TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/070290/0702007.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 5.7 KB | 130 lines

                                                                                WORLD, Page 30

CANADA

What Comes After Armageddon?


The Meech Lake accord expires, Quebec insists on its unique
status, and the country falls into constitutional confusion

By JAMES L. GRAFFE/OTTAWA


    For months June 23 had loomed as the date of Canada's
constitutional Armageddon. If the ten provinces failed by that
time to ratify the delicate agreement known as the Meech Lake
accord, years of effort at balancing the aspirations of French-
and English-speaking Canadians would automatically fall apart
-- and so, in the most pessimistic prognosis, might the
country.

    Last week the deadline came and went without the desperately
sought unanimity. Instead there was constitutional confusion
and, finally, admission that the controversial agreement was
dead. Canada faced the divisive possibility that Quebec would
reject any further attempt to negotiate with the other
provinces on the issues that had riven the country and consumed
so much of its energy. "In the name of all Quebeckers, I want
to announce my profound disappointment," said a drawn Premier
Robert Bourassa. "English Canada must clearly understand that
Quebec is today and forever a distinct society, capable of
ensuring its own development and its destiny."

    The outcome was unmitigated disaster for Prime Minister
Brian Mulroney. He had stressed time and again that the Meech
Lake effort would fail unless two balking provinces voted to
ratify the accord. At the center of Mulroney's concern was the
agreement's recognition that Quebec could preserve and promote
a unique status as a "distinct society" within Canada, based
on the fact that the province is the only one with a
French-speaking majority. Many other Canadians, including
former Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, charged that the accord
might fatally weaken the country.

    Two weeks ago, Mulroney thought he had secured an agreement
on the pact after a 70-hour marathon of closed-door bargaining
with provincial premiers in Ottawa. Last week he saw that deal
fall apart when the legislatures of Manitoba and Newfoundland
adjourned without taking ratification votes. "Today is not the
day to launch new constitutional initiatives," a somber
Mulroney said afterward. "It is a time to heal wounds and reach
out to fellow Canadians."

    There was rejoicing, however, among Canadians who objected
to the accord's content. The Manitoba standoff was a victory
for the legislature's only native member, Elijah Harper, 41,
a Cree Indian. Harper had managed to stall debate on the Meech
Lake question for almost two weeks. He wanted the accord to
fail, on the ground that it did not recognize the unique status
of Canada's 700,000 aboriginal people. Thousands of his
supporters gathered before the legislature in solidarity,
pounding drums and holding prayer vigils.

    "Our fight is not with Quebec," said Harper, who throughout
his stonewalling clutched an eagle feather as a sign of divine
guidance. The province's aims "are the same goals we as
aboriginal people are seeking to achieve." Ottawa's attempts
to mollify Harper with promises of an active role in future
constitutional reform were rejected by native leaders. Said
Manitoba's Ovide Mercredi: "We aren't interested in
horse-trading."

    The federal government made a last-ditch attempt to save the
deal. Mulroney's chief constitutional negotiator, Senator
Lowell Murray, announced that the government would ask the
Supreme Court to extend the June 23 deadline, thus giving
Manitoba time to complete its ratification. The maneuver had
the opposite result. The premier of the other dissenting
province, Newfoundland's Clyde Wells, complaining bitterly of
the "fabricated precipice" of the June 23 deadline, then called
off his own legislature's vote. Murray announced an hour later
that the accord had expired.

    What next? The entire point of the Meech Lake accord was to
bring Quebec into the reformed 1982 constitution the province
had refused to sign. Another goal was to short-circuit Quebec's
up-and-down aspirations to break away from confederation in
favor of separate nationhood. To those ends, Mulroney and
Bourassa had supported the "distinct society" clause as the
means to preserve Quebec's French language and culture, a deep
concern among the province's 6.5 million residents. Seven other
provincial premiers agreed, with varying degrees of reluctance.

    As that hard-won agreement died last week, the country sank
into a fit of finger pointing. Ottawa blamed Newfoundland's
Wells for the debacle. But Mulroney himself was a major target.
Said Jean Chretien, favored to become leader of the opposition
Liberal Party: "Prime Minister, Canadians will never ever
forgive you."

    In Quebec, Jacques Parizeau, leader of the separatist Parti
Quebecois, struck a pose shoulder to shoulder with his rival
Bourassa. "Canada is saying no to Quebeckers," he declared. "I
say to my premier, let's try to find a way together to the
future of Quebec."

     The damage looked to be lasting. Even before the accord
collapsed, polls showed that 63% of French-speaking Quebeckers
supported some form or other of separation from the rest of
Canada. The stage was set for a demonstration of that unhappy
feeling as the province prepared for its "national" holiday,
St. Jean Baptiste Day, on June 24. It augured to be one of the
most fervent expressions of nationalist sentiment that Quebec
had seen for decades. Such passions may not fade easily. Last
week it was difficult to see through the shattered accord how
Canada might put the pieces back together again.