, 1979, and recommended a decentralized Canada with a degree of special status for Quebec. Cleverly turning the report to his own advantage, Lévesque predicted that acceptance of its “sort of semi-special status” would lead Quebec to demand greater powers. Recognizing the implications, Trudeau acknowledged the report in the House of Commons but refused to endorse it. Pepin told his wife that a prime ministerial aide had confided to him that, when Trudeau was handed the report, he tossed it immediately in the waste basket without reading it. Apocryphal or not, the story reflected Trudeau’s dismissive attitude. But what were the alternatives? Before the federal-provincial meeting of February 1979, Trudeau himself agreed to many proposals that favoured decentralization and the provinces in a desperate effort to salvage an agreement. The constitutional plate was overloaded; neither Alberta nor Quebec would accept that “compelling national interest” could override their provincial interests, and political posturing abounded. Liberal senator Eugene Forsey, once a passionate supporter of Trudeau, now turned against the patriation proposals because, as a “Red Tory,” he believed that Bill 60 threatened the monarchy. He wildly suggested that the constitutional proposals were “a nightmare” that “could be interpreted as a bid for a Canadian republic,” while Forsey’s friend John Diefenbaker denounced the proposals as “more dangerous to the future o
f Canada than anything else that has taken place since Confederation.”48

  The bill died when the Supreme Court said that some of its provisions went beyond the powers of the federal government. So ended too any hopes for a constitutional triumph that would sweep Trudeau into power—a reflection of that first conference on the Canadian Constitution eleven years before. The times had changed, and the looming election was nearer than ever.49

  On March 26, 1979, Trudeau finally called the election for May 22. The Gallup poll taken the month of the election announcement showed the Liberals and Conservatives tied at 41 percent each, but the national figures masked an enormous Liberal lead in Quebec and considerable Conservative strength in Ontario. Still, on a personal level, Canadians far preferred Trudeau to Clark as prime minister, and on that foundation the Liberals built their campaign. Trudeau, as Keith Davey feared, insisted on talking about the Constitution and defending bilingualism, but there were some hopeful signs. Margaret’s book Beyond Reason appeared in early April, and, as before, her candid remarks caused a wave of sympathy for Trudeau. Keith Davey sent a memorandum to “all Liberal candidates” instructing them to echo Trudeau’s statement that his personal life was “not an election issue.” Alas, the surge in support was brief, and the Conservative support grew.50

  Sensing defeat, Trudeau campaigned energetically. He spoke without notes, jacketless, with his fingers curled in his belt loops and his body thrusting forward. At a Kitchener, Ontario, high school he faced hecklers bearing placards declaring that “Maggie dumped him, you should too.” While his supporters swarmed around, he moved forward gingerly, smiling wanly, saying little, almost ethereal in the milling crowd. Then, on a scuffed hardwood stage, he spoke in a staccato cadence about his Canada, scowled at the Radio-Canada technician whose camera bore a PQ sticker, and explained why Joe Clark’s vision of a Canada of communities would keep Canadians apart. The mood of the crowd became electric, but it was just one small group, as accompanying journalists rightly observed.

  In his largest rally, at Maple Leaf Gardens on May 9, with banners proclaiming “a leader must be a leader,” Trudeau spoke angrily about the failure of the last federal-provincial conference and the long, unsuccessful attempt to patriate the Canadian Constitution. He declared that, if elected, he would give the provinces one last chance. If they failed to grasp it, the federal government would act unilaterally to bring the Constitution home and bestow a charter of rights on Canadians. Otherwise, the Liberals made no startling promises. The Conservatives made many—too many, considering that they had a good chance to gain power. They would dismantle Petro-Canada, move the Canadian embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, and cut taxes by $2 billion while showering new benefits on individuals and groups. The promises had the desired effect: the Conservatives gained in strength during the campaign. Liberals hoped that a debate among the leaders on May 13 would allow Trudeau to “knock out” Clark or, alternatively, cause him to lose credibility, as had happened to Gerald Ford in the 1976 American presidential debate when he claimed that Poland was a “free” country. Clark, however, made no errors and, in the view of most observers, exceeded expectations. Ed Broadbent, whose party was also assisted greatly by the new regulations governing election expenses, probably gained most simply by being there with the major party leaders.

  As the campaign progressed, the Liberal weaknesses became apparent, particularly in Ontario and urban centres, where for close to two decades the Pearson and Trudeau brand of Liberalism had thrived. As the Hudson Institute report of 1978 indicated, the “prosperous” were troubled. Later research showed that whereas 60 percent of university-educated Canadians had supported Trudeau in 1968, only 36 percent did so in 1979. The Conservatives received 38 percent of these votes in 1979, compared to only 30 percent in 1968, with the New Democrats rising from 8 percent to 19 percent in the same period.* Davey, Coutts, and others who read the private polls could not believe it. They kept hoping that something would “turn up,” as had so often happened before with Canada’s most dramatic prime minister. But the telephones, the best indicator of a politician’s fortunes, stayed quiet in most Liberal campaign offices. As election day came near, the leading journalists left Trudeau’s campaign and joined Joe Clark’s entourage. As for Trudeau, he knew the political end was near, and his private life was in turmoil. He later told a friend, who said that a recent separation had left him disconnected, with a sense that his body and mouth were “somewhere else,” that he understood: “I lost an entire election in that state of mind.”51

  Trudeau invited Keith Davey and his wife, Dorothy; Jim Coutts; and his old comrade Jean Marchand to join him and his sons at Stornoway for election night. The first results from the East were good, with the Liberals losing only one seat in Atlantic Canada. Then Quebec proved loyal as before, with the Liberals virtually sweeping the province with 67 of the 75 seats, six more than before, while taking an astonishing 61.7 percent of the votes. But Trudeau’s world fell apart at the Ontario border: the Tories took 57 seats, and the Liberals only 32. Then the West threw its support overwhelmingly behind Alberta’s Joe Clark. When Trudeau knew he had lost, he went to meet his workers at the Château Laurier. Many were in tears, most were stunned, and a lot were soon to be unemployed. Trudeau reassured them:

  The important thing is that we haven’t given up an inch on our principles as Liberals. We stood for minority rights as the Liberal Party always has and always will stand for minority rights in every part of this country. We’ve fought for equality of opportunity, we’ve put forth programs while we were the government and during the election campaign to ensure that equality would be even greater…. We’ve fought also for something which I think extraordinarily important at this time in our history, that is a strong national government, and I believe we were right in that, and I still believe that that’s the kind of government that not only this country deserves but that it needs at this time. And I want to say for those of you who were perhaps surprised to see me talk in the last weeks of the campaign about having a Canadian Constitution made by Canadians, in Canada, for Canadians. I still think, I believe this was the right course, I knew that when I took that course we took the risk of failing greatly and perhaps we did in the short run, but I’m absolutely certain, that in the medium and longer term, this is the course that Canada will have to follow.

  The crowd shuffled, but then Trudeau leaned forward, looked directly at them, and smiled: “With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it’s still a beautiful world—strive to be happy.” With that, he waved goodbye and went home to his boys.52

  * Security and domestic intelligence matters also boiled over in 1976, when former RCMP constable Robert Samson testified that he had participated in an illegal break-in of L’Agence de presse libre du Québec, a separatist news agency. This March 16 testimony led to a series of shocking revelations about the spying activities of the RCMP and continuing embarrassment for Solicitor General Jean-Pierre Goyer. In October the opposition raised the question of whether there was a “blacklist” of public servants who should be watched because they might aim at “the destruction of the existing political and social structure of Canada.” Goyer denied the allegation, and Trudeau ridiculed it, but eventually its existence was confirmed. On the list were several future eminent public servants, including Maureen O’Neil, who became president of the International Development Research Centre, and Robert Rabinovitch, later a senior Trudeau adviser and CBC president. Victor Rabinovitch, who went on to be president of the Canadian Museum of Civilization, claims it was he, rather than his brother Robert, who was the actual RCMP target. Interview with Victor Rabinovitch, June 2008. Canada, House of Commons Debates (16 Oct. 1976).

  * Pitfield was often the target for ministers who believed that Trudeau had mistreated them. His appointment as clerk of the Privy Council was controversial because of his long friendship with Trudeau. Highly intelligent, innovative, often late, and sometimes distant, Pitfield became a symbol of the concentration of
power in the group around the prime minister. For Trudeau, he was a friend on whom he could fully rely. Their closeness led to rumours that Trudeau and Pitfield had a homosexual relationship, an outrageous story spread by, among others, a former senior civil servant who particularly loathed Pitfield. Later in the early 1980s, Trudeau responded to Conservative MP Otto Jelinek, who had repeated charges about Trudeau’s homosexuality in a mailing to constituents. Trudeau boiled over and demanded that Jelinek be called before the bar of the House of Commons to withdraw and be punished. Senator David Smith and others tried to convince him to ignore the remarks. Trudeau insisted, even when Smith and others told him he had to be absolutely sure that no one could come forward who would say that he was a homosexual. “Is there anyone?” they asked. “There might be,” Trudeau responded, “but he’d be lying.” Finally, Trudeau sensibly agreed to let the matter rest. Interview with David Smith, Sept. 2002. Confidential sources.

  * The astonishing popularity of the book Bilingual Today, French Tomorrow: Trudeau’s Master Plan and How It Can Be Stopped (Richmond Hill, Ontario: BMG Publishing Limited, 1977), by Lieutenant Commander (Retired) J.V. Andrew suggests how intense the hostility was to bilingualism in many areas of Canada. The book had ten printings in 1977 and 1978. Accusing Trudeau of forcing Canada to become an “all-French” nation, he wrote: “We are faced with the problem of getting rid of a totally ruthless man who has sworn to remain in power, regardless of public sentiment, until Canada becomes functionally Bilingual from coast to coast and thus for all intents and purposes a French-speaking country” (129).

  * It was not only at state dinners that the British offended Trudeau’s more republican sensibilities. When he arrived for the G7 in 1977 at Heathrow, High Commissioner Paul Martin noted that Trudeau was not given a formal welcome like the ones presidents of smaller states received. As noted in volume 1 of this biography, Trudeau’s opposition to the British Empire was a strongly held belief, one that brought him his lowest university mark when he wrote a scathing essay on the empire for anglophile Harvard professor William Yandell Elliott. By 1977 Trudeau’s bristling attitude had moderated considerably, not least because he had come to value the Commonwealth meetings but even more because he had developed an admiration, and eventually a fondness, for the Queen. He told interviewer Ron Graham that she did a “first-rate job” and that she impressed him. She was so easy to talk to that Trudeau became bold at a “rubber chicken” dinner in Alberta. He asked her if he could pose a question that had long bothered him. His maiden aunt, he continued, “was a rather refined lady and once, when we were eating chicken together, she picked up a drumstick.” Someone frowned at the gesture and Trudeau’s aunt said, “The Queen does it.” Trudeau looked at the Queen and she looked at him and said, “Hmm.” Trudeau concluded: “I imagine she wouldn’t do it.” Paul Martin, The London Diaries 1975–1979 (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 1988), 249. Interview between Ron Graham and Pierre Trudeau, May 12, 1992, TP, MG 26 02, vol. 23, file 2, LAC.