bout de papier, Vol. 21, No. 4 (2005) — Winter 2005 // Hiver 2005, p. 8
Paul Dunbar died suddenly on July 1, 2005, doing what he loved best – walking in the great outdoors. He was 61 at the time of his death and had been with the government since 1974, after first working in a family business in Hamilton. His early career was with the Canadian International Development Agency before moving to DFAIT/FAC in 1989.
Much of his career at DFAIT was spent as a foreign intelligence analyst in the Office of Current Intelligence (ISO/ISIO) after which he moved on to an assignment at CIC, also as an intelligence analyst. At the time of his death he was with the Aboriginal and Circumpolar Affairs Division.
Paul brought a passionate intensity to his work as an intelligence analyst and ilways demonstrated a deep commitment o identifying and defending Canadian interests. His colleagues in Foreign Intelligence remember him as one who loved the secrecy of the intelligence world. He was totally dedicated to his work and showed an independence of mind together with an ability to look behind what we actually knew and to anticipate how the truth would develop within its own boundaries. These are among the most valuable gifts of an intelligence analyst, and Paul was one of the finest — although his penchant for keeping secrets sometimes made it a challenge to have him divulge all his knowledge.
Paul enjoyed nothing so much as an intelligence assessment which told a good story. Several of his editors recall a struggle with his need for precision and accuracy in argument which was commendable but often clashed with the Department’s other requirement of succinctness in the finished product. His determination, hard work and long hours (first to arrive, often the last to leave) underscored his determination to learn as much as he could as fast as he could about his areas of responsibility
– and it often paid dividends. Paul enjoyed the great outdoors. His office decoration was spartan, but there was always on display a nice photograph of his son paddling a canoe somewhere in the Canadian wilderness. Paul walked everywhere and must have put on a great deal of “mileage” annually. He did this not only because of his enjoyment of the outdoors but also because his precious antique British sports car, his only vehicle, was only permitted on the roads during the summer months. Over the years he had managed to warrant a corner office with windows on both sides. He saw this, correctly, as recognition of his seniority as an intelligence analyst and would sit there reading his papers with one of the best views in the Department, looking over towards the Gatineau hills. Those of us visiting him on a hot and sunny summer afternoon, with the sun beaming in, would try not to comment on his office also being one of the warmest in the building. Paul was a quiet, unassuming man who prided himself on his professionalism and doing the best job that he could. His family was important to him and he took great pride in his son and grandson. Paul Dunbar will be missed.
View the original scanned pages →
Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 21, No. 4 (2005) — Winter 2005 // Hiver 2005, p. 8. Read the rest of this issue →
