| "What had happened to Conservatism, it now seems clear, was that the party’s conscious efforts to establish itself as an omnibus party on the North American model had failed. Mackenzie King had been successful in moulding the Liberals into a model party of consensus…. To oppose King, imitate him. Tweedledum and Tweedledee must be made as similar as possible." – J.L. Granatstein, The Politics of Survival: The Conservative Party of Canada, 1939-1945.
Events of the past few months have eerily echoed those of more than half a century ago. In the years surrounding the Second World War, the Conservative party was in desperate straits. The 1935 electoral defeat of R.B. Bennett – the most hated prime minister in recent memory – left the party scrambling to find a new leader. Over the next dozen years, it tried out no fewer than four successors, none of whom managed to make a dent in the Liberals’ dominance in Ottawa.
The choice of John Bracken in 1942, however, was a signal moment for the party. Bracken was the former Progressive party premier of Manitoba, and accepted the Conservatives’ leadership offer on two conditions: (a) they adopt his old party’s name; and (b) they commit themselves to his old party’s broadly left-wing, populist vision of social welfare. Hence was born the Progressive Conservative Party of Canada, a new amalgam of Red Toryism and electoral opportunism.
Meanwhile, the federal Liberals were midway through their lengthy reign in power. With the exception of a three-month blip in 1925 and the disastrous Depression administration of Bennett, the Liberals governed Canada from 1921 to 1957, most of it under Mackenzie King. They emerged from the Second World War seemingly invincible, with King buoyed by the back-to-back victories of 1940 and 1945. In 1948, however, at age 73, King decided it was time to go and handed over power to his successor. Louis St. Laurent — himself no spring chicken at 66 — had served under King and, in effect, extended his old boss’s basic policies and practices for another nine years.
Finally, there were the provinces and cities, who between them had borne the brunt of the 1930’s economic depression. They had been responsible for the actual delivery of unemployment relief payments, for controlling the frequent riots that threatened order in the streets, and, in general, for preventing the total breakdown of civil society. They had done so with little or no active assistance from either Bennett or King, and had hopes that the brave new world of post-war Canada would mark a significant change in this respect. They were to be disappointed.
And so to recent events.
The Progressive Conservative party, having run through four leaders unsuccessfully since the departure of Brian Mulroney – the most hated prime minister, etc. – has once again thrown in its lot with a populist movement from the West, albeit a right-wing one this time. A new name seems likely as well, with memberships of both the Conservatives and the Alliance voting by more than 90 per cent to form a new force to fight the federal Liberals.
Will this work? The two partners to the deal hope so, obviously, and are busy talking of how a "united right" will be able to oust the Liberals. The numbers are against them, however. Together, the PCs and Alliance won just 78 seats in the last election, compared to the Liberals’ 172. Of course, as proponents of the merger argue, a united force might well rob the Liberals of seats they’d won only by narrow margins last time, notably in Ontario. But combined popular support for the two right-wing parties in 2000 was just 34.7 per cent, significantly lower than the Liberals’ election-winning 41.3 per cent. And the new party cannot assume to carry even all its present support with it, if Joe Clark’s opposition to the fusion is any indication.
More than the numbers, however, there remains the problem of image. This is hardly a love match, after all, more like a grumpy old marriage. On some key essentials – Quebec, gay rights, social welfare, etc. – the two parties remain as far apart as they did at the time of their original split back in the late 1980s. And for all the "national opposition" talk, the new creation is unlikely to win any seats in Quebec, and if led by either Stephen Harper or Peter MacKay, probably precious few in Ontario as well. As such, supporters shouldn’t count on an ousting of Paul Martin in 2004.
Martin takes over as prime minister this week, after a Sinatra-length farewell by Jean Chretien. Already the former finance minister has been tub-thumping about how much is going to change under his watch, but don’t hold your breath. Continuity is much more likely to characterize the Martin era.
Why? First, for all their personal differences, he and Chretien rarely clashed on policy over the past decade, and while Martin may well sweep the cabinet clean of his predecessor’s cronies, there’s no evidence of any radically different thinkers waiting in the wings. Second, rule one of politics: don’t fix what ain’t broke. Because of – not despite – the recent opposition merger, Martin knows he only has to maintain current levels of Liberal support to win the next election. As such, there’s no real percentage in launching a dramatic shift in policy.
Which brings us finally to the new Council of Federation. This new initiative, launched by the provincial premiers to present a united front to the federal government, might look good in principle, but is unlikely to deliver much. As Ralph Klein has noted, any success ultimately depends on Ottawa’s response. And while Martin may well have signalled his intent to address provincial and municipal concerns, if that means an outflow of federal dollars he’ll probably follow Chretien’s example once again. Expect more delays until provincial unity collapses, as it always does eventually.
New party, new prime minister, new initiative… been there, seen it, done it. |
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