Editorial Board / Comité de rédaction

Editor-in-Chief Rédacteur en chef Kenneth McRoberts, York University, Canada

Associate Editors Rédacteurs adjoints Isabel Carrera Suarez, Universidad de Oviedo, Spain Carolle Simard, Université du Québec à Montréal, Canada Robert S. Schwartzwald, University of Massachusetts, U.S.A.

Managing Editor Secrétaire de rédaction Guy Leclair, ICCS/CIEC, Ottawa, Canada

Advisory Board / Comité consultatif

Irene J.J. Burgers, University of Groningen, The Netherlands Patrick Coleman, University of California/Los Angeles, U.S.A. Enric Fossas, Universitat Autonoma de Barcelona, España Lois Foster, La Trobe University, Australia Fabrizio Ghilardi, Università di Pisa, Italia Teresa Gutiérrez-Haces, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Mexico Eugenia Issraelian, Russian Academy of Sciences, Russia James Jackson, Trinity College, Republic of Ireland Jean-Michel Lacroix, Université de Paris III/Sorbonne Nouvelle, France Denise Gurgel Lavallée, Universidade do Estado da Bahia, Brésil Eugene Lee, Sookmyung University, Korea Erling Lindström, Uppsala University, Sweden Ursula Mathis, Universität Innsbruck, Autriche Amarjit S. Narang, Indira Gandhi National Open University, India Heather Norris Nicholson, University College of Ripon and York St. John, United Kingdom Satoru Osanai, Chuo University, Japan Vilma Petrash, Universidad Central de Venezuela-Caracas, Venezuela Danielle Schaub, University of Haifa, Israel Sherry Simon, Concordia University, Canada Wang Tongfu, Shanghai International Studies University, China

2 International Journal of Canadian Studies Revue internationale d’études canadiennes

13, Spring/Printemps 1996 Canada in the Americas Le Canada dans les Amériques

Table of Contents/Table des matières

Kenneth McRoberts Introduction / Présentation ...... 5 Harold D. Clarke and Marianne C. Stewart Public Beliefs About State and Economy: Canada and the United States in Comparative Perspective ...... 11 Christopher Kirkey The Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Initiatives: Canada’s Response To An American Challenge ...... 41 Éloise Brière Mère solitude d’Émile Ollivier : apport migratoire à la société québécoise ...... 61 Marie Couillard et Patrick Imbert Canada, Argentine et Amérique latine au dix-neuvième siècle ...... 71 Maria Bernadette Velloso Porto En découvrant l’Amérique : la poétique de la circulation dans des textes brésiliens, québécois et acadiens...... 95 Greg Donaghy The Politics of Indecision: Canada and the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission, 1941-47 ...... 115 Gordon Mace and Claude Goulet Canada in the Americas: Assessing Ottawa’s Behaviour ...... 133

Review Essays / Essais critiques Victor J. Ramraj West Indian-Canadian Writing in English ...... 163 André C. Drainville Le Québec, les États-Unis et l’Amérique...... 169 David Leyton-Brown Perspectives on Canada-United States Free Trade ...... 177 Authors / Auteurs ...... 185 Canadian Studies Journals Around the World /Revues d’études canadiennes dans le monde ...... 187 Introduction Présentation

The notion of “Canada in the La notion du « Canada dans les Americas” evokes many different Amériques » provoque des réactions responses. If it were only a matter diverses. Si l’on s’en tient of geography, then of course uniquement à la géographie, il est Canada has been part of “the entendu que le Canada a toujours Americas” since its founding. But fait partie « des Amériques ». Mais to what extent has Canada actually jusqu’à quel point est-ce le cas sur functioned as part of the Americas les plans politique et économique? in economic and political terms? Et jusqu’à quel point les Canadiens And to what extent have eux-mêmes ont-ils ressenti un Canadians seen themselves as part sentiment d’appartenance face aux of the Americas? In particular, Amériques? Que se passe-t-il si what if we push the focus beyond nous agrandissons notre cadre de the American colossus to embrace référence au-delà du colosse the hemisphere as a whole? What américain, pour embrasser la totalité if we do indeed look to “the de l’hémisphère? Que se passe-t-il si Americas”, rather than nous jetons notre regard sur « les “America”? Amériques », plutôt que sur The first two pieces focus on the « l’Amérique »? conventional pairing of Canada Les deux premiers textes se and the United States, but in ways concentrent sur le jumelage that offer new insights. Clarke and conventionnel du Canada et des Stewart compare and contrast how États-Unis, mais en mettant en Canadians and Americans see the lumière certains aspects nouveaux. role of their respective states. Over Clarke et Stewart font ressortir les the years, scholars have examined similarités et les différences entre this question from a wide variety les façons dont les Canadiens et les of disciplines and approaches but Américains perçoivent le rôle de rarely have they brought to bear leurs gouvernements respectifs. Au the results of public opinion data fil des ans, les chercheurs ont as these scholars do. Through their abordé cette question du point de careful and comprehensive vue de nombreuses disciplines, mais analysis of survey data Clarke and n’ont que rarement réussi à faire Stewart show that in fact there are ressortir les résultats des données important similarities in Canadian obtenues au moyen de sondages and American views of the d’opinion avec autant d’éloquence appropriate economic and social que ces deux auteurs. Par leur roles of the state, as well as in the examen habile et extensif des ways in which economic données, Clarke et Stewart conditions affect their electoral démontrent qu’il existe en effet choices. For his part, Christopher d’importantes similarités, aussi bien Kirkey examines in careful detail dans la façon dont les Canadiens et one of the most celebrated les Américains perçoivent les rôles instances of tension between the économique et social de l’État que Canadian and American dans l’influence des conditions

International Journal of Canadian Studies / Revue internationale d’études canadiennes 13, Spring /Printemps 1996 IJCS / RIÉC governments: the 1969 sailing of the économiques sur leurs choix S.S. Manhattan through Arctic électoraux. Pour sa part, waters. On the basis of interviews Christopher Kirkey effectue un with key public officials of the time examen détaillé de l’un des points as well as public documents, Kirkey de tension les plus importants shows how the two governments entre les gouvernements canadien persisted in diametrically opposed et américain; soit le S.S. views of the legal status of the Manhattan dans les eaux de waterway, ensuring that a mutually l’Arctique. En se fondant autant satisfactory outcome would be sur des entrevues avec des impossible. Drawing upon bargaining personnalités publiques clés de theory, he suggests that an alternative l’époque que sur des documents approach might have been mutually publics, Kirkey montre comment beneficial. les deux gouvernements ont persisté à maintenir des The following pieces take us beyond perceptions diamétralement the Canada-U.S. duo to reveal the opposées du statut juridique des complexity of Canada’s insertion in eaux de passage, rendant the “Americas”. Éloise Brière impossible toute entente explores how the intellectual and mutuellement satisfaisante. En se literary life of one part of Canada, référant à la théorie des Quebec, has been affected by its négociations, il suggère qu’une relationship with another former approche de rechange aurait pu French colony, Haiti. She shows être mutuellement avantageuse. how, during the 1960s, exiled Haitian writer Émile Ollivier not only Les textes suivants nous amènent influenced the work of native au-delà du duo Canada-É.-U. Québécois writers but helped to pour révéler la complexité de establish an allophone variant of l’insertion du Canada dans « les Quebec literature centered on the Amériques ». Éloise Brière experience of migrant peoples. For explore l’impact des relations du their part, Marie Couillard and Canada avec une autre ancienne Patrick Imbert compare the colonie française, Haïti, sur la vie experiences of French Canadians and intellectuelle et culturelle d’une Argentines showing how as they partie du Canada, le Québec. Elle struggled to develop their own montre comment, au cours des national identities during the années 1960, l’écrivain haïtien en Nineteenth Century they followed exil, Émile Ollivier, a non similar cultural, ideological and seulement influencé les travaux political currents. Yet, Couillard and d’écrivains québécois, mais Imbert also illustrate that these également aidé à instaurer au sein commonalities derived less from de la littérature québécoise une direct contacts than from a common variante allophone qui s’appuie dependence on Great Britain — and a sur l’expérience des immigrants. common fascination with the United Pour leur part, Marie Couillard et States. Finally, Maria Bernadette Patrick Imbert comparent Velloso Porto shows how Brazilian, l’expérience des Canadiens Québécois, and Acadian writers are français et des Argentins, en still in the process of discovering, montrant comment les uns et les autres ont développé des courants

4 Canada in the Americas Le Canada dans les Amériques rediscovering, and learning to culturels, idéologiques et politiques understand the “America” which similaires dans leur lutte pour they have always shared. The act développer leur propre identité of walking figures heavily in this nationale au cours du dix-neuvième process of taking possession of siècle. Ils montrent aussi comment “America” and of the term ces similarités résultent bien “American”. davantage d’une dépendance commune à l’égard de la Grande- The next two pieces examine the Bretagne et d’une fascination Canadian state’s relations with the partagée pour les États-Unis que de other states of “the Americas”. contacts directs. En dernier lieu, First, Greg Donaghy reconstructs Maria Bernadette Velloso Porto a 1940s debate within the illustre comment les écrivains Canadian government over its québécois, acadiens et brésiliens relations with the Caribbean. découvrent, redécouvrent et Wartime conditions intensified apprennent à connaître, de façon Canadian economic involvement continue, l’« Amérique » qu’ils in the Caribbean and repeated partagent depuis toujours. La invitations to join an Anglo- déambulation domine ce processus American Caribbean Commission de possession de l’« Amérique » et provided an opportunity to solidify du terme « américain ». Canada’s relations with the region. Yet, ultimately the invitation was Les deux textes suivants examinent declined out of fear that by joining les relations qu’entretient le Canada Britain on the commission Canada avec les autres États « des might be drawn into Britain’s Amériques ». D’abord, Greg colonial relationship with the area, Donaghy reconstruit un débat des and into a subordinate relationship années 1940 au sein du to Britain itself. In effect, if gouvernement canadien sur les Canada was to be more clearly relations entre le Canada et les part of “the Americas”, it was to Antilles. Les conditions de guerre do so on its own terms. Focussing avaient accentué les engagements upon the contemporary period, économiques du Canada dans les Gordon Mace and Claude Goulet Antilles et des invitations répétées à systematically trace how Canada se joindre à la Commission anglo- now has indeed established a américaine lui donnaient l’occasion complex of relations with Latin de resserrer ses liens avec la région. America and the Caribbean. Il devait néanmoins éventuellement Through a quantitative analysis refuser l’invitation, craignant qu’en they demonstrate that since the se joignant à la Grande-Bretagne au late 1960s Canada’s relations not sein de la commission, il pourrait se only have grown but have became voir entraîné dans les relations more clearly structured while at coloniales de cette dernière dans la the same time affording greater région, et, de même, se retrouver en attention to differences among position de subordonné par rapport à sub-regions. elle. En effet, si le Canada devait plus clairement s’insérer dans les Finally, three review essays assess « Amériques », il lui fallait lui- the recent literature on specific même définir les conditions de cette aspects of Canada’s insertion in

5 IJCS / RIÉC the “Americas”. Victor Ramraj appartenance. En se concentrant explores one way in which the sur la période contemporaine, “Americas” have directly contributed Gordon Mace et Claude Goulet to Canada’s cultural life, namely retracent systématiquement les through the rapidly growing writings chemins qui ont amené le Canada of West Indian-Canadians. While à établir le réseau complexe de most of these authors are recent relations qu’il entretient immigrants and their writings tend to aujourd’hui avec l’Amérique focus upon the immigrant Latine et les Antilles. Au moyen experience, the perspectives vary d’une analyse quantitative, ils widely reflecting both differences in démontrent que, depuis la fin des individual viewpoints and the années 1960, les relations du complexity of West Indian-Canadian Canada se sont non seulement communities. André Drainville resserrées, mais qu’elles se sont focuses on studies of Quebec’s mieux structurées, tout en insertion within the North American témoignant d’une attention plus economy or, more simply, marquée aux différences entre les “America”. He shows how sous-régions. differences in approaches of three Enfin, trois essais critiques different studies themselves reflect procèdent à une évaluation de la the emergence of an American social documentation récente portant sur and political space. certains aspects spécifiques de Finally, David Leyton-Brown l’insertion du Canada dans les compares and assesses three recent « Amériques ». Victor Ramraj studies of the processes leading up to explore la façon par laquelle les the Free Trade Agreement, which, « Amériques » ont contribué with its NAFTA successor, wedded directement à la vie culturelle Canada’s future even more strongly canadienne, notamment grâce à la with the American colossus. The floraison rapide d’œuvres three studies offer important insights, littéraires émanant de Canadiens reflecting their different approaches d’origine antillaise. Alors que la and perspectives, but they do not plupart de ces auteurs sont des provide definitive answers about the émigrants récents et que leurs FTA’s impact. Indeed, one might œuvres sont largement axées sur presume that, given the centrality of l’expérience de l’immigrant, leurs the North American political perspectives varient economy to so many aspects of considérablement, reflétant à la Canada’s existence, such questions fois des différences de points de do not admit definitive answers. vue individuels et la complexité In sum, as these articles reveal, des diverses communautés Canadians are still struggling to canado-antillaises. André understand the nature of their Drainville se concentre sur des country’s insertion in the études de l’insertion du Québec “Americas”. Certainly, the dans l’économie nord-américaine consequences for Canada of its ou, plus simplement, dans “American vocation” are greater than « l’Amérique ». Il montre ever before. As these articles also comment la différence d’approche clearly demonstrate, the insights of de trois études distinctes reflète

6 Canada in the Americas Le Canada dans les Amériques scholars who not only represent elle-même l’émergence d’un espace different disciplines but are américain aux plans social et themselves based in different parts politique. of the “Americas” are instrumental Enfin, David Leyton-Brown to any attempt to chart the course compare et évalue trois livres of Canada’s hemispheric future. récents qui étudient le processus menant à l’Accord de libre-échange, Kenneth McRoberts dont la signature, avec celle de Editor-in-Chief l’ELÉNA, unit davantage l’avenir du Canada à celui du colosse américain. Bien que ces trois ouvrages fassent plusieurs observations pénétrantes, qui reflètent leurs perspectives et approches respectives, ils n’offrent pas de réponses définitives quant à l’impact de l’ALÉ. En effet, compte tenu que l’économie politique de l’Amérique du Nord soit si centrale à tant d’éléments de la vie canadienne, on peut présumer que de telles questions ne peuvent que demeurer sans réponses définitives. En somme, ces articles révèlent que le Canada est toujours aux prises avec sa tentative de comprendre la nature de son insertion dans les « Amériques ». Et, assurément, les conséquences de sa « vocation américaine » augmente de plus en plus. Comme le démontrent clairement aussi ces articles, les observations de ces universitaires — qui représentent non seulement différentes disciplines mais qui proviennent de divers endroits des « Amériques » — contribuent grandement aux efforts visant à déceler l’avenir du Canada au sein de cet hémisphère.

Kenneth McRoberts Rédacteur en chef

7 Harold D. Clarke and Marianne C. Stewart

Public Beliefs About State and Economy: Canada and the United States in Comparative Perspective

Abstract This paper investigates the economic components of political culture in Canada and the United States. Comparative analyses of national survey data reveal important similarities in the cultural basis of political economy in the two countries. Canadians and Americans structure their evaluations of national and personal economic conditions in very similar ways and, in both countries, the impact of these evaluations on support for governing political parties and their leaders depends on the nature of political discourse in particular election campaigns. Canadian-U.S. similarities extend to the values that undergird a capitalist economic system; both Canadians and Americans take balanced perspectives on the virtues and vices of capitalist economics. Also, despite sharply escalating budget deficits and the electoral successes of neoconservative politicians promising major reductions in the scope of government involvement in economy and society, Canadians and Americans continue to express strong support for numerous social programs. This gap between demand and supply provides a motor for public discontent that threatens not only the tenure of incumbent political parties, but also the continuing viability of long-standing governmental institutions and processes.

Résumé Le présent article étudie les éléments économiques de la culture politique au Canada et aux États-Unis. Des analyses comparatives des données issues d’enquêtes nationales font ressortir des similitudes importantes dans les fondements culturels de l’économie politique des deux pays. Les Canadiens et les Américains organisent leurs évaluations des conditions économiques nationales et personnelles de façon très semblable et, dans les deux pays, les répercussions de ces évaluations sur l’appui aux partis politiques au pouvoir et à leurs chefs dépendent de la nature du discours politique durant chacune des campagnes électorales. Les similitudes entre le Canada et les États-Unis sont présentes jusque dans les valeurs sous-jacentes au système économique capitaliste. Tant les Canadiens que les Américains ont une perspective juste des points forts et des faiblesses des économies capitalistes. Malgré l’intensification de plus en plus marquée des déficits budgétaires et les réussites électorales des politiciens néo-conservateurs à coups de promesses de réductions importantes des déficits dans la mesure de la participation du gouvernement à l’économie et à la société, les Canadiens et les Américains continuent d’exprimer un appui marqué à de nombreux programmes sociaux. Cet écart entre l’offre et la demande alimente la grogne populaire qui compromet non seulement le mandat des partis politiques au pouvoir, mais aussi la viabilité des établissements et processus gouvernementaux en place depuis longtemps.

International Journal of Canadian Studies / Revue internationale d’études canadiennes 13, Spring/Printemps 1996 IJCS / RIÉC

The idea that economic conditions powerfully affect political outcomes is conventional wisdom among politicians, pundits and public alike. Analysts repeatedly have attempted to determine if, as George Stigler (1973:160) once phrased it, “this fact is, in fact, a fact.” Reviewing many of these studies, William Miller observes that they are characterized by conflicting findings and unresolved controversies, and concludes that “the best prospect of further advance will now come through a focus on better data rather than better technique” (1989:169).1 Data concerning the political cultural contexts in which economic forces operate are especially important. Economists’ strongly held assumption of preference exogeneity notwithstanding, citizens do not make demands on governments or assess governmental performance in a vacuum. Rather, they respond to a complex of beliefs, attitudes and opinions about the desirability and feasibility of government action over a broad range of economic and other policy areas. To understand political economy, one must understand political culture. And, as Almond and Verba (1963) emphasized some thirty years ago, the nature and impact of political culture is best appreciated in comparative perspective. This paper investigates the cultural bases of political economy in two contemporary North American countries — Canada and the United States. There is a general consensus in previous comparative research on the cultural bases of political life in these two countries (e.g., Bell and Tepperman, 1979; Hartz, 1964; Horowitz, 1966; Lipset, 1970, 1990; Presthus, 1974) that their citizens typically differ in their emphases on the efficacy and propriety of collective versus individual effort for achieving a variety of socially desirable goals. As Lipset (1990:136) argues: “[i]f one society [Canada] leans toward communitarianism — the public mobilization of resources to fulfill group objectives — the other [the United States] sees individualism — private endeavor — as the way an ’unseen hand’ produces optimum, socially beneficial results. The evidence on this score is abundant and clear.” It is argued that this tendency of Canadians to rely on government and of Americans to rely on themselves explains the historically more extensive involvement of the Canadian state in society and economy. Given their relatively stronger collectivist orientation, Canadians have not been prone to question the utility of government for implementing a broad panoply of social programs, while Americans have remained suspicious of and hesitant about the benefits of the welfare state. For the same reason, Canadians more than Americans have also endorsed state involvement in various aspects of the economy, in the expectation that such involvement could and should have beneficial effects on national and personal economic well-being. Although these differences are claimed to characterize the political beliefs of “ordinary” Canadians and Americans, systematic comparisons of survey data on the economic components of mass political culture in the two countries remain few and fragmentary.2 Just how different are the beliefs and attitudes undergirding contemporary political economy in Canada and the United States? To answer this question, we employ data from several recent, major national surveys of public beliefs, attitudes and opinions. One is the Political Support in Canada (PSC) project for which several large-scale national, cross- sectional and panel surveys were conducted during the 1983-93 period. A

12 Public Beliefs About State and Economy second is the 1988 Canadian National Election Study (CNES). Both the PSC and CNES surveys posed many questions pertinent for understanding the nexus between economy and polity in the minds of the Canadian electorate. The 1988 and 1992 American National Election Studies (ANES) constitute the primary U.S. data base. Although the questions in these U.S. surveys are not identical to the Canadian ones, they are sufficiently similar to permit comparative analyses of several important topics. Limited use also is made of other ANES data, as well as 1980-92 data on citizens’ evaluations of national and personal economic conditions gathered in quarterly surveys conducted by the Decima organization (Canada) and the University of Michigan Surveys of Consumers (U.S.).3 We begin by mapping the content and structure of public economic evaluations in the two countries, and investigating if Canadians and Americans hold government responsible for the state of the national economy and for their personal economic circumstances. We next assess the impact of economic judgments on voting behaviour in recent national elections in the two countries. Then, we explore a broad range of attitudes and beliefs about government’s role in economy and society. Particular attention is paid to people’s preferences for government spending in various policy areas, and whether these preferences have changed in recent years. In the conclusion, we argue that some (not all) of the major findings demonstrate important similarities in the economic aspects of Canadian and American political culture — similarities often overlooked or discounted in studies that have emphasized cultural differences between the two countries.

Public Economic Evaluations Dynamics: The PSC and Decima surveys reveal that Canadians’ judgments about the performance of the national economy vary sharply over time, and that these changes parallel movements in the objective economy (see also Johnston, 1986:ch. 4). For example, in 1983, when their country was beginning to emerge from a serious recession, only a minority (44%) of the PSC respondents judged that the economy was performing either “very” or “fairly” well (Figure 1). However, as the economy subsequently improved, so too did people’s evaluations of it, such that, by 1988, fully 81% judged that it was doing at least fairly well. These sanguine views did not persist; with the onset of another recession in 1990, the percentage making positive judgments fell precipitously (to 16%) and the percentage making negative ones skyrocketed (to 84%). As Canada’s economy continued to sputter in the run- up to the 1993 election, public evaluations of it remained highly critical. Dynamic relationships between subjective evaluations of the national economy and objective economic performance can be calibrated with greater precision using the more finely grained (quarterly) 1980--92 Decima data. Similar to the PSC results, evaluations of current national economic conditions among persons participating in the Decima surveys became markedly more negative during the slumps of the early 1980s and early 1990s (Figure 2). Moreover, indicative of the connection between people’s subjective economic evaluations and actual economic conditions, the correlation between such

13 IJCS / RIÉC

Figure 1. Evaluations of the Performance of the National Economy, Canada, 1983-1993

evaluations and changes in the unemployment rate was strong and (predictably) negative (r = -.63). The political significance of these dynamics in understanding how the economy affects support for governing parties and their leaders cannot be assumed; as earlier studies have emphasized, much depends on whether people attribute responsibility to government for the state of the economy (e.g., Clarke et al., 1992:ch.1). In fact, large majorities of Canadians do make such responsibility attributions; more than three-quarters of those interviewed in each of the 1983-93 PSC surveys stated that the actions of the federal government would have at least some impact on the anticipated performance of the economy (Figure 3). The potential political import of these responsibility attributions is apparent in that public evaluations of Ottawa’s economic performance varies sharply over time; thus, the percentages judging that the federal government has done a “very good” or “good” job climbs from 41% in 1983 to 71% in 1988, before falling sharply (to 20%) two years later (data not shown). At the time of the 1993 national election that decimated the governing Progressive Conservatives, only 14% believed the government had done a good job in managing the economy, and a massive 83% judged that it had done a “poor” or “very poor” one. Canadians’ evaluations of their personal economic circumstances tend to be both more positive and less variable than their judgments about the national economy (Figure 2). Also, the dynamics of personal economic evaluations are responsive to objective economic conditions, but the linkages are weaker than those for judgments about the national economy. For example, the correlation between perceived trends in personal economic prospects and changes in unemployment rates is -.45 in the 1980-92 Decima surveys, and the percentage of respondents in the 1983-93 PSC surveys stating that they are at least “fairly satisfied” with their material standard of living increases from 82% in 1983 to 84% in 1988, and then decreases to 80% in 1990 and to 57% in 1993. Similarly, in the face of the post-1988 recession, the percentage believing that their

14 Public Beliefs About State and Economy

Figure 2a. Evaluations of the National Economy and Trends in Personal Financial Prospects, Canada, 1983-1993

Figure 2b. Retrospective Evaluations of National Economy and Personal Financial Conditions, United States, 1980-1992

financial condition is better now than three or four years ago falls from 41% in 1988 to 32% in 1990 and to 20% in 1993. Regarding responsibility attributions, sizable majorities (averaging 64% between 1983 and 1993) in the PSC surveys indicate that they believe the federal government is responsible to some extent for their personal economic circumstances. However, responses to a question that permits a direct comparison of the extent of responsibility attribution for national versus personal conditions (government’s impact on future conditions) show that in every survey the percentages attributing a “some” or “a great deal” of responsibility to government for national circumstances exceed those for personal ones (Figure 3).

15 IJCS / RIÉC

Figure 3. Percentages Believing Federal Government Will Influence National Economy and Personal Finances, 1983-1993

Turning to the American case, one observes patterns similar to the Canadian ones. As in Canada, Americans’ evaluations of the national economy manifest dynamics that reflect movements in the economy itself. Although the 1980-92 ANES surveys reveal that Americans typically have been quite negative about the economy, this negativism was particularly apparent during the recessions of the early 1980s and early 1990s. Analyses of the quarterly University of Michigan Surveys of Consumers data gathered between 1980 and 1992 show similar movements, with average scores on the national retrospective economic evaluation index (range 0-200) varying from a minimum of 20 to a maximum of 152, and those on the national prospective economic evaluation index, from 35 to 146 (e.g. Figure 2). Also similar to Canada, Americans’ judgments about the performance of the national economy are strongly correlated with objective economic conditions. For example, increases in the unemployment rate are negatively related to retrospective and prospective evaluations of the performance of the national economy, the correlations (r) being -.87 and -.78, respectively. Again similar to the Canadian case, judgments about personal economic circumstances are less mutable, with retrospective evaluations in the Michigan consumer confidence surveys varying from a low of 77 to a high of 125 and prospective ones, from 98 to 132. Such personal economic judgments have predictable (negative) relationships with objective economic conditions; for example, the correlations between personal retrospective and prospective judgments and changes in unemployment rates between 1980 and 1992 are -.74 and -.59, respectively. Regarding responsibility attributions, some analysts (e.g., Sniderman and Brody, 1977; Schlozman and Verba, 1979) have claimed that the political impact of personal economic evaluations is muted in the United States because many Americans fail to appreciate the relevance of government activities. The ANES data are consistent with this hypothesis. When asked about the impact of government economy policies on their personal economic circumstances,

16 Public Beliefs About State and Economy fully two-thirds of the 1988 ANES respondents said that these policies had not made “much of a difference” and less than one in ten said they had made things “much better” or “much worse” (data not shown). Although differences in question wording make precise comparisons impossible, the tenor of these responses is clearly different than those in the Canadian surveys — Canadians are more likely than Americans to attribute at least some responsibility to government for their personal economic circumstances. The ANES data also suggest that Canada-U.S. differences in the likelihood of responsibility attribution extend to the national economy. When asked whether government economic policies had influenced the economy as a whole, a majority (57%) of those participating in the 1988 survey said they had not made much difference, and only 9% thought they had made the economy much better or worse. The caveat about question wording differences again noted, it clearly appears Canadians are more prone than Americans to hold government responsible for national economic conditions. The nature of responsibility attributions in the two countries is important as well. Two decades ago Bloom and Price (1975) claimed that American voters were “ingrates” — they were much more likely to blame a government for a poor or declining economy than to praise it for a good or improving one. Recent survey evidence supports the conjecture. For example, 12% of those interviewed in the 1988 ANES who judged that their personal economic circumstances had become much better also believed that government economic policies had a strong impact. However, among persons who thought their personal condition had become much worse, the equivalent figure is 25% (data not shown). The comparable percentages making responsibility attributions to government for the state of the national economy are 27% and 47%, respectively. The hypothesis applies to Canada as well; responsibility attributions vary strongly with whether economic evaluations are positive or negative. Thus, in the 1990 PSC survey the percentage of Canadians according a “great deal” of responsibility to government increased from 14% among those who were very satisfied with their present living standard to fully 75% among those who were very unsatisfied (Table 1). Asymmetries also characterized evaluations of the national economy; among the 1990 PSC respondents believing the economy would perform better in the years ahead, 34% thought government would have a great deal to do with this happy circumstance. The equivalent percentage among those forecasting an economic downturn was a much larger 70%. In both countries, then, governments can be expected to lose more support from a bad economy than they gain from a good one.

17 IJCS / RIÉC

Table 1.

Government Impact on Personal Financial Condition and National Economy by Economic Evaluations, 1990 A. Present Financial Condition Relative to Better Same Worse Four Years Ago % % %

Great Deal 6 16 51 Government Impact Something 20 26 31 Not Much 74 59 18 (N) (627) (944) (371) 2 c 4 = 402.33, p < .001, g = -.57 B. Satisfaction With Very Fairly Little Very Present Material Satisfied Satisfied Dissatisfied Dissatisfied Standard of Living % % % %

Great Deal 14 16 52 75 Government Impact Something 25 34 34 17 Not Much 61 51 14 8 (N) (417) (1123) (295) (100) 2 c 6 = 394.42, p < .001, g = -.51 C. Anticipated Personal Material Standard of Living in Better Same Worse Three or Four Years % % %

Great Deal 12 23 74 Government Impact Something 24 36 21 Not Much 64 41 3 (N) (393) (902) (594) 2 c 4 = 627.07, p < .001, g = -.71 D. Anticipated Performance of the Better Same Worse National Economy % % %

Great Deal 34 40 70 Government Impact Something 41 37 24 Not Much 25 23 6 (N) (196) (622) (1074) 2 c 4 = 207.91, p < .001, g = -.49

18 Public Beliefs About State and Economy

The Structure of Economic Thinking: Analysts have long debated the relative importance of sociotropic (national) versus egocentric (personal) and retrospective (past) versus prospective (future) economic evaluations as determinants of support for governing parties and their leaders. These controversies are important because they concern the psychological foundations of public political behaviour in contemporary democratic polities. Are voters selfish utility-maximizers, concerned only about their personal future economic well-being, as the central tenets of neo-classical economic theory suggests? Or, in contrast, do voters violate the canons of microeconomic rationality by reacting primarily to perceptions of the health of the national economy in the recent past? If so, are voters simply “irrational” or, in contrast, do they deliberately focus on the national economy because of altruistic concerns for the well-being of the larger collectivity to which they belong? To date, those involved in the debates stimulated by such questions have largely ignored the possibility that the core “national versus personal” and “past versus future” distinctions do not correspond to how citizens actually organize their thinking about economic matters. Do people, in fact, differentiate clearly between national and personal economic circumstances, or between past and future conditions when answering survey questions designed to capture these theoretically interesting distinctions? Confirmatory factor analyses (e.g., Bollen, 1989; Joreskog and Sorbom, 1988) of the Canadian PSC and American NES survey data enable us to address this question. CFA analyses of the PSC data tell a very consistent story — Canadians’ economic thinking is organized in terms of three distinct factors.4 The first is a sociotropic-retrospective-contemporaneous factor that structures evaluations of past and present national economic conditions; and the second is an egocentric-retrospective-contemporaneous factor that structures evaluations of past and present personal economic circumstances. However, the sociotropic-egocentric (i.e., national-personal) distinction collapses when Canadians consider the future. Thus, the third factor is a composite of prospective sociotropic and egocentric evaluations (Table 2). This three-factor model has an excellent fit with all of the PSC survey data gathered over the 1983-93 period. In every analysis, all factor loadings are statistically significant, and possible alternative models that ignore one or more of the distinctions among the three factors have much worse fits. Correlations between the factors are consistently substantial, but not overwhelmingly strong, thereby indicating that the conceptual distinctions implied by the factors are not statistically trivial. In sum, the theoretically important distinctions among sociotropic, egocentric, and prospective economic judgments correspond well to how Canadians organize their thoughts when they contemplate the evolution of the national economy and their personal economic circumstances.

19 IJCS / RIÉC

Table 2. Confirmatory Factor Analyses of Economic Performance Evaluations, Canada, 1988, 1990, 1992 Factor Matrices (λ) Sociotropic Egocentric Prospective Economic Performance Evaluations 88 90 92 88 90 92 88 90 92 Personal: Past .00 .00 .00 .66c .64c .64c .00 .00 .00 Present .00 .00 .00 .49c .52c .53c .00 .00 .00 Future .00 .00 .00 .00 .00 .00 .60c .65c .59c National: Past .76c .80c .78c .00 .00 .00 .00 .00 .00 Present .59c .59c .64c .00 .00 .00 .00 .00 .00 Future .00 .00 .00 .00 .00 .00 .65c .62c .71c 2 1988: χ 5 = 9.36, p = .096, AGFI = .990, N = 1108^ 2 1990: χ 5 = 10.69, p = .058, AGFI = .994, N = 1967 2 1992: χ 5 = 7.15, p = .210, AGFI = .993, N = 1115

Inter-Factor Correlations (φ) Sociotropic Egocentric Prospective 88 90 92 88 90 92 88 90 92 Egocentric .65c .54c .62c 1.00 1.00 1.00 Prospective .60c .69c .34c .25c .50c .53c 1.00 1.00 1.00

Note: WLS estimates ; c - p≤ .05; ^ - random half-sample

Analyses of the ANES data indicate that Americans structure their economic thinking in a very similar fashion. For example, an analysis of the 1988 data reveals that a three-factor model has an excellent fit (Table 3). Loading heavily on the first (sociotropic-retrospective) factor are judgments about unemployment, inflation and economy generally over the past year.5 The second, egocentric, factor organizes evaluations of personal economic circumstances over this period as well as reports of how personal income has fared relative to the cost of living. The third, prospective, factor is dominated by judgments about the future course of the national economy, with forecasts of one’s own financial condition having a significant, but weaker loading. Although differing in detail, this three-factor model also has good fits for data gathered in several other ANES surveys (Elliott and Zuk, 1989). In every case, the inter-factor correlations are statistically significant, albeit modest (see, e.g., Table 3). As in the Canadian case, then, theoretical distinctions among sociotropic, egocentric and prospective economic evaluations are reflected in how Americans actually structure their thinking about national and personal economic conditions.

20 Public Beliefs About State and Economy

Table 3. Confirmatory Factor Analysis of Economic Performance Evaluations, United States, 1988 Factor Matrix (λ) Economic Performance Evaluations Sociotropic Egocentric Prospective Personal Financial Conditions Relative to Your Age .00 .78c .00 Personal Income Relative to Cost of Living Over Past Year .00 .72c .00 Personal Financial Condition Expected Year From Now .00 .29c .24c Unemployment over Past Year .65c .00 .00 Inflation over Past Year .67c .00 .00 National Economy over Past Year .70c .00 .00 National Economy over Next 12 Months .00 .00 .83c P 2 10 = 12.07, p = .281, AGFI = .996, N = 1729

Inter-Factor Correlations (φ) Sociotropic Egocentric Prospective Egocentric .53c 1.00 Prospective .36c .13 1.00 Note: WLS Estimates; c - p ≤ .05

Economic Evaluations and Electoral Choice One of the most long-lived controversies in the literature on economic conditions and electoral choice concerns egocentric versus sociotropic voting. As observed above, standard utility maximization theories of voting behavior make the case for the “pocketbook” voter, i.e., the individual whose ballot decisions are guided by his/her personal economic self-interest (e.g., Monroe, 1991). However, following pioneering work by Key (1966), numerous American studies (e.g., Kiewiet, 1983; Kinder and Kiewiet, 1979, 1981) have reported that retrospective sociotropic judgments, i.e., judgments about the national economy, fare best in empirical analyses of presidential and congressional voting behavior. These findings, in turn, have provoked efforts to discover pocketbook voting by other means, principally through analyses of aggregate time-series data (see, e.g., Kramer, 1983). To date, however, these searches proved largely unsuccessful, with the principal revisionist claim in the United States now being that sociotropic prospective evaluations dominate in presidential support models (see MacKuen, Erikson and Stimson, 1992). Some cross-sectional survey studies in the United States and elsewhere (e.g., Fiorina, 1981; Kuklinski and West, 1981; Lewis-Beck, 1988) also have made cases for the relevance (but not the dominance) of prospective thinking about the national economy in the voting calculus.

21 IJCS / RIÉC

Do these American findings characterize Canadian voters as well? For that matter, do the American findings continue to hold up, once one takes account of the structure of economic thinking as revealed in the analyses presented above? To answer the first of these questions, we employ the PSC survey data to investigate factors affecting voting for the governing Progressive Conservative Party in the 1988 and 1993 federal elections. Recall that the former contest was one in which a single issue, the PCs’ proposed free trade agreement with the United States (the FTA), dominated the campaign (Kornberg and Clarke, 1992:ch. 6; Johnston et al, 1992:ch. 5). Opposition parties claimed that the FTA would have negative consequences not only for Canada’s economy, but also for its culture, its sovereignty and the complex of government programs constituting its social safety net. Unlike valence issues, such as high rates of inflation or unemployment that virtually everyone agrees are undesirable, the FTA was a quintessential position issue and, as such, it invited voters to make prospective judgments about their country’s and their own future should the agreement be enacted. Given this type of political discourse in the 1988 campaign, one would expect that future- oriented judgments would be relatively important in the set of economic judgments influencing electoral choice. In sharp contrast, the 1993 federal election was held in a context in which the country was struggling to escape the grip of a deep and protracted recession. Voters were sorely exercised by the malaise that had produced high rates of unemployment, escalating deficits and threats to cherished social programs (e.g., Clarke et al., 1996:ch. 2). As shown above, a large majority of Canadians believed the economy was performing poorly and they judged the federal government’s stewardship of it very harshly. Recognizing the electorate’s concerns, opposition parties castigated the governing PCs for the country’s problems, and although the Tories attempted to deflect attention away from these difficulties by emphasizing the qualities of their new leader, Kim Campbell, they could not avoid responsibility for the performance of the economy during their nine years in office. In such a campaign context, retrospective economic evaluations should have been relatively more important than they had been five years earlier. We investigate these hypotheses by specifying models of voting in the 1988 and 1993 elections that include the three economic-thinking factors (sociotropic, egocentric prospective), as well as variables measuring voters’ feelings about the leaders of the three major federal parties, their perceptions of which party was closest to them on the election issue they identified as “most important,” and their federal and provincial party identifications.6 Since previous studies have shown that party identification in Canada is endogenous to other forces affecting the vote (e.g., Archer, 1987), we employ the 1984-88 PSC panel data and measure party identification in the 1984 wave of the panel when analyzing voting behaviour in 1988. Similarly, we use the 1990-93 PSC panel data and measure party identification in the 1990 wave of this panel when analyzing voting behaviour in 1993. Several sociodemographic variables (age, education, gender, income, region)7 also are included in the models to control for forces on the vote not explicitly captured by the otherpredictor variables. Since the dependent variable (vote PC - vote other party) is a dichotomy, probit is chosen for estimation purposes (Aldrich and Nelson, 1984).

22 Public Beliefs About State and Economy

Table 4. Probit Analyses of Progressive Conservative Voting in the 1988 and 1993 Federal Elections 1988 1993 Predictor Variable b t b t Constant -1.02 -1.55d 0.01 0.01 Region: Atlantic 0.09 0.25 0.13 0.49 Quebec 0.15 0.58 -0.51 -2.02c Prairies 0.48 1.82c 0.19 0.92 British Columbia -0.16 -0.52 -0.71 -2.41b Age 0.00 0.66 0.01 1.43d Education -0.04 -0.52 -0.03 -0.45 Gender 0.22 1.27 -0.12 -0.81 Income 0.08 1.16 -0.07 -1.92c Economic Evaluations: Sociotropic 0.05 0.47 0.29 3.78a Egocentric 0.15 1.60d 0.15 1.79c Future 0.35 3.20a -0.10 -1.18 Leader Affect: Mulroney/Campbell 0.02 4.19a 0.02 4.38a Turner/Chrétien -0.01 -2.89b -0.01 -1.56d Broadbent/McLaughlin -0.01 -1.31d -0.00 -0.81 Manning X X -0.01 -2.10c Bouchard X X -0.01 -2.11c Party Closest, Most Important Issue 0.54 10.84a 0.47 10.67a Federal Party Identification* 0.14 3.37a 0.21 3.68a Provincial Party Identification* 0.05 1.08 -0.02 -0.27 McKelvey R2 .82 .65 % Correctly Classified 91.7 92.8 PRE (Lambda) .83 .51 N’s - 629, 1984-88 national panel; 933, 1988-93 national panel * - measured in first wave of panel x - variable not available a - p ≤ . 001; b - p ≤ .01; c - p ≤ .05; d - p ≤ .10; one-tailed test

As in previous studies of electoral choice in Canada (e.g., Clarke and Stewart, 1992; Kornberg and Clarke, 1992:ch. 6), party identification, perceptions of the party closest on the most important election issue, and feelings about party leaders have strong, predictable effects on the vote, and sociodemographic variables have relatively weak ones (Table 4). However, as hypothesized, economic evaluations matter; in 1988 prospective judgments are highly significant, whereas egocentric judgments have a marginal impact, and sociotropic ones are clearly insignificant. As also expected, the 1993 case is very different. In 1993, sociotropic evaluations are highly significant, egocentric effects are weaker but also significant, and prospective judgments are weak and insignificant. Taken together, the 1988 and 1993 analyses are consonant with our conjecture that sharp differences in the nature of the political debates about the Canadian economy in the two election campaigns

23 IJCS / RIÉC conditioned the relative strength of various kinds of economic evaluations on the vote in these contests. How different is the political economy of electoral choice in the United States? More specifically, is there evidence that egocentric and prospective economic evaluations, not only sociotropic retrospective ones, influence voting behaviour? To answer these questions, we employ the ANES survey data to analyze voting for the Republican candidate (George Bush) in the 1988 and 1992 American presidential elections. Similar to their Canadian counterparts, the American vote models include measures of voters’ feelings about the candidates, assessments of party closest on the national problem designated as most important, party identification, and several sociodemographic variables (age, education, gender, income, race, region).8 Economic evaluations are measured using the three economic evaluation factors identified above. Both the 1988 and 1992 analyses reveal that the three economic evaluation variables do not have direct effects on presidential voting (Table 5). Rather, the vote is strongly driven by a combination of “usual suspects” — feelings about the candidates, party-problem (issue) linkages and party identification. But, this is not the end of the story. Analyses of feelings about Republican candidate, George Bush, reveal that all three economic evaluation factors have statistically significant, indirect effects on the vote (Table 5). In contrast to the Canadian case, however, these sociotropic effects are both consistently influential and consistently stronger than those associated with egocentric or prospective economic judgments. The relative strength of sociotropic effects in the U.S. case is consonant with the results of most earlier American studies, and it accords well with the nature of the 1988 and 1992 presidential campaigns. Recall that the former contest was roundly criticized for its lack of sustained focus on a range of important problems, including economic ones, that would confront the country in the years ahead (e.g., Pomper et al., 1989). However, despite the American politics of “Willie Horton” rather than the Canadian politics of FTA in 1988, the U.S. campaign did not obviate the indirect influences of economic judgments including egocentric and future- oriented ones. In contrast, the 1992 U.S. presidential election closely resembled the 1993 Canadian federal election in that unemployment, a protracted recession and a ballooning national deficit were dominant themes. And, as in Canada in 1993, sociotropic economic judgments were highly significant in the United States in 1992. Once more, however, and pace many claims about their insignificance, egocentric and prospective judgments were influential too. Finally, note that the indirect effects of economic evaluations, including possibly prospective and egocentric evaluations, may be stronger in the United States than present findings indicate. This is because of the endogeneity of party identification in the American case. Although the stability of party identification is a topic of long-standing controversy, evidence from national panel surveys consistently indicates that it is not an “unmoved mover” (Clarke and Suzuki, 1994; Fiorina, 1981; Franklin, 1992). As in Canada, U.S. voters’ partisan attachments exhibit short-term dynamism, and this dynamism is, in part, governed by reactions to changing economic conditions (Clarke and Suzuki, 1994; MacKuen, Erikson and Stimson, 1989). Additional studies in

24 Public Beliefs About State and Economy

both countries are needed to clarify which types of economic evaluations are most important in this regard. If the campaign context hypothesis is valid, however, we would expect that the effects of different types of economic evaluations on partisan attachments would vary over time as changes in the way in which the economy is treated in campaign discourse shift voters’ attention from past performance to future prospects or vice versa.

Table 5. Multivariate Analyses of Republican Presidential Support, 1988 and 1992

A. 1988 Bush Vote^ Thermometer^^ Predictor Variable b t b t Constant -1.10 -2.34b 38.82 9.69a Region: Northeast -0.07 -0.40 2.18 1.23 South 0.33 1.97c 6.79 1.58d West -0.04 -0.21 -2.33 -1.38d Age 0.00 1.10 0.07 1.78c Education 0.00 0.08 -0.79 -2.00c Gender 0.10 0.79 1.69 1.37d Income 0.00 0.08 0.13 1.06 Race: Black -0.70 -2.80b -2.42 -1.11 Other -0.51 -1.34d 5.23 1.40d Economic Evaluations: Sociotropic 0.09 1.26 4.42 6.36a Egocentric -0.01 -0.16 1.71 2.60b Future 0.03 0.47 2.79 4.59a Party Leader Affect: Bush 0.03 8.97a X X Dukakis -0.03 -8.69a X X Party Closest, Most Important Issue 0.75 6.24a 9.51 9.03a Party Identification 0.24 6.28a 5.55 15.83a McKelvey R2 = .85 % correctly classified = 91.8% R2 = .48

Table 5 continues on next page.

25 IJCS / RIÉC

Table 5. Contd Multivariate Analyses of Republican Presidential Support, 1988 and 1992

B. 1992 Bush Vote^ Thermometer^^ Predictor Variable b t b t Constant -2.37 -5.98a 38.06 11.83a Region: Northeast -0.10 -0.73 0.90 0.61 South 0.07 0.56 3.24 2.38b West -0.31 -2.22c -2.08 -1.43d Age 0.01 1.68c 0.06 1.97c Education 0.05 1.46d -1.99 -5.75a Gender 0.23 2.31c 3.35 3.26a Income 0.00 0.15 0.03 0.28 Race: Black -0.17 -0.80 -3.34 -1.99c Other 0.95 3.32a 1.74 0.50 Economic Evaluations: Sociotropic 0.00 0.01 4.78 8.43a Egocentric -0.01 -0.17 2.72 5.03a Future -0.03 0.50 2.62 5.08a Party Leader Affect: Bush 0.04 12.83a X X Clinton -0.02 -7.79a X X Perot -0.02 -7.43a X X Party Closest, Most Important Issue0.49 5.23a 7.60 8.28a Party Identification 0.18 5.85a 5.43 17.88a McKelvey R2 = .79 % correctly classified = 89.3% R2 = .43 Note: X - variable not included in model; ^ - probit analysis; ^^ - OLS regression analysis;a-p≤.001;b-p≤.01;c-p≤ .05;d-p≤ .10; one-tailed test; 1988 N = 1192; 1992 N = 1691

Two Politico-Economic Cultures Above, we have focused on how Canadians and Americans evaluate national and personal economic conditions, how these evaluations vary over time and their relevance for understanding public support for political parties and their leaders. Although these themes have been central concerns in the political economy literature, they hardly exhaust the range of topics relevant to political-economic interactions in the two countries. In this regard, one important issue concerns the range and volume of citizens’ demands on government. Virtually everything government does costs money, and the public, via its tax dollars, supplies the needed funds. In the halcyon days of the long post-World War II economic expansion, the relationship between the demand for government services and the supply of revenue to pay for such services had little salience for either politicians or public. In an optimistic

26 Public Beliefs About State and Economy climate of opinion where it was widely believed that Keynesian demand- management techniques provided governments with the policy tools needed to control the “boom and bust” cycles that hitherto had been hallmarks of capitalist economies, and to ensure continuing prosperity, competing politicians of all ideological hues worked assiduously to convince voters that, should their parties form a government, they could and would respond positively to public requests for a diverse array of social programs. In the 1970s, core elements of this politically congenial conventional wisdom were undermined, as the threat of protracted economic decline became a new, unpleasant preoccupation in many Western countries, including Canada and the United States. Combinations of skyrocketing inflation, high unemployment, and sluggish growth overturned the assumptions of a generation of economists and politicians. The public, for its part, reacted by electing neoconservative political leaders such as Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan who contended that “big government” was the arch-villain in the unfolding drama of economic decline. Prosperity would return, these “conviction” politicians argued, if government intervention in economy and society was drastically curtailed. The electoral successes of politicians such as Reagan and Newt Gingrich in the United States and Preston Manning, Ralph Klein and Michael Harris in Canada might be interpreted as indicating that calls for sharp reductions in government spending and services have met with widespread public approval. However, research conducted in Great Britain (e.g., Clarke, Stewart and Zuk, 1988; Crewe and Searing, 1988) cautions that this inference may be unwarranted. Despite conscious, sustained efforts to change the economic component of her country’s political culture, Lady Thatcher was largely unsuccessful in revamping public thinking about what government could and should do. Throughout her lengthy tenure in office, and despite her many scoldings about the pernicious consequences of reliance on the “nanny state,” the British electorate continued to voice enthusiasm for a broad range of publicly funded social programs, and it remained convinced that government had a major role to play in managing the economy with the aim of creating the wealth needed to sustain such programs. What about contemporary Canada and the United States — what is the nature of public thinking in these countries about the desirability of government involvement in economy and society? Perhaps the neoconservative arguments of figures such as Manning and Reagan have had greater effects on the thinking of the electorates of these countries, or, alternatively, perhaps these political leaders and their parties benefitted from exogenously driven “sea changes” in political culture that have occurred over the past two decades. Although the recent electoral successes of the provincial PCs in Alberta and Ontario, the federal Reform Party in Canada and the Republicans in the United States lend plausibility to such conjectures, the survey evidence suggests that if such changes have occurred, they have been limited rather than pervasive. In Canada, responses to questions asked in surveys conducted in the 1980s about the desirability of government involvement in economy and society echo those in studies carried out in the 1960s and 1970s (e.g., Kornberg, Mishler and

27 IJCS / RIÉC

Clarke, 1982:75-78). For example, when queried in the 1983 PSC survey about whether government should take an active role in a broad range of policy areas, overwhelming majorities responded positively — 95% believed that government should provide for people’s health needs, 95% called for government action to protect the environment, 87% thought government should provide educational opportunities, and 86% demanded government provision of welfare services (data not shown). Overall, an average of fully 89% supported government involvement across ten possible areas of activity and, in every case but two (welfare, culture and the arts), majorities — in several cases, very large ones — said that these activities were “very important.” On average, 66% thought government activity was “very important” and only 5% thought it was “not important.” Thus, as in Britain, neither the economic travails of the 1970s and early 1980s nor the presence of political leaders advocating neoconservative policy agendas significantly muted Canadians’ long-standing enthusiasm for a broad range of government services. But what about paying for these services? In recent years, Canada’s escalating national deficit has become a very salient issue, and in the 1993 federal election both the governing Progressive Conservatives and the new right-of- centre Reform Party made deficit reduction a principal plank in their policy platforms. Federal and provincial governments with very different ideological centres of gravity have reacted to the deficit problem by increasing taxes and instituting a variety of draconian measures to curtail public spending. Does the salience of the deficit as an election issue and the harsh measures taken by governments to diminish expenditures reflect a basic reorientation in Canadians’ attitudes about the desirability of government spending on social services? Are Canadians now willing to abandon their historically strong support for such services in the face of these warnings about the dire consequences of a rising tide of red ink on the public ledgers? If so, data gathered in the 1988 CNES survey indicate that the change has occurred only very recently. Although majorities of the respondents in this survey were willing to support more stringent requirements for obtaining unemployment insurance, to restrict family allowances, to cut the defense budget, and to privatize crown corporations, large majorities did not favour reducing education spending or welfare payments, and they did not wish to curtail subsidies for farmers or funds for regional economic development schemes (Table 6).9 Also, by overwhelming margins, they opposed reducing government spending on health care by permitting doctors and hospitals to directly bill patients. This is one part of the story, however. The other is that Canadian governments attempting to meet the largely unabated demands for services by raising tax revenues face stiff opposition. Circa 1988, fully 87% opposed increases in sales taxes, and 90% opposed raising personal income taxes. After winning the 1988 federal election, Prime Minister Mulroney’s Progressive Conservative government soon experienced the political fallout produced by these sentiments. The government’s goods and services tax (GST) proved to be massively unpopular and public support for PCs and their leader plummeted (Clarke and Kornberg, 1992) . The only revenue-generating option to receive broad approval (favored by 76%) in the 1988 survey was raising corporate income taxes. As documented below, the popularity of this

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measure taps a broader Canadian attitude that big business and “the wealthy” do not contribute their fair share.

Table 6. How Canadians Would Reduce Government Deficits

Ways of Reducing Deficits Approve Disapprove A. Reduce Spending on Universities 20% 80 B. Make it harder to get Unemployment Insurance 57% 43 C. Reduce Spending on Medical Care by Direct Billing by Doctors 20% 80 D. Reduce Spending on Hospital Care by Direct Billing by Hospitals 15% 85 E. Family Allowance Only to Low Income Families 69% 31 F. Reduce Welfare Payments 38% 62 G. More Advertising on CBC 69% 31 H. Less Support for CBC 62% 38 I. Less Support for Culture and Arts 36% 64 J. Privatize CNR 55% 45 K. Privatize Petro-Canada 57% 45 L. Reduce Defense Budget 55% 45 M. Reduce Subsidies to Farmers 25% 75 N. Reduce Regional Development Subsidies to Industries 33% 67 O. Increase Sales Tax 13% 87 P. Increase Personal Income Tax 10% 90 Q. Increase Corporate Income Tax 76% 24 ___ - Favored by majority Note: 1988 CNES, missing data removed

What about Canadians’ more general attitudes toward capitalist economics, competition, individual initiative, and relationships between workers and management? A battery of statements10 included in the 1993 PSC survey indicate that majorities of Canadians endorse private enterprise (55%) and the profit system (61%), acknowledge the virtues of competition (74%), think that management and workers share the same long-run interests (68%), and believe that ability and hard work are the keys to success (68%) (Table 7). However, it is clear that most Canadians do not offer unqualified support for that complex of attitudes and beliefs that we might term “Victorian economic virtues.” Minorities, some sizable, dissent from the aforementioned statements. Also, a large majority believes that corporations do not pay a fair share of taxes (78%), and smaller majorities think business executives are overpaid (56%) and favour greater worker participation in corporate decision-making (55%). Pluralities endorse the necessity of strikes (41%), and believe that workers do not get a fair share of what they produce (36%). As Table 7 shows, these 1993

29 IJCS / RIÉC responses are not idiosyncratic; rather, they are very similar to those expressed in the 1988 CNES survey.

Table 7. Public Support for “Victorian Economic Virtues” in Canada and the United States

Statement Canada U.S. 1988 1993 A. When it comes to making decisions in industry — the important decisions should be left to management. 37 27 46 B. The profit system — teaches people the value of hard work and success. 66 61 54 C. If the system of private enterprise were abolished — very few people would do their best. 55 55 48 D. Unskilled workers usually receive wages that are about right — considering the amount of skill required. 39 46 43 E. Workers and management — share the same interests in the long run. 69 68 68? F. Getting ahead in the world is a matter of ability and hard work. 75 68 63* G. A person’s wages should depend on the importance of the job 50 50 n.a. H. When people fail — they are lazy and lack self-discipline. 28 21 34 I. Most business executives — do important work and deserve high salaries 30 22 36 J. Strikes to improve wages and working conditions — are almost never justified. 33 32 29 K. When businesses are allowed to make as much money as they can — everyone profits in the long run. 37 33 42 L. Government regulation of business — usually does more harm than good. 23 36 28 M. Working people — usually earn what they deserve. 36 35 41 N. When people don’t work hard — they just don’t care about doing an honest day’s work. 34 32 N.A. O. Corporations and wealthy people — pay their fair share of taxes and more. 10 9 13 P. Competition — leads to better performance and a desire for excellence. 76 74 81 Note: underscoring indicates majority of plurality response; source: Canada - 1988 CNES, 1993 PSC; United States - McClosky and Zaller (1984). * - average across extreme categories N.A. - not ascertainable

30 Public Beliefs About State and Economy

Overall, then, these 1988 and 1993 survey data portray the economic component of Canadian political culture as decidedly “mixed.” This conclusion is reinforced when one uses responses to the several statements in Table 7 to construct a summary Victorian economic virtues index, scoring each response that agrees with this ideological perspective as +1, and each response that disagrees with it, -1. The mean score on this index (which ranges from +16 to -16) is very close to the mid-point in both 1988 and 1993 (+1.72 in 1988 and 1.63 in 1993), and in both years the distribution is decidedly “centrist,” with two-thirds of those interviewed having scores between -5 and +5. Only 7% take a strong positive stance in 1993 compared to only 6% in 1988. The extreme negative groups are even smaller, constituting 2% and 1% of the 1993 and 1988 respondents, respectively. Echoing earlier accounts of Canadian political culture (e.g., Bell and Tepperman, 1979:ch. 7; Lipset, 1990:ch. 7), the survey evidence shows that most Canadians wish to take their capitalism in moderate doses, and they continue to demand that government protect them from its excesses. The several statements tapping Canadians’ attitudes towards capitalism and its undergirding values originally appeared in American surveys that formed the principal data base of McClosky and Zaller’s The American Ethos (1984).11 However, these American surveys were conducted prior to the 1980s and will not capture any changes in Americans’ thinking that may have occurred during the Reagan-Bush years. Setting this possibility aside, what is most striking about the U.S. responses is their resemblance to the Canadians ones; for example, the average difference between American and 1988 Canadian responses endorsing what we have labeled Victorian economic virtues is only 6%; for opposing responses, the average difference is only 7%. Nor is it the case that the American responses are consistently more likely to be in accord with these virtues. For example, 54% of Americans as compared to 66% of Canadians interviewed in 1988 laud the virtues of the profit system; 63% versus 75% believe that ability and hard work are the keys to success; 48% versus 55% think that a private enterprise system is required to make people do their best (Table 7). Again, 52% of Americans versus 41% of Canadians surveyed in 1993 recognize the necessity of strikes to improve workers’ wages and living conditions, 16% versus 13% believe that the profit system brings out the worst in people, and 21% versus 19% judge that people would work hard even if private enterprise were abolished. Since we do not have access to the individual-level American survey data, we cannot construct a summary Victorian economic virtues index similar to that for Canada. However, the Canada-U.S. comparisons of aggregate responses to the individual statements strongly suggest that most Americans, like most Canadians, would occupy centrist positions on such an index. Contrary to what sometimes seems to be Canadian popular wisdom, then, the vast majority of their southern neighbors do not seem to be “cowboy capitalists” who enthusiastically and uncritically endorse laissez-faire capitalism and the abrasive complex of values and beliefs supportive of such an economic order. To what extent do public beliefs about desirable levels of government spending in various policy areas differ in the two countries as the 20th century draws to a close? Long-standing differences in the extent of public funding for

31 IJCS / RIÉC highly salient, major social programs such as health care are consistent with the proposition that Canadians historically have been more supportive of government expenditures on various social programs than have Americans. As noted in the introduction, this proposition has received strong support among scholars comparing the political cultures of the two countries. Without gainsaying its general validity, we observe that sentiments favouring enhanced government activism certainly are not absent in the contemporary United States. Note, for example, that the Clinton administration’s recent proposal for a comprehensive (perhaps Canadian-style) public health scheme was defeated in Congress only after a protracted national debate that demonstrated considerable support for such a plan among sizable segments of both the general public and political elites. More generally, although the survey data needed to compare Canadian and American beliefs about desirable levels of government expenditures in a range of policy areas are unavailable, it is clear that Americans have not reacted to the deficit crisis of recent years by rejecting the need for government spending. Indeed, when asked about government spending in several specific areas, large majorities in the 1988 and 1992 ANES surveys favoured additional expenditures in a number of them.12 More spending on social services, education and medical research was widely endorsed in both years — in 1992, 73% wanted more funds to assist homeless persons, 66% wanted greater expenditures on public schools, 65% desired more money to help college students, and 62% favoured greater expenditures on AIDS research (Table 8). More spending was favoured in several other areas — majorities desired more government expenditure on environmental protection, childcare and programs to assist the elderly and, although support for additional monies for social security declined somewhat after 1988, in 1992, a near majority (49%) continued to favour enhanced expenditure. Moreover, as Table 8 also shows, there was little enthusiasm for actually cutting government spending in most policy areas. Nor has the situation in the United States changed appreciably since these surveys were conducted. Despite the resounding Republican victory in the 1994 congressional elections and the accompanying rhetoric of Newt Gingrich and other neo-conservative politicians and pundits that the election result heralded a revolution in public attitudes toward big government and its spendthrift ways, ANES data gathered immediately after the 1994 congressional elections show that there are only three cases — foreign aid, welfare and food stamps — for which a plurality or majority of people calls for spending reductions (Table 8). Government expenditures on programs as diverse as environmental protection, social security, AIDS research, education, child care, crime prevention and health care all receive strong public support and, indeed, majorities called for more, not less, spending on several of these programs.

32 Public Beliefs About State and Economy

Table 8. Attitudes Toward Federal Government Spending in Various Policy Areas, United States, 1988, 1992, 1994

Government Spending 1988 1992 Increase Decrease Diff= Increase Decrease Diff Policy Area Unemployed Persons 32% 15% +17% 40% 12% +28% Food Stamps 23 31 -8 18 30 -12 Blacks 24 23 +1 25 24 +1 Homeless Persons 67 5 +62 73 6 +69 Environment 64 3 +61 61 4 +57 College Students 46 11 +35 60 8 +52 Public Schools 65 4 +61 66 4 _62 Childcare 58 11 +47 50 10 +40 AIDS Research 74 6 +68 62 8 +54 Social Security 59 3 +56 49 4 +45 Elderly 77 1 +76XXX Drug Enforcement 76 5 +71XXX Defense 33 33 0XXX Welfare Programs X X X 17 42 -25 Science and Technology X X X 42 13 +29 Crime X X X 70 3 +67 Poor People X X X 55 7 +48 Big Cities X X X 21 29 -8 = - % desiring spending increase minus % desiring spending decrease X - item not included in survey Average difference, % desiring spending increase minus % desiring spending decrease, 10 common items, 1988 and 1992: 1988 = +40, 1992 = +40 Government Spending 1994 Increase Decrease Diff Policy Area Environment 40 11 +29 Health Care 64 9 +55 Public Schools 68 7 +61 Childcare 56 10 +46 AIDS Research 50 14 +36 Social Security 52 5 +47 Crime 75 5 +70 Food Stamps 10 42 -32 Defense Spending 23 29 -6 Welfare Programs 13 53 -40 Foreign Aid 7 56 -49 Average difference, % desiring spending increase minus % desiring spending decrease, 7 common items, 1992 and 1994: 1992 = +45; 1994 = +37

33 IJCS / RIÉC

There is a caveat, however — like Canadians, the willingness of Americans to spend may well exceed their willingness to pay. In this regard, only 22% of the 1988 ANES respondents indicated that they were willing to pay more taxes to reduce the deficit, with another 10% saying they might be willing to do so under certain conditions. Fully 68% simply said “no.” The extent of shift in public opinion in the 1990s is debatable. On the one hand, in 1992, the U.S. electorate did chose a president who proposed raising taxes, while calling for collective sacrifices to reduce the deficit. Two years later, that electorate overturned long-standing Democratic majorities in both Houses of Congress in favour of Republican ones. Many of the newly elected Republican congresspersons and senators are avowedly dedicated to effecting drastic reductions in the size and scope of the activities of the national government, and they are now proceeding vigorously to try to implement their ideological goals. Although the 1994 election result and the legislative actions of the new Republican majorities in Congress might be taken as prima facie evidence that most Americans now desire to curtail their demands for government services in light of persistent and growing budget deficits, the survey evidence presented above strongly indicates that this is not the case. At present, then, Canadians’ and Americans’ continuing, and largely undiminished, enthusiasm for government spending on a broad range of social programs is juxtaposed with the ongoing, oppressive reality of serious revenue shortfalls. In both countries, there is a consensus among political elites that deficit reductions somehow must be achieved, and governing parties that historically have been characterized by very different ideological centres of gravity currently are attempting to address the problem by devising a variety of schemes to effect sharp expenditure cutbacks. However, in both countries, it is apparent that such cutbacks will prove decidedly unpopular with electorates if they involve attacks on long-established, cherished programs such as social security and health care. The politics of deficit reduction thus is a most difficult and contentious exercise, and governments that mount such attacks may find that they do so at their peril. The fact that voters in both countries seemingly want “to have their cake and eat it too” suggests that the continuing ability of demand to outrun supply may be the characteristic feature of public political- economic cultures in late 20th-century Canada and the United States.

Conclusion: Similarities Not Just Differences This paper has examined economic components of public political cultures in Canada and the United States. Contrary to the implicit assumption of much work in contemporary political economy, we have argued that one cannot understand political-economic interactions without an appreciation of the broader cultural matrix within which such interactions occur. In advancing this argument, we join scholars who have attempted to explain important differences in political behaviour in the two countries by delineating variations in their political cultures. Undoubtedly, there are such behavioural differences and, in many cases, claims that these differences reflect historically conditioned variations in political culture may be readily accepted. Where we part company with these scholars, however, is in their emphasis on Canadian- U.S. contrasts — when it comes to the economic components of their political

34 Public Beliefs About State and Economy cultures, the present analyses suggest that similarities can be as striking as differences. Consider, for example, the content and structure of public evaluations of national and personal economic conditions. Although surveys consistently show that Canadians are more likely to attribute responsibility to government for their economic circumstances and that these responsibility attributions are more asymmetric in Canada than the United States, these differences are matters of degree, not kind. Additionally, in both countries, the “subjective economy” follows the objective one — with negative evaluations increasing as the economy worsens and positive evaluations increasing as good times return. Also, in both Canada and the U.S., people’s judgments about their personal economic circumstances are less volatile than their evaluations of the national economy, and over-time variations in national and personal economic evaluations reflect trends in salient features of the macroeconomy, such as rates of inflation and unemployment. Perhaps most striking are the analyses of economic thinking showing that Canadians and Americans organize their economic evaluations in very similar ways. When thinking about the present and recent past, people in both countries clearly distinguish between the state of the national economy and their own circumstances; but when it comes to the future, this distinction collapses into a generalized “economic future” factor. Canadians and Americans alike see their own and their country’s futures as being very closely intertwined. Public economic evaluations also have broadly similar political consequences. In Canada, all three components of economic thinking — sociotropic, egocentric and prospective — have had significant effects on voting behaviour in either or both of the two most recent national elections. In the United States, pace many earlier studies that have asserted the irrelevance of egocentric and prospective economic evaluations, our analyses indicate that all of these components of economic thinking have had significant effects on voting in the two most recent presidential elections. More generally, Canadian-U.S. comparisons suggest that the relative importance of various economic evaluations are not invariant. Rather, their impact depends on the nature of political discourse in particular election campaigns. When election campaigns, such as that in Canada in 1988, strongly encourage thinking about the future, prospective economic evaluations dominate. In contrast, when election campaigns in the two countries place more emphasis on a government’s record as steward of the nation’s economy, voters react predictably by relying more heavily on retrospective judgments. The 1993 Canadian federal election and the 1988 and 1992 U.S. presidential elections are good examples of this latter circumstance. Canadian-U.S. similarities extend to more general attitudes towards capitalism and the associated values that undergird a capitalist economic system. Although Canadians often pride themselves for having “kinder, gentler” and more balanced perspectives on the virtues and vices of capitalist economics than their southern neighbours, the survey data gainsay them. In fact, Canadian-U.S. differences in these regards are quite minimal. Like most Canadians, most Americans support many of the basic values that undergird a

35 IJCS / RIÉC capitalist economic system, but they are not unreconstructed social darwinists. Overwhelming majorities in both countries offer only qualified endorsements of “Victorian economic virtues,” and “two (not three) cheers for capitalism” is the rule, not the exception. Finally, citizens of the two countries have not adopted the neoconservative rhetoric of prominent political leaders. Although some of these politicians, such as Ronald Reagan, enjoyed electoral success in the 1980s, they did not do so by convincing large numbers of voters of the wisdom of their ideological agendas. Public demands that government supply a broad panoply of social services remain strong. Indeed, Stimson (1991) has presented survey data demonstrating that what he calls the “public mood” in the United States became more favourable toward government provision of such services during the period when the Reagan-led Republicans were enjoying their electoral resurgence. But, there is a problem. As in many other Western democracies, the capacity of Canadian and U.S. governments to supply these highly popular services has been strongly challenged by the contemporary reality of recession-prone economies and massive government deficits. One possible solution to this supply problem is higher income and consumption taxes but, here again, Canadians and Americans agree by expressing strong reservations. As the political culture of the welfare state evolved in the post-World War II era in the two countries, their citizens were repeatedly encouraged by successive groups of competing politicians and bureaucrats to believe that a high volume of demand for government services did not necessarily entail onerous taxation rates. Such beliefs seemed eminently plausible when escalating political demands were accompanied by expanding revenues supplied by buoyant economies, but this felicitous politico-economic equilibrium has long since evaporated. As the 20th century draws to a close, a rising tide of public discontent engendered by the perceived inability of government to meet citizens’ demands in an era of economic adversity is readily apparent in Canada, the United States and other mature democracies as well. This discontent has its roots in the patterns of political culture described above, and it threatens not only the tenure of incumbent political parties and their leaders, but also the continuing viability of long-standing governmental institutions and processes. Paradoxically, political culture, typically seen as an anchor of political stability, may now be a principal motor for political change.

Notes 1. Other recent reviews of the political economy literature include, inter alia, Clarke et al. (1992); Lewis-Beck (1988); Norpoth, Lafay and Lewis-Beck (1991). See also Hibbs (1987); Monroe (1984); Whiteley (1986). 2. Inter-regional rather than cross-national comparisons have been a major focus of existing research on Canadian political culture since pioneering studies by Schwartz (1974), Simeon and Elkins (1974), and Wilson (1974). See also Presthus (1973:ch. 1); Kornberg, Mishler and Clarke (1982:ch. 3). 3. The 1988 CNES data were made available by the ISR data archive, York University. The ANES data, and the Survey of Consumers data were made available by the ICPSR data archive, University of Michigan. The Decima data were provided by the Queen’s University data archive. Neither the archives nor the principal investigators who gathered these several

36 Public Beliefs About State and Economy

data sets are responsible for the analyses and interpretations presented here. For a description of the 1983-92 PSC surveys, see Kornberg and Clarke (1992):Appendix. Details concerning the 1993 PSC survey are available from the authors upon request. The PSC studies were funded by research grants provided by the National Science Foundation (U.S.). The principal investigators are Harold D. Clarke and Allan Kornberg. 4. The construction of the variables used in this analysis is described in Clarke and Kornberg (1992):38, note 11. 5. These variables are ordinal scales scored: “much better” = +2, “better” = +1, “same” = 0, “worse” = -1, “much worse” = -2. For question wording, see the 1988 ANES Codebook. 6. The party leader affect variables are 100-point thermometer scales; party identification is the traditional (pre-1988) sequence; party closest on most important election issue (range: -3- +3) assesses the direction and strength of party-issue linkages. The measures are described in Kornberg and Clarke (1992:ch. 6). 7. The measures are described in Clarke and Kornberg (1992):44, note 21. Ontario is the reference category for the regional dummy variables. 8. Candidate affect is measured using 100-point thermometer scales; party identification is the traditional 7-point scale; party closest on most important problem is scored: Republican = +1, Democratic = -1, no party, no important problem, don’t know = 0. The U.S. sociodemographic variables are constructed similarly to those in the Canadian analysis. White is the reference race category; North Central is the reference region category. 9. The question wording is described in the 1988 CNES Codebook. 10. For question wording, see the 1988 CNES Codebook. 11. The U.S. data presented here may be found in this book. In some cases, it was necessary to compute percentages for the U.S. samples using tables that present data for various subgroups. 12. For question wording, see the 1988 ANES Codebook.

References Almond, Gabriel A. and Sidney Verba. 1963. The Civic Culture: Political Attitudes and Democracy in Five Nations. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Aldrich, John H. and Forrest D. Nelson. 1984. Linear Probability, Logit and Probit Models. Beverly Hills: Sage Publications. Archer, Keith. 1987. “A Simultaneous Equation Model of Canadian Voting Behavior.” Canadian Journal of Political Science 20:553-72. Bell, David and Lorne Tepperman. 1979. The Roots of Disunity: A Look at Canadian Political Culture. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart. Bloom, Howard S. and H. Douglas Price. 1975. “Voter Response to Short-Run Economic Conditions: The Asymmetric Effects of Prosperity and Recession.” American Political Science Review 69:1240-54. Bollen, Kenneth. 1989. Structural Equations with Latent Variables. New York: Wiley Interscience. Clarke, Harold D., Jane Jenson, Lawrence LeDuc and Jon H. Pammett. 1996. Absent Mandate: Canadian Electoral Politics in an Era of Restructuring. Toronto: Gage Publishing. Clarke, Harold D., Euel Elliott, William Mishler, Marianne C. Stewart, Paul F. Whiteley, and Gary Zuk. 1992. Controversies in Political Economy: Canada, Great Britain, the United States. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Clarke, Harold D. and Allan Kornberg. 1992. “Support for the Canadian Federal Progressive Conservative Party Since 1988: The Impact of Economic Evaluations and Economic Issues.” Canadian Journal of Political Science 25:29-54. Clarke, Harold D. and Marianne C. Stewart. 1992. “Canada.” In Electoral Change: Responses to Evolving Social and Attitudinal Structures in Western Countries, ed. Mark N. Franklin, Thomas T. Mackie, and Henry Valen. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clarke, Harold D., Marianne C. Stewart and Gary Zuk. 1988. “Not For Turning? Beliefs About the Role of Government in Contemporary Britain.” Governance 1:271-87. Clarke, Harold D., Marianne C. Stewart and Gary Zuk, eds. 1989. Economic Decline and Political Change: Canada, Great Britain, the United States. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press. Clarke, Harold D. and Motoshi Suzuki. 1994. “Partisan Dealignment and the Dynamics of Independence in the American Electorate, 1953-1988.” British Journal of Political Science 24:57-78.

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Crewe, Ivor and Donald D. Searing. 1988. “Ideological Change in the British Conservative Party.” American Political Science Review 82:361-84. Fiorina, Morris. 1981. Retrospective Voting in American National Elections. New Haven: Yale University Press. Franklin, Charles. 1992. “Measurement and the Dynamics of Party Identification.” Political Behavior 14:297-310. Hartz, Louis. 1964. The Founding of New Societies: Studies in the History of the United States, Latin America, South Africa, Canada and Australia. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World. Hibbs, Douglas A. 1987. The Political Economy of Industrial Democracies. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Horowitz, Gad. 1966. “Conservatism, Liberalism and Socialism in Canada: An Interpretation.” Canadian Journal of Economics and Political Science 32:144-71. Johnston, Richard. 1986. Public Opinion and Public Policy in Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Johnston, Richard, André Blais, Henry E. Brady and Jean Crête. 1992. Letting the People Decide: Dynamics of a Canadian Election. Stanford: Stanford University Press, and Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press. Joreskog, Karl and Dag Sorbom. 1988. LISREL 7: A Guide to the Program and Applications. Chicago: SPSS, Inc. Key, V. O. Jr. 1968. The Responsible Electorate: Rationality in Presidential Elections, 1936- 1960. New York: Vintage Books. Kiewiet, Roderick. 1983. Macroeconomics and Micropolitics: The Electoral Effects of Economic Issues. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Kinder, Donald R. and D. Roderick Kiewiet. 1979. “Economic Discontent and Political Behavior: The Role of Personal Grievances and Collective Economic Judgments in Congressional Voting.” American Journal of Political Science 23:495-527. Kinder, Donald R. and D. Roderick Kiewiet. 1981. “Sociotropic Politics: The American Case.” British Journal of Political Science 11:129-61. Kornberg, Allan and Harold D. Clarke. 1992. Citizens and Community: Political Support in a Representative Democracy. New York: Cambridge University Press. Kornberg, Allan, William Mishler and Harold D. Clarke. 1982. Representative Democracy in the Canadian Provinces. Scarborough: Prentice-Hall. Kramer, Gerald, 1983. “The Ecological Fallacy Revisited: Aggregate- versus Individual-Level Findings on Economics and Elections and Sociotropic Voting.” American Political Science Review 77:92-111. Kuklinski, James H. and Darrell M. West. 1981. “Economic Expectations and Voting Behavior in the United States House and Senate Elections.” American Political Science Review 30:315- 46. Lewis-Beck, Michael S. 1988. Economics and Elections: The Major Western Democracies. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Lipset, Seymour Martin. 1970. Revolution and Counter-Revolution: Change and Persistence in Social Structures. New York: Doubleday Anchor. Lipset, Seymour Martin. 1990. Continental Divide: The Values and Institutions of the United States and Canada. New York: Routledge. MacKuen, Michael B., Robert Erikson and James A Stimson. 1989. “Macropartisanship.” American Political Science Review 83:1125-42. MacKuen, Michael B., Robert Erikson and James A. Stimson. 1992. “Peasants or Bankers? The American Electorate and the U.S. Economy.” American Political Science Review 86:597- 611. McClosky, Herbert and John Zaller. 1984. The American Ethos: Public Attitudes Toward Capitalism and Democracy. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Miller, William L. 1989. “Studying How the Economy Affects Attitudes and Behavior: Problems and Prospects.” In Economic Decline and Political Change: Canada, Great Britain, the United States, ed. Harold D. Clarke, Marianne C. Stewart and Gary Zuk. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press. Monroe, Kristen. 1984. Presidential Popularity and the Economy. New York: Praeger. Monroe, Kristen, ed. 1991. The Economic Approach to Politics: A Critical Reassessment of the Theory of Rational Action. New York: Harper Collins. Norpoth, Helmut, Michael S. Lewis-Beck and Jean-Dominique Lafay, eds. 1991. Economics and Politics: The Calculus of Support. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Presthus, Robert. 1973. Elite Accommodation in Canadian Politics. Toronto: Macmillan. Presthus, Robert. 1974. Elites in the Policy Process. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pomper, Gerald M. et al. 1988. The Election of 1988: Reports and Interpretations. Chatham: Chatham House Publishers, Inc. Schlozman, Kay Lehman and Sidney Verba. 1979. Injury to Insult: Unemployment, Class and Political Response. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

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Schwartz, Mildred A. 1974. Politics and Territory: The Sociology of Regional Persistence in Canada. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press. Simeon, Richard and David J. Elkins. 1974. “Regional Political Cultures in Canada.” Canadian Journal of Political Science 7:397-437. Sniderman, Paul M. and Richard Brody. 1977. “Coping: The Ethic of Self-Reliance.” American Journal of Political Science 21:501-22. Stimson, James A. 1991. Public Opinion in America: Moods, Cycles and Swings. Boulder, CO: Westview. Whiteley, Paul. 1986. Political Control of the Macro-Economy. London: Sage Publications. Wilson, John 1974. “The Canadian Political Cultures.” Canadian Journal of Political Science 7:438-83.

39 Christopher Kirkey

The Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Initiatives: Canada’s Response To An American Challenge*

Abstract The voyage of the “S.S. Manhattan” and the United States Coast Guard icebreaker “Northwind” into the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago in the summer of 1969 propelled an irksome irritant to the forefront of the Canadian-American bilateral political agenda. Prompted by concerns over sovereignty, development and preservation of the environment, the Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Initiatives were launched by the Government of Canada in April 1970. These legislative and diplomatic measures, designed to fulfill Canadian national interests, were strongly discouraged and resisted by the United States. Despite repeated bargaining efforts throughout 1969 and 1970, the U.S. was ultimately unsuccessful in preventing Canada from taking unilateral action. Primarily because political officials from Ottawa and Washington exclusively focused on unresolvable competing national maritime jurisdictional claims over the legal status of the Northern waters — thereby employing distributive as opposed to integrative bargaining methods — no mutually satisfactory arrangement was arrived at.

Résumé Le trajet parcouru par le S.S. Manhattan et le brise-glace Northwind de la Garde côtière américaine dans les eaux de l’archipel Arctique canadien à l’été 1969 a constitué un point de discorde à l’ordre du jour politique bilatéral canado-américain. Par suite de préoccupations en matière de souveraineté, de développement et de préservation de l’environnement, le gouvernement canadien a instauré en avril 1970 des projets de prévention de la pollution dans les eaux arctiques. Ces mesures législatives et diplomatiques, visant à protéger les intérêts nationaux du Canada, ont fait l’objet d’efforts de dissuasion et d’une résistance marqués de la part des États-Unis. Malgré des tentatives de négociation répétées tout au long de 1969 et de 1970, les États- Unis n’ont finalement pas réussi à empêcher le Canada d’adopter des mesures unilatérales. Surtout du fait que les élus politiques à Ottawa et à Washington se sont bornés aux revendications en suspens et conflictuelles au sujet des champs de compétence maritime nationale quant au statut juridique des eaux du Nord (et qu’ils aient utilisé des méthodes de négociation fondées sur la répartition plutôt que l’intégration), aucun arrangement mutuellement satisfaisant n’est intervenu.

On 18 July 1968, Robert Anderson, chairman of the Atlantic Richfield Company, announced that “one of the largest petroleum accumulations known to the world today” had been discovered on the north slope of Alaska at

International Journal of Canadian Studies / Revue internationale d’études canadiennes 13, Spring/Printemps 1996 IJCS / RIÉC

Prudhoe Bay.1 Intent on delivering the oil — estimated at upwards of ten billion barrels — to southern U.S. markets as quickly as possible, Mr. Anderson pledged that “pipeline and transportation studies would begin immediately.”2 To this end, in December 1968, Atlantic Richfield in conjunction with the British Petroleum Corporation and Standard Oil Company, declared their intention to determine the feasibility of utilizing tankers to transport Prudhoe Bay oil through the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago to U.S. east coast refineries.3 The practicality of this option would be tested by attempting to send a reinforced vessel, the S.S. Manhattan, through the Northwest Passage in June 1969. “If successful,” the petroleum companies noted, “the test could result in the establishment of a new commercial shipping route through the Arctic region with broad implications for future Arctic development and international trade.”4 A short time thereafter, the United States Coast Guard (U.S.C.G.) formally informed Canadian officials that one of its icebreakers, the Northwind, would be joining the S.S. Manhattan for the duration of its voyage. The prospect of the S.S. Manhattan and a United States Coast Guard icebreaker transiting through the disputed waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago — particularly the Northwest Passage — was particularly disturbing to officials in Ottawa. In addition to raising complex questions on such related topics as Northern development, commercial shipping and environmental regulation, the proposed voyage of the S.S. Manhattan and U.S. commissioned Northwind dramatically underscored America’s continued unwillingness to accept Canada’s position on the status of the Northern waters. In the opinion of the United States, all maritime waters beyond the three mile territorial sea limit constituted “international waters” — including ice-bound Arctic waters such as the Northwest Passage — and therefore permission of coastal states to transit such “border waters” was unnecessary. Canada, on the other hand, held the legal position that the entirety of the ice-laden waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago, and in particular the Northwest Passage, were not international in character but rather sovereign Canadian waters.5 By failing to request Ottawa’s permission for the planned transit, American authorities were implicitly challenging the legal validity of Canada’s claim. The principal issue confronting Canadian officials was how best to assert Canada’s national interests in the North — particularly regarding its sovereignty claim — in both the short and long term? This article examines the development and introduction of Canadian legislative and diplomatic efforts in this case — particularly the Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Initiatives — and the concomitant American reaction. Specifically, the essay is concerned with scrutinizing the respective national interests of both Ottawa and Washington, and reviewing the bilateral bargaining — stemming from Canada’s proposed unilateral actions — that transpired during 1969-70. The results of bargaining, this essays finds, produced a markedly one-sided outcome in favor of Canadian national interests. A strict focus on conflicting national maritime jurisdictional claims led both parties to address the bilateral dispute through a distributive bargaining process which, in this case, oriented both parties to predictably approach and steadfastly concentrate on the Northern waters issue from an

42 The Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Initiatives

uncooperative, indeed, outright competitive perspective.6 This development, the conclusion suggests, was significantly responsible for shaping the final bargaining outcome.

An Initial Canadian Response Canadian authorities decided to address the proposed voyage of the S.S. Manhattan and U.S.C.G. Northwind pragmatically. Convinced that U.S. Coast Guard authorities would not seek Canadian permission for the upcoming transit,7 Ottawa moved to affirm de facto sovereignty over the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago by instituting two key measures purposely designed to simultaneously promote Canadian cooperative goodwill and foster Canada-U.S. Northern maritime cooperation. These measures, adopted at the December 1968 meeting of the Advisory Committee on Northern Development, called for the Canadian Coast Guard icebreaker, the John A. Macdonald, to accompany the S.S. Manhattan on its voyage, and formally proposed to U.S. authorities that icebreakers from both countries escort the S.S. Manhattan in Northern Canadian and American waters.8 “Such joint arrangements involving the oil companies and the two governments,” Edgar Dosman claims, “would make it difficult for the U.S. to refuse co- operation and might avoid a confrontation [over the legal status of the Northern waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago].”9 These Canadian initiatives were subsequently agreed to by the sponsors of the Manhattan experiment and the U.S. government. Apart from these actions related to the transit of the S.S. Manhattan and Northwind, the Canadian government, in the spring of 1969, took further interim steps to buttress its sovereignty claim over the Northern waters. The Governor General, it was announced on 27 March, would conduct an extensive twelve-day tour of the Arctic. On 3 April, the newly revised responsibilities of Canada’s Armed Forces were issued. The first priority, according to a statement released by the Prime Minister’s office, would not be NATO or NORAD collective responsibilities, but would rather focus on “the surveillance of our own territory and coast lines, i.e., the protection of our sovereignty.”10 The most decisive expression of Canada’s sovereign claims over the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago came on 15 May 1969 in a speech delivered by the Prime Minister before the House of Commons. In the course of reasserting Canadian maritime jurisdiction in the region, Mr. Trudeau quickly moved to dispel concerns that the voyage of the American sponsored S.S. Manhattan was a fundamental challenge to Canada’s position on the Northern waters. “I should point out,” he claimed before Parliament: that the legal status of the waters of Canada’s Arctic archipelago is not at issue in the proposed transit of the Northwest Passage by the ships involved in the Manhattan project... [T]he trials of the Manhattan may be of considerable significance for the development of Arctic navigation. Such development is consistent with both Canadian and international interests, and I do not see any conflict between Canada’s national policy and international responsibilities in this connection... [T]he Canadian government has welcomed the Manhattan exercise, has concurred in it and will participate in it.11

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Canadian-American National Interests Satisfied that adequate short-term measures had now been initiated in the wake of the upcoming S.S. Manhattan/Northwind transit, Canadian officials turned their attention to formulating legislative policy and exercising diplomatic options that would unambiguously assert Canada’s national interests over the waters of the Northern Arctic archipelago. In essence, Ottawa wanted to adopt an indirect approach that would implicitly reinforce Canada’s territorial maritime claims over the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago while simultaneously addressing new concerns arising from increased levels of Northern development — particularly environmental regulation.12 Gordon Robertson, then Clerk of the Privy Council Office, and Secretary to the Cabinet, explains: the ultimate objective was to establish and get international recognition for Canadian sovereignty over the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago. That was the overall objective... There was also a legitimate concern about the consequences of oil spills or even just pollution from ships operating [in the area] and we did want to have some means for controlling those possibilities, but we also recognized that if we did something of that kind and if it was legitimate and if we carried out jurisdiction in a respectable and responsible way, that would over a period strengthen the claim that there was effective Canadian administration of these waters and therefore provide a better basis for an overall claim for sovereignty at some appropriate time.13 “At the time,” Mitchell Sharp, then Secretary of State for External Affairs, insists “the feeling that we ought to demonstrate our sovereignty over our territory was extremely important.”14 Canada’s decision to fulfill its national interests by a combination of legislative and diplomatic means was further guided by and reflected Ottawa’s desire to preserve the norm of Canadian-American cooperation. The Trudeau government could unilaterally act to meet sovereignty and pollution concerns regarding the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago — so long, Canadian authorities believed, as the chosen method to do so would not jeopardize cooperative ties with the United States by inviting retaliation. Gordon Robertson explains: The government realized that the greatest single obstacle or hurdle that had to be taken was to get the recognition/acceptance of the American government... [W]e were perfectly aware that if Canada moved directly [e.g., the proclamation of straight baselines in the North] on this matter we would be met with resistance by the United States... We were very conscious of the risk there would be, if by whatever action we took, we produced a frontal United States rejection. So the question was how best to bolster the elements of Canadian jurisdiction up in that area, in a way we hoped would gain the cooperation and support of the United States or at a very minimum, would not be rejected by the United States.15

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The drawing of straight baselines, one official report suggested, would create widespread difficulties in the Canadian-American relationship: If it is decided to assert the Canadian claim by proceeding with the implementation of the straight baseline system around the Arctic islands it would have serious legal, political, and economic implications in Canada’s relations with the U.S... [T]he U.S. might react by instructing its ships and aircraft to disregard Canadian claims in this respect and/or resorting to direct economic retaliation.16 “What we [i.e., the Trudeau government] were anxious not to get ourselves caught up in,” Ivan Head acknowledges, “ was a straightforward territorial struggle with the United States... We wanted to act in a way that would protect our interests without upsetting our otherwise cooperative relationship with Washington.”17 The Canadian determination to develop and proceed with unilateral legislative and diplomatic measures [as opposed to bolder initiatives] was therefore designed not to alienate the United States — with whom continued cooperative relations was clearly believed to be essential. The United States, for its part, had one overwhelming national interest: to retain the unrestricted right to transit the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago. Any legislative attempt on the part of Canada to control or usurp this right, American officials insisted, would set a dangerous precedent that other like-minded coastal states might emulate — states that bordered on far more important international waterways [i.e., the straits of Malacca, the strait of Hormuz] for American political, economic and military concerns than those of the Canadian Arctic archipelago. “The issue for us,” U. Alexis Johnson [then U.S. Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs] maintains, “was worldwide passage, the right of innocent passage, particularly through other archipelagos such as South East Asia, the Philippines [and others] all over the world.”18 The long-term policy implications for the U.S. were clear: the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago beyond the three mile territorial sea limit were international in character, and all significant Canadian efforts to suggest otherwise would be opposed. American commercial and military vessels would maintain the right to unfettered movement in the North.

The Process of Bilateral Bargaining In early June 1969, the Department of External Affairs forwarded a diplomatic note to the U.S. embassy in Ottawa formally outlining the position of the Canadian government on the issue of the Arctic waters. Taking its cue from the Prime Minister’s statement of 15 May, the note underscored Canada’s interpretation that the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago were territorial, and “that the status of Canadian jurisdiction over the waters of the Arctic Archipelago was not affected by the Manhattan project.”19 This view was not receptively received at the Department of State. In reply to the Canadian note, American authorities rejected outright Canada’s sovereign claim to the Northern waters, insisting that Ottawa’s jurisdiction was limited to the three-mile territorial sea limit. The waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago were international, and “the United States would consider any unilateral extension of maritime jurisdiction as prejudicial to its interest.”20

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These respective national positions were once again raised and discussed at a Canada-U.S. ministerial gathering in late June. In addition to restating their earlier position, Canadian officials informed their American counterparts that if necessary they were prepared to act alone [i.e., through the introduction of appropriate legislation] to reinforce Canada’s Northern maritime claim. American officials advised the Canadian delegation that it strongly preferred — as opposed to unilateral measures on the part of Ottawa — the option of assembling a multilateral conference of shipping and coastal states to develop an international regime to detail various rights and responsibilities for the jurisdiction, use and environmental protection of Northern waters beyond the three-mile territorial sea. Canadian officials responded by indicating that such a proposal would be taken under advisement. At the further suggestion of U.S. representatives, Canada agreed to hold bilateral talks before initiating any independent legislative action.21 The first public indication that the Trudeau government was preparing to unilaterally act to strengthen its claim over the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago came on 18 September 1969. In an article published in The Globe and Mail, Secretary of State for External Affairs, Mitchell Sharp, outlined the emerging Canadian position. Ottawa was not interested, the Minister maintained, in bold declaratory statements or policy-related measures in order to affirm Canadian sovereignty: This is not a time for wide-ranging assertions of Canadian sovereignty in the Arctic made without regard to the international political and legal considerations... No one is certainly challenging us (certainly not the voyage of the Manhattan)22 and there is no necessity for us to make sweeping assertions to reinforce our position. That might satisfy our ego but would not add a whit to the international acceptability of our position.23 Mr. Sharp indicated, however, that the Canadian government was strongly considering the introduction of certain legislative measures that would be consistent with existing international law and acceptable to the international community. One such option, Mr. Sharp pointed out, was the likely possibility of extending the territorial sea limit from three to twelve miles: Not many years ago, the norm for territorial seas was three miles beyond the shoreline. Now an increasing number [of countries] are moving to 12 miles, measured from straight baselines drawn from headland to headland. Because international law is in a continual state of modification, it is not only open to states but, indeed, it is incumbent upon them to contribute to its progressive development. With respect to the law concerning frozen waters, what state has a better claim than Canada to contribute to the development of international law?24 The Minister further underscored that while “it is a time to concentrate on action directed to the achievement of specific objectives... by means of domestic legislation to protect Canadian interests,” it was foremost necessary that “action taken internally must... be either compatible with the current state

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of international law or at least, be defensible in a court of law.” “Otherwise,” Mr. Sharp argued, “there is no chance of a domestic position being recognized by the international community.”25 The principal option that the Trudeau government would eventually exercise in order to promote Canadian national interests on the issue of the archipelago waters, was highlighted some three weeks later in a 6 October speech given by Jean Chrétien, the Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development. According to Mr. Chrétien, increasing pressures for expanded development in the North made it imperative that Canada act as quickly as possible to regulate the use and quality of Canadian Arctic waters. Mr. Chrétien stated the Canadian government’s position and course of action in clear terms: As yet, the waters of the North are relatively free of pollution. This situation is not likely to continue unless a comprehensive water management program based on effective water rights and pollution control legislation is introduced in the near future... Clearly we must start now to control pollution in the Arctic. Minimum waters standards of water quality must be established at this time. We cannot afford to wait.26 Mr. Chrétien continued: “This is the time to establish guidelines for the prevention of pollution and the protection of the environment... Canada’s right to adopt protective regulations governing the navigable waters of the north is unquestioned.”27 This message — i.e., that Canada would unilaterally propose maritime environmental legislation — was given official sanction in the 23 October speech from the throne. The speech, in outlining the government’s legislative intentions for the next session of Parliament, unequivocally declared that “the Government will introduce legislation setting out the measures necessary to prevent pollution in the Arctic seas.”28 The statement further indicated that “it [the Government] is also considering other methods of protecting Canada’s ocean coasts.”29 During discussion of this proposed legislative plan in the House of Commons, Prime Minister Trudeau repeatedly insisted that such an approach represented a progressive, responsible initiative by Ottawa in the face of a growing threat to Northern maritime waters. In underscoring that Canada would be acting as the “steward” of these waters for the international community, the Prime Minister noted: We do not doubt for a moment that the rest of the world would find us at fault, and hold us liable, should we fail to ensure adequate protection of that environment from pollution or artificial deterioration. Canada will not permit this to happen... Part of the heritage of this country, a part that is of increasing importance and value to us, is the purity of our water, the freshness of our air, and the extent of our living resources. For ourselves and for the world we must jealously guard these benefits. To do so is not chauvinism, it is an act of sanity in an increasingly irresponsible world. Canada will propose a policy of use of the Arctic waters which will be designed for environmental preservation... This legislation we regard, and invite the world to regard, as a contribution to the

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long-term and sustained development of resources for economic and social progress.30 The proposed policy, Mr. Trudeau suggested, would specifically “include standards for shipping on the waters of the archipelago, both in respect to the kinds of ships that can operate and the types of cargo they can carry.”31 The Prime Minister also pledged to solicit the support of the international community for an “international legal regime to safeguard the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago.”32 Increasingly concerned that Ottawa would promptly act to introduce pollution prevention legislation, the United States sent an aide-memoire to the Canadian government on 6 November 1969. The diplomatic memorandum stressed four points. First, the U.S. commended the Prime Minister’s suggestion that an international regime be established for the regulation of Northern waters. The note specifically emphasized the American desire to convene an international conference of Northern coastal states for this purpose. In keeping with this proposal, the second part of the aide-memoire strongly objected to Canada’s announcement of planned unilateral action on this issue. Such legislation would in effect, the note argued, create a distasteful precedent by placing national territorial agendas above the common interests of the international community. Developing appropriate regulatory procedures for the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago was, according to U.S. authorities, a truly international task. Third, the United States reaffirmed its longstanding position on the legal status of the Northern waters; namely, that all waters beyond the three-mile territorial sea limit were international waters. Finally, the American note underlined the need for [as had been raised at the June 1969 ministerial meeting] bilateral talks between Canada and the U.S. — talks which, the United States suggested, could eventually be extended to include other circumpolar states with similar maritime concerns. The four elements comprising the American position were further underscored by a spokesperson from the Department of State. “If Canada has problems,” the official indicated: we’re ready to talk about them. But we can’t concede them the principle of territoriality or we’d be setting a precedent for trouble elsewhere in the world... Basically, the United States takes the position that any body of water connecting the high seas is itself international... [T]his is an international matter and it will not be resolved by Canada’s attempt to apply domestic law to ships plying these passageways. We wouldn’t surrender jurisdiction to Canada because of the pollution question... [L]etting Canada have jurisdiction over these waters is out of the question.33 Despite U.S. exhortations to postpone and abandon unilateral maritime pollution legislation in favour of an international regime, Canadian officials remained convinced that the former course of action would best fulfill its national interests. The prospect of an international conference of states attempting to collectively develop and ultimately agree to a series of regulatory measures for Northern waters was singularly unattractive to

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Canada. Increased economic development in the North posed significant challenges to Canadian sovereignty and environmental protection vis-à-vis the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago. Canadian authorities believed that it was therefore necessary to act as promptly as possible to meet these burgeoning challenges. An international conference might well involve several years of protracted negotiations to reach an agreement, with no guarantees that Canadian interests would be substantially reflected in the final statement. Given these imperatives and beliefs, Canadian officials politely ignored the thrust of the American position put forth in the 6 November memorandum. Over the months of December 1969 and January/February 1970, the Trudeau- led government carefully considered precisely what options it would exercise to fulfill its promise “to prevent pollution in the Arctic seas.” By the end of February, the Cabinet had reached a decision and instructed the Department of External Affairs to inform and brief U.S. officials on the nature of the upcoming legislation. In sum, Ottawa had decided to adopt three specific measures — two of which were legislative, and a third, diplomatic. The principal and most far-reaching option involved the creation of a 100-nautical mile anti-pollution zone over the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago. The zone would apply to Northern waters “adjacent to the mainland and islands of the Canadian Arctic within the area enclosed by the 60th parallel of north latitude, the 141st meridian of north longitude and a line measured seaward from the nearest Canadian land and a distance of 100 nautical miles”.34 Canada would exercise exclusive jurisdiction over this area, ensuring that economic development and, in particular, maritime shipping activities, conformed to strict regulatory anti- pollution procedures. The second legislative measure had been publicly discussed in Mitchell Sharp’s 19 September 1969 letter; namely, the extension of the outer territorial sea limit from three to twelve miles. Finally, Ottawa would move to pre-empt any challenge to the legality of this legislative package by submitting a reservation to its acceptance of the compulsory jurisdiction of the International Court of Justice [ICJ]. Marcel Cadieux [Canada’s ambassador to the United States], Ivan Head [Special Legislative Assistant to the Prime Minister], and Alan Beesley [Chief of External Affairs’ Legal Division] met with officials from the State Department on 11 March 1970 in Washington. “These discussions,” according to the Secretary of State for External Affairs, “were very frank and friendly but they revealed, as expected, differences of views between our two governments on a number of questions, and it was agreed that a further round would be held after the United States government had had time to consider the matter further.”35 On 16 March, Marcel Cadieux informed U. Alexis Johnson that the Canadian “government was proceeding immediately to introduce the legislation necessary to implement these plans and saw no reason to discuss it further.”36 Johnson, in turn, “persuaded the President [Nixon] to call the Prime Minister right away to personally ask him to stall on the legislation.”37 In placing the telephone call on 17 March, President Nixon not only exhorted Mr. Trudeau to postpone introducing legislative measures before the House of

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Commons, but also suggested the need for immediate Canada-U.S. talks on the issue.38 On 20 March, U. Alexis Johnson accompanied by Joseph Scott [Director of Canadian Affairs at the State Department], the Under Secretary of the Navy, an Assistant Secretary of Transport, and other representatives from the Departments of State, Defense, and Interior travelled to Ottawa to meet with a Canadian delegation that included Mitchell Sharp, A. Edgar Ritchie [Under Secretary of State for External Affairs], Marcel Cadieux, Donald Macdonald [President of the Privy Council], Jean Chrétien, Ivan Head and other senior officials.39 The U.S. objective at the meeting, according to Mr. Johnson, “was to prevent them [Canada] from taking action... We [the United States] wanted to take advantage of every opportunity or idea that would get things postponed.”40 The American delegation once again informed Canadian officials of the U.S. position regarding the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago. Reiterating the key points outlined in their earlier 6 November 1969 aide-memoire, U.S. authorities asserted that such waters were international, and therefore did not fall under the jurisdiction of Ottawa. Any proposed unilateral action by the Canadian government — particularly the establishment of a 100-mile pollution prevention zone — was a regressive step that would clearly undercut, if not entirely preclude, the possibility of reaching an international agreement to govern the use and protection of the Northern waters. Canada, it was recommended, should delay the introduction of this legislation until such time that an international convention could be convened. In the meantime, U.S. officials suggested that the Canada-U.S. International Joint Commission be charged with the task of writing up “an interim bilateral agreement pending a multilateral conference dealing with Arctic pollution and navigation.”41 The U.S. delegation headed by U. Alexis Johnson also repeatedly pointed out that the proposed Canadian legislation would set a dangerous international precedent that like-minded coastal states might seek to emulate — a practice, that if adopted by states in pivotal maritime regions of the world, would severely restrict the otherwise unregulated movement of American commercial and military surface and sub-surface vessels. If Canada nonetheless proceeded to implement its plans, American officials indicated that the United States would “take whatever lawful and `appropriate’ steps it considered necessary to protect its position in these matters.”42 “Canada focused on seeing this issue,” U. Alexis Johnson notes, “as their own problem. Our problem was to get them to look at it in its worldwide context. We wanted to stall them from taking unilateral action.”43 “This was always the U.S. tactic,” A. Edgar Ritchie maintains, “[they wanted] to try and get us to refrain from action which they alleged would be a precedent for some other mischief maker around the world.”44 Despite American protests and various proposals aimed at postponing unilateral action on the part of Ottawa, Canadian officials informed the U.S. delegation that the government would proceed to introduce the legislation before the House of Commons at the earliest convenient date. While American cooperative efforts were appreciated, the Canadian government considered its

50 The Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Initiatives proposed actions on the pollution prevention zone and territorial sea boundary to be the best means available to promote Canadian and international interests. As U. Alexis Johnson would later write, after “an entire day of thrashing out the issues... they [the Canadian government] did not amend any of their positions.”45 Although further discussions were held in Washington during late March and early April between Mr. Cadieux and Mr. Johnson, “it did not prove possible for the two governments to reach agreement.”46

Canada Acts Alone On 7 April 1970, Yvon Beaulne, Canada’s ambassador to the United Nations, formally presented a diplomatic letter to UN Secretary General U Thant declaring that Canada would not accept the compulsory jurisdiction of the International Court of Justice for: 1. disputes with regard to questions which by international law fall exclusively within the jurisdiction of Canada; [and] 2. disputes arising out of or concerning jurisdiction or rights claimed or exercised by Canada in respect of the conservation, management or exploitation of the living resources of the sea, or in respect of the prevention or control of pollution or contamination of the marine environment in marine areas adjacent to the coast of Canada.47 The following day, the Canadian government introduced Bills C-202 [the Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Act] and C-203 [an Act to amend the Territorial Sea and Fishing Zone Boundaries] in Parliament. At a subsequent press conference, Prime Minister Trudeau described the legislation in the following terms: [I]t’s quite clear that in our two bills there are two approaches — one is asserting sovereignty on the twelve mile basis, the other is asserting a desire to prevent pollution and this is where we introduced the 100 mile zone where we want to exercise some control... [W]e’re attempting to do what’s right in the Arctic — to protect those interests which are Canadian, and to protect those aspects which have to be protected. And we believe that this package of legislation is doing that. We’re preserving the North and the balance up there. We’re asserting sovereignty to the twelve mile extent. We’re ensuring that were not taking a chauvinistic or jingoistic view on sailing in the North. We’re not adopting such laws as to preclude the ships of all nations and all conditions from going up there because its in the interests of Canada that the North be developed. We just want to make sure that the development is compatible with our interests as a sovereign nation, and our duty to humanity to preserve the Arctic against pollution.48 Mitchell Sharp suggests how these legislative measures, specifically Bill C- 202, were well suited to fulfilling Canada’s national interests regarding the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago:

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The Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Act [AWPPA] was an attempt to try and get some control over the Arctic... The assertion of anti-pollution measures was an excellent way to get control of that area without being too provocative to the United States. It helped to protect the environment, but I thought it a very clever way of making progress in the field of sovereignty.49 Ivan Head, principal architect of Bill C-202, provides further insight: Step by step, fibre by fibre we were weaving a fabric of sovereignty in the north through a series of activities and [we considered] this process should continue. If [through the Arctic waters Act] we wove this fibre of environmental concern and protection into our posture, it would first of all reinforce our sovereignty claims... and equally be consistent with our attitude towards an international legal regime. We wanted to act in a way that would protect our interests but which would also be a contribution to the development of international law.50 Leonard Legault of the Department of External Affairs argues that “the genius of that legislation [i.e., the Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Act],” was that “it would put you on the high ground in the way of argumentation. You wouldn’t be arguing from a possessive, territorial, acquisitive point of view.”51 This latter view was not, however, shared by the United States. In a statement released by the Department of State on 9 April, the appropriateness and legality of Canada’s actions were questioned: [W]e have taken particular note of the remarks by Prime Minister Trudeau yesterday in introducing the government’s legislation that Canada “is prepared to participate actively in multilateral efforts to develop agree rules” for the protection of this environment. The United States is prepared promptly to seek either bilateral or multilateral solutions to these problems within the framework of international law. The United States does not recognize any exercise of coastal state jurisdiction over our vessels on the high seas and thus does not recognize the right of any state unilaterally to establish a territorial sea of more than three (nautical) miles or exercise more limited jurisdiction in any area beyond 12 (nautical) miles. We, therefore, regret the introduction of this legislation by the Canadian government, which in our view, constitutes a unilateral approach to a problem we believe should be resolved by cooperative international action.52 These views were expounded on at greater length in a diplomatic note presented to Canadian authorities on 14 April, and in a second Department of State memorandum dated 15 April.53 The latter document sets forth American concerns in detail: Last week the Canadian Government introduced in the House of Commons two bills dealing with pollution in the Arctic, fisheries and the limits of the territorial sea. The enactment and implementation of

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these measures would affect the exercise by the United States and other countries of the right to freedom of the seas in large areas of the high seas and would adversely affect our efforts to reach international agreement on the use of the seas... International law provides no basis for these proposed unilateral extensions of jurisdictions on the high seas, and the United States can neither accept nor acquiesce in the assertion of such jurisdiction. We are concerned that this action by Canada if not opposed by us, would be taken as a precedent in other parts of the world for other unilateral infringements of the freedom of the seas. If Canada had the right to claim and exercise exclusive pollution and resources jurisdiction on the high seas, other countries could assert the right to exercise jurisdiction for other purposes, some reasonable and some not, but all equally invalid according to international law. Merchant shipping would be severely restricted, and naval mobility would be seriously jeopardized. The potential for serious international dispute and conflict is obvious.54 The statement further stressed the need for international action as opposed to Canadian national initiatives: The Arctic is a region important to all nations in its unique environment, its increasing significance as a world trade route and as a source of natural resources. We believe the Arctic beyond national jurisdiction should be subject to internationally agreed rules protecting its assets, both living and non-living, and have noted with pleasure the Canadian Prime Minister’s public statement that Canada would be prepared to enter into multilateral efforts to develop agreed rules of environmental protection. To this end, we intend shortly to ask other interested states to join in an international conference designed to establish rules for the Arctic beyond national jurisdiction by international agreement. We would be pleased if Canada were to join us in organizing such a conference.55 Finally, the memorandum laid down a challenge to the Trudeau government: If, however, the Canadian Government is unwilling to await international agreement, we have urged that in the interest of avoiding a continuing dispute and undermining our efforts to achieve international agreement, that we submit our differences regarding pollution and exclusive fisheries jurisdiction beyond 12 miles to the International Court of Justice.56 Ottawa wasted no time in responding to Washington’s note and public statements. In a speech delivered in Toronto on the evening of 15 April, the Prime Minister strongly defended his government’s actions while squarely refuting the validity of America’s legal position and political concerns: I look upon this pollution legislation to be as exciting and as imaginative a concept as this Government has as yet undertaken... It is not jingoist; it is not anti-American. It is positive and it is looking forward. Most of the Arctic channels are covered with heavy thicknesses of ice during most months of the year... Only through abstract theorization

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can the Northwest Passage be described as an “international strait.” Only by an examination conceptually removed from reality can the Beaufort Sea be described as “high sea”... It is our view that at the present time there is no customary law applicable to navigation in Arctic areas, and that we cannot wait for a disaster to prompt us to act. We need law now to protect coastal states from the excesses of shipping states.57 This message was also forcefully emphasized the following day in a diplomatic note, and on 28 April in an aide-memoire to U.S. authorities. A summary version of the note, presented before the House of Commons, unequivocally stated that: The Canadian Government is unable to accept the views of the United States Government concerning the Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Bill and the amendments to the Territorial Sea and Fishing Zones Act, and regrets that the United States is not prepared to accept or acquiesce in them... With respect to the waters of the Arctic Archipelago, the position of Canada has always been that these waters are regarded as Canadian. While Canada would be pleased to discuss with other states international standards of navigation safety and environmental protection to be applicable to the waters of the Arctic, the Canadian Government cannot accept any suggestion that Canadian waters should be internationalized. 58 As for the American suggestion that an international conference be convened “to establish rules for the Arctic beyond national jurisdiction by international agreement,” the Canadian statement cautiously indicated that: Before the Canadian Government can express a definitive view on this question, further information will be required as to the scope, nature and territorial application of the rules the United States proposes, since the Canadian Government obviously cannot participate in any international conference called for the purpose of discussing questions falling wholly within Canadian domestic jurisdiction.59 Secretary of State for External Affairs Mitchell Sharp repeated this message on 12 May 1970 in testimony before the parliamentary committee on External Affairs and National Defence: They [the United States] have been urging the calling of a conference on the Arctic to deal with the problem of Arctic pollution. Our reaction to that has been to ask for a much clearer statement of the purposes of the conference, the area in which it would operate and so on... We would like to know, for example, what area of the Arctic the conference is to discuss, because we would naturally take some exception to having an international conference called to deal with Canadian territory or Canadian water.60 American attempts during May and June 1970 to solicit international participation for an Arctic conference on pollution, navigation and other issues

54 The Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Initiatives of interests to both shipping and coastal states were much less successful than Mr. Sharp’s above comments indicate. According to John Kirton and Don Munton: [O]f the 14 states (apart from Canada) that the United States was known to have approached with invitations to its proposed conference ... only the Dutch seemed in favour, with the Spaniards and Finns noncommittal. Japan, Britain, Belgium, and Denmark refused to accept until the terms of reference were clarified by the United States and/or the conference was limited to technically based aspects of pollution and navigation. Italy went further, saying that any conference without Canadian participation would be worthless and Italian involvement in it a hostile act toward Canada. The Soviet Union, Iceland, Norway, and Sweden were [also] opposed to the U.S. conference proposal.61 Privately, Canada was also opposed to the conference format proposed by the U.S.. According to Ivan Head: There were two elements involved here. One was that the development of one of these international regimes would have attracted the interest and support of — and therefore favored the interests of — the deep water states, the blue water shipping states. The conference, heading to a proposed regime, would have been stacked against us. Those [states] who would have participated would have been those with clear interests contrary to our own. The second element — which prompted us to withdraw our acceptance of the compulsory jurisdiction of the [International] Court [of Justice] — was the reality that there were no legal principles broadly accepted that Canada could have relied on to oppose whatever propositions they [the United States] were putting forth.62 The decision of four key, circumpolar states [the Soviet Union, Iceland, Sweden and Norway] to oppose the convening of an international conference — and their support for Canada’s legislative and diplomatic initiatives — effectively thwarted U.S. plans. In particular, the position of the Soviet Union was all important; the United States could not hope to develop an international regime to regulate the use and preservation of Arctic waters without participation from Moscow [given that the Soviet Union was an Arctic seacoast superpower that had wide ranging national interests in the Arctic]. Canadian officials, who early in June 1970 had privately attempted to persuade the Soviets to oppose the conference, were particularly gratified at the stance adopted by the Kremlin. In the words of Ivan Head: Alan Beesley and I went to the Soviet Union... and were simply delighted that we were able to get their agreement that they would oppose any such convention. That is really what sank it finally. The United States could not claim to have a conference addressing itself to issues of polar navigation when the greatest of the Polar presences... was not going to participate.63 Much to the dismay of U.S. officials, Bill C-203 received Royal Assent on 18 June 1970, and Bill C-202 on 26 June 1970.64 American efforts to prevent

55 IJCS / RIÉC unilateral Canadian action and to develop an international regime for Arctic waters had failed.

Conclusion: A One-Sided Bargaining Outcome The bargaining between Canada and the United States over the legislative and diplomatic measures introduced by Canada in April 1970 suggest two substantive conclusions. First, Canadian national interests were fulfilled while those of the United States were not. Bills C-202 and C-203, coupled with Canada’s non- acceptance of the compulsory jurisdiction of the International Court of Justice, effectively ensured that Canadian maritime jurisdictional and environmental concerns would be met. These measures, however, were contrary to America’s interest of preserving the legal principle and operational practice of unrestricted transit in the waters of the Canadian Arctic archipelago. Not only would U.S. vessels transiting these waters have to conform to a broad series of regulatory laws, but Canadian action set a potentially unpalatable international precedent that U.S. officials had been anxious to avoid; namely, the possibility that like-minded coastal states [states that bordered on waters of much greater interest to U.S. commercial and military maritime activity] might attempt to emulate Canada’s actions. Canadian diplomatic and legislative initiatives were, therefore, contrary to American national interests on a regional scale [in the North], and in a worldwide context. Second, Canadian and American officials were principally unable to arrive at a mutually satisfactory arrangement on the Northern waters issue due to unwavering national commitments to diametrically opposed maritime jurisdictional claims. These contradictory legal positions, in turn, promoted an atmosphere in which Ottawa and Washington relied exclusively upon distributive bargaining methods. By repeatedly failing to set aside without prejudice the question of conflicting national legal claims, political officials proved unwilling and unable to devise an arrangement — through the utilization of integrative bargaining methods — that would serve to mutually accommodate each country’s national interests. No fruitful attempt by either party was made to bypass the ultimately unresolvable maritime claims in favour of a non-prejudicial, practical scheme. The January 1988 Arctic Cooperation Agreement between Canada and the United States is particularly noteworthy in this regard. The mutually satisfactory “passage for consent” arrangement is in large part explained by a switch, beginning in April 1987, from distributive to integrative bargaining methods. Such an opportunity throughout 1969 and 1970, however, proved impossible due in large measure to the reliance by the participants on a jurisdictional approach; an approach that, by focusing on the demarcation of maritime boundaries, forced Canada and the United States to concentrate on resolving the Northern waters question by distributive bargaining methods.65

Notes * I wish to thank Seyom Brown, Robert Art, and Oran Young for their valuable comments on an earlier draft of this essay.

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1. “Big Oil Find Reported on Alaska’s Arctic Slope,” The New York Times, 19 July 1968, p.47, and “Alaska Oil, Gas Find Is Potentially Vast, Consulting Firm Says,” The Wall Street Journal, 19 July 1968, p.3. 2. “Big Oil Find Reported on Alaska’s Arctic Slope,” and “North American attention shifts to Alaska’s Prudhoe Bay region,” World Oil, 169, (August 1969). According to figures provided by The Oil and Gas Journal, “The estimated reserves of the Alaskan discovery would be the largest of any field in the United States.” As quoted in “Big Oil Find Reported on Alaska’s Arctic Slope.” 3. “Oil Concerns to Seek A Northwest Passage To Unlock the Arctic,” The Wall Street Journal, 17 December 1968, p.8. The attractiveness of this option is explained by William Westermeyer: “Opening the Northwest Passage would enable oil companies to ship Prudhoe Bay oil directly to the East Coast of the United States avoiding the 780-mile crossing of Alaska by pipeline and the long southern journey through the Panama Canal.” William E. Westermeyer, “The Transportation of Arctic Energy Resources,” in United States Arctic Interests: The 1980s and 1990s eds. William E. Westermeyer and Kurt M. Shusterich (New York: Springer-Verlag, 1984), p.112. 4. “Oil Concerns to Seek A Northwest Passage To Unlock the Arctic.” 5. Several studies, in the immediate aftermath of the S.S. Manhattan passage, sought to comment on the respective Canadian and American jurisdictional claims and associated international legal principles. See, for example, L.C. Green, “Canada and Arctic Sovereignty,” Canadian Bar Review, XLVIII (1970), W.G. Reinhard, “International Law: Implications of the Opening of the Northwest Passage,” Dickinson Law Review, 74 (1970), Raymond W. Konan, “The Manhattan’s Arctic Conquest and Canada’s Response in Legal Diplomacy,” Cornell International Law Journal, 3 no.2 (1970), Richard B. Bilder, “The Canadian Arctic waters Pollution Prevention Act: New Stresses on the Law of the Sea,” Michigan Law Review, 69 no.1 (November 1970), Donald E. Milsten, “Arctic Passage — Legal Heavy Weather,” Orbis, 15 no.4 (Winter 1972), Joseph W. Dellapenna, “Canadian Claims in Arctic Waters,” Land and Water Law Review, VII no.2 (1972), and William V. O’Brien and Armando C. Chapelli, “The Law of the Sea in the ”Canadian" Arctic: The Pattern of Controversy," McGill Law Journal, 19 nos.3&4 (1973). 6. The concept of distributive bargaining is closely discussed in Howard Riaffa, The Art and Science of Negotiation (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1982) Parts2&3. Distributive bargaining clearly resembles the standard realist view of international politics, whereby bargaining between states is characterized by zero-sum, relative gain concerns. Integrative bargaining, on the other hand, involves multi-party negotiations that are approached as collective problem-solving exercises that seek to reach mutually optimal outcomes for all parties concerned. 7. An early, informal suggestion by External Affairs representatives to State Department officials that the U.S. Coast Guard request Canadian permission received no reply. 8. Edgar J. Dosman, “The Northern Sovereignty Crisis 1968-1970,” in The Arctic in Question, ed. Edgar J. Dosman (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1976), pp.39-40, and John Kirton and Don Munton, “The Manhattan Voyages and Their Aftermath,” in Politics of the Northwest Passage, ed. Franklyn Griffiths (Kingston and Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1987), p.72. 9. Dosman, “The Northern Sovereignty Crisis 1968-1970,” p.40. 10. Office of the Prime Minister, Press Release, 3 April 1969, p.3. 11. Ibid, pp. 8720-8721. Original emphasis. 12. The perceived need for environmental protection of Northern waters was further reinforced by the disastrous 1967 Torrey Canyon oil spill — a spill that caused widespread pollution of the United Kingdom coastline. 13. Interview with Gordon Robertson, 12 June 1991. 14. Interview with Mitchell Sharp, 6 June 1991. 15. Interview with Gordon Robertson. 16. Confidential source. 17. Interview with Ivan Head. 18. Interview with U. Alexis Johnson, 31 May 1991. 19. Edgar J. Dosman, The National Interest: The Politics of Northern Development 1968-75 (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart Limited, 1975), p.53.

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20. Ibid, p.54. 21. David Crane, “Ceding of passage rights likely in Ottawa claim to Arctic waters,” The Globe and Mail, 3 September 1969, p.B1, and Edward Cowan, “Canadian Official Says the Arctic Route Is Open to All Countries,” The New York Times, 19 September 1969, p.3. 22. The voyage of the S.S. Manhattan began on 24 August 1969. The reinforced tanker made ce rendez-vous with the icebreakers Northwind and John A. Macdonald off of Frobisher Island, and eventually completed passage of the Northern waters on 14 September 1969. For further details of the transit, see William D. Smith, Northwest Passage (New York: American Heritage Press, 1970), Bern Keating, “North for Oil: Manhattan Makes the Historic Northwest Passage,” National Geographic, 137 no.3 (March 1970), and A.H.G.Storrs and T.C.Pullen, “S.S.Manhattan in Arctic Waters,” Canadian Geographic, 80 (May 1970). 23. Mitchell Sharp, “A ship and sovereignty in the North,” The Globe and Mail, 18 September 1969, p.7. The government’s aversion to a unilateral declaration of sovereignty over the Northern waters was restated on 26 September by the Prime Minister. In the simplest of terms, Mr. Trudeau maintained: “We’re not going to stand up and say flatly it [i.e., the Northwest Passage] is ours. We’d have to shoot at the Manhattan to back up the claim, and start a war with the world. There’s no point in saying, it’s ours, if people are going to say, ÔIt’s not yours, and were not going to fly your flag.’ What are you going to do if they take that position? Shoot at them?” John Burns, “Northwest Passage area to be termed land in Canada’s bid for sovereignty,” The Globe and Mail, 27 September 1969, p.10. 24. Sharp, “A ship and sovereignty in the North.” Emphasis added. 25. Ibid. Emphasis added. 26. Jean Chrétien, Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development, “A Speech to the Canadian Institute of Forestry,” Prince George, British Columbia, 6 October 1969, p.9. Emphasis added. 27. Ibid pp.9-10. Emphasis added. 28. “Ottawa pledges control over pollution in the Arctic,” The Globe and Mail, 24 October 1969, p.4., and Jay Walz, “Trudeau Reaffirms Canadian Sovereignty in Arctic as Parliament Opens,” The New York Times, 24 October 1969, p.4. 29. Ibid. 30. House of Commons Debates, I, (24 October 1969): p.39. 31. John Burns, “Trudeau will meet U Thant to discuss Arctic pollution,” The Globe and Mail, 25 October 1969, p.1. 32. House of Commons Debates, i, (24 October 1969): p.39. 33. Milton Viorst, “Arctic waters must be free,” The Toronto Star, 20 September 1969, p.16. 34. “Canadian Legislation on Arctic Pollution and Territorial Sea and Fishing Zones,” International Legal Materials IX no.3 (May 1970): p.544. 35. House of Commons Debates, VI, (16 April 1970): p.5952. 36. U. Alexis Johnson, and Jef Olivarius McAllister, The Right Hand of Power (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1984), p.566. 37. Interview with U. Alexis Johnson. 38. House of Commons Debates, VI, (16 April 1970): p.5953. 39. Ibid, Johnson and McAllister, The Right Hand of Power, p.566, David Crane, “Arctic control part of agenda in Ottawa talks,” The Globe and Mail, 21 March 1970, p.2, and Interviews with U. Alexis Johnson, Mitchell Sharp, Ivan Head [7 June 1991], and A. Edgar Ritchie [7 June 1991]. 40. Interview with U. Alexis Johnson. 41. Dosman, The National Interest: The Politics of Northern Development 1968-75, p.59. 42. Ibid. 43. Interview with U. Alexis Johnson. 44. Interview with A. Edgar Ritchie. 45. Johnson and McAllister, The Right Hand of Power, p.566. 46. House of Commons Debates, VI, (16 April 1970): p.5953. 47. “Documents Concerning Canadian Legislation on Arctic Pollution and Territorial Sea and Fishing Zones,” International Legal Materials IX no.3 (May 1970): p.599. 48. “Canadian Prime Minister’s Remarks on the Proposed Legislation,” International Legal Materials, IX no.3 (May 1970): pp.602-603.

58 The Arctic Waters Pollution Prevention Initiatives

49. Interview with Mitchell Sharp, and as quoted in Clyde Sanger, Ordering the Oceans: The Making of the Law of the Sea (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1987), p.59. 50. As quoted in Sanger, Ordering the Oceans: The Making of the Law of the Sea, p.113., and interview with Ivan Head. 51. Interview with Leonard Legault, 5 June 1991. 52. Tad Szulc, “U.S. Rejects Canadians’ Claim To Wide Rights in Arctic Seas,” The New York Times, 10 April 1970, p.13., and “Arctic Sovereignty and Extraterritorial Jurisdiction,” International Canada, 1 no.4 (April 1970): p.81. Emphasis added. 53. The former document remains classified. 54. “U.S. Statement on Canada’s Proposed Legislation,” International Legal Materials, IX no.3 (May 1970): p.605. Emphasis added. 55. Ibid, p.606. 56. Ibid. 57. Office of the Prime Minister, Press Release, “Notes for an address by the Prime Minister to the Annual Meeting of the Canadian Press,” Toronto, 15 April 1970, pp.9-10. Emphasis added. 58. “Canadian Reply to the U.S. Government,” International Legal Materials, IX no.3 (May 1970): pp.607,613. Emphasis added. 59. Ibid, p.614. 60. Minutes of Proceedings and Evidence of the Standing Committee on External Affairs and National Defence no.28 (12 May 1970): pp.12,13. 61. Kirton and Munton, “The Manhattan Voyages and Their Aftermath,” p.95. 62. Interview with Ivan Head. 63. Ibid. 64. American officials publicly continued to bemoan and oppose Canada’s legislative initiatives one month after Bills C-202 and C-203 became law. In testimony before the Senate Subcommittee on Air and Water Pollution, Robert E. Neumann, the State Department’s Assistant Legal Adviser for Politico-Military and Ocean Affairs, stated: “Canada has shown in many ways her opposition to international efforts to regulate coastal state legislation... I don’t see, for one thing,... how that sort of action encourages international cooperation, nor do I see how that sort of action is enforceable. And the U.S. Government has firmly set the record straight on its opposition to the Canadian action... In our view, Canada has no right to enact legislation on the high seas for any purpose, even for the purpose of pollution, purporting to control the navigation of vessels, dictating construction standards for vessels, and like matters.” United States, Senate Subcommittee on Air and Water Pollution of the Committee on Public Works, IMCO Civil Liabilities Convention (Oil Pollution), (21 July 1970): p.11. 65. By setting aside potentially unreconcilable territorial claims it is undisputably clear that joint satisfactory solutions — through the use of cooperative, problem-solving methods — can be achieved, even in the face of longstanding jurisdictional disputes. For a further discussion of the bargaining that led to the 1988 agreement, see Christopher Kirkey, “Smoothing troubled waters: the 1988 Canada-United States Arctic co-operation agreement,” International Journal, 50, no.2 (Spring 1995): pp.401-426.

59 Éloise Brière

Mère solitude d’Émile Ollivier : apport migratoire à la société québécoise

Résumé Émile Ollivier se retrouve au Québec en 1960, comme plusieurs autres membres de la génération perdue des écrivains haïtiens exilés sous François Duvalier. Membre du Mouvement Haïti Littéraire, fondé au moment même où le Québec vit sa Révolution tranquille, Ollivier et ses congénères, familiers des idées de Césaire et de Fanon, les feront d ’avantage connaître à Montréal, devenu lieu d ’échange entre écrivains du Sud et ceux du Nord. L’échange transformera la littérature québécoise qui, dans sa partie allophone, deviendra migrante ou métisse, décentrée à la fois par rapport au pays d’origine et au pays d’accueil. Mère Solitude d’Émile Ollivier illustre le phénomène du nouveau discours non hégémonique du roman québécois, la quête d ’identité du protagoniste signalant la mort des anciennes idéologies (indigénisme, négritude) et préfigurant celle de tous les peuples migrants de la terre.

Abstract Like several members of Haiti’s lost generation of writers exiled during the regime of François Duvalier, Émile Ollivier came to Quebec in 1960. A member of « Haïti Littéraire », a movement founded in Montreal at the start of Quebec’s Quiet Revolution, Ollivier and other Haitians of his generation helped to make better known the ideas of Césaire and Fanon in Montreal, instituting a dialogue between writers from the South with those of the North. This dialogue also introduced new elements into Quebec’s literature; the literature of migration and « métissage » reflects the no man’s land of the exile in terms of the country of origin and the country of adoption. Mère Solitude by Émile Ollivier illustrates the phenomenon of this new, non-hegemonic discourse in Quebec fiction. The protagonist’s quest for an identity heralds the death of old ideologies and mirrors the global search for identity by the world’s migrating peoples.

L’œuvre d’Émile Ollivier est à la fois haïtienne et québécoise; haïtienne par la thématique et l’imaginaire, québécoise par son appartenance à l’institution littéraire du Québec. Haïti, Québec, deux pôles de l’ancien Empire colonial français, deux types de déracinement par rapport aux origines et deux types de relations avec la langue française. Dans le cas de l’Antillais, comme le montre Edouard Glissant dans Le Discours antillais, le transbordement ø essentiellement la traite des Africains — déracine et détruit la mémoire culturelle. Pendant quatre siècles, tel un miroir brisé en mille miettes, la culture blessée du peuple d’origine africaine ne

International Journal of Canadian Studies / Revue internationale d’études canadiennes 13, Spring/Printemps 1996 IJCS / RIÉC lui renvoie plus sa propre image. Si ce vide culturel se comble grâce à la créolisation, ce processus de création culturel sécrète en son sein une inquiétude existentielle : celle des origines et celle qui touche à la langue. Comme le souligne Yannick Lahens, ce passé conditionne à la fois la relation problématique de l’écrivain haïtien avec la langue française, toujours plus rebelle qu’une langue maternelle, et aussi avec la langue créole. « La nouvelle littérature qu’il écrit... n’est pas fécondée par la tradition de l’oralité du créole. Il y a eu discontinuité et cassure »(Lahens, 21). Moins radical, le déplacement — vécu par le néo-Québécois d’origine haïtienne — permet de maintenir intacte la mémoire culturelle malgré la coupure du lieu géographique d’origine. Sous François Duvalier le déplacement disperse les écrivains haïtiens aux quatre coins du globe, toute une génération qui devra s’implanter ailleurs. C’est alors que commence leur rapport avec les institutions littéraires des pays d’accueil. Souvent bénéfique, ce rapport offre, à l’écrivain, statut et public absents dans le pays d’origine qui baigne encore largement dans l’oralité (Lahens : 58)1. Le discours littéraire québécois moderne est — dans sa variante haïtienne — caractérisé par les notions de déplacement, transbordement et d’inquiétude généalogique2. Nous tiendrons compte de ces catégories afin de situer cette variante du nouveau discours littéraire dans son contexte québécois.

Les communautés ethniques et la modernisation du Québec Avant de mettre le déplacement au centre de son quatrième roman, Passages, Émile Ollivier sera lui-même obligé de prendre le chemin de l’exil. Fuyant la dictature de François Duvalier, il se retrouve, jeune étudiant, à Montréal avec plusieurs autres de ses compatriotes, membres de la première génération des écrivains haïtiens à massivement connaître l’exil. Avec eux, Ollivier fera alors partie, au cours des années 1960, du mouvement Haïti littéraire, au moment même où bouillonne la Révolution tranquille québécoise3. Chez Anthony Phelps, les membres de Haïti littéraire rencontrent régulièrement leurs homologues québécois : Paul Chamberland, Gaston Miron, Yves Thériault et sa fille, et Gilbert Langevin. Pour sa part, Ollivier fréquente également Jacques Godbout, ainsi que les sociologues Gilles Bourque, Jean-Marc Piotte et Celine Saint-Pierre4. Les chefs de file de la littérature québécoise approfondiront leur connaissance de la pensée révolutionnaire caraïbe et surtout des œuvres d’Aimé Césaire et Franz Fanon, au cours des discussions avec leurs homologues haïtiens5. Ainsi, en dépit de la déchirure que produit le déplacement ou l’exil, la mémoire culturelle antillaise reste non seulement vivace, mais elle apporte sa part à la modernisation du Québec6. L’histoire des idées au Québec comprend désormais un volant anticolonial d’inspiration antillaise qui permet au Québec de se redéfinir. On retrouve dans les pages de la revue Parti pris des analyses inspirées de Fanon, comme par exemple l’article de Paul Chamberland intitulé «De la damnation à la liberté». Pour Chamberland la survalorisation du passé — critique apportée par Fanon pour ce qui concerne la négritude — qui caractérise le Québec depuis la conquête est analysée comme compensation que s’offre l’esclave face au maître :

62 Apport migratoire à la société québécoise

Le respect de soi masquait en réalité le respect de l’autre (l’Anglo- Saxon), et par conséquent la reconnaissance implicite[...] de notre propre inexistence[...] Nous nous sommes donné «notre maître le passé», revendiquant ainsi un espace originel, où nous n’affrontions que les fantômes[...]. Nous abandonnions le présent à l’Anglo-Saxon pour nous réserver le passé (l964). À l’instar de Césaire, l’écrivain québécois fait alors son retour au pays natal afin de se décoloniser, comme le signale Chamberland : J’accomplis ce que Césaire appelle un «retour au pays natal». C’est alors que s’inaugure une étrange mais vitale conjugaison[...] je prends acte de notre vie, de notre misère de notre malheur[...] (Dorsinville : 31). La présence haïtienne se fait sentir non seulement au sein du discours intellectuel de l’époque au Québec, mais s’introduit aussi dans la production littéraire elle-même7. Le discours littéraire que produit le groupe haïtien va élargir l’espace littéraire québécois, introduisant la mémoire d’un ailleurs qui se situe bien loin des frontières de la Belle province8. Ce nouveau rameau de la littérature québécoise pose le problème de l’appartenance, comme le souligne Ollivier : Élever une voix minoritaire dans une littérature elle-même minoritaire, c’est soulever le rapport ambigu que l’écrivain entretient avec la politique, c’est établir une démarcation fondamentale entre écriture de terroir et écriture de territoire (112 : l984). La notion du Sud fait ainsi son apparition dans le discours littéraire québécois, soulignant le fait que — comme le note Ronald Sutherland — la production de la littérature au Québec est «NO LONGER A FAMILY AFFAIR»9. C’est une littérature centrée sur une société qui certes s’est appropriée une langue et des institutions résolument francophones, mais qui y incorpore l’exil des autres ainsi que leurs lieux de mémoire. Ce développement novateur ancré dans le déplacement ou l’exil, surgit au moment même où la littérature proprement canadienne-française est elle- même en plein recentrement, mettant fin à un certain exil culturel, politique et économique afin de se créer un discours littéraire désormais moderne et québécois. Il serait erroné de croire que la figure de l’exilé est l’unique apanage des littératures migrantes du Québec; car le Canadien errant est une figure importante de l’imaginaire canadien francophone,10. L’image du Canadien français errant s’amplifie tout au long du l9e siècle, tout particulièrement devant le phénomène de l’exode massif d’une partie substantielle de la population du Canada aux États-Unis. Avec la Révolution tranquille et la prise des institutions politiques et sociales par les Québécois, la figure populaire du Canadien errant devient anachronisme. Ainsi, la figure du bannissement et de l’errance deviendra l’apanage des autres. Ce sont eux qui produiront l’écriture métisse québécoisse.

63 IJCS / RIÉC

Écriture métisse et écriture migrante En l991, Émile Ollivier écrit Passages, roman partiellement québécois, puisque le Québec constitue un des trois axes géographiques où se situe ce roman de l’errance. Porté à la scène et couronné par le Grand prix littéraire de Montréal, ce roman est la représentation même de la difficulté d’être haïtien, que ce soit à Montréal, à Miami ou en Haïti même. Pour reprendre le concept que Berrouet-Oriol et Fournier ont exploré dans leur article sur les nouvelles littératures québécoises, Passages est un roman qui illustre «l’écriture métisse», car c’est un roman situé dans le spatio-temporel québécois, mais qui met en scène des personnages habités par l’errance. Cette errance est le signe de la non- coïncidence de la mémoire culturelle haïtienne avec la terre d’accueil. Le protagoniste Normand Malavy, au nom qui fait écho à son mal à vivre, se trouve pris — comme nous l’explique le narrateur de Passages — «entre deux impossibilités : la chimérique résurgence du passé, puisqu’on ne peut repasser par sa vie, et l’oubli de ses racines qui souvent conduit à la folie» (82). Si Passages est le roman du déplacement, reliant Haïti, Montréal et Miami, il en va autrement des deux romans qui le précèdent : La Discorde aux cent voix (l986) et Mère solitude (l983), car ici toute l’action est centrée sur Haïti. Dans Mère solitude, l’objet du reste de cette étude, le protagoniste adolescent est à la recherche de son identité, ainsi que de l’histoire de son peuple. Tentative de recoller les mille miettes de la mémoire culturelle haïtienne, Mère solitude est en même temps un roman néo-québécois, mais à la différence des écritures métisses comme Passages, le référent hors-Québec du roman le situe dans la catégorie des écritures migrantes d’après la typologie de Berrouet-Oriol et Fournier. Ces derniers précisent que, produites au Québec, les écritures migrantes n’ont d’autre référent que celui du pays laissé ou perdu. Comme le précise lui-même Émile Ollivier, écrire au Québec c’est se mettre à l’écoute de «la mémoire éclatée, recoud(re) les fils du pays d’origine placé sous le joug d’une tyrannie insipide» (117 : 1984). La recherche du jeune protagoniste de Mère solitude correspond à un désir de se situer dans le sillage de l’Histoire, d’annuler le vide des origines. Narcès Morelli se trouve au seuil de l’âge adulte, moment critique dans la formation de la conscience individuelle. Pour se frayer un chemin dans la vie, il doit reprendre le passé : le sien et celui de son île. Comme le note Fanon dans Peau noire, masques blancs : À vingt ans, c’est-à-dire au moment où l’inconscient collectif est plus ou moins perdu, ou du moins difficile à ramener au niveau du conscient, l’Antillais s’aperçoit qu’il vit dans l’erreur. Pourquoi cela? Tout simplement parce que, et ceci est très important, l’Antillais s’est connu comme nègre, mais, par un glissement éthique, il s’est aperçu (inconscient collectif) qu’on était nègre dans la mesure où l’on était veule, méchant, instinctif (175). Reprendre le passé est un défi particulièrement difficile à relever dans un pays né du transbordement et fondé dans l’expérience collective du vide historique engendré par la traite. Le jeune Narcès réussira enfin à savoir dans son miroir à la fin de son odyssée, lorsqu’il aura recollé certains morceaux de son histoire

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familiale, mais au début de sa quête, rien ne semble plus incertain pour cette sorte d’anti-Narcisse. Où pourra-t-il s’adresser pour combler les lacunes de la rature de l’histoire de ce peuple qui n’a pas été prévu par les chancelleries, pour reprendre le mot de Césaire? [Q]ue puis-je dire de ce pays?[...] la main tendue, j’implore les passants, avec cette même rengaine de ma mémoire perdue : que me soit faite la charité de mon passé (27). Rappelant la stratégie qu’utilise le narrateur du Cahier d’un retour au pays natal, le jeune Narcès passe en revue la pauvreté de son île : [...] entassement de baraques et de bicoques, amalgame de bois, de tôles et de joncs tressés, fouillis de gîtes anarchiquement élevés[...] Ici ils ont pris place au-dessus de la fétidité d’un égout, là à cheval sur la croupe d’un fossé. Ah! Ce côté-ci de la ville, avec ses venelles tortueuses, malodorantes, où s’entassent des flopées d’êtres vivants et grouillants : familles de dix enfants, opulentes mamas, chiens fouineurs, dévoreurs de pierres, chats de gouttière, petites vieilles chiffonnées, cocotiers drapés de noir, piaulement de morveux, dindons mouillés, poules de Guinée, coqs de basse-cour, cochons, vaches, chèvres et moutons,[...] en ce pays[...] avec ses dents de gypse et la misère (29). Comme nous le savons, c’est précisément la descente aux enfers qui permet au poète du Cahier de transformer le vide produit par le transbordement. Il se servira de la souffrance et surtout de la résistance nègre pour créer le nouveau nègre du Nouveau Monde, fort de sa négritude11. Par contre, si le narrateur de Mère solitude connaît une descente aux enfers, il ne rencontrera aucun marronnage salvateur : sa quête n’aboutira ni a aucune négritude triomphante ni a une solidarité des opprimés. Narcès Morelli se trouve face à «l’horreur de la nuit», sachant que «ce pays mettra une éternité à se relever de cette nuit» (28). La nuit qui englobe Narcès est celle de la mort de la négritude, preuve comme s’il en fallait que la négritude n’a plus sa place dans l’ère post moderne. Les grands mythes mobilisateurs, qu’il s’agisse de la négritude ou des héros de la Révolution haïtienne, ne font plus appel à personne, tout est devenu dérisoire12.

Négritude et passé haïtien Prenant la relève du mouvement Indigéniste, et cherchant à instaurer une cassure avec une identité tributaire de l’Europe, les poètes et romanciers carïbes, principalement Aimé Césaire, Alejo Carpentier et René Depestre, avaient fondé un nouvel art qui s’enracinait dans la Révolution haïtienne. Le choix de ce moment épique du passé caraïbe permettait de donner au peuple une référence collective situant le moment de sa naissance au monde. À travers la manipulation du verbe (Césaire) ou bien du réalisme magique (Carpentier) et du surréalisme (Depestre), les écrivains réussiront à remettre en cause le rationalisme occidental, faisant appel à la fois aux grandes figures mythiques du passé haïtien et aux forces spirituelles qu’incarnent ces héros souvent «vaudouisants».

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Boukman, Makandal, Toussaint L’Ouverture, Henri Christophe sont parmi les figures épiques ou bien tragiques qui permettent à l’écrivain de combler le vide laissé par le transbordement et de créer un mythe fondateur pour l’Homme africain du Nouveau Monde (Carpentier Le Royaume de ce monde et Depestre Un Arc-en-ciel pour un Occident chrétien, Aimé Césaire Cahier, La Tragédie du Roi Christophe)13 Pour René Menil la mythologie qui s’élabore ainsi à partir des morceaux du passé caraïbe «n’est pas autre chose que la recherche polémique d’une nouvelle paternité» (39). Ainsi, il n’est pas étonnant que, dernier rejeton de la famille Morelli, le protagoniste de Mère solitude soit à la recherche de sa paternité. C’est pour cette raison qu’il cherche à calmer son inquiétude généalogique en sondant les causes de sa malédiction d’orphelin. Comme le suggère le titre Mère solitude, il ne sera pas question que de paternité, mais d’une quête des origines maternelles14. Témoin à l’âge de dix ans de l’exécution publique de sa mère, il voit disparaître celle qui aurait pu signaler le nom du père absent. Fils d’une mère disparue et d’un père inconnu, Narcès est l’emblème même du déracinement, et par extension, de l’homme noir dans le Nouveau Monde. Son odyssée à travers le temps apportera une réponse à la double énigme responsable de sa solitude d’orphelin. La voie du passé passera par Absalom, serviteur fidèle de la famille Morelli comme l’ont été ses prédécesseurs de père en fils, depuis l’arrivée de la famille à Saint Domingue «peu de temps après Christophe Colomb» (31)15. Absalom est le seul à posséder l’histoire de la famille Morelli car : Dans son code génétique circulent des grains de science et de sagesse, des gènes de sens et de connaissance de la vie déposés par l’aïeul Antoine Langommier. Il est la mémoire de la famille (43). Gardien de la mémoire, descendant d’un «voyant extralucide», Absalom représente la conscience du passé, la connaissance de soi, la clairvoyance et la sagesse, bref les éléments de base d’une identité solide16. Son rôle est capital dans un pays où «les pièces d’identité... (sont) éphémères, aussi incertaines que la réalité géographique de ce morceau des Tropiques» (42) Émile Ollivier remanie alors la dialectique hégélienne du maître et de l’esclave dans le couple Narcès/Absalom. Pour atteindre la connaissance de soi à la lumière de ses origines, le jeune protagoniste doit passer par le serviteur, l’esclave, le nègre. L’apatride de la société haïtienne — contre l’attente des classes dominantes — est le garant de l’identité haïtienne. Dans cette relation entre le jeune Narcès et le serviteur noir de sa famille, n’entend-on pas l’écho de Price-Mars et des Indigénistes qui affirmaient que le salut d’Haïti se trouvait chez le peuple, dépositaire de la mémoire de Guinée, de ce qui est authentique et qui remonte à l’Afrique. Price-Mars ne disait-il pas que les connaissances et pratiques du peuple n’étaient pas des survivances méprisables d’un état primitif, mais «le trésor vivant d’une culture indépendante» (Ainsi parla l’oncle : 41). Absalom, initiateur de son jeune maître forme la figure de la conscience historique dévidant la vérité des temps anciens. Double, l’histoire à laquelle est initié Narcès est à la fois histoire personnelle et histoire nationale. Cette

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dernière concerne l’histoire de la famille sous la dictature Duvalier, alors que la première dimension historique remonte jusqu’aux habitants originaires de l’île, les Amérindiens Tainos. Il s’établit alors une sorte de dialectique entre les deux histoires l’une éclairant l’autre. En définitive, les deux années que recouvrent l’initiation de Narcès dans Mère solitude permettent au jeune homme de se constituer une identité en l’enracinant dans 400 ans d’histoire des Amériques. Si Absalom est une sorte de griot, il ne chantera pas pour autant les louanges ni de Haïti ni de la famille Morelli. Son histoire commence par le génocide perpétré par les soldats de Christophe Colomb sur les premiers habitants indiens de l’Île, histoire fondée dès le départ dans la déshumanisation et la violence. Nous sommes bien loin de l’histoire lénifiante des premiers historiens haïtiens du l9e siècle et leurs narrations des grands moments de la Révolution haïtienne, des hauts faits d’un Boukman ou d’un Toussaint L’Ouverture. À leur place on trouve le souvenir du président Faustin Soulouque qui se nommera empereur et qui — vers l842 — «faisait feu de tout bois : assassinats sélectifs, incendies, massacres d’opposants, tueries qui muselèrent bouches et pensées discordantes» (201). On trouve également le souvenir de cet autre chef d’état, Lysius Félicité Salomon Jeune, nommé Président de la République à la fin du l9e siècle et dont «le règne vit le plus violent affrontement que le pays ait connu entre deux factions sociales opposées»(91). Même l’arrivée de nouveaux immigrants au tournant de ce siècle rappelle la persécution et le génocide, car les Syriens et les Libanais fuient la menace de mort engendrée par les exactions turques dans les provinces arméniennes (94). D’élément historique en élément historique, il se tisse alors le portrait de l’oppression de l’homme par l’homme à travers le temps. Narcès s’exclame alors : [...]se peut-il que ce pays soit à jamais lancé dans l’orbite de la violence? Se peut-il qu’il ne soit plus jamais possible que, dans ce pays, la vie humaine soit respectée, appréciée, estimée? (26). Comme nous l’avons déjà fait remarquer, orphelin, Narcès est à la recherche d’un père; il assiste à l’assassinat par les Tontons Macoutes du Dr Edmond Bernissart au cours d’une conférence publique donnée par ce dernier. Comme dans une tragédie grècque, Narcès est loin de se douter que le conférencier assassiné est son père. Il est significatif que l’assassinat se soit produit à quelques mêtres du lieu où Jean-Jacques Dessalines, père de la nation haïtienne, fut lui aussi assassiné. Ainsi histoire nationale et histoire familiale se rejoignent à travers l’image du père assassiné. Si la recherche d’un père le préoccupe, Narcès est cependant obsédé par sa mère comme le révèlent ses paroles : L’eau noire de mes songes est nourrie d’elle. L’écume de mes jours goute le sel des baisers qu’elle mavait donnés (12). C’est à travers l’éclaircissement de l’énigme de la mort de sa mère que Narcès résoudra son obsession et qu’il deviendra pleinement un homme. Absalon lui

67 IJCS / RIÉC révèle sa paternité en lui expliquant que sa mère Noémie n’avait pu accepter la demande en mariage du Dr Edmond Bernissart, devant l’opposition de sa famille. Il apprend aussi que faisant partie d’un groupe marxiste avec ses frères, elle s’était sacrifiée volontairement pour se venger du sort fait à ces derniers par le régisseur de prison Tony Brizo. Voulant faire céder Noémie, Brizo emprisonne Gabriel Morelli, entraînant le suicide de son autre frère Sylvain. Acceptant enfin de céder aux pressions gallantes du régisseur de la prison, Noémie lui tire une balle dans la tête au moment même du paroxysme amoureux. Cette mort violente, à la fois règlement de compte et suicide, comporte également un rappel intertextuel, celui de la mulâtresse révolutionnaire, Solitude, esclave en Guadeloupe, exécutée par les Français en l802. Il s’agit ici d’une réaction de Noémie à un aspect particulier de l’histoire de la femme antillaise qui, comme l’historien Timoléon Brutus l’explique : Était brutalement fécondée par un esclave en rut ou par un Blanc en ébriété, bagnard échappé de Cayenne ou dégénéré d’une noblesse féodale en quête de richesses à travers le continent (Dayan). Au bout de l’odyssée-initiation il nous reste le couple Absalom/Narcès. Cependant Absalom ne représente pas que l’esclave ou le nègre, car si la famille Morelli continue à persister dans le temps c’est grâce non seulement à la conscience historique d’Absalom, mais aussi à son ancêtre. À l’image de la demeure des Morelli dont «il est difficile à démêler les influences européennes des apports indigènes» (37), le métissage s’installe dans la famille peu de temps avant la Révolution haïtienne. La coulée généalogique Morelli se tarit avec Antonio Morelli. Celui-ci «avait oublié de donner à sa famille un héritier qui assurerait sur cette terre la pérennité des Morelli» (46). Le nom continuera cependant à se propager puisque le serviteur, lui aussi nommé Absalom, permet à la sœur d’Antonio d’enfanter Nicolas Morelli, incarnation de la «creolité» même. Quant à Narcès, le savoir d’Absalom fait maintenant partie de sa conscience : conscience individuelle mais aussi conscience nationale. Fort de ce savoir, il comprend enfin qu’il est né de l’amour entre Noémie et le Dr Bernissart. Il comprend aussi que c’était un amour impossible car condamné par les ideaux mêmes qui avaient poussé ses parents à «travailler à l’avènement d’un monde meilleur, de rompre avec la course au bonheur matériel» (17). Rompus par la tyrannie d’un régime politique sanguinaire, leur mort n’apporte pas de rédemption, pas d’ère nouvelle — comme c’était le cas dans l’apothéose qui couronne le sacrifice ultime dans Gouverneurs de la rosée de Jacques Roumain par exemple. Signalant la transformation du discours littéraire de ceux qui fondèrent le groupe Haïti littéraire à Montréal dans les années l960, Émile Ollivier note que la notion de l’œuvre littéraire comme outil de transformation sociale est devenue dépassée : Cette génération à laquelle j’appartenais pourrait se définir comme celle qui voulait que la littérature soit une arme au service de la

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politique et du social. Aujourd’hui beaucoup d’eau a coulé sous les ponts (1984). Le potentiel des mythes postindigénistes est épuisé : mis dans un contexte postmoderne, ils sont devenus dérisoires17. De même, connaître l’histoire — cette figure de la connaissance du bien et du mal biblique — ne signifie plus qu’on croit au progrès de l’humanité car, comme le conclut Narcès à la fin de son initiation : «depuis la colonie, rien n’a changé[...] et moi[...] j’ai vingt ans. Je vis dans un monde dément[...] J’ai beau écarquiller les yeux, je ne vois pas poindre l’aube nouvelle» (241). Ainsi Mère solitude d’Émile Ollivier plonge le roman québécois dans le monde postmoderne caraïbe. L’exil des intellectuels haïtiens lie désormais l’histoire du Québec à celle du despotisme duvaliériste et ses suites. Le Québec devra dorénavant compter avec la présence haïtienne au sein de sa societé, comme dans son discours littéraire. Depuis l’aube de la Révolution tranquille ce discours s’ouvre aux voix multiples venant d’ailleurs. Si Mère solitude apporte le réalisme magique du sud aux couleurs chatoyantes à l’institution littéraire québécoise, n’est-ce pas pour mieux éclairer le fantastique souvent sombre et néogothique qui s’y est élaboré alors que le Québec sortait du joug de l’Église et du duplessisme? Invitant le Québec aux origines si homogènes et à la Révolution si tranquille à se voir dans le miroir de la «créolité», Émile Ollivier n’offre-t-il pas au Québec la possibilité d’une conscience accrue de ce que signifie être homme des Amériques en cette fin de vingtième siècle?18

Notes 1. L’impact d’un Gérard Étienne ou d’un Danny Laferrière repose sur l’institution littéraire québécoise tout comme la réussite fulgurante d’Edwige Danticat aux États-Unis, finaliste, à 26 ans, du prestigieux National Book Award pour Krik-Krak et votée par le New York Times parmi les 30 personnes de moins de 30 ans qui auront un impact décisif sur la culture étatsunienne dans les 30 prochaines années. 2. Robert Berouet-Oriol et Robert Fournier analysent la transformation de la littérature québécoise par la présence en son sein de littératures issues des communautés culturelles qui ne sont pas de souche canadienne-française. “L’Émergence des écritures migrantes et métisses au Québec”, Quebec Studies, 14 (1992): 7-22. 3. Haïti littéraire comprenait les écrivains Anthony Phelps, Roland Morrissean, Serge Legagneur, Jacqueline Beaugé-Rosier, Jean-Richard Laforest, entre autres. “Harvest from Haiti”, Montreal Gazette, February 18, 1995. 4. Lettre d’Émile Ollivier du 6 janvier 1996. 5. Lettre du 6 janvier l996. Par ailleurs, Pierre Vallières indique que ses conversations avec Miron à la fin des années 1950 concernait «la littérature des colonisés : tel Aimé Césaire» (Nègres Blancs d’Amérique 1967 : 202). Voir aussi mon article, «Poésie québécoise et situation coloniale», Revue francophone de Louisiane, 3 : 3 (Spring 1988) : 9-18. 6. Max Dorsinville indique que la pensée de Césaire «is perhaps the seminal influence at work in the literature of the sixties in Quebec», p. 30. 7. Dans un article publié dans Liberté (Octobre 1992), Ollivier note que le débat qui concerne la souveraineté au Québec «laisse dans l’ombre... le statut et le destin des communautés immigrées. Tout se passe comme si ce débat ne concernait que les Québécois d’ancienne ascendance» (76). Il rappelle alors le rôle joué par les artistes, écrivains et intellectuels, «membres des communautés culturelles», dans la «redéfinition» du Québec au moment de la Révolution tranquille. 8. Berrouet-Oriol et Fournier, p. 12. 9. Berrouet-Oriol et Fournier, p. 21.

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10. L’exilé se retrouve tant chez les Acadiens (le Grand Dérangement) que chez les Québécois. Si c’est l’Évangéline de Longfellow qui immortalise l’errance acadienne, l’image du Canadien français exilé de sa patrie se popularise au Québec suite au bannissement des chefs de file de la Rébellion des Patriotes en l837. L’image s’est concrétisée dans la chanson populaire «Un Canadien errant», a été reprise dans les romans de la colonisation au 19e siecle et se retrouve modernisée dans Volkswagen Blues de Jacques Poulin. 11. Maryse Condé signale combien, chez Césaire, l’idéologie conditionne l’œuvre; même la description de la nature répond au besoin de démasquer la situation objective de l’homme antillais. L’aventure individuelle ne sert que de prétexte pour celle de la collectivité (1993, 124-127). 12. Fanon notait dans Les Damnés de la terre : «Cette obligation historique dans laquelle se sont trouvés les hommes de culture africains de racialiser leurs revendications et de parler davantage de culture africaine que de culture nationale les conduira à un cul-de-sac.» 13. Voir à cet égard J. Corzani «West Indian Mythology and its Literary Illustrations», Research in African Literature, 25 : 2 (Summer 1994) : 131-140, et R. Menil 1980 «Mythologies antillaises» Europe, 58 : 612 (avril 1980) : 37-45. 14. On notera l’écho intertextuel entre ce titre et celui d’André Schwarz-Bart dans La mulâtresse solitude. Solitude, ancienne esclave qui se joint aux marrons animera les derniers combats des esclaves révoltés contre les troupes de Napoléon. Solitude, personnage bien réel, est pendue en 1802 15. Le nom Absalom rappelle la tentation parricide en nous renvoyant à la révolte du personnage de l’ancien testament contre son père le roi David. Il rappelle aussi le titre du roman de Faulkner Absalom, Absalom, la saga d’une famille sudiste à généalogie métissée. 16. Dans le roman de Faulkner du même nom, Absalom, Absalom, les narrateurs tentent de démêler l’histoire d’une famille sudiste. Saga de l’inquiétude genéalogique née du conflit entre les races et les classes sociales, comme dans le roman d’Ollivier, il ne reste qu’un seul rejeton de la famille Sutpen à la fin de l’histoire. 17. Voir à cet effet Yanick Lahens (68) et Maryse Condé (130-135) qui suggèrent que les vieux mythes de la postnégritude sont devenus inopérants. 18. Un des paradoxes caractérisant le rameau haïtien de la littérature québécoise, l’exil permet à Ollivier de dire ce qui en Haïti des années 1980 devait rester inexprimé. Discours dangereux et mortifère en caraïbe devient témoignage et œuvre d’art dans les pays du Nord. Krik Krak (1995) d’Edwige Danticat, publié aux États-Unis en anglais, relève du même paradoxe pour ce qui concerne les années 1990.

Bibliographie Berouet-Oriol, Robert et Robert Fournier. «L’Émergeance des écritures migrantes et métisses au Québec», Québec Studies, 14 (Spring/Summer 1992) : 7-22. Chamberland, Paul. «De la damnation à la liberté», Parti pris, 2 : 9-10-11 (été 1964) : 63-72. Condé, Maryse. «Order, Disorder, Freedom, and the West Indian Writer,» Yale French Studies, 83 : 2 (1983) : 121-135. Dayan, Joan. «Erzulie: A Woman’s History of Haiti», Research in African Literatures,25:2 (Summer 1994) : 5-31. Dorsinville, Max. Without Prospero Essay on Quebec and Black Literature. Erin (Ontario) : Porcepic Press, 1974. Fanon, Franz. Peau noire, masques blancs. Paris : Seuil, 1952. ———. Les damnés de la terre. Paris : Maspéro, 1968. Glissant, Édouard. Le discours antillais. Paris : Seuil, 1981. Lahens, Yanick. L’Exil, entre l’ancrage et la fuite, l’écrivain haïtien. Éditions Henri Deschamps : Port-au-Prince, 1990. Ménil, René. «Mythologies antillaises», Europe, 612 (avril l980) : 37-45. Ollivier, Émile. «Désensabler le débat», Liberté, 203, 34 : 5 (octobre 1992) : 76-79. ———. La discorde aux cent voix. Paris : Albin Michel, 1986. ———. Mère solitude. Paris : Le Serpent à Plumes, 1994 (1983). ———. Passages. Montréal : Hexagone, 1991. ———. Les urnes scélées. Paris : Albin Michel, 1995. ———. «Un travail de taupe : Écrire avec un stigmate de migrant», Possibles,8:4(été 1984) : 111-118. Price--Mars, Jean. Ainsi parla l’oncle. Montréal : Leméac, 1973.

70 Marie Couillard et Patrick Imbert

Canada, Argentine et Amérique latine au dix-neuvième siècle

Résumé Tout en présentant une vision rapide des diverses activités culturelles, politiques économiques et missionnaires qui ont marqué au XIXe et au XXe siècle les relations entre le Canada, l’Amérique latine et, en particulier, l’Argentine, l’article se consacre surtout aux affinités idéologiques organisées selon des démarches différentes de centralisation ou de marginalisation au moment de l’invention des identités nationales, des années 1820 à 1873 (1873 étant une année de crise économique). Ces identités sont marquées par l’expansion du capitalisme anglais et par la présence de la république états-unienne visitée par Sarmiento (qui visita aussi le Canada), écrivain argentin opposé au dictateur Rosas et qui deviendra Président de la République.

Abstract While presenting an overview of various political, economic, cultural and missionary activities which, during the 19th and 20th centuries, marked the relations between Canada, Latin America and, more specifically, Argentina, the authors focus on ideological affinities organized into different approaches of centralization or marginalization at the time of the invention of national identities: 1830-1873, 1873 being a year of economic crisis. Both countries are sharply affected by the expansion of British capitalism and deeply influenced by the Republic of the United States visited, together with Canada, by Sarmiento, the Argentinian writer who became President of the Argentine Republic after the dictatorship of Rosas, which Sarmiento opposed vigorously.

Canadians are only aware of Latin America in the context of Canada’s relationship with the United States, or in terms of Canadian foreign relations or investment opportunities, rather than in terms of the history of Latin America itself. (R.W. Winks, «Canada and the Three Americas» in Friends So Different, ed. L. Lamont, J.D. Edwards)

En dépit des propos de R.W. Winks, une relecture de l’histoire permet de déceler des affinités idéologiques certaines entre le Canada et l’Amérique latine, et, plus spécifiquement, le Canada français (compris ici comme le Bas- Canada qui deviendra la province de Québec à partir de 1867) et l’Argentine. Ces affinités s’organisent, dans les deux cas, selon des démarches tant individuelles que collectives de centralisation ou de marginalisation des choix idéologiques, pédagogiques, politiques et économiques. Ces pratiques passent

International Journal of Canadian Studies / Revue internationale d’études canadiennes 13, Spring/Printemps 1996 IJCS /RIÉC de simples références aux commentaires intégrés à toute une réflexion politique, de mouvements d’évangélisation à l’aventure militaire jusqu’aux tentatives d’établir des liens commerciaux et techniques ou des systèmes scolaires qui répondent aux exigences de la modernité. Tout ceci se fait en fonction de réflexions plus globales, de la part des Canadiens français comme des Argentins et des autres Sud-Américains, concernant les rapports et les dichotomies discours/actes entre libéralisme politique et libéralisme économique. Aussi, notre article se consacre-t-il à souligner les affinités idéologiques marquées par l’expansion du capitalisme anglais et la fascination états-unienne au moment de l’invention des idées nationales de ces deux collectivités, soit le Canada français et l’Argentine, au cours de la période de 1830 à 1873, l’année de la crise économique.

Les nouveux mondes : similarités et différences L’étude de l’invention d’une identité, pour reprendre l’expression de Nicolas Shumway (The Invention of Argentina) est fascinante. Dans le Nouveau Monde, au dix-neuvième siècle, les limites géographiques sont floues, les allégeances sont à revoir, le consensus est en gestation. Les institutions, quant à elles, sont fragiles, l’économie est très dépendante de l’exportation des matières premières («Staple Theory» de H. Innis, 1956), en particulier vers l’Angleterre, et les marchés intérieurs sont en train de se constituer, quoique difficilement, vu les caractéristiques propres au «Dominion capitalism» évoqué par Ehrensaft et Armstrong (1981 : 107). De plus, les tentatives pour promouvoir, par des conférences politiques et économiques, l’unité interaméricaine échouent régulièrement. Par exemple, l’Argentine, après s’être proclamée la pionnière du Congrès du 11 décembre 1847, s’en tient éloignée. De toute façon, ce congrès excluait l’Amérique du Nord britannique, colonie européenne. Malgré ce fait, il est possible d’établir des points de comparaisons, non seulement dans les données économiques structurelles comme le font Ehrensaft et Armstrong pour le Canada, l’Australie, la Nouvelle-Zélande, l’Argentine et l’Uruguay, mais aussi du point de vue des fonctionnements discursifs. Là, les aspirations et les références permettent de dégager des points de comparaison entre certains thèmes et arguments propres aux tenants du libéralisme économique comme Sarmiento en Argentine ou Fermin Toro au Venezuela et des libéraux canadiens-français comme Papineau et surtout Étienne Parent. Du point de vue des différences, on assiste en Argentine, par exemple, à la difficulté à constituer un espace public, lieu de la négociation dérivant, de 1829 à 1852, dans le personnalisme de la figure du dictateur Rosas, celui-là même qui allait réaliser, contre les dérives caudillistes centrifuges locales, très différentes des aspirations divergentes des Canadiens français et des Canadiens anglais, l’unité politique et nationale. Pour sa part, le Bas-Canada1 et, plus spécifiquement, les Canadiens français, vivent à la même époque la difficulté de s’affirmer comme société indépendante, face à sa situation de conquis, dans un espace public de négociation où inégalité et stratégie de désinformation se côtoient constamment.

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Quant aux similarités, on peut retenir, en Argentine comme au Canada français, la présence importante des capitaux anglais qui contribuent au développement de l’économie et des infrastructures comme les réseaux ferroviaires, la référence aux bienfaits de la démocratie parlementaire anglaise chez les opposants de Rosas en Argentine et la pratique de cette démocratie chez les Canadiens français depuis la chute de la Nouvelle France et la fin du régime militaire. On retient aussi, chez les libéraux canadiens-français et chez certains Unitaires argentins, l’influence des penseurs des Lumières (Rousseau, Voltaire), des romantiques (Lamennais, Saint-Simon) ou des théoriciens de l’économie (Adam Smith, Jean-Baptiste Say). On retient de plus, tant pour l’Argentine que pour le Canada français du XIXe siècle, la fascination vis-à- vis de la Constitution des États-Unis et leur capacité, grâce, entre autres, à leur système d’éducation (Horace Mann) de produire des citoyens tournés vers l’avenir et le progrès technologique et économique. On retient enfin la présence d’institutions catholiques traditionnelles qui s’opposent en partie aux idéaux démocratiques et révolutionnaires; si elles ont peu de pouvoir politique en Argentine avant la fin du XIXe siècle, elles en auront beaucoup au Canada français après la Révolte des Patriotes. Ces similitudes et différences nous amènent à envisager les modalités diverses de l’invention des pays à travers des discours qui vont se constituer petit à petit comme américains et qui vont définir des identités consensuelles, à l’époque loin d’être fixées. Cette dynamique de gestation se manifeste dans l’abondance des débats et des polémiques autour des thèmes de la nation, de l’indépendance et de l’organisation sociale dans ses modalités économiques, administratives, pédagogiques ou religieuses. Au Canada comme en Argentine, les Britanniques, au XIXe siècle, de par leur position prééminente, influent sur les discussions politiques à tel point qu’en 1933, le vice-président de l’Argentine, Julio A. Roca, demandera à la Grande- Bretagne d’incorporer son pays comme «Dominion» de l’Empire. En Argentine, nombre d’entre eux s’installent de manière plus ou moins permanente à Buenos Aires et y laissent souvent une descendance bilingue et biculturelle. On pense à Woodbine Parish, consul général de la représentation anglaise, auteur de Buenos Aires y las Provincias del Rio de la Plata desde su descubrimiento y conquista por los espanoles dont la deuxième édition (1852) inspirée par la Colecion de obras y documentos relativos a la historia antigua y moderna de las Provincias del Rio de la Plata de Pedro de Angelis (1836) représente la première histoire fondamentale de cette partie du monde. L’Argentine lui accordera la citoyenneté et son fils Frank deviendra directeur d’un des premiers chemin de fer dont la plupart furent construits par des Britanniques ou des Canadiens. On pense à Onderdonk du Canadien Pacifique qui se consacrera au chemin de fer Buenos Aires/Rosario lorsque Sarmiento, devenu président de la République, devra faire appel, malgré sa fascination pour les États-Unis, aux capitaux anglais pour moderniser le pays. N’oublions pas que l’Angleterre est perçue, en Argentine, comme le pays qui a mis un frein aux aspirations de la Sainte-Alliance s’opposant à l’indépendance sud- américaine; elle est aussi perçue, au Canada français comme en Argentine, comme le siège de la démocratie constitutionnelle et parlementaire qui avait su contrôler les arbitraires du roi et de la cour, sans oublier que l’Angleterre avait

73 IJCS /RIÉC produit des penseurs comme Adam Smith ou John Locke dont les théories sur l’économie et la société civile exerçaient un impact profond. Cependant, libéralisme économique et libéralisme politique ne fonctionnent pas toujours de concert. Ce point fondamental fera échouer les relations possibles entre les deux moitiés du continent, aussi bien en Argentine qu’au Canada français. Des penseurs et hommes d’état, tel Sarmiento, se référant au traité anglo-argentin de 1825 régulièrement renouvelé2, se demandent bien pourquoi l’Angleterre et l’Europe ont soutenu si longtemps la dictature de Rosas en agissant selon des principes en accord avec le libéralisme économique mais pas avec le libéralisme politique. Aussi, Sarmiento, en tant qu’opposant de Rosas, c’est-à-dire avant de devenir Président de la République argentine, s’ouvrira-t-il de plus en plus aux idées de la doctrine Monroe (2 décembre 1823) rédigée en opposition à la bulle d’Alexandre VI qui permettait aux monarques espagnols de considérer l’Amérique espagnole comme leur propriété privée. Il s’intéresse fortement à la pratique démocratique états-unienne, tout en gardant une fascination pour les idéaux politiques européens et en tenant compte d’une dépendance économique et financière vis-à-vis de l’Angleterre. Au Canada français, le libéralisme des institutions parlementaires passe, depuis la conquête de 1763 et après une période de régime militaire, par le lien avec l’Angleterre. Il brise petit à petit les structures semi-féodales issues de l’Ancien Régime français. Les «nobles», qui ont toujours été au Canada français des propriétaires avec moins de pouvoirs que leurs pairs français, perdront leurs derniers privilèges lorsque le régime seigneurial sera aboli en 1854. Le Canada français s’habitue à une pratique régulière des institutions parlementaires mais sous contrôle du gouverneur et de son conseil lié au Family Compact. En effet, les institutions, tant au Canada français qu’au Canada anglais, ont assez peu de pouvoir puisque, contrairement à ce que demande Locke dans son Deuxième traité de la société civile, le droit d’assigner les dépenses est détenu par le Gouverneur, c’est-à-dire par Londres, ce que justifie même Adam Smith dans son Traité concernant la richesse des nations. Le slogan «Pas de taxation sans représentation» revient régulièrement et s’inspire des slogans des bostoniens, qui, eux-mêmes, puisaient leur source d’inspiration chez les colons des Caraïbes, Barbade, etc, qui l’avaient scandé aux alentours de la fin du XVIIe siècle. Aussi, le consensus dans la négociation entre les deux collectivités canadiennes, la française et l’anglaise, qui s’entendent pour obtenir une plus grande autonomie, et la Londres coloniale est-il brisé en 1837 et 1838 par la Révolte des Patriotes. Celle-ci mène, par réaction coloniale et nécessité économique, à l’Union des deux Canadas en 1840. Cette révolte prend ses racines politiques dans les 92 résolutions de 1834 adoptées par les députés et surtout dans le fait que les résolutions Russell de 1837, en réplique à celles de 1834, autorisent le gouvernement à puiser dans les fonds publics sans l’autorisation de l’Assemblée. Autrement dit, l’Angleterre, elle-même divisée entre diverses tendances conservatrices et libérales, se contredit dans ses traditions parlementaires auxquelles se réfèrent désormais les Canadiens français. Mais les libéraux économistes canadiens-français sont tellement influencés par le libéralisme politique radical issu de la France qu’ils

74 Canada, Argentine et Amérique latine n’arrivent pas à jouer à fond le libéralisme économique et à se faire des alliés des libéraux anglais favorables à l’indépendance des Canadas. L’attitude face aux libéralismes économique et politique, et la fascination à l’égard des États-Unis sont donc les éléments qui permettent de comparer le Canada français et l’Argentine dans leur dépendance vis-à-vis des idées européennes et dans leur tentative de s’inventer comme nations indépendantes des contraintes politiques ou économiques anglaises.

Les références à l’Amérique latine Cependant, mis à part le fait que des Acadiens retournés en France se soient installés aux îles Malouines lors du voyage de Bougainville, puis qu’ils soient partis à Buenos Aires et à Montevideo lorsque les Anglais ont pris les îles, on trouve un certain nombre de références à l’Amérique latine chez les penseurs canadiens-français. Cette observation s’oppose à ce que disait Guy Sylvestre : Les Canadiens français [...] sont restés insensibles au courant révolutionnaire qui a amené l’indépendance américaine, la révolution française et la libération des républiques sud-américaines. (Panorama des Lettres canadiennes-françaises, p. 10) Ces références à l’Amérique du Sud sont presque toutes situées dans un cadre qui valorise, à l’exception de J.B.Z. Bolduc critiquant la barbarie des Chiliens (Mission de Colombie, 1843) ou de Williams Evans (Traité théorique et pratique de l’agriculture, 1835)3, les peuples latino-américains, l’indépendance et/ou le libéralisme ou qui critique l’absolutisme clérical. C’est le cas de C.A. Geoffrion au sujet du Mexique (Annuaire de l’Institut canadien pour 1868, p. 26), de F.X. Garneau au sujet du Paraguay (Histoire du Canada, tome 1, p. 423), d’Arthur Buies au sujet du massacre de millions d’Indiens par l’Espagne (La Lanterne, 1964, p. 115-117), des révolutions (p. 100), de la création des républiques (p. 71) et de la supériorité de la race latine (p. 222), de Maximilien Bibaud plaidant pour la sauvegarde des petits pays comme Haïti, le Pérou, le Paraguay (Résumé de l’entretien familier du président en chef de l’institut Polytechnique du Canada, 30 avril 1852, p. 44-55) ou citant en exemple l’organisation socio-économique de l’Uruguay (Deux pages de l’Histoire d’Amérique lues au cabinet de lecture, 12 mai 1857). On peut aussi considérer ce que dit Papineau cherchant des exemples américains à suivre, lui qui, comme beaucoup d’autres, est tourné vers l’Europe : Le consentement unanime avec lequel tous les peuples de l’Amérique ont adopté et étendu le système électif montre qu’il est conforme aux vœux, aux mœurs et à l’état social de ses habitants. Ce système prévaut également chez ceux d’origine espagnole, quoique pendant la durée de leur régime colonial ils eussent été courbés sous le joug de l’ignorance et de l’absolutisme [...]. (Adresse de la Chambre d’Assemblée au Parlement anglais, 24 mars 1834, p. 58) En commun avec les diverses nations de l’Amérique du Nord et du Sud qui ont adopté les principes contenus dans cette Déclaration, nous regardons les doctrines qu’elle renferme comme sacrées et évidentes : Que Dieu ne créa aucunes distinctions artificielles entre l’homme et l’homme; que le gouvernement n’est qu’une simple

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institution humaine [...]. (Adresse de la Confédération des Six Comtés au Peuple du Canada dans Papineau par F. Ouellet, p. 80) Cette déclaration de 1837, où on demande l’abolition de la tenure féodale et l’enregistrement efficace des terres et des hypothèques, est reprise, après l’échec de la Révolte, par celle de 1838 par Robert Nelson et le Dr Côté. Ils dirigent le mouvement révolutionnaire et rédigent une Proclamation de l’Indépendance du Bas-Canada : Qu’à compter de ce jour, le Peuple du Bas-Canada est absous de toute allégeance à la Grande-Bretagne, et que toute connexion politique entre cette puissance et le Bas-Canada cesse dès ce jour. [...] Que sous le Gouvernement libre du Bas-Canada, tous les citoyens auront les mêmes droits; les Sauvages cesseront d’être sujets à aucune disqualification civile quelconque, et jouiront des mêmes droits que les autres citoyens du Bas-Canada. [...] Que toute union entre l’Église et l’État est déclarée abolie [...]. (F. Ouellet, Papineau, p. 83) On y déclare en plus l’abolition de la tenure seigneuriale, l’instauration des procès par jurys et le vote, à vingt-et-un an, de toute personne mâle. Cependant, il ne s’agit pas d’une déclaration universelle comme les déclarations française ou américaine mais d’une déclaration qui ne vise que la population du Bas-Canada. Une plus grande modestie, une difficulté à ruser, à contrôler les stratégies de tromperie et de désinformation (Couillard, Imbert : voir note 13) anime les Patriotes qui ne sont maîtres, ni du contexte matériel au niveau des finances et du ravitaillement ni du contexte symbolique. Toutefois, il faut bien voir, aussi, que les Patriotes au Canada français et les Reformers au Canada anglais auraient pu jouer davantage la carte du lien avec les tenants de l’indépendance du Canada en Angleterre même. En 1833, James Stuart, dans son compte rendu de séjour de trois ans en Amérique du Nord affirme qu’avec tout l’argent dépensé dans les fortifications, dans le creusement de canaux et autres, la dette nationale anglaise aurait pu être remboursée et que le commerce s’en serait mieux porté. [...] and if our commercial relations with Canada, and our other American colonies, would in like manner not be diminished by their becoming free States, or by their incorporation with the American confederacy, it is not easy to see how the ships employed in the trade with the colonies afford better or greater nurseries for seamen, than those employed in the trade with the United States or South America. (Three Years in North America, vol. I, p. 154)4 Cette citation de 1833 donne la clé de ce qui aurait été possible si les Patriotes et les Reformers de William Lyon MacKenzie s’étaient trouvés devant un gouvernement anglais plus libéral et dont le Bureau des Colonies aurait été plus conciliant. Ce qui est souligné est le fait que l’Amérique du Sud indépendante, dont l’Argentine de Rosas, le Pérou ou d’autres, apporte beaucoup plus de profits à moins de frais pour l’Angleterre. Si les Patriotes avaient su jouer davantage la carte du libéralisme économique et reléguer au second plan le libéralisme politique français et s’appuyer sur des exemples sud-américains précis, ils auraient pu entreprendre des initiatives de commerce et tenter de lui faire prendre le premier plan. Ceci aurait d’ailleurs été plus conforme à une reconnaissance de l’importance de l’espace américain

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qui devait, comme l’ont montré les États-Unis, être développé par la technologie, le cadastrage et l’économique le plus rapidement possible afin de s’affirmer comme un partenaire important face à la puissance capitaliste de l’époque : l’Angleterre. C’est seulement en 1849, quand l’économique l’emporte davantage, que le Manifeste d’annexion n’entraîne pas de la part de l’Angleterre de réaction militaire ou politique violente, car bon nombre de conservateurs canadiens- anglais ou canadiens-français comme Sabrevoy de Bleury signent ou approuvent publiquement ce manifeste. Grâce à ce texte de James Stuart, on comprend en quoi la pensée canadienne est trop tournée vers l’Europe continentale, c’est-à-dire vers un libéralisme plus politique qu’économique, une théorie plutôt qu’une pratique (Simpson : 1993), qui les empêche en 1837 de mettre de l’avant des arguments économiques concernant l’Angleterre et ses rapports avec le continent américain. L’Europe continentale empêche d’inventer des nations emportées par des dynamiques nouvelles car la rupture, contrairement aux États-Unis, ne se fait pas immédiatement. De plus, les Patriotes canadiens-français ont devant eux deux modèles éminents qu’ils ne peuvent que copier à un degré moindre. En effet, comment produire une autre déclaration universelle, soixante ans après celle des États- Unis et cinquante ans après celle de la France. Il est difficile de faire rêver, sinon dans le fait qu’on devrait faire ce qui s’est déjà fait5. Cependant, il est remarquable de voir que le vénézuélien Fermin Toro cite un texte de la Déclaration d’indépendance du Bas-Canada faite par Nelson et Côté à partir d’un compte rendu du Times du 7 décembre 1838 : Desde hoy el pueblo del Bajo Canada queda libre de toda obedencia à la Gran Bretana. (Europa y America, p. 35) Il s’en sert pour fustiger la domination anglaise et son attitude colonialiste dans le contexte plus général et systématique du démontage des discours européens face à une pratique qui conduit des populations européennes entières à vivre dans des conditions sanitaires, culturelles et économiques désastreuses. Ainsi, on se rend compte qu’en plus des pouvoirs militaire, économique, bancaire et naval sur le monde entier, l’Angleterre domine aussi au niveau des réseaux d’information. Les nouvelles concernant le Bas-Canada passent par Londres et de là sont mises à la disposition des pays avec les commentaires appropriés, bien sûr. Il n’empêche que F. Toro se sert de ce passage pour souligner que l’Europe semble lâcher enfin son emprise coloniale sur les pays d’Amérique. Il donne l’exemple du Canada français pour produire lui-même sa Déclaration qui conviendrait aux pays du Nouveau Monde et en particulier d’Amérique du Sud. On peut y lire qu’il faut maintenir son indépendance et son autonomie, signer des traités entre les peuples de la terre et que ce maintien se double de droits individuels comme le droit d’émigrer et d’être admis dans le pays de son choix. Louis-Joseph Papineau tend à se rapprocher d’un tel universalisme dans son dernier discours à l’Institut canadien le 17 décembre 1867 : On y [le fait de fondre en unité les gens venant de tous les pays du monde] doit voir l’enseignement divin de la tolérance universelle et de la fraternité du genre humain. [...] La patrie n’aura de force, de grandeur, de prospérité, de paix sérieuse et permanente, qu’autant

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que toutes ces divergences d’origines et de croyances s’harmoniseront et concourront ensemble et simultanément au développement de toutes les forces et de toutes les ressources sociales. (p. 20) Malgré cette ultime déclaration de Papineau, l’exemple vénézuélien nous montre cependant en quoi les Déclarations faites au Canada sont de simples déclarations locales d’indépendances. Aucune n’a une envergure qui pourrait lui permettre de faire rêver les autres peuples en insistant sur des éléments nouveaux comme ces droits de déplacements transnationaux. À cause du poids de la colonisation, il n’est pas possible aux auteurs d’aller au-delà d’une affirmation qui aurait pu tenir compte de l’ensemble de l’espace américain doublé de la présence du reste du monde par l’entremise de ceux qui, en venant en Amérique, désiraient vivre dans la pratique des théories et des idéaux qui ne s’incarnaient que très lentement dans l’Ancien Monde. De ce fait, le Canada français, malgré la remarque de Fermin Toro, n’inspire, ni culturellement ni linguistiquement, les continents américain et latino- américain. Les intellectuels et écrivains qui, souvent, parlent couramment le français ou qui vivent une situation de bilinguisme poussé où le français est maîtrisé dans les détails (l’Argentine Eduarda Mansilla écrit et publie en français Pablo ou la vie dans les pampas à Paris en 1860) vont chercher leur inspiration en France, d’où ils reviennent déçus, comme Sarmiento. Les États- Unis prennent alors la relève. Ce qui importe, ce sont les idées nouvelles et c’est bien pour cela que Papineau cite Bolívar et les idéaux révolutionnaires des républiques hispano-américaines. Ceci doit être mis en contexte avec l’ultramontanisme qui, en «ethnicisant» les idées et en les enfermant dans le traditionalisme, contribue par défaut, à faire oublier le Canada français et à renforcer l’influence européenne sur les intellectuels sud-américains. Ceux-ci se méfient en effet de plus en plus de la puissance des États-Unis. Mais ils ne trouvent pas d’idées progressistes ailleurs sur le continent. Les francophones et francophiles d’Argentine et d’ailleurs restent alors tournés vers les progressistes européens et leur discours. Ils aboutissent, comme on va le voir au sujet de Sarmiento, à oublier que leur arrière-pays est une richesse commerciale fondamentale et ils le présentent sous les couleurs de la barbarie tant leur regard est tourné vers les autres rives de l’Atlantique. Par ailleurs, la position «ethnicisante» du Canada français, stimulée par l’idéologie ultramontaine, a comme conséquence d’isoler celui-ci des autres Amériques pour le faire passer par l’Europe ultramontaine, monarchiste et colonisatrice. Il en résulte le maintien d’une dépendance coloniale au niveau culturel qui complémente la dépendance économique anglaise. Il n’y a pas de possibilité véritable de solidarités tournées vers l’avenir et vers des dynamiques nouvelles véhiculées dans une langue française d’ici et commune à nombre d’écrivains et d’intellectuels sud-américains. L’insistance sur la langue pour la langue et le rejet des idées nouvelles au nom de la tradition entravent une solidarité continentale, car il aurait fallu que la langue commune soit aussi le lieu d’un ancrage culturel progressiste tourné vers l’avenir. Ceci aurait pu permettre la redéfinition de nations en gestation, comme l’Argentine qui avait tout à inventer ne possédant pas de bases démocratiques comme

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celles apportées par les Anglais venus s’installer sur ce qui était devenu les États-Unis. Beaucoup d’autres textes mentionnent l’Amérique latine. Cependant, après le milieu de 1860, c’est-à-dire après l’épisode de la guerre du Mexique, les comptes rendus sur l’Amérique latine seront fait d’un point de vue exclusivement ultramontain puisque cette idéologie, par l’entremise de Monseigneur Bourget, s’est imposée à l’ensemble du fonctionnement social. Ainsi, il n’y a là aucune source d’inspiration pour les libéraux sud-américains.

Le Mexique L’aventure mexicaine (1861-1867) démontre ce fonctionnement où nombres de Canadiens français plutôt libéraux comme Honoré Beaugrand ou conservateurs comme Faucher de Saint-Maurice, Arthur Taschereau, Alphonse Têtu ou Robert d’Ailleboust d’Estimauville de Beaumouchel (Roger Le Moine, 1995) se lancent aux côtés des armées françaises de Napoléon III. Ils soutiennent Maximilien d’Autriche afin de fonder un empire latin, conservateur, catholique, monarchique luttant contre le peuple mexicain qui défend son indépendance. Ilyalàuneconfusion idéologique notoire car des Canadiens français souffrant censément de ne pas être indépendants luttent avec des colonialistes européens dont le but est de cerner les États-Unis et d’annuler leur influence, contre le peuple mexicain et sa volonté d’indépendance. L’Américanité, pour les Canadiens traditionalistes tant français qu’anglais, est synonyme d’un chaos social et politique enraciné dans le laxisme de l’initiative et de la responsabilité individuelles. Pour ces colonialistes européens, l’Américanité est floue et passe par un consensus linguistique et mythique dans la tradition d’une latinité6 perdue et peut-être inexistante en Amérique du Nord tandis que les causes premières de l’intervention était liée à l’insolvabilité du Mexique à l’égard de l’Angleterre et de la France. Encore une fois, les Canadiens français, sous l’emprise de l’ultramontanisme, se détachent de la question économique pour se jeter dans des réflexions plus théoriques, dans une valorisation de l’idéologie traditionaliste au service de monarques européens. Pourtant c’est bien l’économie qui domine la question de l’indépendance dans les Amériques vis- à-vis de l’Europe ou de l’Angleterre aussi bien au Canada français qu’en Argentine et au Mexique.

Les actions missionnaires Ces actions s’inscrivent dans le messianisme universaliste et évangélique ultramontain, celui-là même qui avait amené les sœurs de la Providence à Valparaiso, au Chili, en 1853, les Frères des Écoles chrétiennes en Équateur en 1872 ou les Sœurs du Bon-Pasteur d’Angers en Équateur (1871), au Pérou (1871) et en Bolivie (1892). On note en particulier le travail des six frères canadiens qui rejoignent les Frères français (1863) de 1869 à 1873 pour répondre aux demandes du dictateur de l’Équateur, Garcia Moreno, modèle de Monseigneur Bourget (P. Imbert : 1975), et qui veut fonder un état catholique ultramontain en Amérique7. Pour maintenir cette société alliée à des pouvoirs politiques plus anciens, aristocrates ou féodaux, Garcia Moreno demande en

79 IJCS /RIÉC février 1861, époque de la guerre du Mexique et de l’affaiblissement potentiel des États-Unis à cause de la Guerre de Sécession, à Napoléon III d’annexer l’Équateur à la France, même si, en septembre 1860, ce même Napoléon n’a pas défendu la souveraineté du Pape sur ses états italiens contre des libéraux comme Garibaldi8. C’est pourquoi le 8 juin 1864, la Société de défense de l’indépendance américaine, dont le Canada-Uni ne fait évidemment pas partie, adopte la résolution suivante : [...] el 8 de junio de 1864, la Sociedad de Defensores de la Independencia Americana reunida en Lima antes del congreso de plenipotenciaros de aquel ano, adopto una resolucion declarando que, a causa de su «conducta antiamericana», el gobierno del Ecuador era traidor a America. (Benjamin Carrion, Garcia Moreno, p. 540) Autrement dit, des jeux complexes s’instaurent entre le Canada et l’Amérique latine. D’une part, une conception d’une nation centrée sur la sauvegarde de la langue et de la foi en fonction du respect des hiérarchies traditionnelles domine dans le Canada français ultramontain. Elle s’accorde avec le pessimisme envers l’homme pécheur à qui on ne peut faire confiance et qui, par conséquent, ne peut être un individu libre et responsable. Il doit être guidé constamment. Libéralisme économique, exploration du territoire et expansion sont alors bien éloignés des préoccupations de la majorité des Canadiens français. D’autre part, pour le Canada anglais «to be a British Colonist meant that you had made positive life choices, all of which indicated your personal wisdom, superiority and worth». (Mary-Lu MacDonald : 1995) Les États- Unis et leur libéralisme économique, pourtant à une centaine de kilomètres de Montréal, sont occultés. La pensée européenne réactionnaire domine. Le Canada français ignore la dynamique des Amériques; quelques Canadiens anglais profiteront du champ libre pour établir avec les Républiques d’Amérique latine, des contrats commerciaux, à titre de colonisateurs anglais, grâce à la présence de nombreux techniciens, financiers et ingénieurs anglais et canadiens-anglais sur place.

Les liens commerciaux et techniques La première mission importante du Canada-Uni à se rendre de l’Amérique du Nord britannique en Amérique latine a eu lieu en 1865, afin d’explorer les marchés de Cuba, de Haïti, de Puerto Rico, du Brésil et du Mexique. L’entreprise se décide sous l’influence indirecte des États-Unis alors engagés dans la guerre de Sécession et qui menacent d’abroger le Traité de réciprocité de 1854. Londres, qui ne souhaite pas voir sa colonie signer des traités d’échanges de manière indépendante, s’inquiète : Canada and the Baltic are our timber forests; Australia contains our sheep farms, and in Argentina and on the Western Prairies of North- America are our herds of oxen; Peru sends her silver, and the gold of South-America and Australia flows to London. (Paul Kennedy, Preparing for the Twenty First Century, p. 9; citation du English Economist, 1865)

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Cette dépendance explique les hésitations constantes du Canada face à l’Amérique latine, d’autant plus que Londres a des intérêts économiques substantiels dans cette partie du monde, notamment en Argentine. Buenos Aires, port important, s’ouvre sur le commerce et est dirigé par la bourgeoisie qui se modèle sur l’Angleterre démocratique et capitaliste et tisse des liens de plus en plus marqués avec cette puissance navale et économique de première importance. Le 2 février 1825, B. Rivadavia signe le premier traité d’amitié, de commerce et de navigation entre sa majesté britannique et les Provinces unies du Rio de la Plata : Art. II. Habra entre todos los territorios de S.M.B. en Europa y las Provincias Unidas del Rio de la Plata una reciproca libertad de comercio. Los habitantes de los dos paises gorazan, respectivamente, de la franquicia de llegar segura y libremente con sus busques y cargas a todos aquellos parajes, puertos y rios adonde sea o pueda ser permitido a otros extranjeros llegar, entrar en los mismos y permanecer y residir en cualquiera parte de dichos territorios respectivamente [...]. Art. III. [...] los habitantes de las Provincias Unidas del Rio de la Plata tengan la misma libertad de comercio y navegacion estipulada en el Articulo anterior [...]. (Woodbine Parish, Buenos Aires y las Provincias del Rio de la Plata, p. 565) Ce traité possède une extension remarquable, car il permet non seulement des échanges réguliers mais accorde le droit de résider à ceux qui font du commerce. Et cet enjeu est très clairement situé dans le cadre d’une rivalité avec les États-Unis et d’une suprématie européenne : In 1828, a British envoy cautioned the Government of Argentina against the doctrine set up by some crude theorists that America ought to have a political existence separate from the political existence of Europe. (V. G. Kiernan, The Lords of Human Kind,p. 283) C’est dire que l’Argentine est très liée à la Grande-Bretagne, économiquement à tout le moins. Mais comme le souligne en 1832 Achille Murat, citoyen des États-Unis et ci-devant prince royal des Deux-Siciles, justifiant le protectionnisme de son pays d’adoption, les États-Unis, «tant qu’une inégalité d’industrie et de capitaux existe, un système protectif est nécessaire aux nations favorisées du ciel». (Esquisse morale et politique des États-Unis de l’Amérique du Nord, p. 336) Il est clair que l’Argentine se place dans une situation de dépendance à l’égard de l’Angleterre qui obtient d’elle, comme du Canada, ses produits naturels tandis que l’Angleterre y exporte ses produits manufacturés générateurs de capital. Cette dépendance risque, comme au Canada, de retarder la construction d’industries nationales ouvertes sur le marché intérieur. Ainsi, au Canada et en Argentine se met en place une idéologie libérale du laisser faire économique qui dure même sous la dictature de Rosas. Par contre ce laisser faire est redéfini quand il faut construire les chemins de fer. En Argentine, cette action profite aux propriétaires terriens, les estancerios qui ont remplacé les caudillos et qui spéculent sur les terrains. Au

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Canada, l’action de l’État, comme l’a bien montré Pierre Berton (1989) a joué en faveur de l’industrie privée d’abord, constamment aidée par les finances publiques et indirectement en faveur de spéculateurs locaux comme ceux de Winnipeg. Plusieurs Canadiens participent à la construction du chemin de fer en Argentine : Onderdonk du Canadien Pacifique se consacre au chemin de fer Buenos Aires/Rosario. William Perkins, de Toronto, planifie dès 1858 Rosario, ville commerciale et industrielle (Silvia Docola, 1995) et s’engage dans la politique municipale et la définition spatiale d’une identité locale en tenant compte des rapports entre immigrants venus d’horizons nationaux et sociaux très différents. L’aménagement de la vie en fonction du développement économique importe avant tout et s’effectue dans le cadre du libéralisme économique lié à une politique colonisatrice.

La vision du Canada par Sarmiento, écrivain et président de la république Argentine Sarmiento, écrivain argentin auteur de l’ouvrage Facundo, où il décrit les malheurs apportés par le dictateur Rosas et la barbarie de la pampa et de ses caudillos, admire les libéraux français et européens. En 1847, il avait voyagé en Europe et particulièrement en France où la misère qui sévissait parmi les populations l’avait horrifié. Les discours théoriques et politiques européens ne passaient pas dans la pratique socio-économique comme l’avait dénoncé aussi F. Toro au Venezuela au sujet de l’Europe. Dès lors, Sarmiento se tourne d’avantage vers un type de libéralisme anglo-saxon inspiré de Locke et d’Adam Smith puis surtout d’un libéralisme démocratique technologique et économiste comme il l’avait vu réalisé lors de son voyage, la même année, aux États-Unis, voyage qui le mène aussi au Canada de Niagara à Montréal : The view has all the fresh virgin like qualities which Cooper captured [...] A trip through a fairy land [...] colours which all painters desire for rustic scenes (p. 232). It was the secret desire to stay here, to live forever (p. 230). (M.A. Rockland, Sarmiento’s Travels in the United-States in 1847) Malgré tout, il avait bien perçu le développement technique d’une ville moderne comme Montréal. Cependant, il considérait l’organisation du Canada français comme défectueuse à cause du pouvoir et de l’influence du clergé qui diffusait une idéologie médiévale, répressive et antimoderne, ce qui engendrait des problèmes économiques pour la population : Today, a patrician family sells its house, which is bought by an English merchant; tomorrow its sons are indigent since they have no education or manual skills the grandsons end up as good-for-nothings or servants. (Sarmiento’s Travels in the United-States in 1847, M.A. Rockland, 1970, p. 238) Ces propos rejoignent ceux de Xavier Marmier, ce monarchiste constitutionnel français qui voyagera du Canada français aux Provinces du Rio de la Plata (Argentine) et qui s’inspire directement de Sarmiento pour écrire son journal de voyage en Argentine et d’écrivains Canadiens français pour parler de son séjour à Montréal (Récits américains, 1883).

82 Canada, Argentine et Amérique latine

Le Canada dans les Amériques et l’invention des identités The remarkable success of the English as colonists, compared to other european nations, has been ascribed to their «daring and persistent energy»; a result which is well illustrated by comparing the progress of the Canadians of English and French extraction; but who can say how the English gained their energy? (Charles Darwin, The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex, 1871, ed. 1898, p. 144)

Les identités se définissent et les nations s’inventent partout par la capacité à former la jeunesse. Le système scolaire est donc dans tous les pays un enjeu fondamental que se disputent libéraux, conservateurs ou ultramontains. Des penseurs libéraux canadiens-français, au sens anglo-saxon et économique du terme, se réfèrent à Horace Mann ainsi qu’à Sarmiento en Argentine. Ils s’opposent ainsi aux désirs de l’Église catholique qui a une vision de l’éducation bien différente. Mais qu’affirme et que met en place Horace Mann, le grand pédagogue américain de l’époque, s’inspirant de Pestalozzi et de Dinter de Prusse? Horace Mann est l’artisan d’un système scolaire qui mettra en place un fonctionnement ouvert à tous et déja préparé par une rationalité active et pratique, mais pas encore systématisée malgré l’Acte de 1647 du Massachusetts concernant la nécessité de l’éducation publique. Selon Mann, la plupart des sociétés de l’Amérique vont penser l’éducation en fonction d’un système à contrôler et à perfectionner afin que la sélection des meilleurs, par l’accumulation du savoir, produise ses fruits et présente les États-Unis comme un exemple à suivre en Amérique et dans le monde. Pour Mann, les valeurs à diffuser sont, dans le cadre d’une immigration permanente, la séparation de l’Église et de l’État, l’optimisme, la philanthropie républicaine, la liberté religieuse, la prospérité matérielle, l’innovation technologique, l’harmonie morale, intellectuelle et sociale, la volonté de produire des individus libres et démocrates dans le cadre d’une éducation ouverte à tous et gratuite. Tous les thèmes du progrès sont présents. Pour cela le gouvernement relié au libéralisme économique ne doit pas se substituer au local mais encourager intellectuellement et économiquement le local à atteindre des standards élevés. Tout ceci aboutit à l’éducation universelle et gratuite dans de nombreux états, comme au Michigan en 1837, sous la direction de John Pierce, surintendant de l’instruction publique, dont le système ouvre sur une université d’État. La stricte morale protestante de Mann, enrichie par la philosophie des Lumières, le mène à des considérations qui pourraient même paraître neuves à plusieurs de nos jours : As individuals, or as an organized community, we have no natural right; we can derive no authority or countenance from reason; we can cite no attribute or purpose of the divine nature, for giving birth to any human being, and then inflicting upon that being the curse of ignorance, of poverty and of vice, with all their attendant calamities. (Tenth Annual Report, 1846, p. 77)

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Il est remarquable que certaines des idées de Mann aient été reprises par le Révérend Egerton Ryerson, pasteur Méthodiste, membre du groupe protestant le plus important du Haut-Canada (Ontario). Il lance une campagne, dans le Christian Guardian le 26 mars 1831, contre les privilèges religieux qui divisent les esprits et s’engage dans le mouvement Réformiste qui obtient l’abolition des Réserves du clergé. Ces réserves étaient constituées par le septième des terres de la province et étaient pour la plupart peu productrices. Il parvient à obtenir qu’elles soient attribuées à l’éducation publique. Il établit les paradigmes de celle-ci dans Report on a System of Public Elementary Instruction en 1846 ( Emerging Identities, Paul W. Bennett et Cornelius Jaenen ed., p. 197). Les points forts en sont l’universalité et son insistance sur le côté pratique plutôt que sur la rhétorique. Ceci le mène à créer The Toronto Industrial School en 1845, toujours dans le cadre d’un centralisme fort car il s’agit d’inventer un citoyen et un espace public dans un monde où le local omniprésent commence à être vu comme un handicap au progrès et l’immigration comme un potentiel à condition que les énergies se dirigent vers des buts communs tel le développement des ressources en fonction de la création d’un marché intérieur. Ici, se marque bien l’aspiration internationale de la bourgeoisie libérale qui souhaite établir la liberté afin que l’individu prospère dans une nation où l’ordre s’allie au progrès technique et économique, le tout généralement organisé en fonction de buts visionnaires qui annoncent déjà une pensée tournée vers la mondialisation. C’est ce qu’annonçait un journaliste du American Register en 1817 en affirmant que les États-Unis devaient devenir, à cause de leur situation même, the entrepôt of Europe and Asia (The Conspiracy..., p. 7). Cette idée est reprise par Papineau dans son Discours du 17 décembre 1867 : «Dix mille Chinois [...] construisant le grand chemin qui va relier les deux océans et faire de notre Amérique le centre commercial du monde entier» (p. 20). Le but du système scolaire qui allie morale religieuse et ethique protestante (M. Weber, 1964) s’inscrit dans la volonté de faire fructifier son avoir par son travail orienté vers le profit et la création de richesses dans la tolérance et l’insistance sur la maîtrise des sciences appliquées et des arts. Ces idées, enracinées dans l’idéalisme (par opposition au matérialisme marxiste européen), sont communes aussi à certains argentins libéraux comme Sarmiento et aux socialistes utopiques comme Echeverria. Ils privilégient un catholicisme biblique tout en rejetant violemment l’Église catholique oppressive qui doit être soumise aux lois civiles. C’est cette idéologie que refuse le clergé canadien-français. Certes, à Buenos Aires le catholicisme ne représente pas une force politique considérable à l’époque. Pourtant, dans les régions plus éloignées, il constitue un élément de stabilisation certaine pour les Caudillos. De plus, dans une ville comme Córdoba, l’université est dirigée par les Jésuites qui tendent à imposer une vision traditionnelle et très hiérarchisée du monde. Sarmiento, d’ailleurs, demandera à ce que les écoles changent les manuels en Argentine et qu’on n’enseigne plus que la terre est le centre de l’univers. Si le poids politique du catholicisme n’est pas très fort dans ce pays avant la fin du XIXe siècle, son poids idéologique et culturel est certain. De plus, Sarmiento, adepte des idées

84 Canada, Argentine et Amérique latine de la Franc-maçonnerie libérale, voit la nécessité de lutter contre ce poids basé sur des autorités dépassées. En 1847, Sarmiento visite le Canada et les États-Unis. Il rencontre personnellement H. Mann et Madame Beecher, son épouse, qui le convaincront de l’excellence de leur système, particulièrement pour des pays d’Amérique du Sud où le local et l’immigration doivent être insérés dans des projets plus grandioses afin de mettre en valeur le plus rapidement possible le potentiel énergétique et industriel du Nouveau Monde. Cependant, si lors de son passage au Canada, Sarmiento s’extasie devant la technologie et les industries, il est déçu par le Canada français qu’il voit, à travers Montréal, techniquement en avance, mais culturellement en retard : In this respect, Montreal is the most highly civilized city on the planet; but because of an interesting moral aspect, it is also a fossil curiosity. (Sarmiento’s Travels in the United States in 1847, M.A. Rockland ed., p. 233) But if you want to turn back the pages of history and see it as it was at the end of the Middle Ages, go to Montreal and there you will find it in all of its primitive simplicity, full of passion and force and concentrating in itself, as in Spain in the times of Queen Isabella, patriotism, power and heroism. (p. 235) The priest, as in the olden days, is the parish’s schoolteacher [...] the children are indoctrinated with fervor in their beliefs and fortified against all dangerous innovations [...]. (p. 237) Il n’est pas le seul à l’époque à avoir une telle vision de la situation. De nombreux libéraux canadiens-français pensent ainsi. Mondelet, s’inspirant de Mann qu’il cite souvent dans Lettres sur l’éducation élémentaire et pratique (1841), avait déjà proposé un programme d’éducation similaire. Mais au Canada français, le clergé ultramontain aura gain de cause idéologiquement et occupera le centre pédagogico-culturel de la communauté pour affirmer et imposer des valeurs très différentes. En effet, pour ce dernier, la soumission à la hiérarchie dans la domination de l’Église sur l’État est sacrée. Selon l’ultramontanisme, l’enrichissement matériel n’étant pas un but fondamental, la technique importe peu sauf dans le cas de l’agriculture, l’individu est soumis au destin, à Dieu et au Pape; il doit rester à la place qui lui a été assignée. La Vérité est une et doit être imposée pour sauver les âmes face à la tolérance, au libéralisme politique et économique et au républicanisme. L’invention du pays passe par la pédagogie de Horace Mann qui s’impose dans les écoles normales et dans l’ensemble du système scolaire argentin. Au Canada français, elle reste à l’état de projet chez les penseurs innovateurs et le monopole religieux s’impose.

Barbarie et civilisation Pour Sarmiento, les barbares sont liés à un espace. En effet, pour lui, l’espace de l’intérieur, de la pampa est le lieu de l’instinct, de l’anti-rationnalité d’où est sorti le dictateur Rosas qui a voulu jouer le fédéralisme pour échapper au centralisme, à l’unitarisme de Buenos Aires et qui a fini par centraliser tous les pouvoirs en lui au nom «de ce préjugé de nationalité qui est le patrimoine de

85 IJCS /RIÉC l’homme dans le temps de la tribu sauvage» (Facundo, p. 286). Mais Rosas représente aussi la volonté d’affirmer une identité américaine propre. Pour Sarmiento, cette américanité fait peur surtout face à une Europe perçue, au départ, comme civilisée mais dont Sarmiento est revenu déçu. Le discours de la civilisation européenne, ce discours d’une officialité diffuse nourrissant un nationalisme aux visées expansionnistes, ne tient pas face à la pratique sociale et économique européenne où la liberté se perd dans la déchéance matérielle et le fonctionnement de régimes forts9, comme le montre F. Toro dans Europa y America. Il lui reste alors à se tourner vers les États-Unis qu’il perçoit, à l’instar des libéraux «Rouges» canadiens-français10, comme la nation la plus civilisée du monde car elle a réussi à appliquer un certain idéal, à se forger une pratique et à faire triompher un faire. Ceci l’avait amené à importer le système d’éducation de Mann, son système d’écoles normales et à faire venir des enseignantes américaines en Argentine. Still, after examining the chief nations of Christendom, I have come to the conclusion that the american are the only really cultured people that exist on this earth and the last word in modern civilization. (M.A. Rockland, Sarmiento’s Travels in the United States in 1847, p. 151) De ce fait, Sarmiento rejette l’Europe comme l’incarnation du monde du faux, du monde des théories et des mots détachés de la pratique. Dans sa quête d’un référent, lui, qui a tant décrit par textes interposés, tente de faire que l’Argentine soit les États-Unis. Par ailleurs, au Canada français, des libéraux comme Dessaulles demandent l’annexion du Bas-Canada (Québec) aux États- Unis en 1851 après la diffusion du Manifeste d’annexion de 1849 signé pour des raisons différentes par des Canadiens français et des Canadiens anglais. L’import- export idéologique, pédagogique et économique américaine est en marche et détache peu à peu le libéralisme économique du radicalisme et du rougisme politique. Étienne Parent dans ses discours à l’Institut canadien (1846-1848) manifeste des idées similaires à celles de Sarmiento. Il se dégage des antithèses faciles dans lesquelles tombent Sarmiento comme les cléricaux canadiens qui attribuent des valeurs opposées aux espaces (Pampa = barbarie/ville = civilisation pour Sarmiento et village = civilisation/ville = barbarie pour le clergé canadien). Ses discours en font un des représentants majeurs d’une pensée en évolution qui sait tenir compte du passé comme de l’avenir en créant les liens transitionnels qui s’imposent et qui permettent de réfléchir en terme de continuité menant à des sauts qualitatifs dynamiques : [L’industriel] est le père de l’Amérique civilisée. [...] Ce sont des cités sans nombre et des empires que l’industriel a conquis sur la nature sauvage, non plus avec l’épée et le sang d’autres hommes mais bien avec la hache et les sueurs de son propre front. (Discours prononcés par Étienne Parent devant l’Institut canadien de Montréal le 22 janvier 1846, p. 19) Parent présente, par analogie, l’agriculteur, celui qui travaille à améliorer sa terre par des techniques nouvelles, comme un industriel, contrairement au clergé qui voit en celui-là un paroissien répétant de siècles en siècles, les mêmes gestes. Par ce processus d’attribution (P. Imbert : 1995), Parent

86 Canada, Argentine et Amérique latine transforme l’agriculteur en moteur de progrès qui bientôt va fonder une ville, sur le modèle des États-Unis. Cet agriculteur s’inscrit dans la grande épopée de l’industrialisation et du progrès. Ainsi, le portrait du Canadien français change radicalement pour Parent car l’espace, chez lui, n’est plus coupé entre campagne et ville. La ville surgit du développement propre à l’âge préindustriel et s’inscrit dans une dynamique évolutive où l’identité se modifie insensiblement dans le mouvement de la modernité.

Oisiveté/travail L’opposition barbarie/civilisation repose sur une opposition absolument fondamentale qui déstructure même un des fondements de la civilisation chrétienne et de la Bible. Celle de l’oisiveté et du travail et de la conception même du travail. À ce niveau Sarmiento et Parent se rejoignent et disent exactement la même chose car ils sont bien des hommes de leur temps, c’est-à- dire d’un libéralisme qui est avant tout économique. Des déserts de l’Amérique civilisable comme le dit Sarmiento (Facundo,p. 21), surgissent des barbares qui laissent l’espace à l’état sauvage. Et pourquoi sont-ils barbares? Parce qu’ils refusent le TRAVAIL11 : L’incorporation des indigènes pratiquée par les colonisateurs doit avoir contribué grandement à produire ce résultat malheureux (l’oisiveté, l’inaptitude à l’industrie). Les races américaines vivent dans l’oisiveté et se maintiennent incapables de se livrer à un travail pénible et suivi même par la contrainte. C’est ce qui a suggéré l’idée d’introduire des nègres en Amérique, idée qui a produit de si fatals résultats. Mais la race espagnole ne s’est pas montrée mieux douée pour l’action quand elle s’est vue dans les déserts d’Amérique abandonnée à ses propres instincts. (p. 37)12 François Xavier Garneau ne dit pas autre chose des indigènes et Étienne Parent en rajoute quand il affirme clairement : L’Europe est chargée de castes fainéantes. [...] Pauvre Espagne qui ne doit le reste de vie qui la soutient encore qu’à son ciel si beau, à son sol si riche. (Du travail chez l’homme, 23 septembre 1847, p. 67) Le sauvage d’Amérique a pris nos vices et laissé de côté nos vertus, il a pris ce qui fait notre faiblesse et négligé ce qui fait notre force, le travail et les idées de la civilisation. Le sauvage pense comme nos nobles au sujet du travail et le tient en mépris. (p. 76) On ne peut être plus clair. Les castes oisives, c’est-à-dire les nobles sont les barbares contemporains car ils tiennent à un monde de dépense et souvent de destruction par les armes. Il n’en reste pas moins que les Indiens subissent de plein fouet les effets de ce processus d’attribution qui nie leur mode de vie dans le but de justifier une politique liée à l’achat ou à la confiscation de leurs terres. Le nouvel ordre mondial de l’époque est en contradiction flagrante avec les valeurs anciennes de la propriété terrienne et avec les valeurs des peuples autochtones. Il est ouvert à la production dans l’efficacité, l’efficience et la concurrence, moteurs d’une industrialisation fondée sur la capitalisation du savoir technologique et de l’argent. De plus, il se dirige vers le libre-échange fondé sur le laisser faire. Cet ordre sera cependant maintenu dans une

87 IJCS /RIÉC atmosphère de paix grâce à une éthique de l’ordre liée à la domination de la religion. Parent manifeste avec beaucoup de doigté le renversement direct des paradigmes de la chrétienté. Pour lui le cliché «Tu travailleras à la sueur de ton front» n’est plus valide. Travailler n’est pas une condamnation, c’est le fondement même de la liberté : «Ainsi les peuples les plus industrieux furent- ils presque toujours les plus libres.» (p. 61) L’expression est intéressante car elle s’approche nettement d’un renversement complet de paradigme qui prend l’allure d’un paradoxe. En effet, Parent, s’inspirant de la morale protestante, affirme clairement LE TRAVAIL C’EST LA LIBERTÉ. Son expression, tend à construire une société qui refuse définitivement l’esclavage et il reprend les mêmes arguments que les abolitionnistes (même s’il n’y a plus d’esclaves à cette époque au Canada). Il refuse le servage et tout ce qui lui ressemble, c’est- à-dire un certain rapport de soumission à la glèbe et à l’ordre établi. Pour cela, il travaille le discours et produit un texte qui allie travail, liberté et production, c’est-à-dire profit individuel. Cette expression transforme l’acception donné au mot travail qui n’est plus une malédiction que pour les exploités de l’Europe souffrant encore du joug d’une organisation inspirée de la féodalité. F. Toro manifeste un point de vue similaire. Un discours nouveau se construit alliant travail, liberté, individu et civilisation dans la production et l’échange, moyen de construire la grande fraternité humaine. Il veut des hommes libres et maîtres de leur destin, car la nature, comme disait Locke, les a créés tels.

La main invisible Ainsi, en accord avec ce qui se passe aux États-Unis, Parent et Sarmiento tentent, aux deux extrémités du continent, de substituer à un rapport purement politique, une structuration de contrat commercial permanent qui nous mène directement à la modernité si l’on considère les éléments suivants. Le darwinisme social de lutte pour la vie et de survie des plus adaptés à leur environnement qui mène à des problèmes sociaux débouchant sur une violence généralisée s’il est inscrit dans le cadre d’une vision de la société comme jeu à somme nulle (G. Gilder, 1981) est redéfini à partir du moment où l’on considère qu’il est possible de CRÉER des richesses, surtout si l’on accepte que l’individu puisse prendre des initiatives et développer lui-même ses potentialités et aider les autres à le faire. Dans un tel cadre, le darwinisme social n’est plus une idéologie du XIXe siècle, il est vraiment ce qui constitue une des bases de la modernité. Il est lié évidemment à la théorie de la main invisible d’Adam Smith qui permet de transformer l’égoïsme individuel en moteur de bénéfices publics dans le cadre de la logique de l’effet non désiré mais tout à fait positif et donc loin d’être indésirable. Cette théorie de la main invisible définit un des éléments de la rhétorique argumentative libérale économiste progressiste. Cette dynamique est très bien soulignée par Sarmiento dans son journal de voyage : Twenty million human beings are, all at once, creating capital for themselves and for their sons in a nation which was born yesterday on virgin soil, human beings to whom the past centuries have left no

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inheritance other than primitive forests, unexplored rivers, and uncultivated lands. (Travels in the United States in 1847, p. 183) On the United States’ side (of the Niagara) they are putting up great cities, there are numerous ports [...] there is a great deal of commercial activity...On the Canadian side [...] there is an old settlement on what looks like improved land, and yet there are only two or three stores [...]. (p. 156) Comme on le voit à travers les yeux de Sarmiento, le Canada anglais, comme le Canada français, de par le régime colonial, les lois et la culture qui y sont liées, sont portés à se soumettre à une autorité distante, celle de Londres et celle de Dieu. Le Canada (le Haut comme le Bas-Canada), aux yeux de Sarmiento, ne pense pas en terme de modernité progressiste démocratique où tout un chacun doit prendre l’initiative du développement et en profiter personnellement, même si des penseurs s’ouvrent à ce mode de fonctionnement. Cependant, ils le font dans un cadre juridique et politique déterminé par le Bureau des Colonies.

Conclusion C’est dire que les rapports à établir entre le Canada et l’Argentine sont plus directs qu’il n’y paraît et qu’on doit tenir compte de relations à l’espace, à la technologie et aux circuits de communication qui n’ont pas à passer par l’Europe. Ceci modifie nettement ce qu’affirmait Ogelsby : [There are] many affinities with the peoples of Latin-America, affinities which have not been exploited, which facilitate the process of developing better understanding with the people of Latin America. The report mentionned that the heritage of the Indo-American peoples, as well as the European tradition — based on the Hellenic, Roman, and Christian past — of the Republics and Canada, constituted a common ground. As a result of the discussions, the Canadians hoped to expand university and scientific exchanges, increase the flow of art and artists between the two regions, and through films, television, and personal contact, improve on the general lack of awareness of each other. (Ogelsby, Gringos from the Far North, 1976, p. 34) Il dépendait encore d’une vision quelque peu timide mais inscrite sur la voie qui avait été préparée par des programmes culturels et économiques bien administrés. On se souvient du travail de pionnier d’Honoré Gervais, député de Saint-Jacques, professeur de droit international à l’Université Laval de Montréal et apôtre de l’esprit panaméricain, qui animait déjà S. Bolívar au congrès de Panama de 1826. H. Gervais, préconise, le 6 août 1904, un service consulaire canadien pour remplacer les Britanniques. Inutile de dire que son esprit visionnaire sera mal accueilli par la plupart des tenants des liens avec l’Angleterre. On pense aussi, après la déconvenue du Major McColl (aidé pourtant, en mai 1931 de C.D. Howe qui veut obtenir un contrat de 40 millions de dollars pour bâtir six cents élévateurs à grain) qui n’a réussi qu’à faire envoyer deux étudiants argentins au Canada aux premières bourses universitaires canadiennes pour l’Amérique latine attribuées en Argentine par Sun Life (établie en Argentine en 192) et par la Royal Bank. On se souvient

89 IJCS /RIÉC encore qu’après la conférence de Caracas de 1954, le diplomate argentin Enrique Corominas recommande l’entrée du Canada dans l’Organisation des États américains. L’affaire, suivie par Jean Richard, député d’Ottawa, est cependant mise de côté par le gouvernement dont les liens avec l’Angleterre sont encore forts. Ces efforts débouchent enfin sur le rapport Latin America : Foreign Policy for Canada de 1968 (M. Saragossi, 1991). Il sera suivi par des réflexions menées par divers groupes de recherche comme le Pan-American Institute of Geographs and Historians qui organise un colloque du 6 au 10 mars 1972 intitulé Institutions coloniales dans les Amériques au 18ème siècle donnant lieu à une publication de 398 pages portant le même titre et où sont publiées les réflexions des participants venant d’Argentine, du Chili, du Mexique, du Nicaragua, etc. Seront créés aussi des programmes à long terme de l’ACDI, du Conseil international d’études canadiennes aboutissant à des projets comme «La comparaison des discours politiques, journalistiques, fictionnels de 1830 à 1873 au Canada français et en Argentine» entrepris par des chercheurs de l’université d’Ottawa et de Rosario en Argentine13. Des accords élaborés par le ministère des Affaires extérieures seront signés. On pense à l’Economic Cooperation Agreement between Canada and Argentina (6 octobre 1980), à l’accord intitulé Agreement between the Government of Canada and the Government of the Republic of Argentina for the Promotion and Protection of Investments (5 novembre 1991) ou à celui concernant Employments of Dependents (8 et 20 février 1991). Une forte évolution a eu lieu qui a permis, par delà un siècle et demi de bouleversements de retrouver certaines idées de la doctrine Monroe et d’aboutir à l’ALENA. Depuis le XIXe siècle, l’Argentine a évolué vers plus de centralisation et elle tente de s’en dégager avec les politiques néo-libérales de Menem. Le Canada, lui, s’est dégagé de l’influence cléricale et de la domination anglaise pour se rapprocher des États-Unis et bâtir des liens continentaux et internationaux solides. Ces discussions rejoignent ce qu’affirme Hernando de Soto au sujet des gouvernements latino-américains qui ont presque tous, qu’ils soient de droite ou de gauche, accru jusqu’à récemment, les contrôles administratifs et étatiques et ont étranglé le commerce qui s’est réfugié dans le secteur informel : Both (left and right) failed to delegate to private individuals the tasks mismanaged by the bureaucracy, either because they did not have sufficient confidence in the population or because they did not know how to hand responsibility over to it. [...] Today, both the left- and the right-wing view informality as the problem. Neither seems to have realized that the problem itself offers the solution — to use the energy inherent in the phenomenon to create wealth and a different order. (The Other Path, p. 239) Ce qui a manqué et qui doit revenir est la confiance dans les gens et la capacité d’utiliser le problème comme solution grâce à la théorie de la main invisible. Mais ceci prendra du temps à se développer pleinement ches les Canadiens français comme chez les Canadiens anglais qui ont longtemps dépendu des contrôles gouvernementaux et surtout, après l’incapacité des gouvernements successifs à résoudre les grandes crises économiques du XXe siècle (P. Berton, 1991), demandés plus d’aide et de supports sociaux afin de s’engager dans un

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développement contrôlé qui, désormais, est ouvert sur les marchés américains en processus de mondialisation. Vu les questions économiques pressantes des pays dont le poids manufacturier est relativement peu concurrentiel ou dont les industries lourdes sont constituées de succursales dépendantes des monopoles issus des pays capitalistes plus puissants (Ehrensaft et Armstrong, 1981 : 135) comme les États-Unis, et dont les économies reposent encore fortement sur la richesse des matières premières, celles-ci devenues récemment une richesse stratégique de première importance, le libre-échange entre les Amériques ne peut que permettre un développement efficace des technologies de pointe qui permettront de brancher l’ensemble du continent et une partie de ses populations sur la dynamique de la mondialisation libérale, pragmatique et économiste. Cette dynamique se marque déjà à travers les réflexions de Sarmiento et de Parent car elles dépassent les nationalismes restrictifs. Elles rejoignent une préoccupation fondamentale des Amériques : affirmer l’initiative individuelle dans la responsabilité face au développement du continent et de ses populations, ce qui amène de plus en plus les Amériques à inspirer idéologiquement, culturellement, économiquement et financièrement le reste de la planète.

Notes 1. Dans ce texte, le Bas-Canada représente cette partie de la Province de Québec, résultant de la division de celle-ci en 1791, majoritairement peuplée de francophones et qui portera cette appellation jusqu’en 1867, date de la Confédération. À cette époque, les expressions Bas- Canada et Canadiens français sont interchangeables. 2. C’est sous ce régime qu’a fonctionné le Canada jusqu’à la mission McKinnon de 1940 au Chili et jusqu’aux négociations qui suivirent la visite de Buenos Aires et de Rosario. 3. Evans étudie les techniques agricoles en Europe, aux États-Unis, au Mexique et au Cap de Bonne Espérance. Par contre, il a une piètre opinion de l’Amérique du Sud dont il dit que l’analyse «ne serait pas très instructive pour les agriculteurs canadiens». (p. 35) 4. Ce genre de discussion était commune à l’époque. Voir Basil Hall, Travels in North America, 1828, p. 440, ou Isaac Fidler, Observations on Professions, Literature, Manners and Emigration in the United States and Canada, 1832. 5. Il faut noter que le 15 novembre 1837 une Déclaration de Constitution est faite dans le Haut- Canada par William Lyon Mackenzie. Elle s’inspire de la Constitution américaine. On y rejette les privilèges héréditaires, on y déclare les réserves du clergé propriété d’État, on y instaure les procès par jurys, on y établit l’inviolabilité des personnes et des possessions ainsi que de la propriété, etc. 6. C’est un ministre de Napoléon III, Chevalier qui a attribué ce qualificatif de latin à cette partie du continent qu’on appelle par convention Amérique latine. 7. Voir Henri Bourassa, Le Canada apostolique, Montréal, Action française, 1919, 170 p. 8. Retenons qu’il est allé se battre à Montevideo contre le dictateur argentin Rosas et qu’il a été un moment soutenu par la France qui voulait développer le commerce pour contrer le commerce anglais établi avec l’accord de Rosas. 9. Certains libéraux voient cette contradiction et rejettent les deux. Les ultramontains soulignent, eux, la déchéance due à l’industrialisation mais prônent un régime autoritaire. 10. Ceux-ci sont à distinguer des libéraux modérés comme É. Parent ou Lafontaine qui s’engagent tôt dans les compromis nécessaires avec le clergé et le pouvoir anglais afin de faire fonctionner la machine économique 11. Retenons qu’il y a souvent un glissement du travail aux productions artistiques ou culturelles. Encore récemment, Borgès considérait que le totem donné par le Canada à l’Argentine était un objet barbare. L’anthropologie de rédemption dont parle A. Gomez Moriana est parfois encore bien éloignée.

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12. Cette idée est partagée par tous les penseurs de l’époque. «Et les sauvages ne restent sauvages que parce qu’ils ne développent pas assez la loi de la propriété.» (Lamartine, Le conseiller du peuple, 1849-1851, vol. 1, p. 26) 13. Cette recherche est effectuée par Marie Couillard et Patrick Imbert d’Ottawa et Lelia Area et Maria de Los Angelès Yannuzzi de l’Universidad Nacional de Rosario. Elle mènera à la publication d’un livre vers la fin de 1997. En octobre 1994, se tenait un colloque à l’Université d’Ottawa intitulé «Les discours du Nouveau Monde au XIXe siècle au Canada français et en Amérique latine/Los discursos del Nuevo Mundo en el siglo XIX en el Canada francofono y en America latina». Les actes ont été publiés chez Legas à Ottawa en février 1995.

Bibliographie Armstrong, Christopher and Nelles, H.V. (1988) Southern Exposure: Canadian Promoters in Latin America and the Caribbean: 1896-1930, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 375 p. Berton, Pierre (1989) The Last Spike, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 566 p. ——— (1991) The Great Depression, Markham, Penguin, 754 p. Bennett, Paul et Jaenen, Cornelius (1986) Emerging Identities, Scarborough, Prentice Hall, 568 p. Carrion, B. (1959) Garcia Moreno, Mexico/Buenos Aires, Fundo de Cultura Economica, 746 p. The Conspiracy of Arnold and Sir H. Clinton against the United States and against General Washington reprinted from the American Register (1972) New York, Arno Press, 212 p. Darwin, Charles ( 1981) The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex, Princeton, Princeton University Press, 475 p. De Soto, Hernando (1989) The Other Path, New York, Harper and Row, 271 p. Docola, Silvia (1995) William Perkins: un Canadiense proyectando ciudad/region : Rosario 1858/1874, dans Les discours du Nouveau Monde au XIXe siècle au Canada français et en Amérique latine/Los discursos del Nuevo Mundo en el siglo XIX en el Canada francofono y en América latina, (M. Couillard et P. Imbert, ed.), Ottawa, Legas, p. 192-212. Ehrensaft, Philip and Armstrong, Warwick (1981) «The Formation of Dominion Capitalism: Economic Truncation and Class Structure» dans Inequality: Essays on the Political Economy of Social Welfare, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, p. 99-155. Gilder, George (1981) Richesse et pauvreté, Paris, A. Michel, 442 p. Imbert, Patrick (1985) Monseigneur Bourget, essayiste, dans L’essai et la prose d’idées au Québec, Montréal, Fides, p. 319-325. ——— (1995) «Le processus d’attribution» dans Les discours du Nouveau Monde au XIXe siècle au Canada français et en Amérique latine/Los discursos del Nuevo Mundo en el siglo XIX en el Canada francofono y en America latina, (M. Couillard et P. Imbert, ed.), Ottawa, Legas, p. 43-60. Innis, Harold (1956) The Fur Trade: An Introduction to Canadian Economic History, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 232 p. Kennedy, Paul (1993) Preparing for the Twenty-First Century, New York, Random House, 428 p. Kiernan, V. G. (1967) The Lords of Human Kind, London, Weidenfeld, 464 p. Le Moine, Roger (1995) L’aventure mexicaine de quelques québécois, dans Les discours du Nouveau Monde au XIXe siècle au Canada français et en Amérique latine/Los discursos del Nuevo Mundo en el siglo XIX en el Canada francofono y en América latina, (M.Couillard et P. Imbert, ed.), Ottawa, Legas, p. 253-262. MacDonald, Mary-Lu (1995) «“Colonial” as a Positive Concept in English-Canadian Newspapers and Periodicals before 1850», (communication à la Research Society for Victorian Periodicals, Édimbourg, juillet 1995). Mann, Horace (1957) The Republic and the School, (A. Cremin, ed.), New York, Columbia University Press, 112 p. Ogelsby, J.C.M. (1976) Gringos from the Far North : Essays in the History of Canadian-Latin American Relations, 1866-1968, Toronto, MacMillan, 346 p. Ouellet, Fernand (s.d.) Papineau, Québec, PUL, 104 p. Parish, Woodbine (1958) Buenos-Aires y las Provincias del Rio de la Plata, Buenos Aires, Hachette, 654 p. Rockland, M.A. (1970) Sarmiento’s Travels in the United-States in 1847, Princeton, Princeton University Press, 330 p. Sarmiento, Domingo Faustino (1934) Facundo, Paris, Institut international de coopération intellectuelle, 324 p. Simpson, David (1993) Romanticism, Nationalism, and the Revolt against Theory, Chicago, Chicago University Press. Smith, Adam (1974) An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, Chicago, Encyclopedia Britannica.

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Sylvestre, Guy (1964) Panorama des Lettres canadiennes-françaises, Québec, ministère des Affaires culturelles, 77 p. Toro, Fermin (1960) Europa y America, dans La Doctrina conservadora, Caracas, Ed. Commemorativa de Sesquicentenario de independencia, 420 p. Weber, Max (1974) The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, New York, Scribner, 542 p. Winks, R. W. (1989) Canada and the Three Americas, dans Friends So Different (L. Lamont, J.D. Edwards, ed.), Ottawa, University of Ottawa Press, p. 2551-260.

93 Maria Bernadette Velloso Porto

En découvrant l’Amérique : la poétique de la circulation dans des textes brésiliens, québécois et acadiens

Résumé En tenant compte des rapports étroits entre la traversée et la transgression (cf. Michel de Certeau : «Transgresser c’est traverser»), cet article privilégiera l’analyse des aspects innovateurs inscrits dans le trajet scripturaire d’œuvres brésiliennes, québécoises et acadiennes où la quête de l’identité (ou des identités plurielles) s’associe à l’idée de mouvement, de changement, de remise en question. À l’intérieur de cette étude, on accordera une place particulière aux représentations symboliques du désert dans les textes choisis. Lié à la vitesse, à la rupture, à l’exploration de l’Amérique (cf. Baudrillard), le désert renvoie aussi au vide, au silence, au dépouillement. C’est pourquoi, grâce à «l’apprentissage» du désert, on prétendra dégager les analogies entre lui et la page blanche, espace de promesses, de transformations et de circulation infinie de futurs signes.

Abstract Considering the close association between “crossing” and “transgressing” (see Michel de Certeau: “Transgresser c’est traverser”), this article analyzes innovative elements of the scriptural journey inherent in Brazilian, Quebecois and Acadian works where the search for identity (or multiple identities) combines with the idea of movement, change and questioning. This study will pay special attention to the role of desert symbols in the chosen texts. Linked to the pace, dissociation and exploration of North American society (see Baudrillard), the desert also evokes the void, silence and deprivation. Through the desert’s “teachings,” we perceive analogies between the desert and the blank page, a place of promise, transformation and the endless flow of future signs.

Le présent article vise à exposer des réflexions faites au fil des dernières années à propos du dialogue ø pas toujours évident ø qui peut être établi entre la littérature brésilienne et la littérature québécoise. En partant de l’hypothèse que la conquête symbolique de l’Amérique n’a pas encore été tout à fait assumée par les Brésiliens et les Québécois, nous essayerons de montrer que l’assomption du sentiment d’appartenance à notre continent passe souvent par l’exercice de certaines pratiques spatiales privilégiées. À notre avis, l’Amérique n’a pas encore été découverte par le Brésil et le Québec qui devraient pousser plus loin l’exploration de ce territoire où s’inscrivent leurs histoires respectives. Aux yeux de beaucoup de Brésiliens, le mot Amérique correspond seulement aux États-Unis, comme si la dimension

International Journal of Canadian Studies / Revue internationale d’études canadiennes 13, Spring/Printemps 1996 IJCS / RIÉC de «Nuestra America» de Marti n’avait pas été incorporée à notre conception identitaire. Cela s’explique en partie par la réussite de l’entreprise coloniale qui, au lieu de favoriser les contacts entre des colonies voisines du point de vue géographique et historique, encourageait plutôt les rapports entre la périphérie et la métropole. Condamnés à vivre dans l’espace de la reproduction et du mimétisme, nous avons été poussés à intérioriser une insularité aliénante par rapport à l’ensemble de l’Amérique latine, ce qui nous a délogés de notre vocation continentale. Ce n’est que très récemment, en particulier dans le monde des intellectuels et celui de la musique populaire brésilienne, que l’on revendique notre situation au sein du continent américain1. Quant au Québec, l’Amérique y paraît encore une «entité historique absolument inédite, vierge2» à être appropriée. En reprenant des mots d’Anne Hébert sur son propre pays nous dirions que la vie en Amérique «est à découvrir et à nommer [...], tous ces paysages d’avant l’homme attendent d’être habités et possédés3». Cette image d’une terre à conquérir apparaît dans un essai de Morin et Bertrand où ils proposent une lecture intéressante des relations complexes entre le Québec et l’Amérique. Selon ces auteurs, loin d’être une attitude naïve, le besoin de la découverte de l’Amérique (de «sa naturalité, sa virginité, son anarchie, son chaos4») s’impose aux Québécois qui s’en seraient protégés «derrière un simulacre de nation appuyée sur la terre et placée sous l’égide de l’Église catholique5». En somme, il s’agirait de récupérer ce qui serait resté dans les coulisses de la construction de l’imaginaire collectif centré sur une «représentation nationale calquée sur les nations européennes6». Cette ouverture vers l’Amérique permettrait aux écrivains d’échapper à l’esthétique de l’impuissance qui les a toujours forcés à s’enfermer dans «des problèmes d’autodéfinition et dans une attitude de jalousie défensive à l’égard de la culture française7». En fait, toute une nouvelle génération d’écrivains québécois s’interrogent différemment sur le passé, la mémoire et l’Amérique. Ainsi, au lieu de considérer l’identité comme une essence immuable, on l’envisage comme une construction permanente, c’est-à-dire une quête toujours renouvelée. Quête qui se fait au fil d’histoires de marches, de traversées, d’apprentissages inscrits dans des chemins variés. Des chemins qui permettent aux personnages de connaître l’expérience de l’extraterritorialité étasunienne (tel est le cas de Volkswagen blues de Jacques Poulin et Une histoire américaine8 de Jacques Godbout) et de vivre l’expansion des propres limites de la québécité (ce qui s’annonçait avant dans l’œuvre de Gabrielle Roy où l’accès quotidien à l’altérité mettait déjà en question la conception traditionnelle de l’identité québécoise). Dans des textes brésiliens et québécois, comme toute forme d’apprentissage, l’appréhension de l’espace américain suppose avant tout la disponibilité. En nous référant à ce qui est affirmé dans un roman de l’acadienne Antonine Maillet, nous pouvons dire que «ce n’était pas tout de découvrir l’Amérique, encore fallait-il apprendre à y vivre9». Dans le corpus qui sert de base à nos réflexions, engagés dans la voie de l’apprentissage, des personnages se montrent attentifs aux signes inscrits dans des cartes et des parcours configurateurs d’une géographie conçue comme mouvement grâce aux

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rythmes et aux cadences imprimés par la marche et la traversée du pays, de la ville, de l’océan et du désert. Comme stratégie de lecture, nous procéderons d’abord à l’analyse de quelques représentations mythiques de l’espace américain, très courantes dans les littératures brésilienne et québécoise. Ainsi, à partir de la dichotomie ciel/enfer toujours associée à l’Amérique, nous essayerons de relativiser ces notions en y ajoutant l’idée de purgatoire. Rattachés à des réalités distinctes (le Brésil et le Québec), ces concepts nous font constater l’attrait et la répulsion suscités par la révélation du Nouveau Monde. Le choix de cette démarche initiale s’explique par le fait que la représentation superlative de l’Amérique (comme ciel ou comme enfer) peut déterminer des gestes d’immobilité ou la quête obstinée de mouvements transformateurs. Après ce premier volet, nous montrerons que la lecture de la découverte de l’Amérique par les Brésiliens et les Québécois doit être enrichie par une réflexion à propos du quotidien. Comme nous avons suggéré par l’évocation d’une phrase du roman Mariaagélas d’Antonine Maillet, le fait de s’assumer à l’intérieur du/des paysage(s) américain(s) passe nécessairement par l’expérience quotidienne. Espace où circulent sans arrêt des signes construits et imposés par la réalité sociale, le quotidien constitue aussi un domaine propice à l’épanouissement de l’activité créatice.10 Là nous toucherons à la théorie du quotidien comme invention proposée par Michel de Certeau. D’après lui, dans ses relations journalières avec un milieu très souvent achevé et préétabli, l’homme développe des pratiques plurielles et inventives. Au lieu d’être un simple spectateur de son environnement, il tient à y laisser l’empreinte de ses actions transformatrices par lesquelles il adapte le cosmos à ses besoins et à ses désirs. Pour y reússir, il tire parti des «arts de faire» qui lui assurent l’invention du quotidien grâce à la réappropriation symbolique de l’espace à partir de petites ruses anonymes. Après avoir réfléchi sur les pratiques de l’espace concernant l’activité de la marche et l’exercice des traversées, nous accorderons une place particulière à la représentation du désert, envisagé dans deux textes illuminés par la perspective du féminin (Le désert mauve de Nicole Brossard et A paixão segundo GH de Clarice Lispector). Avant de nous engager dans les voies de notre analyse, nous aimerions faire une remarque sur notre texte. Envisagée comme une marcheøàlamanière de Michel de Certeau ø notre lecture se veut expressément lacunaire et fragmentaire. C’est pourquoi nous y adoptons des pauses et des ellipses, en ne réveillant pas tous les endroits qui pourraient être valorisés au cours de cette promenade intertextuelle. En plus, comme l’Amérique, elle est marquée par l’inachèvement, en se mettant à l’attente d’autres regards critiques et d’autres appropriations.

Sur quelques pistes de lecture de l’espace américain : ciel / purgatoire / enfer L’Amérique Latine a toujours existé sous le signe de l’utopie. Je suis même sûr que l’utopie a son site et sa place.

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C’est bien ici. (Darcy Ribeiro)11

La vie en Amérique est comme les orties : elle fait du mal, gratte et ne laisse pas dormir. En plus, là-bas ils ne connaissent pas le printemps. La chaleur dissout la tête de tout le monde, en fondant l’envie de travailler. C’est le propre enfer pendant toute l’année. (Nélida Piñon)12

Jardin édénique, espace insupportable, terre ouverte à des prodiges de toutes sortes, lieu où l’inconnu et le dangereux fascinaient et effrayaient le regard européen au lendemain de la conquête, l’Amérique a été associée à des images à première vue assez diverses, mais qui se ramènent à l’opposition paradis/ enfer. Découverte grâce au rêve expansionniste des colonisateurs, elle fut en même temps déguisée par des représentations fixées par l’ethnocentrisme de ceux qui l’envisageaient surtout comme la réponse à leurs attentes. Territoire des désirs d’autrui, l’Amérique incarnait alors l’espace de la séduction pour ceux qui semblaient fatigués de la vieille Europe «aux anciens parapets» (Rimbaud). En nous appuyant sur le sens étymologique du verbe «séduire», nous pouvons rappeler que l’aventure américaine exigeait des Européens l’action de se détourner vers le territoire de l’Autre. Vus par Todorov 13 comme la rencontre la plus surprenante de notre histoire, les premiers contacts avec les indiens ont révélé aux colonisateurs l’expérience majeure de l’altérité. Au bout de beaucoup de siècles après sa découverte, l’Amérique continue à être redécouverte par ceux qui n’arrêtent pas de voyager à la quête du nouveau. Tout en se mettant à l’attente du prochain regard à être séduit par sa cartographie imaginaire, l’Amérique peut être identifiée aussi au sujet du regard. En ce sens, dans le roman A república dos sonhos de Nélida Piñon, elle apparaît comme «un point de vue privilégié d’où l’on peut juger l’Europe14». Quant à nous, Brésiliens, nous ne sommes pas toujours capables de dégager notre américanité. Dans la chanson «O estrangeiro» (Caetano Veloso) où il est question de la Baie de Guanabara fixée par l’optique de l’Autre (celle de Lévi- Strauss parmi d’autres), nous serions incapables de voir ce qui est à la portée de nos yeux. En partie, cela se doit à l’interférence de la perspective de l’Autre qui depuis toujours nous a définis à partir de la dichotomie paradis/ enfer. Dans la production littéraire québécoise les mêmes idées ont caractérisé une autre réalité américaine. Ici et là-bas ces représentations symboliques ø qui ont coexisté à l’intérieur d’un même espace et d’une même couche temporelle ø répondaient souvent aux intérêts des maîtres du pouvoir. Étant donné la place importante accordée à la complexité des relations tissées entre l’homme et son environnement dans les littératures brésilienne et québécoise, il se justifie une révision de ces notions-là comme possibilité de lecture comparatiste. Comme hypothèse de départ, nous serions tentés d’identifier le Brésil au paradis et le Québec à l’enfer. Cela se dégage du rapprochement établi entre la lettre adressée par Pero Vaz de Caminha au roi du Portugal lors de la découverte du Brésil et un passage du premier des récits

98 En découvrant l’Amérique de voyage de Jacques Cartier. Cette piste de lecture fournie par des documents officiels à l’aube de nos histoires américaines semble reprise en quelque sorte dans deux chansons très connues au Brésil et au Québec, «País tropical» (de Jorge Ben) et «Mon pays» (de Gilles Vigneault), où l’on reconnaît, respectivement, l’image d’un milieu béni et fertile et les signes d’un espace à être dompté. Du côté brésilien, dans un endroit fécond il suffirait de planter pour que la récolte soit abondante : tel est le message que l’on a retenu de la lettre de Caminha, ce qui a été incorporé à la culture ordinaire. Il y a peut-être là l’origine du mythe de la paresse brésilienne, illustré par le personnage de Mario de Andrade, Macunaíma, dont la nonchalance est bercée dans un hamac. En plus, lues de façon ironique, les propres paroles de notre hymne national peuvent évoquer la même image : «couché éternellement dans un lit splendide», le Brésil et les Brésiliens seraient marqués par l’indolence. De l’autre côté, les choses se passeraient autrement : placé dans une ambiance d’hostilité, le Québécois devrait faire face aux obstacles naturels, en particulier à la rigueur du climat. Chez Vigneault, le désir de posséder ses hivers suggère le refus de la dépossession et l’affirmation du désir d’appartenance à un pays où il ne serait pas facile de vivre. En poussant plus loin les parallélismes entre les textes cités nous pourrions évoquer le monde de la fable : d’une part, la cigale insouciante tournée vers la dépense et les loisirs; de l’autre, la fourmi responsable, sûre du besoin de l’accumulation et de la prévoyance. En d’autres termes, s’il n’y avait rien à faire ou à poursuivre chez nous ø le paradis étant l’image achevée de la perfection ø dans l’«enfer glacial» (expression de François Hertel) tout resterait encore à bâtir. En s’inspirant des excès d’une nature généreuse, le Brésilien connaîtrait le désordre des dépenses (du carnaval comme il apparaît dans «País tropical»). Quant au Québécois, son savoir-faire serait en étroite liaison avec une nature économique en dons. Malgré leurs spécificités, ces deux visions s’expliquent par la complémentarité : en effet, les images euphorisantes et les images négatives constituent les deux faces d’une même monnaie : l’Amérique. Appliquées au continent américain, les catégories du paradis et de l’enfer connaissent une interdépendance : un endroit s’insinue plus facilement sous les traits d’une terre bénie grâce à son contraste avec un site moins favorisé par des attributs naturels. C’est ce qui expliquerait d’ailleurs la caractérisation du Canada comme la terre de Caïn par Jacques Cartier dans le passage qui a attiré notre attention. Ayant connu le lieu de l’utopie, le Brésil, avant de réaliser sa écouverte, Cartier ne pouvait envisager le Canada que comme un lieu maudit : Elle ne se doit pas nommer terre, mais terre et rochers effroyables et mal rabotés [...] Enfin j’estime mieux qu’autrement que c’est la terre que Dieu donna à Caïn.15 Héritier de la malédiction qui pèse sur Caïn, le colonisé canadien-français s’est identifié aussi à d’autres êtres maudits : «Je suis Caïn, je suis Judas, je suis tout homme / Qui frappe son semblable et fait périr son Dieu» dit le poète Gustave

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Lamarche. Coupable malgré lui («Mon crime est d’être né» affirme François Hertel), victime des mystères de la prédestination divine, le Canadien français subirait l’injustice divine sans y réagir. En ce qui nous concerne, à l’époque du Brésil colonial, aux yeux de l’Autre, la notion de péché ne se poserait pas chez nous. D’après Sérgio Buarque de Holanda, selon une croyance répandue en Europe au XVIIe siècle, il n’existerait pas de péché au-dessous de l’Équateur («Ultra acquinoxialem non peccari»).16 En connaissant de près la condition de l’étranger — vu par Kristeva sous l’optique de l’orphelinat17 — le Canadien français a vécu la difficulté de s’enraciner dans son propre espace. Étranger de l’intérieur, au sein du «continent d’exil», sur «la terre ingrate du Québec18», il a eu une vision hyperbolique de la France («terre d’abondance», «de bravoure», «de plaisance», «de vaillance», «de science», «d’espérance» selon le poète Alfred Garneau). En plus, sûr que son véritable royaume n’est pas de ce monde, il se trouverait dans une situation intenable. Que ce soit la patrie perdue (la France) ou le domaine des cieux, le jardin des délices resterait très loin de l’enfer d’un «monde bicéphale» (Paul Chamberland). L’allusion au sentiment de la dépossession spatiale ressenti par le colonisé canadien-français nous renvoie de nouveau au destin tragique de Caïn dont le nom — signifiant possession19 ø semble traduire le désir d’être maître de soi et de son œuvre. En outre, l’histoire du premier cultivateur biblique, de celui qui fut condamné à l’errance et à la recherche obstinée d’une terre fertile, paraît illustrer deux formes d’appropriation de l’espace vécues par la communauté francophone en Amérique : l’attachement au sol et la mobilité (cf. le mythe du Grand Nord). Pour insister un peu plus sur notre hypothèse de départ (Brésil = paradis/ Québec = enfer), nous ajouterions ici l’opinion d’historiens de la Nouvelle France qui attribuaient à l’excès du froid la diffusion de maladies comme le scorbut, responsable de la mort de l’équipage de Cartier. Par contre, on croyait que chez nous l’air des tropiques empêchait les ravages du même mal.20 Paradis créé à l’image et à la ressemblance de Dieu — que l’on dit brésilien — notre pays aurait été protégé de la furie des phénomènes naturels et de graves épidémies. Le mythe du paradis a connu un grand essor chez nous. Toute une littérature marquée par un contenu euphorisant s’appuie sur la fertilité et sur la force virtuelle d’un pays jeune, caractérisé par une taille de géant et par la présence de biens naturels superlatifs. Des passages littéraires incorporés à notre mémoire collective circulent un peu partout : «La nature ici connaît une fête perpétuelle», «géant par sa propre nature», «nos bois ont plus de fleurs, notre vie plus d’amours». Malgré la pertinence de la dichotomie que nous sommes en train de proposer, il nous faudrait aussi la mettre en question puisqu’elle s’avère insuffisante pour tenir compte de la multiplicité d’étiquettes associées à l’Amérique. En plus, aux catégories ciel/enfer nous devrions ajouter la notion de purgatoire. À vrai dire, dès le XVIe siècle des images paradisiaques et infernales du Nouveau Monde se relayaient dans l’imaginaire des Européens. Le paradis

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semblait correspondre, avant tout, à la nature et à l’univers économique; l’enfer était représenté par les hommes (les indiens, les nègres, les colons). Entre ces deux lectures, il s’insinuait une autre : celle du souvenir du purgatoire, vécu en particulier par les victimes du ban. En constituant l’immense purgatoire des péchés du Vieux Monde21, les colonies américaines favorisaient l’expulsion d’êtres indésirables de l’espace européen. Chez nous l’idée du purgatoire a été identifiée par le jésuite Antonil qui reconnaissait des liens étroits entre le purgatoire des âmes et le «purgatoire» du sucre22. Activité essentielle dans la colonie portugaise en Amérique, le travail de la purification du sucre se rattachait à l’entreprise coloniale. Les représentants de celle-ci essayaient de convaincre les exploités du sens spirituel de leur mission : purifier le sucre, c’était la garantie de leur propre purification. En évoquant des idées proposées par Jacques Le Goff23, l’expérience symbolique du purgatoire américain a permis la conciliation de la bourse et de la vie, de l’activité économique avec le salut. En ce qui concerne le Québec, la notion du purgatoire n’a pas été absente. Par le fait d’être encouragée à assumer une mission spirituelle en Amérique, la communauté francophone envisageait son pays comme un lieu de transition où l’on subissait un destin difficile avant d’accéder au paradis. «Expier est notre vocation dans ce monde trop matériel», déclare Jean Bouthillette24. Comme nous l’avons déjà dit, les images du paradis et de l’enfer ont coexisté à l’intérieur des réalités brésilienne et québécoise. Dans ses Voyages, à côté de l’allusion à la terre de Caïn, Cartier admet un autre aspect de la Nouvelle France : il s’agit du mythe de l’âge d’or d’avant la chute, endroit où le merveilleux et les prodiges occupent le premier plan. La légende créée autour de l’épisode du Saguenay, Eldorado qui suscitait la cupidité des colonisateurs, nous rappelle le prestige joué par le Pérou au cours de notre histoire coloniale. Une autre image du pays édénique au Canada renvoie au Régime français, considéré comme le paradis perdu par les «victimes» de la conquête anglaise. En s’appuyant sur l’idéologie de la conservation, cette représentation collective serait un mythe de compensation conçu pour faire face au présent Anglo-Saxon. D’autre part, les premiers textes sur la Nouvelle France ne se bornaient pas à insister sur la stérilité du sol et les rigueurs du climat. Très tôt, dans les rapports des jésuites, il s’est affirmé un discours sur l’idéalisation de l’hiver par lequel on voulait stimuler l’action apostolique en Amérique. En traduisant cette vision optimiste de la Nouvelle France, des auteurs ont peint un espace tout à fait différent de la terre de Caïn. Par exemple, dans le poème «La découverte du Mississipi» de Louis-Honoré Fréchette, il est question d’une «zone immense et féconde, futur grenier du genre humain», fait avec «tant de prodigalité» par Dieu. Une publicité récente dialogue de très près avec le poème de Fréchette : il s’agit du texte sur le Plan de Parrainage du Canada, qui reprend l’idée du pays-grenier. (Cf. L’actualité, vol.13, no 10, octobre 88). Sans vouloir discuter s’ilyalàuneforme de paternalisme (pays riche, le Canada aiderait des enfants affamés du Tiers Monde), il nous intéresse d’y identifier l’envers de la terre de Caïn : «Nous sommes chanceux au

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Canada; la terre est généreuse et les moissons abondantes. Comment, devant de telles richesses ne pas se sentir privilégiés?» Si le paradis n’existe pas seulement dans le pays tropical, l’enfer ne se limite pas à l’espace québécois. Chez nous, l’image du Dieu brésilien ne tient pas compte du Nord-Est, notre terre de Caïn. Comme un habitant de la Nouvelle France aux prises avec une nature hostile, le «sertanejo25 est avant tout un fort» (Euclides da Cunha). Dans les deux situations, l’être dépossédé a appris deux attitudes pour lutter contre une nature hostile : l’attente et la prévoyance, en ayant dû développer des «arts de faire» anonymes et inventifs. Dans son quotidien, le «nordestino» envisage le paradis possible comme une transformation à la suite des pluies. Dans le roman Vidas secas de Graciliano Ramos, le paradis s’exprime toujours au conditionnel, étant déplacé sans cesse vers un autre temps. Par contre, l’enfer — vécu jour après jour par les personnages — est difficile à être défini par Sinhá Vitória26. En paraphrasant les mots de Darcy Ribeiro, ce personnage pourrait dire à propos de son univers : «L’enfer a son site et sa place. C’est bien ici.» Dans le monde colonial brésilien, les signes de l’enfer n’étaient pas absents. Vues par la perspective ethnocentrique des maîtres, les manifestations culturelles des esclaves (en particulier, les rituels religieux) étaient considérées comme suspectes, voire diaboliques. En outre, il a fallu métamorphoser l’indien idyllique en cannibale dangereux pour justifier la colonisation. Selon le jésuite Antonil, la colonie était l’enfer pour les nègres, le purgatoire pour les blancs et le paradis pour les mulâtres27. En tirant parti du parallélisme proposé par Antonil, on dirait qu’aujourd’hui le pays serait l’enfer pour la plupart de la population et le paradis pour les maîtres du pouvoir et les entreprises multinationales. C’est ce qui se dégage d’un texte humoristique de Luís Fernando Veríssimo (Veja. 04/05/88) où, en s’appuyant sur le souvenir d’un poème de Manuel Bandeira, l’auteur reconnaît une autre «Pasárgada», la patrie des «amis du roi» : «Mais la vraie Pasárgada, le paradis, c’est appartenir à la minorité à l’intérieur de la minorité qui donne des ordres et des contrordes dans ce pays». À côté de l’image du paradis réservé aux élus, l’auteur dénonce l’existence de l’enfer : c’est le cas d’un autre Brésil, «un immense pays exilé de lui-même qui ne peut aller nulle part». Nous arrivons enfin à la thématique de l’exil, question essentielle quand on se réfère à la géographie mythique américaine. Dans la littérature et les essais produits au Québec, la présence de l’exil s’insinue partout, en s’associant aux notions de rupture, dépossession et délogement. Des mots de l’écrivain Jacques Godbout explicitent le malaise québécois : «nous ne nous sentons jamais tout à fait chez nous; en voyage ou en séjour forcé, nous nous sentons tout aussi à l’aise aux États-Unis qu’en Europe28». Mal à l’aise chez lui, comme l’étranger-orphelin analysé par Kristeva, le Québécois découvre l’errance. Il faudrait reconnaître aussi dans cet exil existentiel et historique le point de départ pour la prise de possession symbolique du pays natal réalisée par des auteurs québécois. Un tel mouvement d’adhésion à la terre natale confirmerait d’ailleurs les mots de Kristeva : «dès que les étrangers ont une action ou une

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passion, ils s’enracinent29». À ce propos, le poème «Arbres» de Paul-Marie Lapointe apparaît comme un texte exemplaire de la littérature de la fondation du territoire. Le modèle d’exil consacré dans notre littérature se dégage du poème «Canção do exílio» de Gonçalves Dias, texte qui constitue un paradigme dans la production littéraire brésilienne selon le critique Antônio Cândido30. Ayant été l’objet d’un grand nombre de parodies et de paraphrases dans le domaine littéraire et dans l’univers de la chanson populaire, ce poème est toujours repris par les partisans de la «mythologie verte-jaune31» qui tiennent à déguiser notre propre géographie et notre propre histoire derrière l’image hyperbolique d’une nature tropicale. De nos jours, il nous est de plus en plus difficile d’adhérer à un tel discours, puisque les conditions sociales et les circonstances économiques et politiques nient toutes les illusions. Chassés d’un paradis tropical (a-t-il vraiment existé un jour?), il nous faudrait l’atteindre ailleurs. À ce sujet, le poème «Nova canção do exílio» («Nouvelle chanson de l’exil») de Paulo Mendes Campos, publié au Jornal do Brasil (l’un des principaux journaux brésiliens) constitue un texte révélateur des rapports actuels entre les Brésiliens et leur pays. Voulant à tout prix s’évader de l’enfer brésilien, le poète ne choisit pas un site en particulier pour placer le nouvel Eldorado. Son but, c’est de vivre n’importe où hors d’une terre dépossédée de ses biens. Grâce à sa débrouillardise — et à l’exercice de la «malandragem32» — le sujet poétique, porte-parole des aspirations collectives, se montre prêt à s’adapter à d’autres cultures. En tournant le dos au pays tropical, il rêve par instants aux douceurs de l’été canadien : «Je veux me chauffer dans la blancheur de l’été du Canada». Tout se passe comme si, las et déçu d’être brésilien, Dieu s’était décidé à devenir cosmopolite. Pourtant, si malgré tout on continue à insister sur l’existence d’un Dieu brésilien, il faudrait trouver l’explication pour nos difficultés collectives. C’est à des vers de Carlos Drummond de Andrade que nous l’empruntons : «Et si Dieu était gaucher et avait tout créé de sa main gauche? Cela expliquerait peut- être les choses de ce monde33». Les choses de notre «paradis tropical», au moins, si l’on tient à faire encore appel à une mythologie pour lire l’Amérique.

La conquête quotidienne de l’Amérique : l’exercice de pratiques spatiales privilégiéés Marcher, c’est manquer de lieu. (Michel de Certeau)34 Traverser, franchir des espaces aux frontières contraignantes, c’est bien évidemment s’affranchir d’une inertie. (Simon Harel)35 Rouler est une forme spectaculaire d’amnésie. Tout est à découvrir, tout est à effacer. (Jean Baudrillard)36

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Comme nous avons déjà dit, la conquête du continent américain — au moins pour les habitants de l’Autre Amérique — est loin d’être achevée, ayant lieu au jour le jour à travers les gestes plus ou moins imperceptibles de ceux qui n’ont jamais occupé le centre de l’Histoire. C’est pourquoi une réflexion autour du quotidien peut s’avérer enrichissante. Selon Henri Lefebvre37, bien que la question du quotidien ait acquis une plus grande visibilité dans le cadre actuel des recherches académiques, son irruption dans la littérature n’est pas un fait nouveau, en ayant été annoncée depuis longtemps. Pour l’auteur français, la découverte du quotidien entraîne la révélation d’une richesse cachée, déguisée sous l’ensemble d’activités à première vue insignifiantes mais qui tissent l’essence de la propre Histoire. Marqué par un jeu complexe de répressions et d’échappatoires, d’oppressions et d’appropriations, le quotidien se définit d’abord par son ambivalence. En dialoguant de très près avec certains passages du livre d’Henri Lefebvre, Agnes Heller38 nous donne aussi des supports pour examiner cette question. Pour cette représentante de l’École de Budapeste, la vie quotidienne est au centre même du devenir historique. Dans sa lecture, l’accès à la maturité dépend de l’acquisition de toutes les habiletés nécessaires à l’exercice du quotidien à l’intérieur du groupe social où tous doivent apprendre des règles et des codes et où tous peuvent inscrire les marques de leurs possibilités de liberté. De cette façon, l’homo quotidianus est à la fois réceptif et actif, surtout parce que le quotidien est chargé non seulement de limites (le rythme fixe, la répétition, la régularité) mais aussi de choix, de possibilités et de spontanéité. Dans le domaine de la Nouvelle Histoire, le quotidien occupe aussi une place importante. Selon Lucien Febvre, quand l’historien se trouve face au manque de documents écrits, il doit tirer parti de tout ce qui exprime l’homme, démontre sa présence, ses activités, ses goûts et ses manières d’être. Le désir — cher à Febvre — de faire parler les choses muettes et les hommes considérés sans qualité apparaît aussi dans le texte «L’histoire du quotidien» de Jacques Le Goff39. D’après lui, inscrit au sein même de l’Histoire, le quotidien est vécu à partir du corps et de ses relations avec les objets. La valorisation des rapports journaliers établis par l’homme entre son corps et l’environnement est à la base de la lecture du quotidien proposée par Michel de Certeau. En reconnaissant partout dans l’expérience quotidienne la créativité de la part des individus, il y détache les pratiques productrices par lesquelles l’homme exerce la capacité de s’approprier l’espace. Ainsi, dans l’anonymat de la culture ordinaire, il identifie les ruses capables de court-circuiter la mise en scène institutionnelle grâce à l’adoption de l’anti-discipline. Là aussi la théorie insiste sur le caractère ambivalent de la vie quotidienne, considérée comme ce qui nous est donné et nous opprime à la fois. En nous appuyant sur les textes de Michel de Certeau, dans notre analyse de la découverte de l’Amérique dans des textes brésiliens, québécois et acadiens, nous rehausserons en particulier la symbologie de la marche et l’expérience du désert.

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Le trajet scripturaire de la marche et des traversées Mémoire et palimpseste, le paysage du quotidien est toujours dessiné par l’empreinte laissée par les pieds des piétons dont la marche, comme l’acte de l’énonciation, permet la mise en pratique de certaines virtualités, en laissant de côté d’autres possibilités de réalisation. Exercice de la liberté ayant lieu dans un endroit plutôt réduit comme le quartier ou dans un domaine plus vaste (toute l’étendue de la ville), elle confère au marcheur l’occasion de réécrire la cartographie urbaine et de bâtir son trajet scripturaire au coeur même de la ville texte. Lieu de transformations et d’appropriations sans fin, la ville s’insinue comme invitation aux déplacements qui assurent la pleine réalisation spatiale de quelques sites en particulier au détriment d’autres. Incapables de séduire les pas des marcheurs, ces sites resteraient à l’état virtuel comme une princesse endormie à l’attente du baiser capable de la réveiller.40 L’éventail des possibilités offertes par la poétique de la circulation est très vaste : à côté de la marche on pourrait considérer les valeurs multiples des divers moyens de locomotion qui confèrent au corps des relations particulières avec l’espace. Au-delà des différences propres à chaque modalité, il faut à rappeler que l’existence humaine s’associe de très près aux pratiques de déplacement. Parmi celles-ci une place spéciale doit être accordée aux voyages. Selon Sergio Paulo Rouanet41,l’homo viator est à l’origine de l’homo sapiens, le voyage — rattaché au choix, au désir et aux rêves — servant à distinguer l’homme des animaux (ceux-ci ne connaissent que des migrations). Envisagé sous les traits du passager métropolitain dont le regard doit accompagner le rythme de plus en plus accéléré des signes de la vitesse présents un peu partout, l’homme contemporain établit de nouvelles relations avec l’espace (cf. par exemple la platitude des paysages entrevus par la vitre d’une voiture en mouvement). Au contraire du piéton qui imprime la marque de ses pas au corps urbain où il crée des pauses, des intervalles, des ellipses, le passager ne se déplace pas tout seul, étant conduit à sa destination par un moyen de transport.42 De toute façon, là aussi on identifie le sens de la traversée d’espaces dont parle Simon Harel : il s’agit de s’affranchir d’une inertie, d’échapper à la monotonie de la permanence pour s’engager dans la voie des transformations. Là nous touchons presque naturellement à la question de la découverte — ou de l’invention — de l’Amérique, terre promise qui suscita la mouvance de beaucoup d’Européens. Las peut-être de l’inertie du Vieux Monde, ils aspiraient à s’aventurer dans la voie de l’utopie incarnée par le Nouveau Monde qui, en dépit de sa «nouveauté», sous plusieurs aspects, correspondait à leurs attentes. Prototype de l’Européen qui abandonna les limites de son village en faveur de la conquête du continent américain, le personnage Madruga du roman A república dos sonhos saisit la parenté entre deux manifestations de l’archétype du paradis : Sur la proue, tourmenté par les sifflements des sirènes, Madruga décida de tuer sa famille avec la fermeté des pélerins qui avaient quitté leurs maisons sans aucurne garantie de retour. Saint-Jacques de

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Compostelle était comparable à l’Amérique. Dans tous les siècles il y a eu une terre à rêver. À poursuivre.43 Espace propice aux métamorphoses et aux mobilités de toutes sortes, l’Amérique est toujours disponible à de nouvelles découvertes, à d’autres regards et à d’autres déplacements. Dans le cadre américain il faudrait distinguer deux types de mobilité : si d’une part on reconnaît le mouvement comme signe majeur de la liberté, d’autre part, on ne doit pas oublier les traces laissées sur le sol par des exilés, victimes d’exclusions propres aux histoires coloniales et de délogements sans cesse renouvelés dans le quotidien. Centrés autour de l’expérience de délogements successifs, deux romans retiennent notre attention : Le premier jardin d’Anne Hébert et A república dos sonhos de Nélida Piñon. L’exil y est vécu au féminin : dans les deux cas, les personnages réussissent à surmonter leur dépossession originale, en transformant la perte en sentiment d’appartenance à leurs pays respectifs. Bien sûr qu’il n’y a pas là la rencontre du continent américain, mais il s’esquisse peu à peu dans les textes des différences significatives par rapport à l’Europe. Dans le roman brésilien, où l’on dénonce la tendance au mimétisme dans notre architecture, l’apparent échec de Caetana Toledo est la garantie de sa réussite : en n’arrivant pas à mener jusqu’au bout son projet de mimer Maria Callas, Caetana assure sa propre identité. Dans le texte d’Anne Hébert, comme nous le verrons, il s’avère impossible de retourner au premier jardin conçu en tant que copie du modèle français. Dans ces deux romans, l’activité déambulatoire est celle de l’actrice : en sautant des intervalles (les frontières entre le non-être et l’être, les limites entre des villes remplaçables à l’infini) et en cherchant toujours d’autres corps- espaces à habiter, Flora Fontanges et Caetana Toledo ne connaissent jamais le repos. À cause du caractère nomade de sa «race» (les gens dépossédés du théâtre «mambembe»), Caetana assume la mouvance comme la meilleure forme de consacrer les petites histoires anonymes d’un autre Brésil : «c’est à nous de parcourir le Brésil dans la certitude de son existence. [...] Justement nous qui ne payons pas l’assurance sociale44.» En préférant les routes de toutes les possibilités à la sûreté et aux limites d’un foyer, Caetana reconnaît dans l’errance l’occasion d’entrer en contact avec un pays toujours absent des pages de l’histoire officielle. À la suite de son oncle, chef d’une troupe qui a parcouru le Brésil d’un bout à l’autre, Caetana réécrit les coulisses de notre histoire collective. Tout se passe comme si elle illustrait la parenté entre la marche et l’écriture suggérée dans le discours de Breta (A república dos sonhos) : Si je n’étais pas écrivaine, grand-père, je serais un flâneur. Comme ceux qui errent par les routes, sans un toit sûr. En touchant de leurs pieds chaque coin du Brésil. Ce n’est ainsi que je pourrais connaître la misère et la crédulité de ces visages anonymes, répandus dans des endroits trop distants.45 Après un long exil en France, Flora Fontanges rentre à Québec, où elle doit faire face aux souvenirs d’une enfance douloureuse incrustés dans les pierres

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de sa ville natale qu’elle se refuse à nommer. Dans tout le roman, il s’établit un parallélisme entre la marche et le propre discours : de même que les pas de l’actrice se détournent des endroits interdits (= les lieux de ses peurs, de ses fantasmes), on reconnaît dans le texte des détours verbaux pour éviter l’identification de la ville.46 Par contre, en tirant parti de l’énonciation piétonnière, Flora fait appel à des points de repère rassurants et à l’habitabilité de certains endroits grâce à l’évocation de noms propres. À partir du nom d’une rue, Flora reconstruit le quotidien, l’odeur et les petits gestes d’une femme disparue dans la nuit des temps de la Nouvelle France. En s’appropriant «sur-le-champ l’âme et le corps de Barbe Abbadie47», Flora assume le féminin de sa ville, métonymie de sa patrie (ou plutôt de sa matrie). En remontant vers le passé, Flora et Raphaël, son jeune ami historien, découvrent la ville de Québec comme un lieu palimpseste formé par des couches temporelles superposées, textes qui se laissent lire sous d’autres discours : «Rues, ruelles, places publiques, Raphaël s’est mis à éplucher la ville de toutes ses vies, siècle après siècle, comme on décolle des couches de papier peint sur un mur48». De même, la métamorphose du jardin comme accumulation d’expériences entassées au fil des temps suggère la profondeur du paysage américain. D’abord l’archétype du paradis n’apparaît que comme simulacre de la géographie de l’Autre, les premiers colons francophones ayant bâti un pays à la ressemblance du modèle français. Toutefois, à la longue «l’image mère s’est effacée dans les mémoires», et les descendants des premiers francophones ont arrangé les jardins «à l’idée du pays auquel ils se ressemblaient de plus en plus49». Cela veut dire que, loin d’être lié à la permanence, le jardin acquiert le sens des métamorphoses, d’acclimatation à un nouveau contexte culturel. Dans cette adaptation du premier jardin à la réalité environnante, il est possible de reconnaître la disponibilité à rompre le cercle paralysant qui atteint souvent les colonisés qui se voient comme des êtres déplacés voire comme des étrangers. Comme nous le savons, à cause de l’angoisse de la perte, les étrangers peuvent se conduire comme des nostalgiques qui se mettent souvent à la quête obsédante de leur communauté primitive dans l’espace de l’Autre. C’est ce qui se dégage dans l’attitude d’Eulalia (A república dos sonhos) qui reconstruit chez elle les petits coins de Sobreira (village de Galicie) ou encore dans les gestes d’étrangers disséminés dans les contes de Gabrielle Roy. Dans «La vallée Houdou», les Doukhobors reconnaissent dans un paysage de l’Ouest canadien les Montagnes Humides de leur patrie. Dans un autre texte, en superposant les collines de la Saskatchewan à celles de son pays, le chinois Sam Lee Wong se révèle comme un nostalgique qui ne s’installe qu’après avoir reconnu les signes de la Chine en Amérique. Quant à Martha et Stépan («Un jardin au bout du monde»), ils reproduisent l’atmosphère presque exacte de la pauvre ferme d’où ils venaient, dans leur Volhynie natale. Ainsi le consentement à la mobilité ne présuppose pas nécessairement la disponibilité aux départs, aux ruptures et à la nouveauté. Cela se manifeste dans l’oeuvre de Gabrielle Roy où les voyages peuvent assumer la forme d’un

107 IJCS / RIÉC périple. À côté du plaisir de s’égarer dans des routes inconnues et marginales (cf. La route d’Altamont) ou dans l’espace de l’Autre («Ely! Ely! Ely!»), il y a chez ses personnages le besoin de points de repère, de liens capables de rassurer les voyageurs par les promesses du retour. Dans la nouvelle «De quoi t’ennuies-tu Éveline?», l’appel de l’extraterritorialité californienne ne correspond pas à une vraie déterritorialisation. Malgré son désir de «traverser la vie en voyageur50», Majorique semble incapable de se détacher de ses racines. En s’installant chez lui aux États-Unis, son premier geste est de planter cinq ou six mille arbres, ce qui suggère l’appropriation de l’espace. Or, en tant que leader de la «petite société des nations51», microcosme familier aux ramifications plurielles (norvégienne, hollandaise et irlandaise), il pense à reproduire aux États-Unis l’espace multiculturel canadien. Comme son frère, tout en ayant traversé la frontière américaine, Éveline n’arrive pas à sortir de son territoire affectif. C’est pourquoi en voyant partout des ressemblances, elle ne découvre ni les États-Unis ni les Américains. En nous permettant un détour vers l’Acadie, nous pourrions évoquer ici le roman Pélagie-la-charrette d’Antonine Maillet. Au contraire d’Éveline, Pélagie découvre plusieurs aspects du quotidien américain lors du déplacement collectif vers la Terre Promise. Dans ce roman centré sur la saga acadienne où s’associent le contenu épique et le sens carnavalesque, Antonine Maillet raconte l’expérience de beaucoup d’Acadiens qui, à la suite du «grand dérangement», entreprennent un long voyage de retour vers l’Acadie. Après quinze ans d’exil en Géorgie, guidé par Pélagie, un «peuple en marche» décide de rentrer au pays «par la porte arrière et sur la pointe des pieds52». Construit autour de l’axe d’une longue marche orientée vers un but précis, le roman propose encore une traversée dans l’espace et dans le temps des Américains. Ainsi, le voyage de la Géorgie vers l’Acadie permet le passage par la Caroline, la Virginie, le Maryland, la Pennsylvanie, le Massachusetts et le Maine. Grâce à l’entrecroisement des intrigues, les personnages acadiens se mêlent aux événements qui ont lieu dans les colonies anglaises au moment de l’indépendance américaine. Par des incursions des Acadiens dans le paysage et l’histoire des États-Unis, le texte privilégie une sorte d’exploration de l’Amérique, lieu de convergences et de la rencontre de voix/voies plurielles. Au cours de dix ans de charrette tirée par des bœufs, les personnages participent à une sorte d’odyssée où le merveilleux n’est pas absent. Au périple terrestre s’ajoute l’aventure maritime : mûs par l’élan du rêve et du désir, la charrette de Pélagie et la goélette légendaire du capitaine Beausoleil tracent sur terre et sur mer l’itinéraire de la quête du pays mythique. Malgré la mort de Pélagie (comme Moïse, elle n’arrive pas à toucher le sol de la Terre Promise), le prestige de la traversée se maintient. Pour les Acadiens, on a beau avoir effacé l’Acadie des cartes officielles, celle-ci continue à exister dans les paysages affectifs de la mémoire, en suscitant toujours l’appel d’autres voyages.

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Le désert : épiphanies du féminin et de l’Amérique Depuis la préhistoire, j’avais commencé ma marche à travers le désert, et sans étoile pour me guider, la perdition seule me guidant, l’égarement seul me guidant — jusqu’à ce que, presque terrassée par l’extase de la fatigue, illuminée par la passion, je trouve enfin l’écrin. Et dans cet écrin, étincelant de gloire, le secret caché.53

Une autre forme de vivre l’Amérique concerne l’expérience du désert qui, dans ce cas, au lieu de valoriser la suggestion de la profondeur (cf. les endroits palimpsestes), suscite plutôt l’écoulement rapide d’images qui se succèdent sans fin. Écran où circule le regard, le désert favorise l’apprentissage de la vitesse, du vertige et de l’horizontalité absolue. Et pourquoi pas de la beauté puisque celle-ci est aride54 comme il apparaît dans la poétique de Clarice Lispector où elle peut se manifester grâce à la traversée du vide et du silence? À côté de la qualité proprement topographique du désert, d’autres valeurs s’insinuent. Métaphore d’un monde où les liens affectifs se raréfient et s’étiolent de plus en plus, le désert peut être vécu dans les interlignes55 des zones habitées, au cœur même de la ville (cf. l’appel de la campagne-oasis dans Bonheur d’occasion et Alexandre Chênevert de Gabrielle Roy) ou encore dans un lieu circonscrit (cf. la déambulation par le «désert dans une chambre à l’intérieur du roman A paixão segundo G.H.). La richesse de ce symbole nous offre d’autres pistes de lecture : dans la tradition islamique, sous son étendue stérile et superficielle, doit être cherchée la Réalité, ce qui évoque la quête de la Terre Promise par les Hébreux à travers le désert du Sinaï. Dans la Bible, terre aride et désolée, le désert est le repaire des démons, l’espace du châtiment d’Israël et de la tentation de Jésus. Lieu épiphanique, le désert constitue aussi le cadre pour les manifestations divines. En outre, marqué par l’ambivalence, cet endroit peut être associé à la fécondité ou à la stérilité selon la présence ou l’absence de Dieu.56 Avant de réflechir sur la possibilité de la redécouverte du continent américain à partir de la traversée du désert — comme c’est le cas du roman Le désert mauve — rappelons rapidement les liens entre le désert et le féminin, l’une des voies d’accès au texte de Nicole Brossard. En analysant la question du féminin à la lumière de la perspective jungienne, Clarissa Pinkola Estés signale un parallélisme entre le désert et le quotidien vécu par la femme : dans les deux cas, au-dessous de vies à première vue insignifiantes, il y aurait une grande intensité57. Dans cette optique, l’image du désert suppose la notion de profondeur. C’est ce qui se dégage d’un passage du livre A paixão segundo G.H. où, après avoir beaucoup fouillé, la narratrice arrive à des couches primitives, en risquant «de finir par mourir d’inanition sous la pierre écroulée58». Il serait peut-être intéressant de souligner qu’une telle représentation du féminin — vie tenace et cachée sous la surface du monde minéral — apparaît à la fin du roman Kamouraska d’Anne Hébert, à travers l’image d’une femme noire, déterrée vivante dans un champ aride sous les pierres.59 Dans les deux textes, l’expérience du désert s’associe à

109 IJCS / RIÉC l’intensité et à l’avidité absolues, «la faim de vivre» servant à caractériser la femme tellurique d’Anne Hébert et la narratrice du texte de Clarice Lispector. Dans le roman de Nicole Brossard, marquée aussi par l’avidité, Mélanie profite de ses quinze ans pour trouver, dans l’immensité horizontale des autoroutes, d’autres voies pour combler son désir de voir et de savoir. Initiée très tôt à l’hyperréalité des choses excessives et aux espaces délirants, le personnage connaît le défi des obstacles. Si dans le livre de Clarice Lispector, le parcours ayant lieu dans un désert symbolique suggère une ambiance orientale comme cadre d’une expérience mystique (cf. des salamandres, des hiéroglyphes, des sarcophages), le texte de Nicole Brossard conçoit le désert comme une stratégie de lecture de l’espace américain. Dans les deux situations, en se déplaçant dans les voies identitaires, les personnages adoptent le franchissement de toutes les limites, ce qui se passe aussi au niveau textuel proprement dit où l’on reconnaît des pérégrinations féminines au sein même de l’écriture. Le désert mauve privilégie la fragmentation et la déconstruction typiques du postmoderne, en mettant en relief une géographie particulière où la discontinuité et le caractère transitoire des bars, des motels et des piscines contribuent à représenter un monde voué à la désintégration. À plusieurs reprises, le texte rappelle que celle-ci se doit aux effets destructeurs de la bombe atomique dont les premiers essais ont eu lieu en plein désert américain. Dans un texte qui se construit et se déconstruit à partir des apports du féminisme et du postmodernisme, Nicole Brossard présente une double appropriation du désert. D’une part, il est question de l’action masculine dévastatrice dans un espace dominé (cf. les signes de l’explosion et la place du crime dans l’histoire). Orientés par la hantise de la conquête, «des hommes [...] sont venus et ont affirmé que cet espace était enfin conquis60». D’autre part, ayant développé au cours d’histoires d’effacements et d’occultations la connaissance du silence et de l’absence, les femmes seraient plutôt capables de «capter le grand vide61» et l’esthétique de la disparition (cf. Virilio) relatifs au désert. Cette double appropriation de l’espace a été déjà reconnue par Claudine Herrman : Matériel ou mental, l’espace de l’homme est un espace de domination et de hiérarchie, un espace de conquête et d’étalement, un espace plein. [...] La femme au contraire a appris de longue date à respecter non seulement l’espace matériel et mental d’autrui, mais l’espace pour lui-même, l’espace vide.62 Habituée depuis longtemps à «l’érosion, à tous les fantômes vivant dans la pierre et la poussière63», Mélanie entreprend un voyage à travers l’espace américain, les lieux du féminin et le domaine de l’écriture. Rattachée directement à la mouvance — mouvement central du roman — l’activité de la traduction ne saurait être négligée dans la lecture d’un texte où la circulation du désir va du texte originel («Le désert mauve») au texte traduit («Mauve, l’horizon»). En assumant le geste de traduire le livre de Laure Angstelle comme traversée de langues et de cultures, Maude Laures envisage «la dérive comme un choc culturel, une émotion grave semée de miroirs et de

110 En découvrant l’Amérique

mirages64». En paraphrasant une phrase de Nicole Brossard, nous dirions qu’il faut, pour traduire, être un sujet en mouvement et en recherche65. Dans le «corps à corps» avec le texte à être créé ou traduit, l’écrivain et le traducteur se trouvent face au désert de la page blanche. En condensant les valeurs à première vue contradictoires (d’une part, la sédimentation de toutes les ères géologiques; de l’autre la suggestion du vide), le désert incarne l’ambivalence de la page blanche où coexistent, selon Michel Schneider, le trop plein et le trop vide66. En concevant la possibilité de «retrouver ce temps d’avant l’écriture67», Mélanie (et aussi Maude Laures) se rapprochent de la poétique de Clarice Lispector où il est possible de vivre «un vide qui s’appelle aussi plénitude68», l’échec du langage étant la condition nécessaire pour l’épanouissement des épiphanies. Finalement, nous pourrions lire l’Amérique à la lumière de la métaphore du désert — page blanche. Si, au fil des siècles, les paysages américains ont été envisagés à partir d’images superposées (comme les catégories du ciel et de l’enfer), ce qui pourrait suggérer que tout a été déjà dit, d’autre part, notre continent reste encore à être assumé, reconstruit, révélé et traduit comme si tout était encore à dire. De même que la princesse des contes de fées est toujours susceptible d’être réveillée, l’Amérique (une «continent femme69») pour reprendre Nicole Brossard, nous invite toujours à orienter l’itinéraire de nos rêves et de nos fantaisies vers le réservoir de ses promesses qui attendent d’être habitées.

Conclusion Au long de nos réflexions à propos de la représentation de la découverte quotidienne de l’Amérique dans des textes brésiliens et canadiens de langue française, nous avons observé que la quête de la maîtrise de l’espace — traduite par l’activité de la marche et des traversées plurielles — correspond au désir de compenser le sentiment de dépossession éprouvé par des êtres colonisés et/ou minoritaires. Ayant connu l’expérience réelle ou symbolique de l’exil, les personnages aspirent à récupérer le lieu de l’origine, identifié à une ville, au pays, au continent et au propre féminin. Conçu comme un mouvement toujours renouvelé, l’origine s’éloigne de toute idée d’essence et d’immobilité, en s’insinuant plutôt comme une recherche. Recherche à être assumée à partir du refus d’étiquettes réductrices et fallacieuses (comme les mythes du paradis et de l’enfer). Le relief accordé à l’analyse de textes centrés sur une perspective féminine n’est pas gratuit. En proposant des liens entre le féminin (comme stratégie de lecture) et notre continent (envisagé comme construction fictionnelle), nous avons suggéré une nouvelle appropriation de l’Amérique. Finalement, quant au choix de la littérature comparée comme voie méthodologique adoptée ici, nous croyons qu’elle constitue un outil efficace, capable de tenir compte de la situation de l’entre-lieu vécue par l’autre Amérique. Entre l’ici et l’ailleurs, entre le ciel et l’enfer, entre le passé et le

111 IJCS / RIÉC présent, entre l’immobilité et l’errance, cette Amérique nous invite à d’autres voyages, en nous incitant à y inscrire nos propres désirs.

Notes 1. Aujourd’hui on espère que la récente création du Mercosul servira à combler l’hyatus établi entre les pays de l’Autre Amérique. Un des premiers effets de cette initiative gouvernementale concerne l’esso de l’enseignement de la langue espagnole dans nos écoles où il n’existait pas. 2. Morin, Michel & Bertrand, Claude. Le territoire imaginaire de la culture. Montréal : Brèches Hurtubise HMH, 1979. p. 13. 3. Hébert, Anne. «Poésie, solitude rompue». In : Poèmes. Paris : Seuil, 1960. p. 71. 4. Morin, Michel & Bertrand, Claude. op. cit. p. 14. 5. Ibid., p. 14. 6. Ibid., p. 14. 7. Ibid., p. 103. 8. En reprenant l’analyse d’Édouard Glissant (Le discours antillais. Paris : Seuil, 1981), il faudrait vérifier si dans les textes centrés sur la recherche de l’extraterritorialité, cette quête de l’espace de l’Autre constitue un détour capable de permettre le retour enrichissant au lieu d’origine. 9. Maillet, Antonine. Mariaagélas. Ottawa : Leméac, 1973. p. 10. 10. À propos de l’ambivalence du quotidien, voir les travaux d’Henri Lefebvre, Agnes Heller et Michel de Certeau. 11. Ribeiro, Darcy. América Latina : a Pátria Grande. Rio de Janeiro : Guanabara, 1986. p. 65. 12. Piñon, Nélida. A República dos Sonhos. Rio de Janeiro : Francisco Alves, 1984. p. 25. 13. Todorov, Tvzetan. A conquista da América. A questão do Outro. São Paulo : Martins Fontes, 1988. p. 4. 14. Piñon, Nélida. op. cit., p. 269. 15. Apud Rioux, Marcel. Les Québécois. Paris : Seuil, 1974. p. 70. 16. Holanda, Sérgio Buarque de. Raízes do Brasil. Rio de Janeiro : José Olympio, 1988. p. 33. 17. Kristeva, Julia. Étrangers à nous-mêmes. Paris : Fayard, 1988. 18. Bouthillette, Jean. Le Canadien français et son double. Ottawa : Hexagone, 1972. p. 76. 19. Chevalier, Jean & Gheerbrant, Alain. Dictionnaire des symboles. Paris : Seghers, 1973. 20. Holanda, Sérgio Buarque de. Visão do paraíso. Os motivos edênicos no descobrimento e colonização do Brasil. São Paulo : Companhia Editora Nacional, 1977. p. 265-266. 21. Souza, Laura de Mello e. O diabo e a terra de Santa Cruz : feitiçaria e religiosidade popular no Brasil colonial. São Paulo : Companhia das Letras, 1986. 22. Ibid., p. 78. 23. Le Goff, Jacques. A bolsa e a vida. Economia e religião na Idade Média. São Paulo : Brasiliense, 1989. 24. Bouthillette, Jean. op. cit. p. 75. 25. «Sertanejo» = l’habitant du «sertão», zone semi-aride du Brésil. 26. Bosi, Alfredo. Céu, inferno. Ensaios de crítica literária e ideológica. São Paulo : Ática, 1988. p. 11. 27. Souza, Laura de Mello e. op. cit., p. 79. 28. Mots cités par Bosquet, Alain. «Introduction». In : La poésie canadienne contemporaine de langue française. Paris : Seghers, 1966. p. 20. 29. Kristeva, Julia. op. cit., p. 19. 30. Cândido, Antônio. A educação pela noite e outros ensaios. São Paulo : Ática, 1987. p. 141. 31. Sur la mythologie vert-jaune (le vert et le jaune sont les couleurs de notre drapeau national), nous nous référons au livre : CHAUÍ, Marilena. Conformismo e resistência. Aspectos da cultura popular no Brasil. São Paulo : Brasiliense, 1987. 32. Chez nous, la figure du malandro, toujours reprise dans des textes littéraires et dans la chanson populaire, désigne l’exercice de la débrouillardise, un «art de faire» propre à notre culture. 33. Andrade, Carlos Drummond de. Corpo. Rio de Janeiro : Record, 1984. p. 61.

112 En découvrant l’Amérique

34. De Certeau, Michel. L’invention du quotidien. I. Arts de faire. Paris : Gallimard, 1990. p. 155. 35. Harel, Simon. Le voleur de parcous : identité et cosmopolitisme dans la littérature québécoise contemporaine. Montréal : Les Éditions du Préambule, 1989. p. 160. 36. Baudrillard, Jean. América. Rio de Janeiro : Rocco, 1986. p. 14. (C’est nous qui traduisons) 37. Lefebvre, Henri. A vida cotidiana no mundo moderno. São Paulo : Ática, 1991. p. 156. 38. Heller, Agnes. O cotidiano e a História. São Paulo : Paz e Terra, 1992. 39. Le Goff, Jacques. «A história do quotidiano». In : DUBY, Georges et alii. História e nova história. Lisboa : Teorema, 1989. 40. Comme le dit Michel de Certeau (op. cit., p. 162) : «Le souvenir est seulement un prince charmant de passage, qui réveille, un moment, les Belles-au-bois-dormant de nos histoires sans paroles», ce qui suggère le pouvoir de la mémoire comme régénératrice de paysages que l’on pourrait considérer comme morts. 41. Rouanet, Sergio Paulo. A razão nômade. Rio de Janeiro : Editora UFRJ, 1993. p. 7. 42. Tel est l’avis de Paul Virilio dans une interview publiée dans América : depoimentos. São Paulo : Companhia das Letras; Rio de Janeiro : Videofilmes, 1989. p. 136. 43. Piñon, Nélida. op. cit., p. 120. 44. Ibid., p. 105. 45. Ibid., p. 704. 46. Hébert, Anne. Le premier jardin. Paris : Seuil, 1988. Dans le premier chapitre, on peut dégager des tournures employées pour éviter l’identification de la ville : «une ville lointaine», «une ville du Nouveau Monde» (p. 9); «le nom redouté» (p. 10). 47. Ibid., p. 52. 48. Ibid., p. 75. 49. Ibid., p. 77. 50. Roy, Gabrielle. De quoi t’ennuies - tu, Éveline? suivi de Ely! Ely! Ely! Récits. Montréal : Boréal Express, 1984. p. 11. 51. Ibid., p. 72. 52. Maillet, Antonine. Pélagie-la-charrette. Bibliothèque québécoise, 1990. p. 13. 53. Lispector, Clarice. La passion selon G.H. Paris : Des Femmes, 1985. p. 154. 54. Cf. en particulier Lispector, Clarice. A maçã no escuro. Rio de Janeiro : Francisco Alves, 1961. 55. Baudrillard, Jean. op. cit., p. 60. 56. Chevalier, Jean & Gheerbrant, Alain. op. cit. 57. Estés, Clarissa Pinkola. Mulheres que correm com os lobos. Mitos e histórias do arquétipo da mulher selvagem. Rio de Janeiro : Rocco, 1996. p. 55-56. 58. Lispector, Clarice. 1985. p. 121. 59. Hébert, Anne. Kamouraska. Paris : Seuil, 1970. p. 250. 60. Brossard, Nicole. Le désert mauve. Montréal : Hexagone, 1987. p. 136. 61. Ibid., p. 136. 62. Herrman, Claudine. Des voleuses de langue. Paris : Des Femmes, 1976. p. 139. Cette représentation des rapports entre l’homme (= conquérant) et l’espace (l’objet de la conquête et de la destruction) est très nette dans le conte «O homem que espalhou o deserto» (BRANDÃO, Ignácio de Loyola. Cadeiras proibidas. Rio de Janeiro : Codecri, 1979). 63. Brossard, Nicole. op. cit., p. 12. 64. Ibid., p. 61. 65. Brossard, Nicole. La lettre aérienne. Montréal : Les Éditions du Remue-Ménage, 1985. p. 124. 66. Schneider, Michel. Voleurs de mots. Essai sur le plagiat, la psychanalyse et la pensée. Paris : Gallimard, 1985. 67. Brossard, Nicole. Le désert mauve. p. 30. 68. Lispector, Clarice. Um sopro de vida. (Pulsações). Rio de Janeiro : Nova Fronteira, 1978. p. 81. 69. Brossard, Nicole. Amantes. Montréal : Le Quinze, 1980. p. 106.

113 Greg Donaghy

The Politics of Indecision: Canada and the Anglo- American Caribbean Commission, 1941-47

Abstract This article explores the Canadian government’s attitude during the 1940s to the prospect of closer relations with the British Caribbean colonies. The disruption in normal relations precipitated by the Second World War and an invitation to help develop the economic and social potential of the West Indies through the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission prompted a lengthy and inconclusive debate in Ottawa over the merits of a closer and deeper association with this region. In tracing this discussion, this paper documents the conflicting tensions — practical and idealistic — that defined Canada’s approach to the British West Indies. It suggests that Canada’s failure to take decisive action in its relations with the Caribbean on the eve of decolonization deprived it of a voice in regional affairs until the mid-1960s.

Résumé Le présent article porte sur l’attitude du gouvernement canadien au cours des années 1940 face à l’éventualité d’un resserrement des liens avec les colonies britanniques dans les Caraïbes. La perturbation des relations habituelles en raison de la Seconde Guerre mondiale et une invitation à contribuer au développement du potentiel socio-économique des Antilles grâce à la Commission anglo-américaine des Caraïbes ont motivé un long débat stérile à Ottawa quant au bien-fondé d’un lien resserré et approfondi avec cette région du globe. En relatant ces pourparlers, le présent article permet de documenter les tensions conflictuelles (entre la pratique et la théorie) qui ont façonné l’approche du Canada face aux Antilles britanniques. Cet article laisse entendre que l’absence de mesures fermes de la part du Canada dans ses relations avec les Caraïbes à la veille de la décolonisation ont brimé son droit de regard sur les affaires de cette région jusqu’au milieu des années 1960.

While the British West Indies had never been a central concern of Canadian foreign policy, by 1941, Canadian-Caribbean relations were ripe for re- examination.1 The product of almost two centuries of social, political and economic interaction, the relationship was solidly grounded in sentiments of mutual goodwill and affection, reflecting a common imperial heritage.2 World War II injected into this association a new vitality. Following the collapse of France, Canada sent troops and destroyers to the Caribbean at the request of the British government.3 Canadian investments in bauxite mining increased dramatically as aluminum production became vitally important in Canada’s war effort. Canadian transportation interests, subsidized by Ottawa under the terms of the Canada-British West Indies Trade Agreement (1925), provided an

International Journal of Canadian Studies / Revue internationale d’études canadiennes 13, Spring/Printemps 1996 IJCS / RIÉC increasingly important link between Canada and the Caribbean, and played a vital role in inter-island shipping. In 1941, for the first time ever, this service began to turn a small profit. Stimulated by the war, trade between Canada and the Commonwealth Caribbean almost doubled in the first three years of the conflict. Characterized by the exchange of Canadian salt-fish, wheat and flour for sugar, molasses and rum, this trade grew in total volume from $26 million in 1939 to $49 million in 1941.4 This pattern of trade, like the decision to assist in the region’s defense, reflected an outdated, but still comfortable, imperial legacy. By the spring of 1941, however, the shifting balance of power in the Caribbean threatened to upset this convenient and familiar relationship. As American forces moved into the British Caribbean under the provisions of the 1940 “destroyers-for-bases-deal,” Washington became concerned about the stability of this frequently ignored and impoverished corner of the British Empire. In April 1941, President F.D. Roosevelt formally proposed the creation of an Anglo-American commission to promote development within the region. In Britain, this demonstration of American interest was greeted cautiously but warmly. London’s growing commitment to a more progressive colonial development policy and its determination to demonstrate the mutual benefits of Anglo-American collaboration fed smoothly into the American initiative. On 9 March 1942, the two countries agreed to establish the Anglo- American Caribbean Commission (AACC), an advisory body intended to study and make recommendations to both governments on “labour, agriculture, housing, health, education, social welfare, finance, economics and related subjects.”5 The six-member commission, however, assumed an importance that exceeded its mandate. Standing as an early example of international cooperation in colonial development and soon linked to the larger question of the postwar fate of British colonialism, the AACC’s establishment signalled the quickening pace of the region’s political and economic evolution.6 Repeated invitations to join the AACC between 1941 and 1947 presented Canada with an ideal opportunity to re-define and modernize its relationship with the Caribbean. Despite the emerging consensus among Ottawa policy- makers on Canada’s need to pursue an active postwar foreign policy, a forward-looking approach to relations with the British West Indies failed to develop.7 Initially, Ottawa’s reluctance to accept a larger role in the Caribbean stemmed from a lingering fear that involvement might somehow saddle Canada with Britain’s imperial responsibilities. The creation of the AACC, however, raised a number of issues which seemed to demand an augmented Canadian presence in the region. Canada’s regional economic interests, which were threatened by the growing American presence, required a vigorous defense. Similarly, to many observers, Canada seemed ideally placed to play some role in the region as the West Indies moved slowly but steadily towards independence. But as decolonization emerged as an issue, growing Anglo- American discord over colonial policy and an increasing fear of postwar economic dislocation dictated a more cautious approach. Ultimately, Ottawa proved unwilling to choose clearly between involvement and disengagement,

116 The Politics of Indecision trying ineffectually to preserve the benefits of the former imperial relationship while avoiding the costs of a more mature partnership. Canadian policy-makers were confronted with the problem of re-defining Canadian-Caribbean relations in May 1941 when Britain first informed Ottawa of the American scheme for establishing an advisory committee in the Caribbean. Though acknowledging Canada’s stake in the region’s economy, London asked Ottawa not to press immediately for membership lest the Americans then insist upon inviting representation from the South American republics.8 The reaction within the Department of External Affairs, where the American proposal was given what little serious scrutiny it received, was decidedly reassuring. Escott Reid, a second secretary working on inter- American affairs, scornfully dismissed the Anglo-American proposal as a traditional British effort to involve Canada in the operation and administration of Britain’s colonial empire. Equating this Anglo-American demarche with Lloyd George’s 1919 proposal that Canada assume some responsibility for its colonial empire in the Caribbean, Reid emphatically insisted that “we do not want membership on it [the AACC] since we do not want to be put in a position where the United Kingdom could unload some of its economic responsibilities for the dependencies on us.”9 While agreeing that Canada should reserve the right to participate on the committee, Reid did not anticipate ever having to assert this right in defence of Canada’s preferential trading status in the region. Officials in the Colonial Office were relieved by the Canadian response, although slightly baffled by Ottawa’s refusal to exert itself more strongly in defense of its interests in the Caribbean. The Canadian position, though short- sighted, was understandable. Since 1921, Canada had consistently and successfully sought to disengage its foreign policy from that of Great Britain. The Canadian prime minister, William Lyon Mackenzie King, retained a profound suspicion of any British proposal which might revive the constricting institutional ties which once bound Canada to the Empire.10 King’s opposition to British imperialism was fully shared by most officials in the Department of External Affairs. In issuing this apparently definitive refusal to become entangled in Caribbean affairs, Reid and Norman Robertson, the under-secretary of state, were simply reflecting a traditional concern of Canadian foreign policy. Ironically, however, their anti-colonial instincts obscured their consideration of how important Canada’s own economic interests in the region had become through its willing participation in the economic opportunities provided by British imperialism. Within months, even before the AACC was firmly established, the question of Canadian relations with the commission re-surfaced. Pressing food and transportation problems in the Caribbean, caused by a sudden German submarine offensive, forced the AACC to address these immediate concerns before undertaking its mandated task of studying the region’s long-term social and economic difficulties.11 As the AACC tentatively explored how it might begin to tackle this growing crisis, it was clear that Canadian flour and shipping interests in the region would be affected. Alerted of the Canadian interest by Hume Wrong, assistant under-secretary of state for External Affairs, who tentatively raised with one of the three American commissioners

117 IJCS / RIÉC the question of some form of Canadian liaison, the AACC soon approached Canada formally.12 Both Washington and London, so the British high commissioner in Ottawa informed Norman Robertson, were anxious that Canada participate in a forthcoming AACC conference on provisioning the Caribbean. Robertson had no objection to Canadian participation in a conference clearly limited to short-term economic questions: In view of Canada’s close shipping and trade connections with the British West Indies and their dependence on this country for most of their staple foodstuffs it is, I think, important that Canada be adequately represented in the discussions in Jamaica, which are likely to determine not only the immediate emergency arrangements for provisioning the Islands but also affect post war relations with the United States and Canada.13 With Mackenzie King’s approval, a delegation from Ottawa, led by Dana Wilgress, the deputy minister of Trade and Commerce, set out for Jamaica.14 From the Canadian point of view, the conference was largely successful. Participation was welcomed by representatives of the British West Indies as evidence of Ottawa’s continued interest in the welfare of the islands and in maintaining the traditional maritime relationship. Assisted by Wilgress, Canadian National Steamships (CNS) secured the conference’s approval to develop a system of inter-island shipping networks based in the American Gulf ports. In so smoothly adjusting its service in response to the submarine threat, reported Wilgress, CNS ensured for the time being Canada’s traditional markets in the Caribbean for salt-fish and flour. The conference, however, underlined Canada’s increasingly precarious position in the Caribbean. Though the AACC itself rejected a proposal by the American co-chairman, Charles Taussig, to stockpile American flour in Puerto Rico and so ensure an uninterrupted supply to the Caribbean, Wilgress rightly regarded the plan as an ominous threat to Canadian flour interests in the region.15 Wilgress had reason to worry. Taussig had little regard for the interests of Canada, whose attitude toward the Caribbean he characterized as irresponsible and uninformed. Nor did he make much effort to hide his desire to promote American interests in the region at others’ expense.16 During the summer of 1942, American authorities unilaterally proceeded to stockpile flour in Puerto Rico and used the AACC to pressure colonial authorities in the British West Indies to draw their flour from American rather than Canadian sources. While the quantity initially involved was not significant, Wilgress quickly pointed out to Robertson “that a joint commission, on which we are not represented, is taking steps to divert trade away from Canada.”17 Canada’s traditional ad hoc approach to Caribbean development was clearly insufficient. The whole incident raised the broader question of the nature of Canada’s relationship with the British West Indies: I think we are now very definitely faced with the issue as to whether or not we wish to divorce ourselves entirely from the political and economic future of the British West Indies, or to associate ourselves with the UK and US in order to protect the trade interests we have developed with the British colonies in the Caribbean area. I am more

118 The Politics of Indecision

or less convinced that we shall not be able to hold on to the tariff preferences which we enjoy in the British West Indies in the post-war period, but I do feel that the relinquishment of these trade advantages should be used as a bargaining lever for compensation in other directions and not allowed to go by default, through possible lack of interest.18 Robertson ignored Wilgress’ letter, perhaps hopeful that the issue might simply resolve itself. Unfortunately, the problem showed no sign of disappearing. In early November 1942, Sir George Gater, the permanent under-secretary of state in the Colonial Office, and Sydney Caine, the Colonial Office’s economic advisor, paid a brief visit to Lester Pearson, then minister-counsellor at Canada’s Legation in Washington. Pearson’s guests had disturbing news. Given Britain’s inability to ensure food supplies for the islands, the two British officials explained, it had been decided to allow the United States to establish flour stockpiles in the Caribbean. London, they pointed out, could not afford to alienate the United States by continuing to protect Canadian trade interests. Perhaps, they both suggested, Canada might consider joining the Commission, particularly since American interest in Caribbean affairs seemed certain to expand in the future.19 Despite a new determination in Ottawa to demand a voice in international discussions commensurate with Canada’s responsibilities, no one in Ottawa acted on this suggestion. As Canadian officials well knew, Gater’s visit to Washington had little to do with developments in the Caribbean and everything to do with the burgeoning Anglo-American dispute over the postwar fate of British colonialism. The disagreement had simmered since the summer of 1941 when, after proclaiming the Atlantic Charter, it became apparent that Washington and London could not agree to whom the charter’s third clause on self-determination applied. While Washington insisted that it applied to peoples everywhere, London maintained that it was applicable only to those sovereign nations conquered by Hitler and his allies. Throughout 1942, Britain became increasingly disturbed at the obvious American determination to sponsor an international trusteeship system to oversee decolonization in the postwar era. In early December 1942, the colonial secretary sought to forestall the American effort by securing Washington’s support for a joint declaration on postwar colonial policy that would establish regional commissions with limited trusteeship responsibilities.20 This developing dispute left Canadian officials “in a pretty gloomy frame of mind...due to the obvious lack of understanding between the British and Americans.”21 When asked to comment on the British draft declaration, they were rightly sceptical of its chances of securing American support. The declaration over-emphasized the role of regional commissions in colonial defense, allowed for no participation by disinterested third parties and made no effort to address social and political developments in the colonial territories. Canada suggested several modifications of the British draft to make it more palatable to American opinion. While subsequent consideration of the declaration was conducted solely by officials in London and Washington, the

119 IJCS / RIÉC whole episode alerted the Canadian government to “the great importance of British Colonial policy as a present and future element in the relations of the United States and the United Kingdom.”22 Canada, with the cautious Mackenzie King at the helm, was unlikely to risk becoming embroiled in a controversy between two of its closest allies over an issue in which its own direct interest was relatively small. Robertson was carefully attuned to the prime minister’s thinking, and the under-secretary of state naturally responded with considerable caution when an invitation to participate in an on-going series of conferences hosted by the AACC to discuss social and economic conditions in the Caribbean was received in May 1943. In a draft reply to the British invitation, he focused on the limited economic interests which defined Canada’s relations with the Caribbean: Our interest, while intimate and long established, has been concerned solely with matters of trade....As, however, our interest is not in administration nor in the internal or domestic problems of these territories, we do not feel that any good purpose would be served by participating in the Conference of the Caribbean Commission.23 Robertson’s draft response provoked a heated reaction from some of his colleagues, who were convinced that the continuing Anglo-American discussions on colonial policy underlined the importance these issues would assume in the postwar world. Individuals like Pearson and Hugh Keenleyside, assistant under-secretary of state, were increasingly anxious to see Canada actively contribute to shaping the postwar world and chafed at the constraints imposed by the prime minister’s restraint. These officials seized upon the Caribbean as a region where a greater Canadian role might easily be justified. Supported by several government departments whose economic interests in the Caribbean were being continuously threatened, Pearson and Keenleyside forced the under-secretary to convene an inter-departmental meeting to consider Canada’s relations with the Caribbean.24 At a June 1943 inter-departmental meeting, Keenleyside mounted a sustained attack on the under-secretary’s position. Joined by H.F. Angus and F.H. Soward, the under-secretary’s special wartime assistants, Keenleyside argued that the Anglo-American request represented a test of Canada’s willingness, signalled by its approval of the Atlantic Charter, to deal with “the world problem of backward areas and colonial economies.” Choosing to ignore Canada’s own substantial stake in the region, Keenleyside suggested that, as a disinterested third party, Canada had an international and moral obligation to ensure that neither the United States nor Great Britain sought to use the Caribbean Commission to exploit the dependent peoples of the region.25 Hume Wrong, the department’s consummate realist, rightly questioned the validity of the moral argument when applied to this particular conference. Nevertheless, he reluctantly agreed that Canadian interests in the region necessitated some form of Canadian representation.26 In the face of the combined opposition from within his department, Robertson delayed making a decision. Instead, he informed London that Canada would like more concrete

120 The Politics of Indecision information on the nature of the conference and its proposed agenda before deciding on the character of its representation.27 The debate within the Department of External Affairs continued sporadically throughout the summer and fall of 1943. Advocates of a more active Canadian role in the work of the AACC soon found new allies. Two other special wartime assistants to the under-secretary of state, John Holmes and G. P. de T. Glazebrook, composed a strongly argued paper which went much further than anything then circulating within the department. The social, economic and political problems of the colonial world were almost certain to occupy a prominent position on the future international agenda. They drew obliquely on the liberal notion that international disorder and war were rooted in international poverty, contending that Canada had an inescapable obligation to address these issues in planning for a stable and just postwar order: If prosperity is indeed indivisible, Canada cannot disclaim responsibility for the dependent areas simply on the ground that she has never been a colonial power and desires no “territorial aggrandizement.” The problem of backward peoples is not the result of the selfish exploitation by “imperialist” powers; it is in the nature of things....Doing something about this problem may prove to be the most healthy pre-occupation of the post-war world, and one in which all countries which aspire to a role in world affairs must take part.28 Canada, they recommended, should publicly declare its intention to assist in the social, economic and political development of the British West Indies. Privately, it might begin to discuss with the Colonial Office concrete plans for the provision of technical assistance. Most importantly, argued the two assistants, Canada should immediately assume an active role in the work of the AACC, both to protect its own economic interests in the region and, more fundamentally, to contribute to the development of that region. In London too, the question of Canada’s role in the AACC was being reconsidered. Increased Canadian involvement in the commission’s work, it was thought in the Foreign Office, might help alleviate American hostility to British colonialism and demonstrate to Washington the potential of the British Empire as a suitable postwar partner. The AACC provided an almost perfect means to illustrate this potential. With the support of the Colonial Office, Sir Frank Stockdale, the British co-chairman of the AACC, was sent to Ottawa to sound out Canadian opinion.29 Stockdale’s visit provided Keenleyside with an opportunity to advance his cause quietly and to re-affirm Canada’s interest in the Caribbean and in the work of the AACC. Keenleyside admitted that Canada was unlikely to assume administrative or political responsibilities in the Caribbean. However, the assistant under-secretary forcefully declared, Canada was “definitely and concretely interested in trade with the B[ritish] W[est] I[ndies]...and might be disposed to assist after the war in humanitarian schemes involving the supply of doctors and nurses or the construction of hospitals.”30 Apparently encouraged by Keenleyside’s remarks, the British renewed their invitation to Canada to participate in the first AACC West Indies Conference. The conference was scheduled for the spring of 1944 and its agenda included

121 IJCS / RIÉC immediate supply problems as well as postwar issues concerned with local food production and health care.31 Reaction within the Department of External Affairs remained divided. Both Hume Wrong and H.F. Angus reiterated their support for Canadian participation on the limited grounds “that there was a special Canadian interest in the West Indian colonies.”32 J.S. Macdonald, a counsellor who had accompanied Wilgress to the AACC’s 1942 shipping conference, strongly disagreed: it would be the first step in involving us in West Indies problems for which we are not responsible....The two great empires that are responsible for colonies in that area may launch ambitious projects in the economic and social field for the well-being of these peoples in which we might become involved once we undertook representation at such a conference.33 Prompted by Soward, who reported to him the divisions within the department, Keenleyside broadened his search for supporters. Again, the Department of Trade and Commerce, the Canadian Shipping Board, the Wartime Prices and Trade Board and the Department of Finance were “all unanimously in favour of Canada having representation.” In their view, Canadian trade and shipping interests in the Caribbean clearly required Canada’s presence at the conference.34 Though Keenleyside and Soward had marshalled a formidable group of supporters, Robertson had the advantage of having direct access to the prime minister. In a memorandum tailored for the ever-cautious Mackenzie King, the under-secretary acknowledged the positive views expressed by other departments and by officials within the Department of External Affairs. He presented Macdonald’s view of the long-term implications of Canadian participation as the considered opinion of interested Canadian officials: It is felt that should Canada attend the first of these conferences, whose agenda is mainly concerned with long-range problems of development, it might be taken as proof that Canada is prepared to cooperate in such welfare schemes. While Canada has an interest in the West Indies, based upon trade and commerce, tourist and educational contacts, it has never had a direct political responsibility. It is possible that attendance at the conference might create the impression that Canada was prepared to embark upon a scheme of regional colonial administration.35 At most, suggested Robertson, Canada should only send an observer. Faced with the spectre of Canada becoming a colonial power, King allowed the British invitation to remain unanswered. Ottawa’s lack of response was interpreted by London in the intended manner. Britain still expressed its preference for full Canadian participation, but now suggested that an observer would be just as welcome in light of the limited Canadian interest.36 This proposal struck Robertson and King “as a more reasonable proposition” and plans were made to have the Canadian trade commissioner in Trinidad, G.A. Newman, attend the conference.37 This gesture clearly failed to address the fundamental question surrounding Canada’s future relationship with the Caribbean. Ottawa was unwilling to

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choose between abandoning its traditional trade with the Caribbean and assuming the political and financial risks associated with membership on the AACC, and simply prolonged the debate over Canada’s relationship with the British West Indies. The report submitted by Newman on the 1944 West Indies Conference galvanized opinion in the Department of Trade and Commerce and immediately re-opened the discussion. Undoubtedly influenced by his conversations with Sir Frank Stockdale, Newman was disturbed to learn of Charles Taussig’s apparent determination to use the AACC and the West Indies Conferences as an instrument to promote American and inter-island trade: The Conference revealed the unmistakable intention of the United States to use the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission to open the way for United States trade in the Caribbean, and as far as Canada is concerned, they are at present bowling in an undefended wicket. American support, stressed Newman in his report, had already enabled the rapidly industrializing Puerto Rico to capture the Caribbean market for cement and building materials. Newman recommended that Ottawa immediately clarify its Caribbean policy. Ottawa should increase its diplomatic and political activity in this southern region through membership on the AACC. Such a step would provide an international mechanism to deal with the host of problems associated with the question of Caribbean decolonization, allow Canada to acquaint itself with the emerging nationalist leadership and help preserve Canada’s traditional markets in the region. Canada would not be drawn into the Caribbean’s economic problems “as no actions aside from voluntary undertakings were likely to present themselves.”38 Officials in the Department of Trade and Commerce were not inclined to dismiss Newman’s recommendations and forced Robertson to convene another inter-departmental meeting to re-examine Canada’s relations with the AACC.39 Invited to initiate discussion at this meeting, Newman argued “that Canada should attain membership on the Anglo-American Caribbean Commission as a means of influencing policy at the top level, offsetting the drive for American trade and keeping Canada well in the foreground in the eyes of the British West Indies.”40 While a number of officials agreed with his suspicious view of American intentions in the Caribbean, they also expressed some scepticism about the work of the commission. More seriously, they reminded Newman, the question of Canadian membership on a colonial commission with two other colonial powers had implications which had not yet been sufficiently considered. Once again, the economic and increasingly political arguments for Canadian membership floundered on the unknown costs that might be associated with participating in the commission. For the moment, Canada would simply wait and see how the commission functioned and what role it adopted in the postwar world. Over the course of the following year, however, the attitude of the Department of External Affairs towards involvement in the AACC hardened considerably. In part, this reflected changes within the department itself. By the spring of 1945, both John Holmes and Hugh Keenleyside, early champions of greater Canadian participation in the Caribbean, had been posted abroad and could no

123 IJCS / RIÉC longer bring their influence to bear. Additionally, the department’s growing role in the discussions associated with the postwar settlement stretched its already thin resources to the breaking point and left it disinclined to seek additional responsibilities.41 More problematic, the whole question of colonialism seemed to become much more complicated as the war drew to a close. When the question of the United Nations’ responsibilities for colonial territories was raised in the spring of 1945, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa all joined the discussions. The “wide difference of opinion” among them only compounded the problem of dealing with British “proposals which seemed destined to arouse strong opposition in the United States.”42 Similarly, in August 1945, the AACC informed Ottawa that it intended to invite two additional colonial powers, France and the Netherlands, to participate in its work. These developments reinforced the Department of External Affairs’ determination to avoid potentially troublesome entanglements in colonial questions. Learning that Canada was to receive an invitation to send an observer to the second West Indies Conference, tentatively scheduled for the spring of 1946, Robertson wondered if Canada might not be wiser to decline the invitation.43 Officials in the Department of Trade and Commerce insisted strongly that Canada be represented at least by an observer, while the Department of External Affairs briefly contemplated suppressing even this minor indication of Canadian interest by appealing directly to Mackenzie King.44 Eventually, the under-secretary reluctantly agreed to appoint Grant Major, Newman’s successor as Canadian trade commissioner in Trinidad.45 Anxious to avoid a repeat of the 1944 conference, when Newman managed to re-open the question of Canadian membership on the AACC, Robertson insisted that the Department of External Affairs alone would instruct Major on his duties.46 Not surprisingly, those instructions left very little room for him to manoeuvre: You will, of course, appreciate that your position is purely that of an observer...Canada’s connection with the West Indies has always been confined to the economic sphere. It is, therefore, considered advisable that the Canadian representative be careful to avoid giving any impression that the interest of the Government is likely to extend beyond that sphere.47 Major’s behaviour at the conference was exactly what the Department of External Affairs expected of him. He adopted such a low profile that an American State Department delegate, Elizabeth Armstrong, later recalled that she “did not know a Canadian observer was present...[and that] when approached he adopted a very reserved attitude.”48 Major’s conclusions, however, did not differ substantially from those reached by his predecessor. Concerned with the continued American drive to develop a more robust inter- island trade capable of absorbing Puerto Rico’s industrial production, he stressed the growing need to strengthen Canada’s presence in the region. How this might be achieved was not clear. Nevertheless, despite his doubts regarding the effectiveness of the Caribbean Commission, Major concluded that membership was crucial if Canada was to maintain its prestige in the area.

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Canada “could well be manoeuvred into a difficult position unless... [it] can be more closely associated with the work of the Caribbean Commission.”49 Officials within the Department of External Affairs remained steadfast in their resistance to closer Canadian relations with the commission. Given one final opportunity to join France, Great Britain, the United States and the Netherlands in drafting a formal charter for the Caribbean Commission and establishing its permanent secretariat, the department stood silently aside, not even informing the Department of Trade and Commerce that such a conference was being held.50 The department’s silence was well rewarded. The Caribbean Commission’s new constitution omitted the earlier reservation safeguarding the possibility of Canadian membership, perhaps at last resolving the question of Canada’s relationship with the commission. Though clearly disturbed by this development, the Department of Trade and Commerce did not propose to re-open at this late stage the question of Canadian membership on the commission. Instead, it approached the problem of increasing Canada’s profile in the Caribbean from a different tack. The presence of a permanent secretariat obviously heralded an increase in the commission’s activities in such fields as industrial development, trade and regional transportation. As these were areas where Canada retained a vital interest, it seemed desirable to have a representative in continuous touch with the organization.51 Robertson agreed that this request was a reasonable one, particularly since the possibility of Canadian membership seemed increasingly remote.52 Robertson’s equanimity was rudely shattered less than a week later when the deputy minister of Trade and Commerce proposed that Ottawa “notify the Caribbean Commission that Mr. Major has been designated as ’permanent Canadian observer.’”53 With its implication that the Canadian representative would attend not only the West Indies Conferences but also the meetings of the Caribbean Commission itself, Mackenzie’s attempt to elevate Major’s status to the level of permanent observer raised red flags throughout the Department of External Affairs.54 Informal discussions with the British, who made it clear “that if we wish to raise again the question of an observer to meetings of the Commission itself we are liable to re-open the long-standing question as to whether or not Canada wishes to become a full member of the Commission,” confirmed the East Block’s initial reservations.55 Recalling the prime minister’s 1943 view “that full participation might be construed as evidence of more positive interest in West Indian problems than the Government was likely to show,” the Department of External Affairs flatly rejected Mackenzie’s proposal.56 Major could be designated as a “liaison officer” and receive all Commission documentation.57 External Affairs’ willingness to appoint even a liaison officer was mistakenly interpreted by officials in the Department of Trade and Commerce as a welcome moderation in Canadian policy, encouraging the view that the whole issue of Canada’s relations with the commission might successfully be re- opened.58 By the fall of 1946, the need to take dramatic steps to preserve Canada’s trade position in the Caribbean appeared more pressing than ever. The imposition of exchange controls on sterling in the British West Indies and

125 IJCS / RIÉC a sharp increase in the price of flour, reported Major, were steadily eroding Canada’s market in the region. Membership on the Caribbean Commission would help counter this trend by “demonstrating publicly the fact that not only is Canada interested in selling but also in helping the West Indian peoples to improve their economic status.”59 The absence of a clause in the commission’s charter providing for Canadian membership in the organization was not, Major assured his superiors in the Department of Trade and Commerce, an insurmountable problem. Sir John Macpherson, the new British co-chairman, Taussig and two other commissioners had all recently indicated that they would welcome Canadian participation.60 For the moment, the Department of Trade and Commerce delayed approaching the Department of External Affairs: it was hoped that the new under-secretary of state, Lester Pearson, once he had settled in, would be more flexible than Robertson.61 In the spring of 1947, the receipt of an invitation to send an observer to the third West Indies conference provided the Department of Trade and Commerce with the opportunity to push for a re-examination of Canadian policy. Rather inaccurately, Mackenzie claimed that the conference invitation “raised again the question of Canada’s full participation in the affairs of the Commission, presumably on an equal footing with the Governments of France, Netherlands, United Kingdom and the United States.”62 As Major was increasingly anxious to learn exactly how much cooperation he could offer the commission, the Department of Trade and Commerce would welcome an inter-departmental meeting to discuss Canadian policy in the Caribbean.63 Officials in the Department of External Affairs showed little enthusiasm for re-opening this debate. Nevertheless, with the British High Commission in Ottawa beginning to show a renewed desire for Canada’s full participation on the commission, a desire apparently sparked by Major’s cordial relations with the commission’s secretariat, it seemed as good a time as any to define the nature of Canada’s interest in the Caribbean.64 At the July 1947 inter-departmental meeting, the detailed questions of policy raised by Grant Major were dealt with quickly and without any substantial debate. Major was free to gather and transmit to the commission whatever information on Canadian trade it might require for its economic studies. The question of Canada’s membership on the Caribbean Commission was more difficult. The Department of External Affairs’ continued hostility to this matter was made clear by its initial decision to exclude it from the meeting’s agenda.65 In raising the question, then, the Department of Trade and Commerce adopted a circumspect approach. G.A. Newman, now with the department’s exports division, reviewed Canadian interests in the region and argued that Canada’s relationship with the Caribbean was not solely based on trade but embraced a variety of historic educational and missionary ties. Moreover, he argued with some foresight Canada, whether acknowledging it or not, was deeply involved in and implicitly responsible for the political and economic future of the islands. The preferential treatment accorded West Indian sugar, which constituted the basis of their economy and the engine driving their social, economic and political development, inextricably tied Canada to the British West Indies.66

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In light of the hesitation expressed at earlier inter-departmental meetings, Newman cautiously proposed that a senior delegation be sent directly from Ottawa to the forthcoming West Indies conference. This delegation would assess the importance of the Caribbean Commission first-hand and prepare a final recommendation on Canadian membership. The Department of Trade and Commerce, cautioned its assistant deputy minister, Oliver Master, was not advocating joining strictly on commercial lines. It was, however, ready to support membership if Canada was prepared to “accept some degree of responsibility...with regard to the Commission’s entire program relating to economic and social conditions in the Caribbean area.”67 Unfortunately, the Canadian government was not yet inclined to become involved in the commission’s social and economic work. For the moment, it was agreed to maintain only a liaison officer, who would keep Ottawa informed of the Commission’s activities. That officer, the assembled officials were pointedly reminded, should “refrain from developing co-operation with the Secretariat along lines that would be likely to result in the question of full Canadian membership being raised officially by the Commission or by member- countries.”68 Officials in the Department of Trade and Commerce were not unduly concerned that the meeting seemed to place the possibility of Canadian membership further out of reach. As its last item of business, the inter- departmental meeting endorsed Canadian participation in the third West Indies conference and established an inter-departmental committee which was authorized to pursue the broader issues of Canada’s Caribbean policy that might arise in preparing for this conference. Major rejoiced: “I am delighted to learn that active steps are being taken to formulate Canadian policy with respect to this area [the Caribbean].”69 The delight was short-lived. In late August, the proposed West Indies Conference was postponed, the inter- departmental committee dissolved as a consequence, and the discussion of Canada’s policy towards the Caribbean shelved.70 “As it stands now,” Major soon complained, “Canada appears to be following what is essentially a policy of marking time in her relations with the British Caribbean.”71 By early 1949, Major’s complaint had become a familiar refrain: A laissez faire non-interested attitude in regard to a group of mainly British countries which have had such close ties with Canada as have these is quite incomprehensible...I write this letter in the hope that some one will take action at sufficiently high level to develop a positive broad policy towards the dependent peoples of the Caribbean...Am I to take this silence from the East Block to mean that these territories are not considered to be of importance...? If that is not the case, what is our policy?...The days when we can restrict ourselves to purely trade relations are gone. There is no dividing line.72 The establishment of a token import scheme in 1950, under which Canadian exporters were assured a small share of the dollar-short Caribbean market, removed the immediate need for a broad statement of Canadian policy. While the token import scheme guaranteed Canada a share in the British West Indies’ market, the Department of Trade and Commerce looked gloomily on as the

127 IJCS / RIÉC relative importance of Canadian trade in the region shrank steadily during the 1950s. To explain this decline as simply the inability of complacent Canadian exporters to shift from traditional low-cost foodstuffs like flour and salt-fish to industrial goods is not sufficient.73 Some of the blame must be shouldered by Mackenzie King’s government. Repeatedly invited to participate in the activities of the AACC, Ottawa had ample opportunity to re-define and to modernize the Canadian-Caribbean relationship. It seems clear that Canada had good practical and idealistic reasons to do so. The country’s substantial economic stake in the region was clearly threatened and required a more effective defense than either Britain or ad hoc participation in the AACC could provide. In addition, Canada’s historical and geographical links with the Caribbean provided an ideal opportunity for Canada to exert its interest in ensuring a stable and orderly transfer of power as colonial territories moved to independence. On the other hand, there were a number of equally compelling reasons for Canada to think twice before pursuing a more intimate relationship with the Commonwealth Caribbean. Having only recently escaped Britain’s imperial constraints, Canada was justifiably anxious to retain its freedom of action and worried lest involvement with Britain’s Caribbean colonies might also result in closer ties with London. This worry naturally receded as the war progressed, but it was replaced by a determination to avoid being drawn into the Anglo- American dispute over the postwar fate of European colonialism. As the war slowly drew to a close and a greater number of Canada’s Commonwealth and European partners joined in these discussions, it seemed increasingly prudent to maintain a discreet distance. And always, lurking just beyond these considerations, was the question of the financial liabilities associated with membership on the AACC. Uncertain about the shape of the postwar economy, the government was loath to assume responsibilities which might hamper its ability to respond to domestic problems after the war. Ottawa’s policy-makers recognized that these reasons for and against Canadian participation in the AACC were compelling. Indeed, the two arguments were so evenly balanced that officials were repeatedly unable to decide either one way or the other. Ineffectually, the government sought to keep its options open through ad hoc participation in the work of the AACC. Such limited participation, however, failed to provide the leverage needed to defend Canada’s economic stake in the Caribbean. As the opportunities for trade gradually diminished, so too did much of the justification for participating in the AACC. Canada’s failure to use the commission to develop a political association with this region left Ottawa poorly prepared to respond to West Indian independence and ultimately deprived Canada of a voice in regional affairs until the mid-1960s, when prime minister L.B. Pearson set out to re-build the “special relationship.”

Notes 1. The author would like to thank John Hilliker, Norman Hillmer and Christopher Cook for their helpful contributions to this paper. The views expressed in it are the author’s alone.

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2. One historian who recently reviewed the bilateral relationship from its origins concluded that “Canada’s relationship with the islands of the Caribbean has always been special.” See Brian D. Tennyson’s introduction to his Canadian-Caribbean Relations: Aspects of a Relationship (Sydney, Nova Scotia: Centre for International Studies, 1990), p. i. Tennyson’s edited anthology, Canada and the Commonwealth Caribbean (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1988) usefully gathers some of the most important work on this North- South relationship. See also, Heath MacQuarrie, “Canada and the Caribbean” in Peyton V. Lyon and Tareq Y. Ismael (eds.) Canada and the Third World (Toronto: Macmillian Co., 1976) and Robert Chodas, The Caribbean Connection (Toronto: James Lorimer and Co., 1977). 3. David Murray, “Garrisoning the Caribbean: A Chapter in Canadian Military History,” in Brian Tennyson (ed.) Canada and the Commonwealth Caribbean, pp. 279-302. 4. The Dominion Bureau of Statistics, The Canada Yearbook 1945 (Ottawa: The King’s Printer, 1945), pp. 495-497. 5. D.J. Morgan, The Official History of Colonial Development, (London:MacMillan Press, 1980), 1, p. 158; See also, Howard Johnson, “The Anglo-American Caribbean Commission and the Extension of American Influence in the British Caribbean, 1942-45,” Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Politics, vol. 22, no 2 (1984), pp. 180-203. 6. Wm Roger Louis, Imperialism at Bay: The United States and the Decolonization of the British Empire 1941-1945, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1978), pp. 180-181. 7. There is an extensive literature on the discussions and debates surrounding the development of a more assertive Canadian foreign policy during the war. A good introduction can be found in John Hilliker, Canada’s Department of External Affairs:, Volume 1: The Early Years, 1909-1946 (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1990). Also very helpful is John Holmes, The Shaping of Peace: Canada and the Search for World Order, 1943-1957, Volume 1 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1979). 8. M.C. Hankinson to N.A. Robertson, Acting Under-Secretary of State for External Affairs, 24 May 1941, Department of External Affairs (DEA) File 1997-40, National Archives of Canada (NAC). 9. Escott Reid,"Proposed Joint United Kingdom-United States Economic Committee of Inquiry on Caribbean Dependencies," 3 July 1941, DEA File 1997-40, NAC; On the British offer of 1919, see P.G. Wigley, “Canada and imperialism: West Indian aspirations and the First World War,” re-printed in B. Tennyson (ed.), Canada and the Commonwealth Caribbean, pp. 215-255. Although there is little evidence to suggest that Britain really wished Canada to take over the imperial burden in the West Indies, this notion lingered on in some quarters well into the Second World War. In December 1942, for instance, Harold Macmillan, the parliamentary under-secretary for the colonies, suggested to Hume Wrong that Canada assume responsibility for Britain’s colonies in the Caribbean. Wrong flatly rejected the proposal. On this whole episode, see Murray, “Garrisoning the Caribbean,” pp. 294-95. 10. King’s ambiguous sentiments towards the Empire-Commonwealth are explored fully in Norman Hillmer, “’The Outstanding Imperialist’: Mackenzie King and the British,” Britain and Canada in the Age of Mackenzie King, Canada House Lecture Series Number 4, 14 November 1978, p. 6. 11. The Canadian Minister in Washington to the Secretary of State for External Affairs, 30 April 1942, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 12. Patrick Duff to Norman Robertson, 6 May 1942, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 13. N.A. Robertson, “Memorandum for the Prime Minister”, 11 May 1942, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 14. King’s minute on ibid. 15. Dana Wilgress, G.B. Smith and Scott Macdonald to the Secretary of State for External Affairs, 26 May 1942, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 16. Charles Taussig to Sumner Welles, 20 May 1942, RG 43, Lot File No 530466, Box 1, National Archives (NA). 17. Dana Wilgress to Norman Robertson, 28 October 1942, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 18. ibid. 19. The Canadian Minister to Washington to the Secretary of State for External Affairs, 4 November 1942, DEA File 1997-40, NAC.

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20. See Wm Roger Louis, Imperialism at Bay, pp. 211-224; Christopher Thorne, Allies of a Kind: The United States, Britain and the war against Japan, 1941-1945 (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1978), pp. 220-224. 21. L. Rasminsky, “Memorandum to the Governor,” File LR76-189-41, Bank of Canada Archives, Ottawa. 22. N.A. Robertson, “Memorandum For The Prime Minister,” 16 December 1942, DEA File 180(s), NAC; see also, Wm Roger Louis, Imperialism at Bay, pp. 220-221. 23. Draft letter, N.A. Robertson to Patrick Duff, 10 May 1943, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 24. H.L. Keenleyside, “Memorandum for N.A. Robertson,” 16 May 1943; A.L.W. MacCallum to N.A. Robertson, 1 June 1943; Oliver Master to Norman Robertson, 2 June 1943, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 25. H.L. Keenleyside, H.F. Angus, F.H. Soward, “Memorandum for Mr. Robertson,” 22 June 1943, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 26. Hume Wrong, “Memorandum For Mr. Keenleyside,” 23 June 1943, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 27. N.A. Robertson to Patrick Duff, 23 June 1943, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 28. John Holmes, “Memorandum for Mr. Wrong,” 25 June 1943, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 29. Letter, Dominion Office to Malcolm MacDonald, 27 February 1943; FOR 371/Vol. No 34087, A1770/3/45; Telegram, Secretary of State for the Colonies to Sir Frank Stockdale, 12 November 1943; FOR 371/Vol. No 34133, A10397/52/45, Public Record Office. 30. J.W. Holmes, “Memorandum of a discussion with Sir Frank Stockdale,” 25 November 1943, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 31. Malcolm MacDonald to Norman Robertson, 30 December 1943, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 32. F.H. Soward, “Memorandum for Dr. Keenleyside,” 31 December 1943, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 33. ibid. 34. F.H. Soward, “Memorandum for Mr. N.A. Robertson and Dr. H.L. Keenleyside,” 11 January 1943, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 35. N.A. Robertson, “Memorandum for the Prime Minister,” 12 January 1944, DEA File 1997- 40, NAC. 36. Malcolm MacDonald to Norman Robertson, 16 February 1944, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 37. N.A. Robertson, “Memorandum for the Prime Minister,” 18 February 1944, MG 26, J 4, Vol. 346, File 3744, NAC. 38. Canadian Trade Commission to Department of External Affairs, confidential telegram, 3 April 1944, DEA File 1997-40; G.N. Newman, “Confidential Report of the West Indies Conference, 21-30 March 1944,” DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 39. Oliver Master, Acting Deputy Minister of Trade and Commerce to N.A. Robertson, Under- Secretary of State for External Affairs, 12 May 1944, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 40. “Minutes of an Interdepartmental Discussion on Canadian Policy with regard to the Anglo- American Caribbean Commission and the Future of West Indian Trade...,” 14 June 1944, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 41. John F. Hilliker, Canada’s Department of External Affairs, Volume 1: The Early Years, 1909-1946, p. 318. 42. External Affairs and International Trade Canada, Documents on Canadian External Relations, vol. xi, 1944-45, edited by John F. Hilliker, (Ottawa: Minister of Supply and Services Canada, 1990), p. 715. 43. N.A. Robertson to the Deputy Minister of Trade and Commerce, 22 December 1945, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 44. G.P. de T. Glazebrook, “Memorandum for N.A. Robertson,” 11 January 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 45. Oliver Master to N.A. Robertson, 15 January 1946; G.P. de T. Glazebrook, “Memorandum for N.A. Robertson,” 15 January 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 46. R.A. MacKay, “Memorandum for N.A. Robertson,” 16 February 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 47. Under-Secretary of State for External Affairs to Grant Major, 18 February 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 48. R.A. MacKay, “Note for the File,” 29 May 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC.

130 The Politics of Indecision

49. T. Grant Major, “West Indian Conference: Second Session, 21 February to 13 March, 1946,” DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 50. Canadian Ambassador to the United States to the Secretary of State for External Affairs, Tel No Wa-2649, 28 June 1946; Canadian Ambassador to the United States to the Secretary of State for External Affairs, Dispatch No 1468, 18 July 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 51. M.W. Mackenzie to the Under-Secretary of state for External Affairs, 31 July 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 52. N.A. Robertson to the Deputy Minister of Trade and Commerce, 5 September 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 53. M.W. Mackenzie to the Under-Secretary of State for External Affairs, 12 September 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 54. A. Ireland, “Note for Mr. Reid,” 10 October 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 55. Canadian Ambassador to Washington to the Secretary of State for External Affairs, Tel No WA-3666, 14 October 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 56. A. Ireland to Mr. Magann, 16 October 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 57. Norman Robertson to the Deputy Minister of Trade and Commerce, 16 October 1946, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 58. T.G. Major to G.R. Heasman, 12 September 1946; T.G. Major to Hubert Kemp, 17 September 1946, RG 20, Vol. 324, File T-11531, NAC. 59. T.G. Major to G.R. Heasman, 12 September 1946, RG 20, Vol. 324, File T-11531, NAC. 60. T.G. Major to Hubert Kemp, 17 September 1946, RG 20, Vol. 324, File T-11531, NAC. 61. T.G. Major’s handwritten note attached to his letter to G.R. Heasman, 12 September 1946; G.R. Heasman to T.G. Major, 18 September 1946; H.D. Kemp to T.G. Major, 20 September 1946, RG 20, Vol. 324, File T-11531, NAC. 62. W.M. Mackenzie to the Under-Secretary of State for External Affairs, 5 June 1947, RG 20, Vol. 324, File T-11531, NAC. 63. ibid; T.G. Major to G.N. Heasman, 19 May 1947; T.G. Major, “Memorandum of discussion with Mr. L. Cramer, Secretary General of the Caribbean Commission, RG 20, Vol. 324, File T-11531, NAC. 64. Garner to Escott Reid, 5 May 1947; Escott Reid, “Memorandum for Mr. Pearson,” 28 June 1947, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 65. Escott Reid, “Memorandum for Mr. Pearson,” 15 July 1947, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 66. “Minutes of an inter-departmental meeting on Caribbean affairs held on Tuesday, July 22, 1947...,” DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 67. ibid. 68. ibid. 69. T.G. Major to G.A. Newman, 15 August 1947, RG 20, Vol. 324, File T-11531, NAC. 70. E. MacCallum, “Note for Mr. MacKay,” 11 September 1947, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 71. T.G. Major to G.R. Heasman, 3 December 1947, RG 20, Vol. 324, File T-11531, NAC. 72. T.G. Major to G.R. Heasman, 22 March 1949, DEA File 1997-40, NAC. 73. Kari Levitt and Alister McIntyre, Canada-West Indies Economic Relations (Montreal: Private Planning Association, 1967), p. 16.

131 Gordon Mace and Claude Goulet

Canada in the Americas: Assessing Ottawa’s Behaviour*

Abstract The paper seeks to examine Canadian federal government behaviour toward the Americas for the period 1968-1991. In order to do so we compare governmental discourse and behaviour. Discourse is analyzed by looking at objectives formulated by Canadian decision-makers. Behaviour is studied by looking at disbursements and targets of programs related to foreign policy behaviour such as foreign assistance and export promotion programmes. Private sector behaviour is also examined for additional comparison. Data is constructed for two-time periods and suggests interesting points of comparison between the Trudeau and Mulroney years.

Résumé Les auteurs cherchent à évaluer le comportement du gouvernement fédéral canadien à l’égard de la grande région des Amériques pour la période 1968- 1991. Pour ce faire, ils comparent le discours et le comportement du gouvernement fédéral. D’abord, ils étudient le discours en examinant les objectifs formulés à l’égard de la région par les principaux décideurs de la politique étrangère canadienne. Puis, le comportement est examiné à travers l’étude de programmes gouvernementaux dans les domaines de l’aide et de l’appui à l’exportation. Des comparaisons sont également menées avec le comportement du secteur privé canadien. Les données sont regroupées selon deux périodes et permettent d’identifier des points de comparaison intéressants entre les années Trudeau et les années Mulroney.

The literature on Canadian foreign policy toward Latin America and the Caribbean has followed a pattern similar to Canada’s relations with the region. Very few titles on the subject appeared between 1945 and 1968 when Canada was still a junior member of the international system. Furthermore, the main parameters of Canadian foreign policy at the time — multilateralism and the Cold War context — focused Canadian decision-makers’ attention more on relations with the United States, Europe and the United Nations than with other parts of the world. Consequently, the literature on Canada’s relations with Latin America and the Caribbean was extremely limited, quite general in terms of subject matter and primarily centered on institutional relationships (Roussin 1959, Anglin 1961, Ogelsby 1969, Winks 1969, Will 1960). Pierre Trudeau’s election as Prime Minister in 1968 signalled important changes in the Canadian domestic political landscape and in Canada’s relations with the outside world. Among these changes was an unprecedented increase in Ottawa’s interest in Latin America, a shift initiated with the

International Journal of Canadian Studies / Revue internationale d’études canadiennes 13, Spring/Printemps 1996 IJCS / RIÉC dispatch of a major fact-finding mission to the region in 1968. The mission report became a central element in the booklet on Latin America contained in the 1970 White Paper on Canadian foreign policy (Government of Canada 1970), which was followed by a major increase in Canada’s economic and political-diplomatic relations with governments and multilateral agencies in the region throughout the 1970s (Ogelsby 1979, Mace 1989). The growing significance of Canada’s relationship with Latin America and the Caribbean between 1968 and 1978-1979 naturally brought about a marked increase in related scholarly output. During this period, several works of a general nature were published on the subject (Bradford and Pestieau 1971, Chodos 1977, Dosman and Postgate 1980, Gilbert 1978, Ogelsby 1976). The most important of these, Ogelsby’s Gringos from the Far North, remains unequalled in terms of length of coverage and depth of analysis. This period also saw a steady rise in the number of articles published in scientific journals. Although some still dealt essentially with the general relationship (Guy 1976), others began to focus more specifically on certain countries (Butler Jr. 1971, Calkin 1973, Fauriol 1977, Guy 1978) or sub-regions (Berry 1977), and others still on functional aspects of Canadian foreign policy (Paragg 1980, Klepak and Vachon 1978) or precise historical periods (Murray 1974). Despite the publication of two important parliamentary reports in the early 1980s (Senate of Canada 1981, Sous-comité 1981-82), various factors combined to inhibit the expansionist momentum of the preceding decade. The state of Canada’s economy, the political situation in Quebec, the world economic crisis, the debt problem in Latin America and the future of the Canada-U.S. relationship all conspired to divert Canada’s attention away from Latin America and the Caribbean. Renewed interest in the region was sparked only at the end of Trudeau’s last mandate and more spectacularly during Joe Clark’s tenure as External Affairs’ minister starting in 1984. At first, Canada’s attention centered on the crisis in Central America but soon expanded to include the whole region, leading to the announcement of a new Canadian policy on Latin America in 1989 (Dosman 1992). The literature of the 1980s on Canada’s relations with Latin America and the Caribbean mirrors this renewed interest, with the number of titles increasing significantly, and a wider array of subjects covered. Of course, many books and articles dealt with Canada’s involvement in the Central American crisis (McFarlane 1989, North 1987, Baranyi 1985, Haglund 1987, Huard 1988, Lemco 1991, Rochlin 1988). However, there were also studies on Canadian foreign aid to the region (English 1984, Midy 1983), the strategic aspects of Canada’s relationship with Latin America and the Caribbean (Dosman 1984, 1987), and, naturally, studies focusing on economic relations (Grant and McDowell 1987, Ruiz 1988, Canadian Investment... 1981, Donneur 1983, Kaufman 1984-85). In addition to these more traditional topics, new fields of inquiry, such as immigration (Labelle et al. 1983) and research into various frameworks for Canada’s relations with the region, also yielded publications (Murray 1981-82, Mace 1987). And of course, general overviews of Canadian foreign policy toward Latin America and the Caribbean are still being written (Dosman 1984-85, Mace 1989).

134 Canada in the Americas: Assessing Ottawa’s Behavior

In many ways, the 1990s may come to be dubbed the decade of normal and deepening relationships between Canada and the rest of the hemisphere. The shift began with Ottawa’s important decision to join the Organization of American States (OAS) in January 1990, a significant illustration in the eyes of most Latin American governments of Canada’s desire to become fully involved in the affairs of the hemisphere (Clark 1990b). A leading player in the OAS, the Canadian government became actively involved in administrative and financial reforms, in supporting the creation of the Unit for the Promotion of Democracy and in leading efforts to find a solution to the Haitian crisis. The signing and implementation of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) linked Canada more closely to Mexico. Nor was the rest of the region forgotten, as Canada participated in the Summit of the Americas in December 1994 and Ottawa pushed to extend free trade to the rest of the hemisphere, starting with Chile. This was one of the topics discussed by Prime Minister Chrétien during his visit to Southern Cone countries in January 1995 when the question of a counterweight to U.S. influence was also mentioned. The announcement at the end of 1995 of future regular discussions between Canada and the Rio Group, a significant diplomatic forum for Latin American governments, underscores how Canada’s relations with the region have now become a routine fact of Canadian foreign policy. Consequently, it should come as no surprise that more books on Canada’s relationship with the hemisphere were published in the first half of the 1990s than in the entire 1945-1990 period. Indeed, enough material on the subject matter is now available that many scholars write books rather than articles. Naturally, many of these books deal with Canada’s role in the integration of North America (Randall, Konrad and Silverman 1992, Barry, Dickerson and Grisford 1995). Others continue to focus on the broader subject of Canadian foreign policy towards Latin America (Rochlin 1994) while still others attempt to evaluate issues related to the overall relationship with the region (Dickerson and Randall 1991, Haar and Dosman 1993, Daudelin and Dosman 1995). Some studies emphasize particular aspects of Canada’s role in the region, such as strategic affairs (Klepak 1990), participation in the OAS (McKenna 1995, Mackenzie 1994) and foreign aid to the region (Goulet 1995). Finally, regular publications are issued by FOCAL, the Canadian Foundation for the Americas, which has played an important role during the past six years in fostering interest in and producing timely reports on Canadian policy towards the hemisphere (Toward a... 1994). How should this body of literature be assessed as a whole? The preceding pages clearly demonstrate that Canadian foreign policy toward Latin America and the Caribbean is now a mature sub-field of Canadian foreign policy both in terms of the number of publications and coverage of the subject matter. However, qualitative analysis dominates the literature and in many cases still carries a strong normative content. Furthermore, it deals primarily with case studies and contains very few titles which use a comparative approach, although efforts to compare Canada’s foreign policy in the hemisphere to Canadian foreign policy in other regions of the world or to the foreign policy of other countries of the Americas, most notably Mexico, Argentina, Colombia or Venezuela, will probably be made at some future stage. Finally, the

135 IJCS / RIÉC literature on Canada’s relations until now with Latin America and the Caribbean has focused heavily on policy and policy determinants, somewhat neglecting an analysis of concrete behaviour on the part of the Canadian government.

Scope and Method Canada’s concrete behaviour toward Latin America and the Caribbean will be dealt with in this paper. More specifically, our study will attempt to compare the discourse of Canadian decision-makers with actual government programs or concrete government behaviour, and relate these to private-sector behaviour by inclusion of trade and investment flows. As noted recently by Bahgat Korany, one of the important flaws in contemporary foreign policy analysis is the discouraging dearth of attention accorded to comparisons of discourse and behaviour (Korany 1990: 33). Analysis of foreign policy behaviour gives us a good understanding of how governments deal with the rest of the planet, but in order to fully grasp government world views, analysts cannot overlook official discourse concerning the world or specific regions. Comparing discourse and behaviour enables us to better understand and assess a government’s foreign policy. This paper will therefore attempt to compare Ottawa’s discourse and behaviour with regard to Latin America and the Caribbean. The period of study extends from 1970 to 1991. In so doing, we feel that the paper may add an original contribution to the literature in the following ways. First of all, the data assembled here are not available elsewhere in similar form. Secondly, the comparison of the Trudeau and Mulroney years presented here is not found in the literature. Finally, our presentation by sub-regions, including the Caribbean, differs also from previous analyses. Our analysis of discourse is based on the documents contained in two collections — Statements and Speeches and Discours/Statements — published by the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada since 1946 and 1971 respectively.1 We examined 103 speeches made throughout the period. Although most were delivered by Secretaries of State for External Affairs and by various Prime Ministers, some were also made by other ministers, high-ranking diplomats and other governmental representatives. Two strategies are generally employed in analysis of discourse. Discursive analysis (Saragossi 1991), an approach of considerable depth, tries to consider all aspects of the context in which a specific verbal intervention was made. Unfortunately, this strategy is generally characterized by low standardization, which makes comparison very difficult. The other strategy, used here, involves the analysis of objectives seen as expressions of national interest and as the most appropriate foreign policy options according to the perceptions of decision-makers. Objectives, particularly as expressed by governmental actors, can be seen as an important aspect of a belief system or of the images that actors have concerning the outside world and for which there now exists a long tradition of research in foreign policy analysis (Holsti 1962, Jervis 1970, 1976). As Harald von

136 Canada in the Americas: Assessing Ottawa’s Behavior

Riekhoff has observed (von Riekhoff 1977), they also constitute a significant indicator of future action and an element which helps to clarify the targets and fields of action upon which a government will seek to focus. Of course, objectives analysis goes into less depth than discursive analysis, but this inconvenience is largely compensated, from our point of view, by the standardized comparison permitted by such a strategy. Our analysis of objectives follows current standard procedures in content analysis (Krippendorf 1981).2 Among our eleven coding categories, the most salient relate to date, target and field of objective. The next section shows political-diplomatic, humanitarian and trade promotion objectives were the three most significant fields in the last category. In order to compare discourse to behaviour, the analysis of Ottawa’s behaviour with regard to Latin America and the Caribbean first examines all Canadian political action in the region, particularly in the three domains highlighted in the preceding paragraph. This is done essentially by identifying the most important elements of Canadian diplomatic conduct in the region. Action of a humanitarian nature is examined by looking at disbursements made through Canada’s official development assistance programs (ODA). Four ODA programs are singled out as more closely related to humanitarian action: government-to-government assistance, CIDA aid distributed by non- governmental organizations, Institutional Cooperation and Development Services program (ICDS), and humanitarian aid. All data used here come from the CIDA data bank. Finally, action related to trade promotion is analyzed primarily through examination of disbursements under two selected programs: the Program for Export Market Development (PEMD) managed by the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada, and CIDA’s Industrial Cooperation Program, which seeks to encourage Canadian private-sector participation in the industrial development and growth of developing countries (Canadian International... undated). Of course, the program acts at the same time to encourage Canadian exports, which is why it is included in this section. We have also included data on trade and investment flows which are not, strictly speaking, governmental actions but offer an interesting avenue for evaluating private-sector responses to governmental support programs. Let us now turn to the results of the analysis.

Assessing Canada’s Behaviour The Trudeau Years Elected Prime Minister of Canada on April 20, 1968, Pierre Elliott Trudeau remained in power until June 30, 1984, except for a short interlude under the stewardship of Conservative leader Joe Clark from June 4, 1979 to March 3, 1980. After Trudeau’s resignation, he was replaced by John Turner, the new leader of the Liberal party, who held office until his defeat in the September 1984 elections. The Trudeau years were characterized by nationalist policies which led, among other things, to the creation of Petro-Canada and FIRA, and

137 IJCS / RIÉC by the growth of Quebec nationalism. In the international arena, the Third Option strategy became the cornerstone of Canadian foreign policy. As far as Latin America and the Caribbean are concerned, these years constituted a significant period of discovery on the part of Canadian decision- makers, both public and private, beginning with the important fact-finding mission sent to the region in 1968.3 The report of the ministerial mission was a basic element of the booklet on Latin America in the 1970 White Paper on Canada’s foreign policy. As the next few pages show, the 1970s witnessed a significant increase in governmental activity related to Latin America and the Caribbean. In addition to administrative reforms designed to better coordinate our relations with the region, the Canadian government was quite active on a multilateral level in obtaining permanent observer status at the OAS in 1972 while becoming a member of the Inter-american Development Bank in the same year. Ottawa also became involved in supporting sub-regional integration schemes such as CARICOM and the Andean Group by way of technical and financial assistance. At the bilateral level, the Canadian government also sought to improve Canada’s relationship with the region through ministerial missions and other means. Special attention was given to Brazil, Mexico and Venezuela with whose governments Ottawa established joint ministerial committees. Considering this increase in attention and activity on the part of Canada in relation to Latin America and the Caribbean, let us take a closer look at Canadian goals for the region while Pierre Trudeau was in power. a) The objectives4 A general overview shows deep differences between the speeches of the postwar period and those delivered during the Trudeau years, both in terms of style and thematic content. Speeches of the 1950s and the 1960s were quite general in character, and barely mentioned Latin America and the Caribbean despite the expansion of the Department of External Affairs and the creation of numerous diplomatic missions in the region.5 Instead, official discourse stressed the importance of establishing preliminary contacts with the countries of the Western hemisphere, but without setting any precise foreign policy goals. Only from the mid-1960s onward did speeches oriented more specifically towards the region increase, or were objectives formulated on any kind of regular basis. This tends to confirm the widely held perception of limited Canadian government interest in the Americas south of the Rio Grande during the postwar era. As certain authors have observed, Canada began showing a growing interest in the Western hemisphere only in the 1970s (Dosman 1984-85: 43). The election of a new Liberal government in 1968 signaled a departure in Canadian politics and announced sweeping changes, particularly in foreign policy. A major review of Canada’s external relations heralded far-reaching implications for Canadian relations with Latin America and the Caribbean. The resulting White Paper contained the first concrete expression of Canadian

138 Canada in the Americas: Assessing Ottawa’s Behavior foreign policy towards Latin America in the entire history of the Department of External Affairs (Guy 1976: 377). One of the six booklets composing the document contained a formal commitment on the part of the Canadian government to systematically reinforce bilateral and multilateral links with the region without necessarily becoming a member of the OAS (Government of Canada 1970: 33-34).6 The adoption of the Third Option strategy in 1972 was also an expression of the will to diversify Canadian foreign relations in order to reduce dependence on the United States. It alluded to increased contacts with Canada’s other partners in the Western hemisphere. It also supposed a renunciation of the multilateralism which had guided Canadian foreign policy since the World War II, and its replacement by bilateralism. Analysis of the speeches from this period reveals the contours of the official discourse during the Trudeau years. The corpus of 45 speeches dealing totally or partially with Latin America and the Caribbean yielded 80 mentions of objectives. As figure 1 indicates, there was a burst of discourse on foreign policy for the region: the Canadian government expressed its intentions of increasing relations with practically all Latin American and Caribbean countries in virtually every field of activity. During the late 1960s and early 1970s, the main targets of the above- mentioned speeches were Latin America and the Caribbean in the broad sense, as well as various regionally important international organizations, notably the OAS. Indeed, the question of Canada’s accession to the OAS surfaced regularly. This probably explains the importance of objectives in the politics and institutions field during the first years of the Trudeau reign (between 1968 and 1972, eight of the nine mentions of objectives were found in this field), a period which coincides with the review of Canadian foreign policy initiated at the beginning of the 1970s. As some observers have pointed out, the debate on Canadian foreign policy towards Latin America and the Caribbean revolved to a considerable degree around the question of OAS membership, often at the expense of other aspects of inter-American relations. This was the case until Canada obtained permanent observer status at the OAS in 1972 (Murray 1981- 82: 109). With the question of participation in the OAS resolved, Canada sought to increase its links with Latin American countries. However, it was only towards the mid-1970s that geographical targets became more precise and that officials stopped considering Latin America as an homogeneous entity, at least in the speeches. This evolution reflected the passage from multilateralism to bilateralism in Canadian foreign policy (Murray 1981-82: 111), and mirrored the idea of diversification central to the Third Option strategy presented in 1972. Let us now look at how this diversification strategy found expression in objectives set for the sub-regions of Latin America and the Caribbean. In the Southern Cone, one region to which the Canadian government paid particular attention, objectives were mentioned in a wide variety of fields. However, trade issues were of central interest to Canada in terms of objectives. Most of the objectives identified referred specifically to Brazil, and were

139 IJCS / RIÉC formulated during an official visit to that country by Secretary of State for External Affairs Don Jamieson in January 1977. As for the Canadian government’s response to such major regional crises as the Chilean coup of 1973, no clear objectives emerged prior to 1977, at least in the speeches under review in this study. Questions related to peace, human rights and democracy were not reflected in Canadian government objectives during this period. Few objectives were established for the Andean countries in the speeches of the Trudeau years, and even these were essentially general in nature, formulated during a Secretary of State for External Affairs visit to Peru and Colombia in January 1977 in the framework of a mission to Latin America. Objectives for the region were also mentioned in a speech on Canadian-Latin America relations delivered in March 1980 by the Secretary of State for External Affairs, but again remained quite general. Central America did not even appear as a target of the Canadian government’s attention in the 1970s (Huard 1988). Interest in the region began to take shape only in the early 1980s, primarily in response to the crisis in Central America, when political leaders started to express frequent concern over peace and human rights issues in the countries of the isthmus and on the continent as a whole. Despite previous crises in Latin America, Canada had made no formal attempt to formulate objectives in this field until the beginning of the 1980s. Why this sudden interest for a regional conflict in an area generally ignored by Canadian foreign policy makers in the past? (Baranyi 1985: 24) According to Baranyi, the change in attitude might be explained by pressure from religious groups, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and human rights organizations.7 Ottawa’s former stance might also be explained by the fact that prior disinterest in Central America had had few consequences for Canada’s inter-American relations. As for the Caribbean, the expressions of commitment made during the Trudeau years could not mask declining interest through the 1970s.8 At the beginning of the 1980s, however, a policy review led Canada to a renewed awareness of the region and a reorientation of Canadian foreign policy which essentially benefited the Commonwealth Caribbean (Mace 1989: 418-19, Murray 1981-82: 122). In fact, the short Conservative interlude of 1979 seems to have led to a realignment of Trudeauist policy on Latin America and the Caribbean when the Liberals returned to power in 1980. Finally, Mexico drew relatively limited Canadian government interest, at least in the speeches of the period. The interest that was expressed could be attributed to the creation of a joint ministerial committee at the beginning of the 1970s. Committee influence might explain the focus on general, cultural and educational goals as opposed to the objectives for trade and expanded economic relations typical of the Mulroney years.9 Thus, although the Trudeau period was characterized by a clear desire to extend foreign policy to all regions of Latin America and the Caribbean, this diversification framework seemed to lack coherence. Foreign policy objectives were oriented in all directions and in various fields, while policy formulation seemed to lack any guiding principle.

140 Canada in the Americas: Assessing Ottawa’s Behavior

Figure 1 Objectives by Domain and Sub-region: The Trudeau Years (1968-84)

Source: Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada, Statements and Speeches and Discours/Statements, various years.

The brevity of Joe Clark’s term as Canadian Prime Minister in 1979-80 makes it difficult to imagine the possible course of Conservative foreign policy toward Latin America and the Caribbean. In the only two speeches on Latin America and the Caribbean delivered while Clark was in office (including one presented by a diplomat), nine objectives were mentioned, of which only one had a precise geographical target. On the other hand, Conservative Secretary of State for External Affairs Flora MacDonald did clearly express Canada’s will to increase links with Latin America and the Caribbean in a 1979 speech to the Interamerican Press Association (McDonald 1979). In the end, however, the sudden demise of the Conservative government cut short plans for the renewal of Canadian discourse with regard to the countries of the Western hemisphere. This assessment appears all the more accurate given what Huard

141 IJCS / RIÉC has pointed out: “The Tory foreign policy, such as it was during this brief interregnum, was pre-occupied with the Middle East” (Huard 1988: 113). Let us now examine the behaviour of the Canadian government during the Trudeau years in order to assess the relationship between actions and discourse. Did increased interest in Latin America and the Caribbean effectively translate into government programs and actions? b) The behaviour Canadian behaviour towards developing countries includes three main components. First, political and diplomatic actions refer to events such as ministerial visits, the signing of treaties, participation in regional or international organizations, etc. Next, humanitarian actions could be summarized as the expression of Canadian desire to alleviate poverty and to promote social justice and democracy. Finally, actions in the economic field seek to support the economic growth of developing countries and, above all, to promote Canadian trade objectives. As noted above, the newly elected Trudeau government expressed its will to increase its presence in Latin America and the Caribbean as the 1960s drew to a close. This engagement was implemented soon afterwards with the establishment in 1971 of a Bureau of Hemispheric Affairs which included a Division for Latin America. Although low-key, this measure was nonetheless essential for the coordination of Canadian foreign policy on the region. Another important landmark in the history of diplomatic relations with the countries of the Western hemisphere occurred in 1972 when Canada requested and was granted permanent observer status at the OAS. That same year, Ottawa joined several specialized OAS agencies such as the Interamerican Institute for Health and also became a full member of the Interamerican Development Bank. This last move, as pointed out by Ogelsby (1978: 403), must be considered a strategic gesture, since it placed Canada at the heart of the decision-making process in matters of Latin American development. Canada’s relationship with Latin America and the Caribbean continued to flourish between 1973 and 1977. Ottawa willingly distributed financial and technical assistance to the newly created CARICOM integration scheme in the Caribbean and to the Andean Pact, mostly through the Andean Development Bank. Canada also established joint ministerial committees with Brazil, Mexico and Venezuela, its major Latin American partners. These measures were complemented by an important visit to Latin America in 1976 by Prime Minister Trudeau, who then visited Mexico, Venezuela and Cuba. Although the Prime Minister visited Brazil and Mexico again in 1979, Canadian diplomatic activity with regard to Latin America entered decline toward the end of the decade. For several years, Canada’s policy toward the Western hemisphere lacked intensity. This lull in diplomatic activity coincided with the Paris Conference on development issues, co-chaired by Canada and Venezuela. The limited results of this conference and of the Cancun meeting on North-South issues in 1981 marked the deterioration of the North-South dialogue, which was dealt a final blow by the world economic crisis of 1980-82. The debt crisis that followed, concretized by Mexico’s

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default announcement in August 1982, “swept Latin America from Canada’s foreign policy agenda” (Dosman 1992: 531). Nonetheless, it appears that actions in the field of politics and institutions during the Trudeau years did, to a certain extent, respect the goals outlined in the speeches analyzed here. Let us now examine whether behaviour in other spheres of activity was also closely tied to government discourse. Official development assistance (ODA) to Latin America and the Caribbean only began in 1957 for the Commonwealth Caribbean, and almost ten years later for the rest of the continent. Disbursements remained low even then, but grew rapidly following the creation of the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) in 1968. In the 1968-69 financial year, some $14 million representing 9% of total Canadian bilateral ODA were disbursed in Latin America and the Carribean.101 During the 1970s, this share stayed constant, but the amounts increased dramatically, reaching $80 million by the end of the decade. In the 1983-84 financial year, the share of aid to Latin America and the Caribbean increased considerably, reaching 15% of total Canadian bilateral ODA. That year, disbursements totalled $172 million, whereas about $100 million were distributed in the form of government- to- government assistance. Of all possible forms of official bilateral aid, this delivery channel is the oldest and most important means of transferring funds and resources from one state to another. Canadian aid administered by non- governmental organizations (NGOs) represents another fairly important type of aid. How, then, were these different types of aid divided between the regions of the Western hemisphere? In figure 2, the Caribbean countries appear most favoured by Canadian ODA policy, whatever the delivery channel. Even though the population of the region only represents about 7.5% of the total population of Latin America and the Caribbean (and less than 4.7% if Cuba is excluded11), average annual Canadian government-to-government ODA during the 1970-1984 period amounted to $34.4 million. Other delivery channels also illustrate the importance of the region in Canadian development assistance policy. Established more recently than the NGO program, the Institutional Cooperation and Development Services Program (ICDS) depended to a greater degree on Canadian government goodwill. Colleges and universities as well as municipalities and other institutional actors followed the choices made by CIDA and were more responsive to demands from the government. During the Trudeau years, $19 million were transferred to the region through this program. Disbursements in the Caribbean under the International Humanitarian Assistance Program (IHA) totalled $14.1 million for the whole period.

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Figure 2 ODA Disbursements by Program and by Sub-region (1970-84)

Source: Compiled from CIDA’s data bank obtained by the authors. Various years.

Andean countries were also important beneficiaries of Canadian bilateral ODA. With a population of about 67 million inhabitants (20.3% of the population of Latin America and the Caribbean), they received bilateral aid totalling $227 million for the 1970-85 period. Interestingly, NGOs have also been quite active in this region, and government disbursements under the NGO program over the same period reached $39.2 million. This relatively high figure could be explained by the presence of religious groups in the region all throughout the century, for at the beginning of the 1970s, many NGOs had a religious basis. Compared to the Caribbean countries, where government-to- government assistance represented more than 80% of bilateral aid, a higher portion of aid was given through religious and humanitarian organizations in Latin America. A 1972 mission to Latin America also led the Canadian government to increase aid commitments to Peru, Colombia and Bolivia. Assistance to Central America first began in 1972, in the aftermath of the earthquake which destroyed the Nicaraguan capital of Managua. Disbursements during the Trudeau years represented more than 15% of government-to-government assistance, with ODA amounts totalling $132.5 million for financial years 1970-71 through 1984-85. Canadian NGO disbursements in Central America were also important. Although the region accounted for only 6% of the Latin America and Caribbean population, more than a quarter of CIDA’s NGO program disbursements funded projects in Central America. In the Southern Cone, a region for which few objectives in the humanitarian fields were mentioned, aid was relatively unimportant compared to the other

144 Canada in the Americas: Assessing Ottawa’s Behavior regions. Brazil received the largest share. As for Mexico, the lack of Canadian interest in development assistance or peace and human rights issues easily explains the minimal amount of ODA granted to this country. In the field of humanitarian actions, then, our observations tend to confirm a certain linkage between the official discourse and actual Canadian behaviour. Indeed, the two main geographical targets in the fields of development assistance and peace and human rights — the Caribbean and Central America — were also the main recipients of Canadian ODA. This is all the more striking given that the population of these two regions is low compared to the Southern Cone, the Andean countries and Mexico. In the economic field, governmental actions were analyzed through examination of two export-financing and trade programs. Among the programs designed to encourage Canadian trade overseas are the PEMD (Program for Export Market Development), managed by External Affairs, and CIDA’s Industrial Cooperation Program, set up respectively in 1971 and in 1977. During the Trudeau years, total disbursements under CIDA’s Industrial Cooperation Program in Latin America and the Caribbean reached $33.6 million (from 1979-80 to 1984-85) and were largely concentrated in the Caribbean. Distribution patterns generally mirrored trends in government-to- government development assistance. Nevertheless, newly industrialized countries received more favourable treatment. The Southern Cone countries, for example, received 8.2% of program disbursements, and Mexico, 6.5%. If there exists a certain discrepancy between the nature of objectives and the distribution of ODA’s disbursements by sub-regions, the same cannot be said concerning the relationship between objectives and PEMD disbursements where trends are more closely related. Between 1973 and 1984, $15.8 million were disbursed, with the largest share going to South America. Mexico also received a substantial share of program funds (10.9%). The Caribbean remained an important target for Canada, receiving some 18% of the PEMD disbursements, but the relative amount of these funds was lower than it was for humanitarian aid. Though Canadian discourse was very diversified and rather unspecific in relation to sub-regions of the Hemisphere during the Trudeau years, a certain coherence is evident between discourse and concrete behaviour. The main deviation in the overall picture concerns Industrial Cooperation disbursements heavily favouring the Caribbean sub-region which was not a prime economic target in the discourse of the period. A possible explanation is that the program was then recently created at CIDA for development purposes and therefore not geared to trade promotion goals.

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Figure 3 Economic Relations by Sub-region (1970-84)

Source : Compiled from CIDA’s data bank for industrial cooperation, from data obtained from the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada for the PEMD and from Statistics Canada’s data bank for trade and investment flows. Various years.

As figure 3 indicates, the private-sector’s behaviour does not correlate perfectly in terms of targets with the choices made by the government. A certain link exists between PEMD disbursements and exports, but the distribution of the other indicators shows no relationship between trade promotion and private-sector activities. Nevertheless, the private sector showed a definite interest in the Americas at the beginning of the 1970s, as illustrated by the creation of the Canadian Association for Latin America (CALA) in 1969. This organization, whose main purpose was to promote Canadian economic and trade relations, gave business people interested in the Americas the opportunity to meet with government officials. However, this interest had considerably diminished by the end of the decade due to the economic crisis and the high level of indebtedness of the countries of the Western hemisphere. As a result, CALA folded in 1986.

The Mulroney Years Brian Mulroney was Canadian Prime Minister from September 17, 1984 until June 25, 1993, when he was replaced by Kim Campbell. Constitutional issues were at the heart of his government’s policy. During the first Conservative mandate, several studies of Canadian foreign policy were also commissioned, leading to a major review. Closer links with the United States of America were established, resulting in the negotiation and conclusion of a free trade agreement. Later, this agreement was extended to Mexico, a step which demonstrated the will of the government to become more active in the Western hemisphere.

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This stronger emphasis on the Western hemisphere focused naturally on the United States but did not exclude Latin America and the Caribbean. On the contrary, as Canada developed a stronger and closer relationship with the USA, it became quite clear that a counterweight would be necessary for Ottawa to maintain a certain room for manoeuvre, particularly in the field of foreign policy. After the relative failure of the Third Option policy, it seemed that the Americas South of the Rio Grande could inherit to play that role. The rapprochement between Canada and the Americas would probably have been impossible or shower to evolve if not for Ottawa’s involvement in the Central American crisis and the particular role then played by the Secretary of State for External Affairs Joe Clark. Canada’s involvement in the diplomatic negotiations to end the crisis in the isthmus served as a kind of learning process while at the same time enabling Ottawa to rediscover the importance of Latin America for Canadian foreign policy. In a way, the FTA and Canadian participation in settling the crisis in Central America both led to the announcement of a new Latin American policy and to the decision to become a full member of the OAS. From then on, Canada became an active participant in the regional organization, and worked to have the OAS become more efficient and more involved in the management of hemispheric affairs. Ottawa also became more involved in sustaining efforts at democratization and participating in U.N. and OAS peacekeeping operations. The signing of NAFTA, the participation in the Summit of the Americas and the follow-through meetings in Denver and Cartagena, and the decision to establish closer links with the Rio Group countries, all serve to demonstrate Ottawa’s growing interest and increasing involvement in the hemisphere during the Mulroney years. Let us examine more precisely the nature and scope of this involvement. a) The objectives When the Conservative party came to power in the fall of 1984, Latin America and the Caribbean occupied a minor place in Canadian discourse on foreign policy matters. The Tory government’s Green Paper, which established orientations for Canada’s international relations, gave priority to trade policy and defence policy issues, and barely mentioned Latin America and the Caribbean (Gouvernement du Canada 1985). This situation had changed little in the report submitted by the Special Joint Committee on International Relations the following year (Canada 1986). The report suggested few modifications in Canadian policy towards the Western hemisphere, except with regard to Central America, where ongoing conflict drew Committee attention. Nevertheless, changes in the official discourse were observable in the speeches. From the election of the Conservative party in 1984 to June 1991, 38 speeches fully or partially devoted to Latin America and the Caribbean were published in the two collections issued by the Department of External Affairs. A content analysis allowed for the identification of 52 mentions of objectives. During the Mulroney years, objectives mentioned appeared more precise and geographical targets better identified than during the previous period (this is

147 IJCS / RIÉC particularly striking when one puts figures 1 and 4 side by side). As can be seen in figure 4 below, development assistance objectives were primarily formulated for the Caribbean countries and Central America, whereas trade issues became central to Canadian foreign policy goals for Mexico and the Southern Cone essentially. The decrease in the number of fields of objectives identified in the speeches seems to indicate that Ottawa was seeking to consolidate its foreign policy instead of targetting as many countries and fields of interest as possible. Thus, objectives mentioned during that period had precise targets. Economic integration, for example, although an important foreign policy issue in the 1980s, was barely mentioned in speeches dealing with Latin America and the Caribbean. Canada essentially considered the matter as a question of bilateral relations with the United States. However, once the creation of a North American free trade area (NAFTA) that included Mexico became an issue in 1990, many speeches addressed this question,12 and mentions of objectives with regard to Mexico, particularly in the field of trade, increased in number. Indeed, liberalization of the Mexican economy since 1984, and the prospect of a bilateral free trade agreement between the United States and Mexico, have led the Canadian government to more clearly express its viewpoint regarding North American economic integration and the development of relations with Mexico.

Figure 4 Objectives by Domain and Sub-region: The Mulroney Years (1984-91)

Source: Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada, Statements and Speeches and Discours/Statements, various years.

Conflicts in Central America also affected Canadian government speeches. Peace, human rights and democracy were among the main fields of Conservative government interest, figuring high on the list of issues

148 Canada in the Americas: Assessing Ottawa’s Behavior mentioned in the 1985 Secretary of State for External Affairs document (Gouvernement du Canada 1985: 3). Interventions by Prime Minister Mulroney during both the Commonwealth and La Francophonie summits on these issues could also be cited. Finally, the importance of these issues is further underscored by the fact that 14 of the 52 mentions of objectives identified in speeches from the Mulroney period dealing with Latin America and the Caribbean, and particularly Central America, concerned peace and justice. Even clearer was the importance of economic questions in the official discourse (21 mentions of objectives out of 52). Unlike the Trudeau period, when expanded relations were sought in many different fields of activity, the Tory government strategy sought to seek concrete results on trade. In fact, Canada’s relations with the newly industrialized countries (NICs) of Latin America, that is to say Argentina, Venezuela and, above all, Brazil and Mexico, were oriented uniquely towards economic issues. To what extent have the objectives expressed so clearly in the speeches translated into actual behaviour? Have real policies proven to mirror preoccupations different from those formulated in government discourse? b) Closer links between discourse and behaviour? When Brian Mulroney came to power, Canadian diplomatic activity with regard to Latin America as a whole was quite limited. Renewed interest began in 1987, when Secretary of State Joe Clark visited Central America. This visit not only contributed to putting Latin American affairs on the front burner of Canadian foreign policy but also familiarized Ottawa with peace and security issues in the region. The search for a more active Canadian presence in the Americas also brought renewed interest in inter-American institutions. As a result, Ottawa announced a new strategy for Canadian relations with Latin America in the fall of 1989, an important element of which was Ottawa’s decision to apply for full membership in the OAS. Although the document containing the strategy has not been released (Dosman 1992: 536), most elements of the strategy have been made public in various speeches by External Affairs officials. According to former Ambassador Gorham, the most important recommendation was that Canada seek full membership in the OAS. It was also suggested that Ottawa upgrade and enhance Canada’s diplomatic representation in Latin America. Thirdly, it was proposed that the Canadian government develop a more active and consistent dialogue at the ministerial and head of government level with Latin American governments. Finally, the document recommended closer linkages and cooperation in areas of common interests (Gorham 1990: 7-9).13 Following the adoption of the strategy, Canada became a full member of the OAS in January of 1990. In a speech to the General Assembly of the Organization in November 1989, Secretary of State Joe Clark affirmed Canada’s sincere commitment not only to the OAS but also to the whole community of the Americas:

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Canada’s joining of the OAS represents not so much a decision to become a member of the organization as it does a decision to become a partner in this hemisphere. For too long, Canadians have seen this hemisphere as our house; it is now time to make it our home. (Clark 1989: 1) Immediately upon entry into the Organization, Canada was an active participant under the able stewardship of its Permanent Representative, Ambassador Jean-Paul Hubert. Later, Canada became a member of various OAS committees and working groups charged with examining ways to make the organization more relevant and effective. Ottawa has also been active in proposing a Unit for the Promotion of Democracy. In addition, the governement became a full member of the Inter-American Drug Abuse Control Committee and of inter-American institutions dealing with women, children and indigenous peoples. In light of these developments, it appears that Canada’s political actions toward Latin America and the Caribbean have been respectful of the official discourse. In the area of humanitarian actions, the importance of Latin America and the Caribbean has increased, even if the region as a whole is far from being the world’s poorest.14 During the Mulroney years, about 15% of Canadian bilateral ODA went to the Western hemisphere. This represented a total of $281.5 million between 1985-86 and 1991-92. Government-to-government assistance to the Americas has also continued to grow, climbing from 14.3% of the total for this type of aid in 1985-86 to 17.5% in 1992-93. The total amount of aid to these countries during this same period was $1.97 billion, with the share of government-to-government assistance decreasing to the benefit of the ICDS and NGO programs.

Figure 5 ODA Disbursements by Program and Sub-region (1985-91)

Source: Compiled from CIDA’s data bank obtained by the authors. Various years.

Two regions were privileged targets of Canadian aid during the first Conservative mandate and the initial half of the second one, the same two

150 Canada in the Americas: Assessing Ottawa’s Behavior regions which also ranked first in the speeches for issues of development assistance, peace and promotion of human rights. In the Caribbean, this aid has primarily been distributed in the form of government-to-government assistance. Disbursements reached an annual average of $95.7 million during the 1985-91 period representing more than 58.7% of total government-to- government aid to Latin America and the Caribbean. Other delivery channels, such as NGO and ICDS programs, did not attract the same kind of funds, even if disbursements were important. This could be explained by the fact that government priorities in Latin America differed from those of the other members of the Canadian aid community. This seems to have favoured Central America. A large share of NGO and ICDS program disbursements were directed toward this region. The peace process may also have led to increased assistance, particularly in the wake of the Esquipulas II agreement of August 1987. Although quite low at the beginning of the 1970s, bilateral ODA disbursements to Central America averaged $65.7 million from the mid-1980s to the end of the decade. The Canadian government also contributed extensively to the NGO and ICDS programs in the region. Disbursements amounted respectively to $107.3 million and $99.5 million during the Mulroney years. As noted earlier, the desire to provide assistance to Central America was also expressed in the speeches, where all mentions of objectives for the region concerned either development assistance or peace and human rights. Finally, even if few speeches and almost no formal objectives targeted the Andean countries, the region nonetheless received a relatively important share of development assistance. Government-to-government assistance during the Mulroney years reached an annual average of $32.8 million, representing about 20% of such aid to the Western hemisphere. NGO assistance was also important. Disbursements through this delivery channel between 1985 and 1991 totalled $69.6 million or 22.9% of NGO program disbursements in the Americas. Other regions for which no humanitarian objectives were mentioned, namely the Southern Cone and Mexico, received only a small amount of ODA, principally through the NGO program. This analysis of Canadian bilateral aid during the Mulroney years suggests that the Canadian government pursued the humanitarian objectives articulated in the speeches analyzed. The only exception was the Andean countries, which continued to receive substantial amounts of aid despite the fact that they were almost ignored in official discourse. A similar conclusion applies to trade promotion programs. The Southern Cone and Mexico, the two primary targets of speeches on trade, benefited from export promotion programs, and particularly the PEMD. However, considering the size of their population or volume of trade with Canada, government disbursements to both remained relatively low in comparison to other regions. In fact, on a proportional basis, the Andean countries benefited as much as the Southern Cone countries or Mexico from the CIDA Industrial Cooperation Progam and the PEMD. On the other hand, twelve of the twenty- four lines of credit extended to Latin America and the Caribbean at the

151 IJCS / RIÉC beginning of the 1990s by the Export Development Corporation (EDC) were for Mexico. As was the case during the Trudeau years, the Caribbean countries and even Central America received more than might be expected under both the PEMD and the CIDA Industrial Cooperation Program. However, disbursements from the Industrial Cooperation Program to those regions were proportionaly lower than during the Trudeau years. These changes in the distribution of trade promotion program disbursements illustrate the government’s will to pursue the trade and economic objectives outlined in the speeches, objectives which primarily favoured Mexico and the Southern Cone in the economic sphere.

Figure 6 Economic Relations by Sub-region (1985-91)

Source: Compiled from CIDA’s data bank, for industrial cooperation, from data obtained from the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada for the PEMD and from Statistics Canada’s data bank for trade and investment flows. Various years.

Private-sector behaviour during the Mulroney period also better reflects government actions than during the Trudeau years. Trade promotion programs appear more respectful of the relative importance of each sub-region in Canada’s economic relations with Latin America and the Caribbean, investments excepted. Furthermore, the growing importance of Canadian trade with Mexico — 15% of the Latin America and Caribbean total during the Trudeau years as opposed to 30% under the Mulroney administration — could be interpreted as an indicator of private-sector confidence in the Conservative government discourse. In fact, Canada’s behaviour at the end of the 1980s and at the beginning of the 1990s followed world realignment. As Dosman once wrote: “In a global economy of powerful regional groupings, Canada’s future lies increasingly in the Americas” (Dosman 1992: 550). Moreover, private- sector commitment in the Western hemisphere was articulated through the

152 Canada in the Americas: Assessing Ottawa’s Behavior creation of the Canadian Council for the Americas (CCA) in 1987. Not surprisingly, numerous trade missions to Latin America and the Caribbean were organized toward the end of the Conservative mandate. This trend has been maintained and even reinforced since the election of Jean Chrétien in the fall of 1993.

Conclusion How then can we evaluate Ottawa’s behaviour toward Latin America and the Caribbean in the 1970s and 1980s? How did private-sector behaviour relate to governmental actions? And what does this tell us concerning Canada’s involvement in the Western hemisphere in the years ahead? Looking first to the Trudeau years, it is quite evident that this was a period when Canadian foreign policy was discovering the region. It was a period of necessary learning during which no clear guidelines seemed to exist on how to conduct relations with our Latin American and Caribbean partners, apart, perhaps, from a desire to give the region more prominence in Canada’s foreign policy and particularly in the Third Option strategy. This probably explains the diversity of themes mentioned in the discourse on relations with the region in general, or with each sub-region specifically. Objectives analysis for the whole period reveals only two recurring patterns: the importance of the Southern Cone countries for Canada’s trade relations and Ottawa’s involvement in development assistance in the Caribbean region. Other than that, the analysis reveals no clear vision of how Ottawa wished to deal with this region. This in itself is quite understandable considering the very limited relationship that existed between Canada and the region prior to 1968. Examination of Ottawa’s diplomatic and development assistance behaviour does indeed show similarities in patterns of word and deed for the period 1968- 84. Political and diplomatic action was as diversified as the discourse, at least throughout the 1970s, while Canadian development assistance was mostly concentrated in the Caribbean. However, there are discrepancies when one compares discourse and behaviour in economic affairs and private-sector behaviour as opposed to Canadian government action. While Ottawa’s discourse effectively identified the Southern Cone as an important target for trade relations, the study indicates that, in relative terms, the sub-region was neglected under to trade promotion programs. This is all the more surprising given that, during this same period, the Southern Cone led the sub-regions with regard to Canadian investments and received almost 30% of Canada’s exports to the region. Here, the most salient discrepancy lies with the Industrial Cooperation Program, a situation probably owing to the fact that this was a new program whose location at CIDA initially made it difficult to use specifically for trade purposes. In sum then, there was relative continuity between discourse and behaviour during the Trudeau years, economic affairs excepted. A time of discovery during which Canada elaborated numerous projects with regard to its prospective partners in the region, it was also a period without any clear focus or specific design orienting Ottawa’s behaviour.

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The Mulroney years were very different in comparison, both in terms of discourse and behaviour. Business and government actions were much more in step during this period. In addition, the knowledge and experience acquired by the federal government throughout the 1970s in dealing with the region had an unquestionable impact on the situation. The most striking difference between the Trudeau and Mulroney periods is the extent to which the discourse had become specialized under the Conservative regime. Each sub-region now seemed to fill a specific function within Canadian foreign policy for the hemisphere: Mexico and the Southern Cone countries were important in terms of trade, whereas the Caribbean had come to be perceived almost exclusively in terms of development assistance, and Central America in terms of development assistance and peace and human rights. The relationship between Canadian governmental behaviour and discourse was also stronger than previously. ODA programs were now heavily concentrated in Central America and the Caribbean whereas trade support programs had been reoriented towards the Southern Cone and Andean countries. The similarities in business and government action were also greater during the Mulroney years, apart from a slight discrepancy with regard to Mexico, and a more important one concerning the Caribbean. As noted earlier in the case of Mexico, the explanation probably lies in the fact that the Canadian government is using other channels for trade promotion with Mexico, namely EDC lines of credit. In the case of the Caribbean, historical links and heavy banking activity probably explain the importance of Canadian investments in that sub-region. It seems, therefore, that Canadian foreign policy has become increasingly attuned to the realities of Latin America and the Caribbean. Building on past experience, Canadian decision-makers, both private and public, have gained a better understanding of their role in the region and the function that each sub- region may fulfill in Canada’s overall relations with that part of the world. What then lies ahead for Canada’s relationship with the countries of the region? It seems that there will be no turning back on gains made thus far. Furthemore, Canada’s status in the world has changed since 1950s and 1960s, and the country has considerably fewer options now. Africa offers little promise, Canada is no longer a significant player in Europe, and the Canadian position in Asia remains highly uncertain. More importantly still, the signing of the Free Trade Agreement with the USA has sealed our fate as a member of the Americas. For Canada, the Americas of the next century will become the stage, much as the world was Canada’s stage in the 1950s. Consequently, Ottawa can be expected to become increasingly involved in the region. And Canadian decision-makers will want to apply what have been Canada’s trademarks in foreign affairs, namely support for multilateral institutions and a role as honest-broker. In order to do so, Canada will have to overcome the barrier that Washington has almost always constituted to Canada’s relationship with Latin America and the Caribbean. This can be achieved through increased participation in multilateral fora such as the OAS but also through such direct contacts with Latin American and Caribbean partners as witnessed recently

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with the rapprochement between Canada and the Rio Group (Ministère... 1995). But eventually Canada may need to go a step further in order to reduce the overwhelming domination of the two major powers of the hemisphere, the United States and Brazil, and achieve a certain balance or equilibrium in inter- American relations. One way of doing so may be to encourage and participate in a sort of informal concert of middle powers which could act as a kind of intermediary between the two major powers and the smaller countries of the region and, in so doing, participate in building a true community of the Americas.

Notes * The authors would like to express their deep appreciation for financial support from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. They would also like to thank the anonymous reviewers whose comments were quite useful in writing the final draft of the paper. 1. Both collections contain around 2,000 documents. We have focussed essentially on documents pertaining to Latin America and the Caribbean and have not included in the analysis speeches on the Third World in general unless these contained specific sections on Latin America and the Caribbean. We have also excluded interventions in Parliament because these were very often repeats of what was said in the speeches contained in Statements and Speeches and Discours/Statement. 2. Coding reliability tests were conducted to reach the normally accepted coefficient of 0.80 in two consecutive tests. 3. Nine countries were visited by a delegation of five departments, including the Secretary of State for External Affairs, and more than thirty political advisors and civil servants (Mace, 1989: 414). 4. A word of caution is necessary here. Relating objectives to general discourse is always somewhat problematic because of the size of the statistical universe which tends to be generally small. The reason for this has to do with the methodological constraints associated with the identification of what constitutes an objective. The advantage of using analysis of objectives is that we get a standardized measure enabling us to make comparisons between extensive time-periods. But we do lose in terms of in-depth analysis. Consequently, one has to be careful with the interpretation of results and consider objectives as only one measure, among others, of governmental verbal behaviour. 5. For a discussion of the objectives formulated during this period, see Mace and Goulet (1993: 86-88), Rochlin 1994: 34, 45-46. In a statement made in April 1940, the Under-Secretary of State for External Affairs, O. D. Skelton, translated precisely the mood of the times concerning Canadian relations with Latin America by saying: “The one general statement that might perhaps be made (...) is that we refrain carefully from becoming involved in any political commitment.” 6. The Caribbean region was ignored by the White Paper. For an explanation, see Mace 1989: 415. On the other hand, a Senate committee produced a report on the relations between Canada and the Caribbean which encouraged rapprochement and suggested that Canada adopt a coherent policy toward the region (Canada 1970). 7. He writes: “By the early 1980s, the lobbying efforts of these organizations began to show some successes” (Baranyi 1985). 8. Glyn G. Berry suggests some explanations for the decrease in the Caribbean’s importance for Canada in the 1970s. Among the reasons identified, he mentions the departure from Ottawa of figures such as Lester Pearson, Paul Martin and Robert Winters who had demonstrated considerable interest in the Caribbean during the 1960s. Berry also points out that the rapid increase in the number of independent states during the preceding decade (particularly in Commonwealth Africa) had led to a geographical redistribution of aid

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programs. In the same way, the Révolution tranquille in Québec had forced Canada to grant part of its official development assistance to French Africa (1988: 359-60 and 362-63). 9. In his book, J. C. M. Ogelsby suggests that the lack of importance accorded to Mexico prior to 1972 may have been due to the fact that neither Canada nor Mexico wished to engage in relations where some concessions would have been necessary and where their own interest would have to be sacrificed to a certain point (1976: 82). 10. Bilateral official development assistance (ODA) includes all country-to-country assistance. This comprises the following: government-to-government assistance, humanitarian aid (IHA) and programs run by the International Development Research Centre (IDRC), Petro- Canada International (PCIAC), and other governmental organizations (ICOD, etc.). It also includes government disbursements for programs such as the Non-Governmental Organizations (NGO) Program, Institutional Cooperation and Development Services Program (ICDS) and Industrial Cooperation Program. Multilateral aid is excluded. For this section, the disbursements of IDRC have also been excluded because the organization’s status makes it fairly independent of government (Ehrhardt 1989: 561). Note also that the Industrial Cooperation Program is considered in the next section on trade actions. 11. It is worth noting that the Canadian ODA program to Cuba was interrupted in 1978 and restored only in 1994 after the departure of Cuban troops from Angola and the beginning of economic reforms. 12. Even before the official announcement of its participation in the discussions on NAFTA, the Canadian government had sought to strengthen its relations with Mexico. For example, see Clark 1990a, Crosbie 1990a). The Canadian decision to take part in NAFTA talks was announced in September 1990 (Crosbie 1990b). 13. The areas of common interest identified were narcotics control, environmental protection, human rights, peace, development and social justice, trade development, technology exchange and cultural-institutional exchange. 14. OECD notes that Latin America accounts for about one-tenth of the population of Third World countries but represents about one-third of their GNP (1992: 77).

Bibliography Anglin, Douglas (1961), “United States Opposition to Canadian Membership in the Pan American Union: A Canadian View,” International Organization 45 (Winter): 2-24. Baranyi, Steven (1985), “Canadian Foreign Policy Towards Central America, 1980-84: Independence, Limited Public Influence and State Leadership,” Canadian Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Studies 10(19): 23-58. Barry, Donald, Mark O. Dickerson and James D. Grisford (eds) (1995), Toward a North American Community? Canada, the United States and Mexico (Boulder, CO: Westview Press). Berry, Glyn G. (1977), “The West Indies in Canadian External Relations: Present Trends and Future Prospects,” Canadian Public Policy 3: 50-62. Berry, Glyn G. (1988), “The West Indies in Canadian External Relations: Present Trends and Future Prospects,” in Brian Douglas Tennyson (ed.), Canada and the Commonwealth Caribbean (Lanham, MD: University Press of America). Bradford Jr., C. I. and C. Pestieau (1971), Canada and Latin America: The Potential for Partnership (Toronto: Canadian Association for Latin America). Butler Jr., Robert W. (1971), “Trade Conflict: The Mexican-Canadian Yarn War of 1969-70,” Inter-American Economic Affairs 25: 21-30. Calkin, G. A. (1973), “The Development of Relations between Canada and Mexico,” International Perspectives (May-June): 55-58. Canada (1970), Senate Standing Committee on Foreign Affairs, Report on Canada-Caribbean Relations (Ottawa: Queen’s Printer). Canada (1986), Senate and House of Commons, Special Joint Committee on Canada’s International Relations, Independence and Internationalism (Ottawa: Supply and Services). Canadian International Development Agency (undated), The Industrial Cooperation Program (Hull: CIDA), 2. “Canadian Investment, Trade and Aid in Latin America,” (1981) LAWG Letter 7(1-2): 1-41. Chodos, Robert (1977), The Caribbean Connection: The Double-Edged Canadian Presence in the West Indies (Toronto: James Lorimer). Clark , Joe (1989), Notes for Remarks by the Right Honourable Joe Clark, P.C., M.P., Secretary of State for External Affairs at the Meeting of the General Assembly of the Organization of American States (Washington, November 13).

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Clark, Joe (1990a), “Statement by the Secretary of State for External Affairs, the Right Honourable Joe Clark, at the dinner on the occasion of the VIIth session of the Mexico- Canada joint ministerial commission,” Statement / Déclaration 90/04 (Ottawa, January 20) Clark, Joe (1990b), “Notes pour une allocution du secrétaire d’État aux Affaires extérieures, le très honorable Joe Clark, à l’Université de Calgary sur la politique du Canada vis-à-vis de l’Amérique latine,” Statement/Déclaration 90/08 (Calgary, 1er février). Crosbie, John C. (1990a), “Notes pour une allocution par le ministre du Commerce extérieur, John C. Crosbie, devant le Conseil commercial mexicain pour les affaires internationales,” Statement / Déclaration 90/24 (Mexico, April 24). Crosbie, John C. (1990b), “Déclaration du ministre du Commerce extérieur, John C. Crosbie, concernant la participation du Canada aux pourparlers sur le libre-échange avec le Mexique et les États-Unis,” Statement / Déclaration 90/53 (Ottawa, September 24). Daudelin, Jean and Edgar J. Dosman (eds) (1995), Beyond Mexico (Ottawa: Carleton University Press). Dickerson, Mark O. and Stephen J. Randall (eds) (1991), Canada and Latin America: Issues to the Year 2000 and Beyond (Calgary: University of Calgary Press). Donneur, André (1983), “La pénétration économique en Amérique latine,” Études internationales 14(1) (mars): 83-102. Dosman, Edgar J. (1984), Latin America and the Caribbean: The Strategic Framework - A Canadian Perspective, ORAE Extra-Mural Paper no. 31 (Ottawa: Department of National Defence, April). Dosman, Edgar J. (1984-85), “Hemispheric Relations in the 1980s: A Perspective from Canada,” Journal of Canadian Studies 19: 42-60. Dosman, Edgar J. (1987), “Points of Departure: The Security Equation in Canadian- Commonwealth Caribbean Relations,” International Journal 42(4) (Autumn): 821-47. Dosman, Edgar J. (1992), “Canada and Latin America: The New Look,” International Journal 47(3) (Summer): 529-54. Dosman, Edgar J. and W. D. Postgate (1980), Canadian-Latin American Economic Relations (Toronto: CERLAC). Ehrhardt, Roger (1989), “The Politics of Canadian Aid,” in Painchaud (ed.), From Mackenzie King to Pierre Trudeau: Forty Years of Canadian Diplomacy 1945-1985 (Québec: Presses de l’Université Laval), 555-79. English, P. E. (1984), L’aide au développement du Canada à Haïti (Ottawa: Institut Nord-Sud). Fauriol, Georges A. (1977), “Canadian Relations with Haiti: An Overview,” Revista/Review Interamericana 7: 109-17. Gilbert, Jacqueline (1978), Le Canada et l’Amérique latine sous le signe de la coopération (Ottawa: Université d’Ottawa). Gorham, Richard V. (1990), Notes for Remarks by Ambassador R.V. Gorham at a Business Oppurtinities Luncheon: “Canada’s New Policy Initiatives in Latin America” (Calgary, April 24). Goulet, Claude (1995), “Aider pour des idées: étude de la politique canadienne d’aide publique au développement à l’Amérique latine et aux Antilles” (unpublished Ph.D. diss., Université Laval, Québec). Gouvernement du Canada (1985), Ministère des Affaires étrangères, Compétitivité et sécurité: Orientations pour les relations extérieures du Canada (Ottawa: Approvisionnements et Services). Government of Canada (1970), A Foreign Policy for Canadians. Latin America (Ottawa: Queen’s Printer). Grant, Michael and Duncan McDowell (1987), Canadian Busines Linkages with the Developing Countries: The South American Experience (Ottawa: Conference Board of Canada). Guy, James J. (1976), “Canada and Latin America,” World Today 32(10): 376-86. Guy, James J. (1978), “Brazil’s Pursuit of Greatness Affects Relations with Canada,” International Perspectives (May-June): 18-21. Haar , Jerry and Edgar J. Dosman (eds) (1993), A Dynamic Partnership, Canada’s Changing Role in the Americas (Miami/New Brunswick, NJ: North-South Center/Transaction Publishers). Haglund, David G. (1987), “The Missing Link: Canada’s Security Interest and the Central America Crisis,” International Journal 42(4) (Autumn): 789-820. Holsti, O. R. (1962), “The Belief System and National Images,” Journal of Conflict Resolution (September 6): 608-17. Huard, Victor (1988), “Quiet Diplomacy or Quiet Acquiescence? Canadian Policy in Central America since 1945,” Canadian Journal of Latin America and Caribbean Studies 13(26): 103-35. Jervis, R. (1970), The Logic of Images in International Relations (Princeton: Princeton University Press). Jervis, R. (1976), Perception and Misperception in International Politics (Princeton: Princeton University Press).

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Kaufman, Michael (1984-85), “The Internationalization of Canadian Bank Capital (with a look at Bank Activity in the Caribbean and Central America),” Journal of Canadian Studies 19: 61- 81. Klepak, Harold P. and Capt. G. K. Vachon (1978), A Strategic and Economic Analysis of Canadian National Interests in Latin America, ORAE Extra-Mural Paper no. 2 (Ottawa: Department of National Defence, March). Klepak, Harold P. (1990), Canada and Latin America: Strategic Issues for the 1990s (Ottawa: Department of National Defence). Korany, Bahgat (1990), “Analyzing Third-World Foreign Policies: A Critique and a Reordered Research Agenda,” in David Wurfel and Bruce Burton (eds), The Political Economy of Foreign Policy in Southeast Asia (New York: St-Martin’s Press). Krippendorf, Klaus (1981), Content Analysis, an Introduction to its Methodology (Beverly Hills: Sage Publications). Labelle, Micheline et al. (1983), “Politique d’immigration et immigration en provenance de la Caraïbe anglophone au Canada et au Québec, 1900-1979,” Canadian Ethnic Studies 15(2): 1-24. Lemco, Jonathan (1991), Canada and the Crisis in Central America (New York: Praeger). MacDonald, Flora (1979), “Notes pour une allocution du secrétaire d’État aux Affaires extérieures, Flora MacDonald, devant l’Association de la presse interaméricaine,” Statement / discours (Toronto, October 17). Mace, Gordon (1987), Une politique étrangère régionale du Canada en Amérique latine? (Québec: LEPA, Université Laval). Mace, Gordon (1989), “Les relations du Canada avec l’Amérique latine et les Caraïbes,” in Paul Painchaud (ed.), De Mackenzie King à Pierre Trudeau: Quarante ans de diplomatie canadienne, 1945-1985 (Québec: Les Presses de l’Université Laval), 412-24. Mace, Gordon and Claude Goulet (1993), “Les objectifs de la politique étrangère canadienne face à l’Amérique latine,” Canadian Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Studies 18 (36): 79-105. Mackenzie, David (1994), “Canada in the Organization of American States: The First Five Years,” Behind the Headlines 52(1) (Autumn): 1-15. McFarlane, Peter (1989), Northern Shadows: Canadians and Central America (Toronto: Between the Lines). McKenna, Peter (1995), Canada and the OAS, From Dilettante to Full Partner (Ottawa: Carleton University Press). Midy, Franklin (1983), “Le Canada et l’aide au développement aux Antilles et en Amérique latine,” Interventions économiques (printemps): 141-53. Ministère des Affaires étrangères et du Commerce international du Canada (1995), “Déclaration conjointe du Canada et du Groupe de Rio,” Communiqué 233 (15 décembre). Murray, D. R. (1974), “Canada’s First Diplomatic Missions in Latin America,” Journal of Inter- American Studies and World Affairs 16(2): 153-72. Murray, D. R. (1981-82), “The Bilateral Road: Canada and Latin America in the 1980s,” International Journal 37(1) (Winter): 108-31. North, Liisa (1987), Measures for Peace in Central America, A Conference Report (Ottawa: Canadian Institute of International Peace Studies). Ogelsby, J. C. M. (1969), “Canada and the Pan American Union: Twenty Years On,” International Journal 24(3) (Summer): 571-89. Ogelsby, J. C. M. (1976), Gringos from the Far North: Essays in the History of Canadian-Latin American Relations 1866-1968 (Toronto: Macmillan). Ogelsby, J. C. M. (1978), “Latin America,” International Journal 33(2) (Spring): 401-7. Ogelsby, J. C. M. (1979), “A Trudeau Decade. Canadian-Latin American Relations 1968-1978,” Journal of Inter-American Studies and World Affairs 21(2): 187-208. Organisation of Economic and Cooperation Development (OECD) (1992), Développement et démocratie: Les politiques d’aide en Amérique latine (Paris: OECD). Paragg, Ralph R. (1980), “Canadian Aid to the Commonwealth Caribbean: Neo-colonialism or Development?,” Canadian Public Policy 6: 628-41. Randall, Stephen J., Herman Konrad and Sheldon Silverman (eds) (1992), North America without Borders? Integrating Canada, the United States and Mexico (Calgary: University of Calgary Press). Rochlin, James (1988), “The Political Economy of Canadian Relations with Central America,” Canadian Journal of Latin America and Caribbean Studies 13(25): 45-70. Rochlin, James (1994), Discovering the Americas, the Evolution of Canadian Foreign Policy Towards Latin America (Vancouver: UBC Press). Roussin, Marcel (1959), Le Canada et le système interaméricain (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press). Ruiz, Wilson (1988), A View from the South: Canadian-Latin America Links (Ottawa: North- South Institute).

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Saragossi, Maggy (1991), Persuasion et séduction, le discours politico-commercial du Canada sur l’Amérique latine (1982-1985) (Candiac: Éditions Balzac). Senate of Canada (1981), Senate Report of the Standing Committee on Foreign Affairs of the Senate of Canada on Canada-Caribbean Relations (Ottawa: Queen’s Printer). Sous-comité du Comité permanent des Affaires extérieures et de la Défense nationale (1981-82), Les relations du Canada avec l’Amérique latine et les Antilles, various fascicles (Ottawa: Imprimeur de la Reine). Toward a New World Strategy: Canadian Policy in the Americas Into the Twenty-First Century, (1994), The FOCAL Papers (Ottawa: FOCAL). Von Riekhoff, Harald (1977), “Une analyse des objectifs de la politique étrangère canadienne,” dans Paul Painchaud (ed), Le Canada et le Québec sur la scène internationale (Montréal/Québec: Presses de l’Université du Québec/Centre québécois de relations internationales), 547-74. Will, R. M. (1960), “Economic Aspects of Canadian-Latin American Relations,” International Journal 15(4) (Autumn): 346-54. Winks, Robin W. (1969), Canada-West Indian Union: A Forty Year Minuet (London: Oxford University Press).

159 Review Essays Essais critiques Victor J. Ramraj

West Indian-Canadian Writing in English

Twenty-five years ago, the literary-cultural category “West Indian Writing in Canada,” if it were used at all, would have included just one name, Austin Clarke. Clarke immigrated from Barbados in the 1950s and within a few years won recognition for his first two novels about life in colonial Barbados, Survivors of the Crossing (1964) and Amongst Thistles and Thorns (1965) and his trilogy set in the Barbadian immigrant community in Toronto of the 1960s The Meeting Point (1967), The Storm of Fortune (1973), and The Bigger Light (1975). In the last few years, a host of new writers have burst on the literary scene. A current bibliography of writing by West Indian-Canadians now includes such names as Neil Bissoondath, Dionne Brand, Cyril Dabydeen, Kwame Dawes, Claire Harris, Arnold Itwaru, Shani Mootoo, Sasenarine Persaud, M. Nourbese Philip, Nigel Thomas — and Sam Selvon (1923-94), who immigrated to Canada in 1978, after spending almost three decades in the UK, to which he had moved from his native Trinidad in 1950. To this list could be added the names of a score more writers who have published occasionally in various monographs, chapbooks, and little magazines. These are almost all recent immigrant to Canada, and, like Clarke, their writing inevitably is at this time immigrant writing, absorbed with the immigrant experience of adjusting to life in a new land and coming to grips with their conscious or subconscious attachment to the homes they have left. In their works, however, this common ground is rendered not monolithically or homogeneously but with identifiable distinctness, reflecting the writers’ different intellectual and emotional responses as well as the varied historical and cultural complexity of West Indian-Canadian communities. Clarke’s early novels and stories are accounts of the oppressive lives of a group of working-class Barbadians in Toronto of the 1950s and 1960s and are sharp indictment of what Clarke perceives as systemic racism. Two subsequent collections of stories, When Women Rule (1985) and Nine Men Who Laughed (1986), portray the lives of these working-class immigrants a decade or two later; they have achieved a measure of economic security but still see themselves as victims of a prejudicial system. Clarke’s most recent volumes of stories, In This City (1992) and There Are No Elders (1993) are about older, settled immigrants and the first generation born in Canada. He continues to write of systemic discrimination but he now attempts to understand and account for it rather than merely rail against it; and he now pursues ethnic and racial affinities, not just differences. In The Prime Minister (1977), Growing Up Stupid Under the Union Jack (1980), and Proud Empires (1986), Clarke returns to Barbados. The Prime Minister is a satirical narrative on island politics. Growing Up Stupid Under

International Journal of Canadian Studies / Revue internationale d’études canadiennes 13, Spring/Printemps 1996 IJCS / RIÉC the Union Jack, which Clarke planned as the first volume of his memoirs, reviews his school days in colonial Barbados. Proud Empires, a novel about the intrigues of island politics in pre- and post-independence Barbados. Clarke has mentioned in A Passage Back Home: A Personal Reminiscence of Samuel Selvon (1994) that The Lonely Londoners (1956), Selvon’s novel of West Indians in London in the 1950s, is very much behind his stories of Barbadians in Toronto. He is one of several writers who acknowledge the influence of Selvon on their writing. By the time Selvon immigrated to Canada, he was a renowned writer with nine published novels to his name, including A Brighter Sun (1952) and Turn Again Tiger (1958) — companion pieces about a young couple’s life in a multicultural Trinidad — and The Lonely Londoners and Moses Ascending (1975) — the first two novels of the Moses trilogy on West Indian immigrant life in London. The third Moses novel, Moses Migrating, was published in 1983, five years after Selvon moved to Canada. In this work, Selvon does not draw on his Canadian experience, however. Set in London and Trinidad, it recounts Moses’s decision to return to Trinidad after two decades in London, which has become for him an inhospitable place. But a short stay in Trinidad is enough to persuade him that he has been away too long and is no longer at home there. The novel ends with British immigration officers, who are not convinced that he is a British citizen. interrogating him at Heathrow Airport — a metaphorical no-man’s land. The single published work that Selvon set in Canada is the short story “Angus at the Races,” an amusing piece about two West Indian immigrants’ misadventures at a Calgary race track. Selvon’s sharp eye for details, his tight dialogue, economical narration, and his warm humour — characteristics of the early episodes and ballads in The Lonely Londoners and the London stories of Ways of Sunlight — are evident in “Angus at the Races.” What is missing, however, is the harsh circumstances of the London immigrant’s life and the bitter-sweet tone of the early stories. In the years before his death, Selvon saw the republication of several of his novels, including An Island Is a World (1955; 1993) and the publication of a collection of his early journalism and later essays in Foreday Morning: Selected Prose 1946-1986 (1989) and his plays and scripts in Highway in the Sun and Other Plays (1991). Selvon was working on his memoirs, a novel, and several stories at the time of his death; these unfinished pieces are likely to be published eventually in one form or another. Harold Sonny Ladoo (1945-73) appeared on the Canadian literary scene a decade after Clarke’s debut. Ladoo died suddenly after the publication of his first novel No Pain Like This Body (1972); Yesterdays was published posthumously in 1974. These novels are about the indentured labourers and their descendants of rural Trinidad in the early part of the twentieth century. In their focus on raw, elemental, often violent emotions and passions, they differ from Selvon’s or V. S. Naipaul’s depiction of everyday, domestic Indo- Caribbean rural life. No Pain Like This Body recounts the struggles of an Indian family to survive in an alien, inhospitable land. Brutalized as indentured labourers by their colonial masters, they must now cope with natural disasters, poverty, sickness, death, and their own madnesses and passions. Yesterdays,in

164 West Indian-Canadian Writing in English an unmitigated vulgar and coarse style, censures the unrestrained passions of his characters, but the brunt of his satire (harsher and more ribald than Clarke’s in Growing Up Stupid Under the Union Jack) is directed at imperial education, which he equates with indoctrination. Neil Bissoondath’s early stories in Digging Up the Mountains (1986) and On the Eve of Uncertain Tomorrows (1990) are portraits of dispossessed immigrants. Responding to the immigrant’s displacement and dispossession as a condition common to all peoples, he writes of European, Latin American, Japanese, and other immigrants as well. He consciously constructs some stories without specific details of nationality and ethnicity to underscore his characters’ shared humanity. His first novel, A Casual Brutality (1988), is largely about a dispossessed immigrant, a West Indian medical doctor in Canada, who returns to his island home, becomes disenchanted, and immigrates once more to Canada. In his second novel, The Innocence of Age (1992), Bissoondath attempts to portray as his protagonist a white Canadian, Taggart. He provides a sympathetic portrait of this lonely widower, who, like the Trinidadian immigrant Ramgoolam of his early story “Security,” is estranged from both his son and his Toronto community, which Taggart believes has changed for the worse with the advent of immigrants and drug- dealers. Though Taggart is rendered engagingly, the novel conveys the impression that his portrait was undertaken to prove his commonality of experience rather than to define his complex individuality. Bissoondath’s portrait of Taggart invites comparison with Clarke’s ironical presentation of a white Torontonian in his story “The Collector,” who also complains about the incursion of immigrants. In keeping with his believe in human commonality, Bissoondath, in Selling Illusions: The Cult of Multiculturalism in Canada (1994), argues that state-sponsored multiculturalism is divisive and he equates it with a mild form of apartheid which keeps the different ethnic pockets apart from the mainstream culture. “Differences,” he contends, “between people are already obvious enough without their being emphasized through multiculturalism policy and its growing cult of racial and ethnic identity” (122). Three Trinidadian-Canadian writers, Claire Harris, Dionne Brand, and M. Nourbese Philip have published fiction, poetry, and essays that are fundamentally concerned with past and present abuses, marginalization, and “dehumanizing exclusivity” of the black woman as a colonial in imperial societies and as an immigrant in North American societies. Harris believes, however, that in a society with conflicting but interpenetrating cultures it is important to recognize differences as well as commonalities. In her latest volume, Dipped in Shadows (1996), a collection of five relatively long poems, Harris down-plays ethnic particulars as she explores the lot of women of various racial and ethnic backgrounds. A recurring issue in these poems is the extent of women’s complicity in the horrors and outrages of their own plight and in incest, war, and disease; the speakers of the poems remind their sisters that the agent of violence may very likely be “my sister’s son” and that women may “midwife evil” (59-60).

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Brand and Philip are far more militant and confrontational than Harris in their writing. They make greater use of narratives of slavery and colonization to accentuate the plight of contemporary blacks. In Another Place, Not Here (1996) Brand’s first novel, like her poems, is a passionate indictment of discrimination against women, minorities, and lesbians. Philip’s Looking for Livingstone: An Odyssey of Silence (1991) relates in poetic prose a black female traveller’s quest through time and place for Dr. Livingstone, in the course of which she discovers herself as colonial, black, and woman. Harris, Brand, and Philip approach the English language ambivalently; it is their language but it is also a tool of imperialism. (Bissoondath acknowledges that English is a “borrowed” language but opts to see it as an “acquired” rather than an imposed language [Illusions 81]). In Harris’s Drawing Down a Daughter (1992), the poet-mother tells her daughter that there is no “unsullied” language that she can offer her: “Child all i have to give / is English which hates/fears your / black skin.” No Language is Neutral (1990) constitute Brand’s poetic rewriting of the history of blacks, women, and immigrants. Philip has stated that a major challenge for her is how to write “in the language of [her] oppression, but the only one” she has, and how to find a “language of empowerment.” To come to from Brand’s and Philip’s writing to Cyril Dabydeen’s is to be made quickly aware of Dabydeen’s greater emphasis not on the confrontational but on the complementary, interlocking possibilities of antithetical cultures. Though he is conscious of the immigrant’s plight in a country that he feels “still is a xenophobic place,” his poetry — the best of which are included in Coastland: New and Selected Poems, 1973-1987 (1989) — and his fiction remain receptive to the possibilities of incorporating difference within himself. He recurrently juxtaposes antithetical images of marginalization and integration, fragmentation and oneness. In his novel Dark Swirl, Dabydeen tells of a European naturalist on a field trip to a remote village in the mysterious, primordial, riverine region of Guyana that Wilson Harris mythologizes in his novels. Dabydeen approaches the relationship between the stranger and the villagers in terms of binary opposites: colonizer and colonized, science and belief, reason and intuition. At the end of the novel, he unifies these opposites, stressing complementarity — as he does in his poetry. Arnold Itwaru and Sasenarine Persaud, like Dabydeen, are originally from Guyana and are as preoccupied with the conditions of Guyanese life as they are with the immigrant’s experience in Canada. Itwaru’s collections Shattered Songs (1982), Entombed Survivals (1987), and Body Rites (1991) are predominantly evocations of loneliness but they never end on a note of despair; there is always an encouraging intellectual resolution. Like Bissoondath’s stories, Itwaru’s poetry often omits specifics of place, time, or situation, and addresses feelings that are derived from immigrants’ experiences but are not exclusive to them. Historical specificities, however, are much in evidence in his novel Shanti (1988), a work that demonstrates the validity of one of the current historical theories of colonialism that gratifying imperial sexual appetites was as strong a driving force behind colonization as acquiring wealth

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and proselytizing Christianity. The novel, like Ladoo’s No Pain Like This Body, is a dismal portrait of Indo-Caribbean rural life in the colonial period. Persaud’s two collections Demerary Telepathy (1988) and Between the Dash and the Comma (1989) derive more from his experiences as a resident in Guyana than as an immigrant in Canada (since 1988). More than any other West Indian poet, Persaud is acutely conscious of his Indian heritage and deliberately juxtaposes Indian and Western images, myths, and allusions in his poetry and fiction. The poems on his life in Canada make strong statements against systemic marginalization of immigrants but, aware of the political and economic deprivation that he has escaped, he appreciates the respite he has found in Canada. Like Dabydeen, he can allude to the immigrant as “a glad alien.” His first novel, Dear Death (1989), is an account of a young Guyanese boy’s growing awareness of complex relationships among members of his family and community and of his development as an artist; it recalls Michael Anthony’s fiction. His second novel, The Ghost of Bellow’s Man (1992), examines a young writer’s vocational insecurities against a backdrop of political corruption in Guyana after independence. Several other West Indian-Canadians produced notable works in the 1980s and 1990s. Lillian Allen, a member of the Toronto group, de dub poets, produced Rhythm an’ Hardtimes (1982), a collection of dub poems with a feminist perspective, using the Jamaican vernacular in a way that recalls Louise Bennett. Several young poets, including Brian Chan, Nigel Darbasie, and particularly Kwame Dawes have published significant volumes of poems that deserve critical attention. Ramabai Espinet’s Nuclear Seasons (1991) is a collection of poems that examines from a feminist perspective the plight of the culturally dispossessed and the economically disadvantaged both in Canada and Trinidad. Ishmael Baksh’s Black Light (1988), the first West Indian example of the “academic novel” sub-genre, is set in Memorial University, Newfoundland, with flashbacks to the Trinidadian-Canadian protagonist’s early life in the Caribbean. The better stories in Shani Mootoo’s first collection, Out on Main Street and Other Stories (1993), are about characters coming to grips with their multiple cultural perspectives and identities — national, racial, and sexual. Mootoo’s protagonists are not overly disturbed by their lack of self-identification; they in fact revel in their cultural fluidity and develop an ironical perception of the absurdity of cultural narrowness and exclusivity. H. Nigel Thomas’s Spirits of the Dark (1993), a first novel, is a bildungsroman set in St. Vincent that confronts issues of religious, racial, and — what is exceptional in Caribbean fiction — sexual identity and preference. In addition to these writers, there are many others who have published the occasional poems, plays, or stories in Canadian and Caribbean little magazines and chapbooks or in the three anthologies of West Indian-Canadian writing that have been published so far — Harold Head’s Canada In Us Now (1976), Lorris Elliott’s Other Voices (1985), and Cyril Dabydeen’s A Shapely Fire: Changing the Literary Landscape (1987). These anthologies, which include works of over thirty West Indian-Canadian writers, attest further to the strong strides West Indian-Canadian writing has taken since Clarke published his first novel in the 1960s.

167 Bibliography Bissoondath, Neil. Selling Illusions: The Cult of Multiculturalism in Canada. Toronto: Penguin, 1994. Harris Claire. Dipped in Shadow. Fredericton: Goose Lane. 1996. ———. Drawing Down a Daughter. Fredericton: Goose Lane. 1992. André C. Drainville

Le Québec, les États-Unis et l’Amérique

Contemporary Quebec and the United States, 1960-1985, Louis Balthazar et Alfred O. Hero. Lanham, Md. : University Press of America in cooperation with the Center for International Affairs, Harvard University, 1988. 532 p. Quebec Under Free Trade : Making Public Policy in North America, sous la direction de Guy Lachapelle. Sainte-Foy, Québec : Presses de l’Université du Québec, c1995. 410 p. L’Amérique du Nord et l’Europe communautaire : intégration économique, intégration sociale?, sous la direction de Dorval Brunelle et Christian Deblock. Sainte-Foy, Québec : Presses de l’Université du Québec, 1994. 459 p.

Une décennie s’est écoulée depuis le «sommet de la St-Patrick» entre Brian Mulroney et Ronald Reagan (que d’aucuns baptisèrent de «shamrock summit»). Si les débats entourant la nouvelle constitution économique continentale que promettait alors le président états-unien n’ont (très certainement) pas éconduis les sempiternelles discussions sur le renouvellement de la constitution canadienne, certaines initiatives interétatiques (l’accord de libre-échange entre le Canada et les États-Unis, l’ALÉNA, l’Entreprise for the America Initiative et les projets états-uniens et brésiliens de création d’une zone de libre-échange des Amériques) et populaires (l’encuentro Canada-Mexique, le sommet Zacatenas et celui de Valle de Bravo), ainsi que la consolidation de ce que Ricardo Grinspun et Robert Kreklewich appellent un cadre néo-libéral disciplinaire à l’échelle continentale, ont contribué à concrétiser l’espace continental américain1. L’Amérique hémisphérique, qui n’existait jusque-là que dans l’imagination de Simon Bolívar et de Thomas Jefferson, et que comme une projection stratégique états-unienne (voir la doctrine Monroe, le corollaire de Theodore Roosevelt, la good neighbour policy de Franklin D. Roosevelt et l’Alliance for Progress de John F. Kennedy), cette Amérique vide de sens social, a acquis une nouvelle signification. Les discours grandiloquents célébrant la «nouvelle société civile américaine» (au sommet de Miami de décembre 1994, par exemple) n’ont toujours pas plus de sens que n’en avaient les prétentions de Ronald Reagan à refaire l’Amérique à son image, mais il n’est pas exagéré de dire que, depuis une décennie, l’Amérique devient un espace politique et social structurant.

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Les trois ouvrages recensés ici marquent bien cette évolution. Publié en 1988, Contemporary Quebec and the United States 1960-1985, de Louis Balthazar et Alfred O. Hero, situe son étude des liens (sociaux, politiques et économiques) entre le Québec et les États-Unis dans une Amérique du Nord qui n’est pas plus que la somme d’espaces nationaux. Pour Balthazar et Hero, la politique continentale n’est encore que le domaine de la grande politique et des grandes affaires. Elle ne constitue pas tant un espace en soi qu’un lien entre des espaces (politiques, sociaux et économiques) contigus. Cet ouvrage — écrit avant que les initiatives susmentionnées n’accroissent la pertinence de l’Amérique comme cadre d’analyse et son importance comme cadre de vie — utilise la méthode comparée, comme si l’américanité commune du Québec et des États- Unis n’avait pas, ou peu, de conséquence. Il présente les Québécois aux États- uniens comme à des étrangers, sonde les élites locales (du Canada, du Québec et des États-Unis) comme on fait passer un test d’admission au ministère des Affaires étrangères ou au Department of State. Les citoyens du monde américain qu’interpellent Balthazar et Hero sont des élites qui habitent l’Amérique par choix. Aux États-Unis, les auteurs interrogent des responsible executives of corporations, l’influential business leadership, des membres du corporate et de la foreign-policy elite, des participants influents à la foreign-policy community, des représentants des US business, government and media elites. Au Québec, ils parlent à la francophone business elite, aux leaders des partis politiques provinciaux et aux édiles gouvernementaux (par exemple, au chapitre 8 : «Québécois Elites and Government Institutions vis-à-vis the United States»). Dans cette Amérique de Balthazar et Hero, les trajectoires historiques ne se rencontrent qu’occasionnellement. L’histoire du nationalisme québécois, par exemple (chapitre 3 : «Québec Nationalism as a Way of Life»), est présentée en termes remarquablement non américains. Pour Balthazar et Hero, les Patriotes de Papineau sont tout sauf des contemporains de Bolívar; le Québec est son propre centre de gravité, les questions qui ont structuré et qui structurent les relations sociales sont des questions internes, sinon au Québec du moins au Canada : les relations entre anglophones, allophones et francophones par exemple (dont il est question au chapitre 5 : «Non- Francophone Quebecers»), la dynamique des relations entre les deux solitudes canadiennes et les tendances démographiques (au chapitre 4 : «Nationalism : A Majority Quebec Movement»). Lorsqu’il est question de valeurs américaines (par exemple au chapitre 7 qui traite de l’expérience unique des Québécois en Amérique), les auteurs de Contemporary Quebec font quelques commentaires d’usage sur le pragmatisme, l’égalitarisme et l’esprit de frontière de la culture nord- américaine que partagent États-uniens et Québécois, et passent rapidement à l’analyse de la différence entre cultures états-unienne et québécoise. Certaines des vérités sociologiques découvertes par Balthazar et Hero n’ont pas changé. Les Américains parlent, il est permis de le supposer, toujours aussi peu le français et appréhendent toujours la réalité québécoise par le biais du Canada anglophone (le New-York Times ne demanda-t-il pas à l’historien très canadien Pierre Berton de commenter les résultats du dernier référendum

170 Le Québec, les États-Unis et l’Amérique québécois, qui dès lors portait non plus sur l’indépendance du Québec mais la sécession du Canada?).2 Dix années de débats sur le libre-échangisme continental et le néo-libéralisme panaméricain n’ont pas effacé la différence entre les attitudes des nationalistes canadiens et québécois vis-à-vis des investissements étrangers états-uniens (les premiers s’en méfient, les seconds y voient toujours une occasion de diversifier l’économie nationale et de quitter l’orbite canadienne). Contemporary Quebec, qui se donnait pour mission de présenter le Québec aux Américains des États-Unis, est donc toujours un ouvrage utile. Il doit pourtant (déjà) être lu comme un livre d’histoire qui nous présente un cadre d’analyse usé. Si les réponses aux questions que se posaient Balthazar et Hero ne changent parfois pas, l’intégration hémisphérique, le désengagement de l’État, la maquilladorisation des économies américaines, la radicalisation du néo-libéralisme, la recomposition des rapports sociaux et, surtout, l’émergence de nouvelles solidarités sociales transfrontalières ont considérablement diminué leur intérêt analytique. Alors que l’Amérique visitée par Balthazar et Hero formait un espace sans gravité, que seules traversaient quelques politiques étatiques et qu’habitaient certaines élites, l’Amérique des auteurs rassemblés par Guy Lachapelle dans Quebec Under Free Trade : Making Public Policy in North America s’avère plus lourde de conséquences. C’est un espace politique distinct, qui ne résulte pas simplement de dynamiques prenant place ailleurs. Comme Pierre-Paul Proulx («Quebec International Trade : Trade with American Regions»), qui avance l’hypothèse que les effets de la recomposition spatiale de l’Amérique du Nord se font déjà sentir dans les rapports commerciaux qu’entretient le Québec avec les États-Unis, la plupart des auteurs partent de l’idée que l’espace américain existe et qu’il est de plus en plus contraignant. Ceci rend particulièrement important un chapitre comme celui d’André Turcotte («Uneasy Allies : Quebecers, Canadians, Americans, Mexicans and NAFTA») qui trace l’histoire parallèle du refus des populations canadienne, états- unienne, mexicaine et québécoise d’endosser les projets de libre- échange et des tentatives gouvernementales d’éviter les débats publics. En conclusion, Turcotte rappelle qu’en dépit du discours démocratique qui accompagne les accords de libre-échange, l’Amérique est habitée bien involontairement par des citoyens qui contrôlent de moins en moins les politiques nationales. Mis à part quelques chapitres, Quebec under Free Trade présente une collection de dossiers courts et ponctuels dont les meilleurs proposent une information sinon inédite du moins récente et surtout pertinente du point de vue de ce que la sociologie politique des années soixante-dix aurait appelée la foreign-policy community (vraisemblablement le public ciblé par cet ouvrage). Dans cet esprit, le chapitre de Gilles Duruflé et Benoît Tétrault (“The Impact of the Free Trade Agreement on Bilateral Trade between Quebec and the United States”) et celui de Pierre-Paul Proulx (dont le «Quebec International Trade» est extrait d’un rapport présenté il y a deux ans au ministère québécois du Conseil exécutif) sont tout à fait compétents. Dans la même veine, Maryse Robert («Quebec and its Canadian Partners...») présente un tour d’horizon utile des barrières tarifaires au commerce intracanadien, une analyse comptable compétente de leurs coûts et une bonne description de

171 IJCS / RIÉC l’entente de juillet 1994 sur le commerce interprovincial. Pierre-André Julien («United States/Canada Free Trade Agreement and Quebec Small Business Behaviour») analyse l’impact de l’accord du libre-échange sur les PME québécoises. Dans un chapitre très réussi, qui met bien en lumière certaines des conséquences de l’ALÉNA, Luc Bernier («Adjusting to NAFTA : State Enterprises and Privatization in Québec...») situe l’expérience de la privatisation des entreprises publiques québécoises par rapport aux expériences états-uniennes et mexicaines. Au chapitre suivant, Serge Denis et Rock Denis («Trade Unionism and the State of Industrial Relations in Quebec») placent le syndicalisme québécois dans une perspective historique et anticipent les conséquences de l’intégration continentale. Dans un bien moins bon chapitre, Maria Isabel Studer et Jean-François Prud’homme («Quebec-Mexico Relationship») offrent d’abord un survol rapide du Québec comme acteur international, puis comptent les visites bureaucratiques, les bureaux de représentation ouverts par l’État québécois et les ententes de coopération entre les universités québécoises et mexicaines. Cette montagne de détails accouche d’une analyse peu féconde de deux scénarios. Le premier est celui d’une déclaration unilatérale d’indépendance du Québec (Studer et Prud’homme prédisent que dans ce cas les relations bilatérales entre un Québec souverain et le Mexique dépendraient, comme toutes relations bilatérales, de l’habileté des interlocuteurs à maximiser la coopération et à minimiser les irritants). Le second scénario est celui de la souveraineté- association (qui entraverait le développement de relations bilatérales Québec- Mexique). La dernière partie de Quebec Under Free Trade présente quatre dossiers. Au chapitre 12, Frederic C. Menz («Environmental Policy in Quebec») se fait l’avocat de politiques de régulation environnementales qui exigent la discipline du marché, ce qui permettrait au Québec d’harmoniser ses politiques à la nécessaire gouverne néo-libérale. Aux chapitres suivants, Benoît Mario Papillon («Agricultural Policy»), Kevin V. Mulcahy («Public Culture and Political Culture») et Hervé Déry («Telecommunications and Information Technology») présentent des variations sur le thème néo-libéral de l’harmonisation continentale des politiques d’intervention et du besoin d’accepter les exigences d’un environnement politique de plus en plus compétitif. Malgré eux, ces chapitres mettent bien en évidence le coût social, politique et intellectuel de l’acceptation sans conditions de l’intégration continentale. Au-delà du travail de documentation et des découvertes involontaires, l’ouvrage édité par Guy Lachapelle offre très peu. Les dossiers pertinents du point de vue des acteurs politiques ont rarement beaucoup d’envergures historiques ou analytiques comme nous le rappellent les chapitres de Guy Lachapelle («Quebec Under Free Trade : Between Interdependence and Transnationalism») et Anne-Marie Cotter («Quebec in North America : Historical and Socio-Political Dimensions»). Comme éditeur, Lachapelle aurait dû cerner le projet intellectuel commun des auteurs qu’il a rassemblés et souligner sa pertinence. Il a plutôt choisi de signer un premier chapitre, meublé de dichotomies gênantes («There are two ways of approaching the issues of the economies between nations [...] », « [...] the federalist and pluralist

172 Le Québec, les États-Unis et l’Amérique perspectives», « [...] the functional and neo-functional perspectives», etc.), qui débouche sur des prescriptions peu crédibles («Québec should suggest the creation of a North American Committee on Cultural Cooperation [...] Québec should be ready to sign economic and cultural treaties with each partners [...] a sovereign Quebec should not alter North American Economic and trade patterns [...]»). Ce manque de perspective théorique est d’autant plus regrettable que les écrits contemporains en économie politique internationale se sont beaucoup intéressés aux modalités de constructions des espaces sociaux et aux dynamiques spatiales. Cette documentation n’est pas mise à contribution dans Quebec Under Free Trade, ni par Lachapelle ni par les auteurs qu’il a rassemblés. On doit également rendre Lachapelle responsable d’un glossaire présenté en fin d’ouvrage qui est tout aussi ébranlant que cette encyclopédie chinoise de Borges dont parlait Foucault dans la préface de Les mots et les choses : encyclopédie qui divisait les animaux de la création entre ceux a) appartenant à l’Empereur, b) embaumés, c) apprivoisés, d) cochons de lait, e) sirènes, f) fabuleux, g) chiens en liberté, h) inclus dans la présente classification, i) qui s’agitent comme des fous, j) innombrables, k) dessinés avec un pinceau très fin en poil de chameau, l) et cætera, m) qui viennent de casser la cruche... Sont définis en quelques mots dans ce glossaire bigarré qui contient soixante-neuf termes : Agenda Setting («Influencing the priorities of concern»), Bloc québécois, CRTC, Democracy, Elite («Small group of people possessing power within a specific sphere of activity»), FTQ, Government, High Salience Period («The time when an issue is at its highest salience [...]»), Issue Obstrusiveness, Policy Instruments («The different means available to governments to implement their policies [...]»), Radio Frequency Spectrum... Anne-Marie Cotter, pour sa part, offre une revue historique qui promettait une intéressante relecture américaine du nationalisme québécois, mais qui se contente de lieux communs et se termine mollement : «Over the centuries, Quebec, like a child, was born, has grown up under the watchful eye of Canada, has struggled to carve out a separate identity, and is now ready, with its ties to the United States, to move onto the world scene». L’Amérique du Nord et l’Europe communautaire : intégration économique, intégration sociale?, publié en 1994 sous la direction de Dorval Brunelle et Christian Deblock, est un ouvrage beaucoup plus sérieux, regroupant une vingtaine de chapitres qui ne constituent pas des dossiers bureaucratiques, mais des essais universitaires. Dans leur présentation («L’accord de libre- échange nord-américain et l’Union européenne : deux modèles de régionalisme»), les coéditeurs situent bien le projet : l’Amérique de Brunelle et Deblock n’est plus celle de Balthazar et Hero. Les processus intégratifs y sont lourds de conséquences et il n’est pas suffisant d’interroger les élites attitrées ou d’y situer marginalement l’histoire et les politiques publiques du Québec, du Canada, du Mexique ou des États-Unis. Il faut penser aux dimensions «corporative», stratégique et sociale des processus d’intégration. L’ouvrage est divisé en trois parties. Les textes regroupés dans les deux premières parties situent le phénomène de la régionalisation dans une perspective historique, comparent différents processus intégrateurs et font

173 IJCS / RIÉC office de préambule à la troisième partie qui aborde l’étude des dimensions sociales de l’intégration. Les huit chapitres qui composent la première partie de L’Amérique du Nord et l’Europe communautaire répondent très bien à l’invitation de Brunelle et Deblock. L’histoire que fait Herman W. Konrad («Le dilemme de la réciprocité : le Canada, le Mexique et la continentalisation aujourd’hui») est nord-américaine, et l’Amérique dont parlent Stephen Blank («L’ALÉNA et la reconfiguration de l’espace économique nord-américain») et Maria Teresa Gutiérrez Haces («L’Accord de libre-échange nord-américain : les contraintes de la transition et la réforme de l’État au Mexique») n’est pas continentale que du bout des lèvres. C’est un espace, que n’inventent pas mais qu’entérinent et stabilisent, l’accord de libre-échange entre le Canada et les États-Unis (ALÉ) et l’Accord de libre-échange entre le Canada, les États-Unis et le Mexique (L’ALÉNA). Dans un très bon chapitre, Panayotis Soldatos («La communauté européenne et la zone de libre-échange canado-américaine») souligne que l’ALÉ et la Communauté Européenne sont guidées par une logique commune qui empruntent des voies différentes (pour l’ALÉ «on n’a pas attendu [...] l’établissement d’un régime juridique de libéralisation pour atteindre le stade d’une intégration transactionnelle poussée», alors que «... dans la CE, ce fut “l’institutionnel d’abord, l’économique après”»). Dans cet ordre d’esprit, Diane Éthier («L’espace social européen : un projet sans lendemain?») demanderait : «et à quand le social?» Également très utile, le chapitre de Michel Duquette et al («L’intégration régionale dans un contexte néolibéral...[sic]») présente une bonne recension de trois hypothèses qui expliquent l’intégration régionale en Amérique latine (la «diffusion du modèle libéral à partir du nord, la réaction néo-mercantile régionale à la mondialisation, la “récompense” pour une conversion au néo- libéralisme») pour conclure à la spécificité des expériences nationales (le Mexique, le Chili et le Brésil sont étudiés) et au danger des explications trop englobantes. Les petits cours d’économie politique de Lionel Fontagné («Régionalisation de l’économie mondiale et restructuration de l’offre») et d’Arthur MacEwan («Options technologiques, répartition des revenus et libre-échange») sont également des plus utiles. Partant de l’expérience européenne, Fontagné distingue deux dynamiques d’intégration selon la complémentarité des avantages comparatifs inter-nationaux. S’ils sont de types horizontaux (c’est- à-dire s’il circule des produits finis au niveau régional), une protection accrue vis-à-vis de la concurrence internationale est à envisager. Les avantages comparatifs de types «verticaux» (circulation de biens intermédiaires) annoncent une plus grande ouverture. Pour sa part, MacEwan conceptualise les processus d’intégration régionaux comme des régimes en construction dont les modalités résultent de choix politiques. En ce qui a trait à l’ALÉNA, MacEwan est tranchant : «l’option des bas salaires est, à long terme, une option à faible technologie». Dans la troisième partie, deux chapitres sont à retenir. Brunelle et Deblock poursuivent une réflexion déjà bien amorcée sur les différences entre l’intégration européenne et nord-américaine dans un très bon chapitre

174 Le Québec, les États-Unis et l’Amérique

(«Intégration économique, intégration sociale : analyse comparée entre l’Amérique du Nord et l’Europe communautaire») où ils comparent les textes fondateurs de l’Union Européenne (de Rome à Maastricht à l’Accord sur la politique sociale) et de l’Amérique du Nord (l’ALÉ, l’ALÉNA, les accords parallèles de septembre 1993 dans les domaines de l’environnement et du travail), ainsi que les dépenses de protection sociale dans quelques secteurs clés (la santé, l’éducation, les pensions...). D’une envergure comparable, le chapitre de Bruno Théret («Quel avenir pour l’État-providence dans un contexte d’intégration des marchés nationaux et de restructuration des territoires politiques?») sépare l’État-providence de ses amarres nationales pour le resituer dans l’espace régional. Ensemble, ces chapitres ancrent bien des efforts plus spécifiques : le chapitre de Sylvie Morel («La sécurité du revenu en matière de chômage : une comparaison France-Canada-Québec»), ceux de George A. Le Bel («La part du judiciaire dans l’intégration sociale continentale»), d’Ural Ayberk («L’Europe sociale : vers une nouvelle politique communautaire»), de Gérard Boismenu («Protection sociale et stratégie défensive au Canada et aux États-Unis») et d’André Corten (un excellent chapitre intitulé (Le Mexique et l’État nourricier : la démocratisation si ne qua non!).

Notes 1. Ricardo Grinspun et Robert Kreklewich, «Consolidating Neoliberal Reforms: “Free Trade” as a Conditioning Framework», Studies in Political Economy, 43 (Printemps 1994) : 33-61. 2. Clyde H. Farnworth, «Quebec, by Razor-Thin Margin, Votes “No” on leaving Canada», New York Times, 31 octobre 1995, pages A1 et A12.

175 David Leyton-Brown

Perspectives on Canada-United States Free Trade

G. Bruce Doern and Brian W. Tomlin, Faith & Fear: The Free Trade Story, Toronto: Stoddart Publishing Co., 1991 Michael Hart, with Bill Dymond and Colin Robertson, Decision At Midnight: Inside the Canada-US Free-Trade Negotiations, Vancouver: UBC Press, 1994 Marci McDonald, Yankee Doodle Dandy: Brian Mulroney and the American Agenda, Toronto: Stoddart Publishing Co., 1995

A folktale from India tells of three blind men asked to describe an elephant brought before them. The first reached out his hand, touched the elephant’s leg and said, “The elephant is tall, round and rough, like a tree.” The second touched the elephant’s tail and said, “No, the elephant is round, but thin and smooth, like a snake.” The third touched the elephant’s ear and said, “The elephant is thin and flat, like a giant leaf.” Free trade between Canada and the United States is an elephant, and while the authors of the three books addressed here are far from blind, their perspectives on the free trade negotiations, and on the significance and impact of the Canada-United States Free Trade Agreement (FTA), differ considerably. In each case, the subtitle is a good guide to the tone and essence of the book. The divergent character, purpose and perspective of these three books reflect the expertise and vantage point of their authors. Doern and Tomlin are academics — professors respectively of public administration and political science at Carleton University — who present a scholarly analysis of the origins, negotiation and impact of the FTA. Hart, Dymond and Robertson are public servants who, as members of Canada’s Trade Negotiations Office, were directly involved in the free trade negotiations from beginning to end and offer an insiders’ account of process and substance. McDonald, a journalist, was Washington Bureau Chief for Maclean’s magazine throughout the period of Brian Mulroney’s prime ministership, and writes of the damage she alleges was done to Canada’s values and interests by Mulroney and his policies. None of these books presumes to conduct a systematic economic analysis of the FTA’s provisions and consequences, though economic analysis is certainly not absent. Rather, all three emphasize the political dimension of the free trade story, and of the broader Canada-United States relationship. After a brief review of the nature and approach of the three books, to set a context for appreciating their arguments, their positions will be contrasted to explore several important questions about Canada-United States free trade.

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Doern and Tomlin engage in an objective and balanced scholarly analysis which is not ideologically committed either to support for or opposition to the FTA. Their award-winning book is based on published literature, government documents and over a hundred confidential interviews with officials and other participants in the process in both countries. They provide a thorough historical account of the negotiations accompanied by an analysis of several fundamental questions: Why did Mulroney and his government decide to pursue free trade after previously opposing the idea? (i.e., how did free trade get on the policy agenda?) How were the negotiations managed politically, and how well did Canadian negotiators perform? (i.e., was Canada out-negotiated, or did Canada succeed in the free trade negotiations?) Did the actual FTA make economic sense for Canada, given the available alternatives and the economic context of the times? Did the 1988 election legitimize the free trade agreement? What impact has the FTA and all that surrounds it had on Canada and Canadian policy? As this list of questions makes clear, while Doern and Tomlin specifically address the free trade story, they extend that story beyond the negotiations and agreement themselves to their aftermath in the 1988 election and the political challenge mounted against the agreement. Hart and his colleagues began writing their account while free trade negotiations were proceeding. As public servants, their ability to publish is subject to government permission, and that permission was withheld for almost six years until the topic became less sensitive. As participants in the process, they provide an insiders’ view which is encyclopaedic in detail, to the extent of contrasting the refreshments available at negotiating sessions at different sites in the two countries, or explaining the mixed Canadian- American teams in a recreational softball game intended to preclude any lopsided outcome. Amid the book’s wealth of invaluable detail is treatment of such issues as federal-provincial relations, media coverage and opinion poll data, and a fascinating look at behind-the-scenes bureaucratic maneuvering. They are typically thorough and objective, for example, fairly presenting and summarizing the arguments made by opponents as well as supporters of free trade at public hearings. However, as avid supporters of free trade and the FTA, their disdain for opponents occasionally shines through. McDonald offers a lively and readable yet highly critical account of the course of Canada-United States relations in the Mulroney years. She argues that as a direct result of Mulroney’s policies, and his attempts to please and curry favour with Presidents Reagan and Bush, and with U.S. business and political leaders, Canada has become to its disadvantage more closely bound to the United States, and to policies inspired and shaped by the United States and its corporate elite. While free trade is the centerpiece of the book, she also deals with other important issues in the Canada-United States relationship like acid rain, defence relations (the Gulf War and changes in NORAD) and Canada’s involvement in the Iran-Contra scandal. McDonald is a prominent journalist, and writes with a political journalist’s preoccupation with personalities. She presents an extensive list of colourful biographical sketches of political and business leaders, and attributes most of her explanation to the interconnections among them. Indeed, the book is very much an exercise in conspiracy theory, based on the premise that one should be judged by the company one keeps, and

178 Perspectives on Canada-United States Free Trade presuming that because an individual once worked for, or with, another that the former’s opinions and interests are thereby determined by the latter. With those brief descriptions of each book in mind, we now to turn to a number of questions about free trade and the FTA where the contrast in perspectives offered by the various authors might help to illuminate the nature of the elephant. The first such question deals with the identification of the principal causal factors which prompted Canada to pursue the free trade option. In Doern and Tomlin’s suitably scholarly analysis, there were several supporting factors, from economic analyses by the Macdonald Commission and the Economic Council of Canada to lobbying by the Canadian business community. However, the ultimate decision to launch the free trade negotiations was a personal political, but not ideological, judgement by Mulroney himself. He believed that this course offered the best prospects of reducing the impact on Canadian exporters of the effects of rising U.S. protectionism, and also of promoting national reconciliation by accommodating both Quebec and Western Canada. Hart calls for much more emphasis on the early efforts of a small band of bureaucrats who persevered in the face of initial opposition from the bureaucratic establishment as well as the political leadership, and the timidity of much of the Canadian business community to promote the visibility and attractiveness of free trade. Without any single grand turning point, support for free trade grew gradually. McDonald, on the other hand, attributes the origins of free trade clearly and directly to the personal interests of the U.S. corporate elite and to those political figures inextricably connected to them. Her focus on personal connections enlivens her account, but creates the impression of a seamless web of consistent and inter-connected pressures all working in the same direction to make the outcome inevitable. A related question concerns identifying the key actor in the story. For Doern and Tomlin, and for Hart, the complexity of the story necessarily involves a multiplicity of key players. However, despite the prominence of others, like Mulroney himself, or Simon Reisman, Canada’s chief negotiator, Doern and Tomlin’s account suggests that the “hero” of the story was Derek Burney, who was initially instrumental in persuading a reluctant bureaucracy to put the free trade option before its political masters and, when negotiations had been suspended, was finally the key figure in the eleventh-hour resolution of a successful deal. For Hart, despite the acknowledged contributions of Burney, the central figure is unquestionably Reisman. It is hardly surprising in a book written by members of the Trade Negotiations Office, about the free trade negotiations, that the chief negotiator should figure so prominently. However, Hart compellingly portrays Reisman as an almost larger-than-life figure whose personal vision and indomitable energy were pivotal in the process. McDonald, by contrast, casts Brian Mulroney as the villain of the piece. She holds him personally responsible for the FTA, and for its attendant impact on Canadian cultural values and social programs. But even so, he is portrayed in many ways as a proxy for the real though impersonal protagonist — U.S. corporate interests .

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Next, it is of interest to contrast the portrayal of United States politics and the U.S. decision-making process. Doern and Tomlin interviewed Americans as well as Canadians, and describe a political system familiar to students of the political science literature. The United States is depicted as a system in which the separation of powers causes structural conflict between legislative and executive branches, and especially between President and Congress. Multiple points of access are open to private interests and readily exploited by those interests. Interests and policy objectives emerge through the interplay of these various governmental and non-governmental forces. Hart carries this picture of a fragmented decision-making process to a considerable extreme, with the passion understandable only from those who have struggled for years to come to grips with the elusive and ambiguous character of U.S. policy. Not only do Hart provide fascinating examples of the Byzantine nature of the U.S. policy process, he also argues that its nature largely prevented the free trade negotiations from receiving high-level political attention in Washington until the very end, when it appeared that “fast track” negotiating authority might expire without an agreement being reached. Again, the greater contrast is with McDonald, who sees the United States as the driver in the negotiations, and who depicts U.S. policy as straightforward in its pursuit of interest. Related to the question of the U.S. process is the identification of U.S. objectives in the free trade negotiations. Doern and Tomlin straightforwardly describe the objectives enunciated by the President, Congress and the United States Trade Representative. The more interesting issue here lies in the different interpretations offered by Hart and McDonald. Hart contrasts Canada, with its large vision of a free-standing, comprehensive trade and investment agreement between the world’s two largest trading partners, to the objectives of the United States, limited to resolving some outstanding trade irritants and making a head start on the multilateral trade negotiating agenda. U.S. objectives are understood as economic rather than political, and as specific rather than general. For Hart, this contrast between the Canadian vision and the absence of vision on the part of the United States is a theme that runs throughout the book, and is important in explaining both the progress of the negotiations and their outcome. McDonald, on the other hand, sees vision on the U.S. side and absence of vision (or perhaps assimilation of the U.S. vision) in Canada. McDonald portrays U.S. objectives as fundamentally political rather than economic, and as clear, consistent and long term. In her analysis, the fundamental U.S. objective was to lock Canada into the neo- conservative domestic policies pursued by the Mulroney government, to preclude any possibility that a future Canadian government might seek to reverse course and reintroduce interventionist and nationalistic policies like the Foreign Investment Review Act or the National Energy Program. The fact that Mulroney happily shared that objective only confirms for McDonald his characterization as a captive of the mindthink of the U.S. business elite, more concerned with pleasing his U.S. reference group than serving Canadian interests. Perhaps the greatest contrast among these books lies in their assessment of the outcome of the free trade negotiations and their evaluation of the FTA. McDonald’s position is clear and negative. For her, there is scant benefit for

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Canada in the FTA, which serves the political interests of the United States, binds Canada more closely to the conservative policy agenda of the United States, resulting in serious loss of Canadian values and threat to the future of Canadian cultural and social policies. Doern and Tomlin both assess the specific themes of the FTA, and speculate about its future impact. However, their similar methodologies lead to somewhat different conclusions, especially on the question of how well Canada’s negotiators performed. Doern and Tomlin conclude that Canada was out-negotiated by the Americans, not because of any personal failings on the part of the Canadian negotiators, but because the Canadian government wanted the deal more than did the Americans, and was therefore more willing to make concessions. They base their judgement on three criteria: who moved most to achieve agreement, who secured more of their agenda and who came closer to achieving their key goals. Doern and Tomlin conclude that both Canada and the United States wanted and achieved agreement on tariff reductions and energy. The United States wanted, and Canada did not oppose, agreement on the general service sector and financial services. They give greatest weight to disputed issues which one country wanted to negotiate and the other wanted to exclude. American issues included wine and distilled spirits, the Auto Pact and investment. Canadian issues were government procurement, trade remedies and the exclusion of culture and agricultural supply management. They conclude that the United States was more successful than Canada at securing agreement on the items that it brought to the table, and preventing agreement on the issues brought by Canada. In terms of the negotiating process, they further suggest that Peter Murphy, the United States chief negotiator, effectively forced Reisman to lay out his positions on issues of interest to the United States, while denying Canada any movement at all on issues with which Murphy did not wish to deal (pp. 278-9). According to Doern and Tomlin, by the time that negotiations were suspended, this strategy had conceded little to the Canadians, but had placed the essential elements of a continental energy agreement and an investment regime on the table. Hart explicitly rebuts this conclusion (p. 414, footnote 5), arguing that Doern and Tomlin elevate bargaining tactics over strategic objectives. In his view, Murphy’s strategy responded well to U.S. interest group politics, but provided little room for the introduction of a positive vision based on U.S. strategic objectives, or for action after the negotiations were suspended and elevated to the political level in the final days. Hart also assesses the negotiating outcome differently. In terms of Canadian negotiating objectives, he contends that Canada achieved: success on partial elimination of the tariff, business travel and security of access with regard to safeguard procedures; compromise on automotive trade, energy and wine and distilled spirits; a qualified success on trade remedies (an important step in the right direction with the binding dispute settlement mechanisms, but an unfinished agenda with regard to new rules); and disappointment only on government procurement. By contrast, the United States achieved: success on elimination of tariffs and border barriers, financial services and new rules for export restrictions (especially concerning energy); partial success on services and investment; and no progress on intellectual

181 IJCS / RIÉC property, cultural irritants or new discipline on Canadian subsidies. Hart concludes that the balance of advantage in the FTA lay with Canada. The impact of the FTA on the 1988 federal election was addressed in only two of the books. Hart stops at the conclusion of the negotiations, and does not deal with the ensuing election. Doern and Tomlin analyse the election and recognize that the FTA was more for most Canadians than simply a trade agreement, but also a reconstruction of the entire Canada-U.S. relationship and possibly of the role of the state in Canadian political life. The single issue of free trade dominated the 1988 election to an almost unprecedented extent, deeply dividing the electorate between two different national visions. Doern and Tomlin argue, however, with the support of data from a variety of election studies and exit polls, that while the election produced a parliamentary mandate for implementation of the FTA because of the Progressive Conservative majority, there was no majority among Canadian voters either for or against the FTA. McDonald’s principal point concerning the election is that the FTA was oversold, especially regarding the impact of the dispute settlement provisions on future trade complaints by the United States. Certainly, the polarization of opinion in the election campaign led to exaggerated claims by some advocates and opponents of the FTA, and also to some exaggerated expectations on the part of individual Canadians. The frustration of some of those expectations has coloured political developments in the succeeding eight years. A final question concerns the interpretation of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). Doern and Tomlin do not address NAFTA, as their book is concerned only with the bilateral trade negotiations, the FTA itself, and the ensuing federal election. However, they are currently working on another book dealing with the NAFTA negotiations. Hart touches briefly on NAFTA by observing that the most telling vote of confidence in the FTA came not from Canada but from Mexico: within two years after the FTA was signed, Mexican officials began inquiring about whether the U.S. and Canadian governments were willing to extend the same rules and obligations to Mexico. McDonald, the most recent of the authors, offers the most scathing treatment of NAFTA. Consistent with her argument about the underlying political objectives of the United States in the Canada-U.S. free trade negotiations, she sees NAFTA as part of a grand U.S. design dating back to the Monroe Doctrine. She argues that, as was the case in the FTA, the principal U.S. objective was to lock in the partner’s market-oriented economic reforms (this time of the Salinas government in Mexico) to ensure that no future government would be able to undo them. She further complains that Canada was doubly disadvantaged in NAFTA, first by being an overlooked afterthought rather than a co-equal partner of the United States and, secondly, by being locked in to a variety of unexpected financial obligations, such as the bailout of the Mexican peso in the currency crisis We are left with a pivotal development in the history of Canada and the Canada-United States relationship which is still incompletely understood. We do not yet know whether the FTA cushioned Canada’s experience in the recession of the 1990s and accelerated its recovery, or worsened the recession

182 Perspectives on Canada-United States Free Trade and delayed recovery. We do not yet know if the best hopes and worst fears of economic, political social and cultural consequences will be realized. These books offer some illumination, but none contains all the answers. To return to the status quo ante, to a country and a world in which the free trade option was never explored, it impossible. The challenge to all Canadians is to maximize the benefits and minimize the costs the free trade.

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