Pierre Elliott Trudeau was one of the few heroes of my adult life. Once I had outgrown the boyish idolization of sports figures and rock stars, I found myself absorbed by the substantial presence of people like Trudeau. He was someone I admired, respected, and at times unconsciously emulated. He was one of the few people with whom I would never have entered into a debate.
I first became aware of Mr Trudeau when I returned to Canada for my second year of college in the fall of 1968. Hearing his name and the term "Trudeaumania," I asked fellow students what this was all about. They told me that he was the new, and very stylish, Prime Minister, whatever that was, of Canada, and that he was the guy who had said that the state had no place in the bedrooms of the nation. Any politician who had the nerve to voice such a statement at such an early stage of the sexual revolution was all right with me.
Then came something to do with making both languages of Canada the official languages. I had naively assumed that there was no such thing as a language problem. Who would not want to learn another's language? I had a great deal to learn about Canada. But, Mr. Trudeau was there to teach me.
In the fall of 1970 he taught me what it takes to be decisive in the face of divisiveness. When two innocent men had been kidnapped and one of them murdered, he invoked the War Measures Act, effectively suspending civil liberties here in Quebec, a move for which he took much criticism. But unlike the impotent intellectuals of 1848 Paris, Mr. Trudeau was a leader of both style and substance. While the state had no place in the bedrooms of the nation, it did have every right and responsibility to make sure those bedrooms were safe. And this temporary measure, unlike income tax, proved to be just that. When the crisis was over, so was this Act. It has yet to be invoked again; nor has Canada had another political kidnapping or murder.
In 1980, when he felt Canada as a whole was threatened, he spoke and argued eloquently against the nebulous sovereignty association proposal of the Parti Quebecois. After Quebec voted against this idea, he set about trying to reunite the country by repatriating the Constitution, something that should have been done at the time of nationhood in 1931. True, he failed to get Quebec's signature on this document, and true, he did much to sabotage Prime Minister Mulroney's Meech Lake and Charlottetown Accords, but in these cases he had good reason. For he understood what other insightful prime ministers before him, such as John A. MacDonald and Wilfred Laurier, knew only too well. No one province could stand in any way above the rest; nor could they as a unit stand above the federal government, if Canada were to continue as a confederation.
He applied the same reasoning to world affairs. When he made his famous peace trip to the major capitals of the world in 1983, he tried to convince them that no one, or two at that time, nations should hold themselves, their world views, and powerful weapons above the interests of the rest.
In 1995, when Mr. Parizeau's referendum, aided by the timely return of Lucien Bouchard, caught fire, I wondered where my hero was. Why was he not mounting the great white horse of view of Canadian federalism for one last charge? He was later to explain that he had not been invited. He had been asked to sit quietly by as Jean Chretien 'handled" Quebec. Chretien nearly 'handled' it over to those who would take it out of Canada. It must have taken enormous self discipline for Trudeau to remain silent at this time.
But, the most memorable stance I ever saw Trudeau take was not a stance, but a seat. I have seen this on film many times, and it has never ceased to inspire me, and to bring tears to my eyes. In June of 1968, the night before the federal election that would make him Prime Minister, Trudeau was in Montreal observing the St. Jean Baptiste celebrations along with many prominent politicos. When some idiots in the crowd began pelting the VIP seats with rocks and bottles, most of the political figures fled for cover. Trudeau did get up, and his handlers tried to get him out of there. But, no, not him. He stopped, shook his helpers off, and returned to his seat, calmly draping his jacket over the rail. I am reminded of the words of the leader of a small band of rebels, as they awaited the arrival of the British on Lexington green in 1774. "If they mean to have a fight, let it start here." Trudeau was always ready to fight. And he would not the kind to back down, not till a combination of illnesses took him from us.
I saw Trudeau only once, and then it was just in passing. I was cycling along Sherbrooke Street sometime in the late 80's. Trudeau was on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to change. Some passerby was engaging him in small talk, something I knew made Trudeau uncomfortable. I wanted to get off my bike and go over and shake his hand. But I knew this most public of Canadian figures was also the most private. I kept on riding.
Trudeau was the kind of man I would hope to be; he was the kind of person more of us should strive to be.
Only in Canada you say? . . . Pity.
Joseph Hackett
History Department
LaurenHill Academy