Last week, American liberals
got a whiff of what it would be like to have the Clintons and the Bushes back
in the White House—and they hit the roof. Washington is alight with passion.
Foreign policy choices and cornerstone liberties are up for debate.
Canadians, with essentially
the same constitutional values and global interests at stake as Americans, are
following what’s going on in Washington and asking questions, doggedly exercising
their freedom to imagine that they make their own decisions about their
security and personal privacy.
Thanks to the leaks of Edward
Snowden, Americans are learning that their government can now find out—almost
instantaneously—what they do, whom they spend any time with, and what they say
anywhere. At the same time, Canadians are learning that their government and the American government as well can
access their privacy.
In response, Harper’s
government cannot assure Canadians that they can secure separate, let alone better,
treatment by surveillance bureaucracies.
It was a humiliating week for
Barack Obama. Imagine, for a minute, what last week was like for Stephen Harper.
Canadian nationalists and
opposition critics ask reasonable-sounding questions that only further entrench
Harper’s reputation for secrecy.
A Toronto
Star editorial cleverly set him up:
“To
what degree do Canada’s data-aggregation methods mirror those in the U.S.? Is
Parliament adequately briefed, as key members of Congress are? Once data is
collected, can it be transmitted to foreign services? Under what safeguards?
And do our laws clearly spell out all this?
“We
badly need a spirited debate along these lines, and some healthy public
consciousness-raising. It’s not reassuring to see opposition MPs rise in
Parliament to confirm that they’re stumbling around in the dark.”
Senator
Hugh Segal suggests that a committee of thoughtful Senators and
Members of the House of Commons be put in the “loop” in managing these new state
powers to aggregate and manage intelligence.
Behind these modest
suggestions are several extremely ambitious assumptions: that after a
“spirited” debate, Canada’s government could unilaterally run a different
anti-terrorist security regime than the US government’s; that we could be in
the loop in Washington; that we could maintain a relatively open Canada-US border; and that we could run
things differently in Canada.
(One of the reasons passions
are high in the United States is precisely because Americans have discovered
that the participation of legislators in secretly managing surveillance
practices is ineffective.)
For most of the 12 years
since 9/11, a Quebec separatist party occupied some 50 seats in the House of
Commons—and, conceivably, could do so again. Could the Canadian government level
with its MPs on what it’s doing in cooperation with the US security machinery?
Would Washington understand? Alternatively, could the Prime Minister of the day
set up a formal security committee of only bona fide federalists? Would the
Prime Minister be best to just keep chatting with "respected" Parliamentarians
informally? And, if so, how would that assuage people’s concerns?
The Star
imagines that Canada’s government has choices in sharing security intelligence
and “meta” data with US security officials—that Big Brother is an alliance of
equal, sovereign states. Really?
Let’s play that out:
The Americans discover "accidentally" that 3 men in Mississauga are brainstorming with a pal in
Detroit on how to blow up the transmission lines around Ontario’s nuclear
reactors. Does the Canadian government: (1) complain about how they got the tip
(2) complain about their “political obsession with terror,” as The Star puts it, or (3) accept the
information, initiate surveillance measures, and promptly tell the Americans
what they find out and plan to do.
If you’re a Canadian and
think (3) is a no-brainer, wouldn’t it be best to worry more about the real
debate in Washington rather than the pseudo-debate in Ottawa?
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