bout de papier, Vol. 21, No. 3 (2005) — Summer/Fall 2005 // Été/Automne 2005, p. 7
Peter died unexpectedly on July 23. The fact of his death, so sudden, so unforeseen, and when he was so young, underscores the tragedy of the event. A man respected by his peers, Peter will be missed.
Peter joined the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade in 1981, serving first as a Trade Commissioner and, later, in the Political/ Economic stream.
His overseas service included Tokyo, Moscow, and Dallas. He was an active member of PAFSO and served a term as president.
Peter was a consummate professional who utilized his quick intelligence and deep understanding of Canadian foreign policy interests and objectives to deliver an excellent performance wherever his duties took him. His reports (I mostly read his intelligence assessments when we both worked in Foreign Intelligence) were always crisp, sharply formulated, and focused on the message. But that’s not entirely the Peter I knew over the course of two assignments spanning what was only a few years.
When he was not crafting a superb piece of intelligence analysis, Peter was the guy you asked to join you for coffee because his quiet public demeanor hid a sharp, incisive wit, coupled with a repertoire of voices and imitations which were sure to keep his colleagues in stitches. Peter was a very funny man. He was quirky and could present any situation at its most ludicrous – often to the accompaniment of brilliant imitations of public persons, or others, whose actions he was skewering.
I first met Peter when I headed the Office of Current Intelligence some years ago. Peter was the quiet individual who would stick his head into my office to offer a piece of good advice, often only moments before I would have done something regrettable. As I came to know him, I began to value his analytical skills, his deep understanding of the issues with which he was dealing, and his excellent word-smithing. He helped me tremendously in my daily tasks.
Peter, however, was the kind of person whose true strengths only manifested themselves during a crisis. That crisis was the Kosovo War. There was a tremendous demand for intelligence when Canada became engaged in the Kosovo crisis. The existing intelligence staff handling the Balkans quickly proved insufficient and when we were tasked with preparing a morning intelligence summary for the Task Force, I was, to say the least, a bit apprehensive.
Peter was my strongest analyst, and though he was working on a different subject, I asked him to take the lead on the Balkans. As things evolved, Peter, another colleague, and myself, became the group preparing the morning intelligence summary, with the other two doing most of the work. Months passed of unrelenting demands and a harrowing work schedule. We were all exhausted after some time. I recall Peter and I often sitting in my office at 8 or 9 in the evening trying to muster the strength to go home.
Things ultimately got worse. One day, long into the crisis, Peter had been in my office and was returning to his own down the hall and around a corner. As he walked he fell asleep and turned the corner too early. He told me later that his eyes were open and that he saw what he was doing although a disconnect existed between his brain and his legs. With a resounding crash he walked into the wall and nearly knocked himself out. The impact did have the effect of waking him, however.
Colleagues gathered to pick up a stunned Peter. I gave him taxi chits and ordered him home to sleep. He tried to resist what he presumed was a generous offer. It was nothing of the sort. I was acting from pure self-interest. Without Peter, well rested and in good shape, I would have to do the morning summary without his insight, crafting, and hard work. It was smarter to let him sleep a bit and have him back the next morning!
I will remember Peter as the unassuming, quiet, bright individual who always got the job done. But more so, I, and all his colleagues and friends, will recall him for his quirky sense of humour and cutting insights which always brightened nur dave
View the original scanned pages →
Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 21, No. 3 (2005) — Summer/Fall 2005 // Été/Automne 2005, p. 7. Read the rest of this issue →
