Saturday March 31, 2001

Fry feels new opposition heat

Prime Minister Chrétien had to withstand attacks upon his alleged arrogance, his government’s methods in distributing federal funds to certain regions, and his representation of a building firm located in his riding in its efforts to gain a bank loan. Added to that were dubious events in 2001 involving cabinet ministers Hedy Fry, Don Boudria, Brian Tobin, and Sheila Copps, which added to the impression of rampant arrogance and pomposity in the Chretien cabinet.

The Prime Minister, Jean Chretien, told the Commons he would look into allegations that his secretary of state for multiculturalism had called the RCMP in British Columbia seeking information to back her claim of Ku Klux Klan cross burnings in Prince George.

Chretien, in response to Nova Scotia New Democrat Peter Stoffer, initially said he saw nothing wrong with Fry checking for something on the public record, then demurred, saying it was the first time he heard of the charge and would “check that.”

At another point, as Fry looked imploringly at her boss for help during Question Period, Chretien had his back turned on her, speaking to his House leader Don Boudria. (Source: The Toronto Star, March 27, 2001)

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Reflections on this Editorial Cartoon 25 years later – By Graeme MacKay

Power, Scandals, and the Weight of Legacy: Reflections on Chrétien’s Fall and Trudeau’s Dilemma

There’s an old editorial cartoon from 2001 that I’ve been thinking about lately, especially as Justin Trudeau’s leadership crisis deepens. It was drawn during the final, rocky stretch of Jean Chrétien’s tenure as Prime Minister, a time when his grip on power was slipping. The cartoon shows an aloof Chrétien, dressed in 1787 garb, stubbornly holding his high position surrounded by loyal courtiers, Hedy Fry, Brian Tobin, Don Boudria, and my own long suffering local Baroness, Sheila Copps, poised to prop him up. Meanwhile, his enemies—both within the party and in the opposition Stockwell Day and Joe Clark—stand just outside, waiting for the inevitable fall.

Back then, Chrétien was embroiled in scandal after scandal, most notably the “Shawinigate” affair and the brewing sponsorship scandal. His government was accused of funnelling federal money into Quebec ad agencies to promote Canadian unity, but much of the cash disappeared in murky transactions that later sparked outrage. The scandal eventually led to the Gomery Inquiry, which uncovered staggering corruption, badly damaging the Liberal brand. Chrétien’s insistence on staying in power, even as these scandals mounted and his popularity tanked, created fractures in the party that never fully healed.

That cartoon captured the essence of Chrétien’s dilemma: an aging monarch too stubborn to leave, even when it was obvious his time was up. And yet, unlike Justin Trudeau today, Chrétien at least had a clear successor waiting in the wings—Paul Martin Jr., the popular finance minister who was chomping at the bit to take over. Everyone knew Martin was ready to step in and possibly save the party, but Chrétien refused to go quietly, igniting a civil war within the Liberals.

Now, approaching 25 years later, we see Trudeau facing a similar moment of reckoning—but without a saviour waiting in the shadows. The Liberals are mired in their own controversies, from foreign interference scandals to sagging polls, and the party faithful are starting to revolt. Just this week, Eddie Goldenberg, Chrétien’s long-time chief of staff, urged Trudeau to step down, warning that if he doesn’t act soon, he risks dragging the entire party down with him.

Goldenberg made the case that an “undefeated” Trudeau could still play a critical role in protecting Canadian unity if a Quebec referendum re-emerges. But if Trudeau fights the next election and loses, his legacy could be one of electoral failure, not national leadership.

In many ways, the Trudeau situation feels like déjà vu. Just as Chrétien weathered scandal after scandal, Trudeau has spent the last few years fighting off controversy. His government has been battered by accusations of Chinese and Indian interference in Canadian politics, and some of his cabinet ministers—such as Jody Wilson-Raybould and Jane Philpott—left in protest, accusing him of unethical behaviour. Public support is dwindling, and members of his own party are starting to question whether Trudeau is more of a liability than an asset.

The difference, though, is stark: Chrétien had Paul Martin waiting in the wings, a finance minister widely regarded as the brains behind Canada’s fiscal turnaround in the 1990s. Martin was the obvious successor, and many believed he could lead the Liberals to victory if only Chrétien would get out of the way. In Trudeau’s case, no such heir apparent exists – not even Mark Carney, the surrogate banking brain of the present day who’s been seconded… err, neutered, by the Trudeau to work on some economic nerd-out study that appears to be more of a tactic to allay any leadership ambitions. The Liberal Party today is adrift, with no clear leader ready to step in and no time to organize a proper leadership convention before the next election.

Goldenberg’s suggestion—that Trudeau could jump and allow the caucus to appoint an interim leader—echoes the kind of rushed transitions we’ve seen before in Canadian politics. When Brian Mulroney stepped down in 1993, he handed the reins to Kim Campbell just months before an election, but the party was decimated at the polls, whittled down to just 2 seats serving as a textbook case of how horrible things can go in Parliamentary democracy. Trudeau may believe he can still defeat Pierre Poilievre, but if he waits too long, the Liberals may be stuck with him, marching toward what looks increasingly like an electoral disaster.

The characters in the 2001 cartoon reflect the political drama of that era. Hedy Fry, a loyal Chrétien ally, had recently embarrassed herself with false claims about Klan cross burnings in British Columbia, a moment that became symbolic of how disconnected Chrétien’s government had become – Fry still lingers around the corridors of Parliament as a sitting member of Trudeau’s Liberals! Sheila Copps, another Chrétien loyalist, is depicted struggling to hold the throne steady—a nod to the internal fractures as Copps and other ministers tried to balance loyalty to Chrétien with their own political ambitions. She leads a quiet life far away from the mean streets of Hamilton. Brian Tobin, at the time of the 2001 drawing, was a rising political star who even had a brief Newfoundland Premiership under his belt was seen as a Chretien’s hand picked successor. In under a year he will have bolted from politics altogether for the greener pastures of executive boardrooms. Don Boudria would eventually gracefully exit into private life.

What makes the cartoon especially poignant is that it captures how insulated Chrétien had become from reality. Despite mounting scandals and growing rebellion within his caucus, he refused to see that his time was up. Sound familiar? Today, Trudeau’s inner circle, especially his chief of staff Katie Telford, has been accused of insulating him from dissenting voices, much like Chrétien’s advisers did. The frustration within the Liberal caucus is no longer a whisper but a roar. Some MPs, such as Wayne Long and Alexandra Mendès, are publicly calling for Trudeau’s resignation, and others are rumoured to be drafting a letter demanding he step down.

The irony here is that both Chrétien and Trudeau—leaders once hailed as political visionaries—are now at risk of becoming obstacles to their own parties. Chrétien’s failure to bow out gracefully eventually weakened the Liberals, leading to a decade of Conservative rule under Stephen Harper. Trudeau’s reluctance to leave could do the same, handing Poilievre a victory by default.

The stakes are even higher for Trudeau. Goldenberg warns that with the Parti Québécois likely to form the next Quebec government, Canada could face yet another referendum on independence. His argument is that Trudeau, if he retires undefeated, would be uniquely positioned to defend Canadian unity. But here’s the catch: Trudeau’s approval in Quebec has plummeted, and the Liberal Party may no longer hold the same credibility it once did as the champion of federalism. One can’t help but wonder—would Quebecers even listen to Trudeau in 2025? Or are we witnessing the final days of a political dynasty that no longer resonates with the public?

Goldenberg’s argument also rests on the assumption that Trudeau can step down quickly, leaving time for a new leader to stabilize the party and prepare for the next election. But the clock is ticking. A leadership transition of this magnitude takes time, and some within the party are concerned that Trudeau’s delay will leave them stranded without a viable plan. As one reader astutely pointed out, if Trudeau doesn’t announce his resignation by the end of October, the party may have no choice but to go into the next election with him at the helm, risking total collapse.

In both 2001 and 2024, the editorial cartoons tell the same cautionary tale: power, once clutched too tightly, becomes a burden. Chrétien stayed too long, and it cost the Liberals dearly. Trudeau now faces the same choice: step aside gracefully and secure his legacy, or cling to power and risk taking the entire party down with him.

The lesson from history is clear—leaders who fail to recognize when their time is up are seldom remembered kindly. Chrétien had Paul Martin waiting in the wings, but Trudeau has no such heir. If he waits too long, his legacy may not be one of progressive change or national unity but of stubbornness and defeat.

The throne is crumbling again, and Trudeau must decide whether to step off or be pushed. The question is, will he recognize the warning signs in time—or, like a Roman general, insist on going out on his shield?