“Those who are seeking a knight in shining armour, a defender of principles against all odds, will be disappointed by Wilfrid Laurier,” writes André Pratte in his biography of Canada’s seventh prime minister, the latest in Penguin’s Extraordinary Canadians series (in stores March 8). “Those who know that a man of principle can govern only by showing patience and realism will find in him a model.”
He was a master of rationality, reason and the middle ground—“the most pragmatic of men,” as Pratte dubs him. And not only was he able to sustain such balance—serving in Parliament from 1874 to 1917, as prime minister for 15 of those years—but he did so passionately and at a time when the young nation was divided by questions of language, race, religion, region, war, imperialism and nationalism. “What I discovered for myself was how much he reflected what Canada is or in some cases should be,” says Pratte, the editor-in-chief of La Presse. “Canada is built on compromise and conciliation and dialogue and listening to others and trying to find common ground, and Laurier not only did that because it was imposed on him by the country’s situation, he really was someone who wanted to discuss and wanted to look for compromise.”
And if many of the same issues persist, it is a shame not only that we so rarely hearken back to Laurier’s words but also, as Pratte concludes, that no one has quite filled the void he left.
EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT
The subject of Laurier’s first English speech in the Commons was extremely sensitive: whether Parliament should expel the rebel Louis Riel, who had just been elected to the House. A few years earlier, the rebellion of the Red River Metis in Manitoba had aroused strong emotions. For the first time since Confederation, francophones and anglophones were diametrically opposed. The English-speaking wanted the head of the man whose “provisional government” had shot one of their own, the Orangeman Thomas Scott, during the uprising; they conveniently forgot the abuses committed against the Metis by English settlers in the North-West. The French Canadians spontaneously sympathized with Riel, a francophone; they closed their eyes to the arbitrary justice of which Scott had been the victim.
Tensions in the Commons were very high. But while the majority of the members gave in to their emotions, Laurier made a stirring appeal to reason and justice. As a French Canadian, he could have responded to the Riel affair by taking the easy path of following cultural prejudices. Instead, he chose to be guided by universal principles. This would continue to be a feature of his original, moderate yet bold approach to relations between the two principal nations that make up Canada.
Two amendments were proposed to the motion to expel Riel. The first one, which declared an amnesty for him, was the one clearly favoured by the francophones. Laurier spoke in defence of the other amendment, which stated that no decision would be made until a Commons committee had studied the matter. This, too, was typical of Laurier: rather than taking a firm position on a question, he generally tried to play for time. The elevated tone of his speeches gave the impression that he was taking a strong position, but the elegance of his words often camouflaged great circumspection. What his adversaries criticized as weakness would be his most formidable tactical weapon. Many years later, in a book on his famous friend, Laurent-Olivier David wrote: “His nature and his character led him to rely, perhaps sometimes too much, on time and the unexpected to resolve difficulties, to put off taking decisive action, to play the patient role of Fabius, but he claimed that temporizing had served him very well.” In short, Laurier used time as all great political and military strategists do.
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