bout de papier, Vol. 30, No. 3 (2018), pp. 38–39
BY BILL WARDEN
EDITED BY LISA WARDEN,
FOREWORD BY MIKHAIL
GORBACHEV
VICTORIA: TELLWELL, 2017.
378 pp, $27.95
WRITING IN THE TORONTO STAR many years ago, James Eayrs, the then-celebrated University of Toronto political scientist, described the induction ritual for newly minted Foreign Service Officers with his usual provocative flourish. Probationary officers, he wrote, were led to a chamber in the basement of the East Bloc where their consciences were removed and placed in a safe deposit box. A deposit slip was provided for those keen to retrieve their consciences upon retirement. But Eayrs concluded that, following 30 or so years of toil in the amoral precincts of External Affairs, no one would.
Bill Warden joined External Affairs in 1961 at a time when the fading glow of Pearsonian diplomacy was still visible on the Ottawa skyline and with enough voltage to enrage skeptics like Eayrs. As the pages of his book reveal, Bill would prove to be the antithesis of the Eayrs put-down — to the point, near the end of his career, when his adherence to straight, politically incorrect, reporting cost him a well-deserved promotion. (He sensibly omits this personal? personnel fiasco from his memoir.) In this instance the consequences were dramatically more far-reaching than career fallout. As High Commissioner in India in 1984 and bolstered by credible Indian intelligence, he repeatedly warned Ottawa about the activities of Canadian Sikh extremists. Security services in Ottawa were not impressed. Bill cites a 1984 declassified intelligence brief that states: “there was no substantial threat which necessitated vastly increased security precautions.” On June 21, 1985 an Air India flight exploded with the loss of 329 passengers and crew. It was soon established that the disaster had been the work of Canadian Sikh extremists. Justice John Major described the event as “the largest mass murder in Canadian history”. In his testimony to Major’s judicial enquiry on the Air India disaster, Bill stated that it had been “fully preventable” — a position supported by Major’s final report.
The Air India disaster is the most tragic, but it is only one of a succession of extraordinary experiences, all splendidly described in Bill’s dry, modest and often humorous prose. Published posthumously and edited by Bill’s daughter, Lisa, Diplomat, Dissident, Spook chronicles what is by any measure an extraordinary career. It is a book which illuminates the character, values and exceptional diplomatic skills of the author.
The first chapter, set in Berlin in the fifties where Bill and his future wife Laine are students, bears inevitable resemblance to a Le Carré novel. The city is divided but not yet walled. Travel beyond the line is risky but possible — and Bill relishes risk. He is courted (unsuccessfully) by shadowy characters from the Stasi and the CIA.
Bill’s prose, backed by his feeling for culture and place, sustains a gripping pace to the end — or at least to the collection of curmudgeonly and well targeted op-ed pieces from the Calgary Herald which would be better placed in another context. However, the foreword by Mikhail Gorbachev should not be missed. This warm tribute by the former Soviet President, with whom Bill collaborated from his post- External academic perch at the University of Calgary, speaks to the importance of the book and perhaps also to Bill’s eclectic circle of friends.
The author’s first posting is Moscow where he, his wife Laine, two children and a Russian dog learn to survive grungy living quarters, the incessant demands of Ambassador Ford, the infamous tyranny of Teresa, the Ambassador’s spouse, and the ubiquitous physical and electronic intrusions of the KGB. Besides the embassy hockey team and the Bolshoi, entertainment is sometimes provided by playing “dodge the tail” when walking in Moscow, or anywhere in the Soviet Union — which means losing the clandestine pursuit of KGB agents.
The next phase of the author’s Cold War trilogy is Cuba where, unlike Berlin, a CIA connection does take place and, this time, with high level support from both the Canadian and US governments. In the interests of full disclosure, I should explain that I had been assigned to Cuba five years earlier to monitor Soviet military activities in the immediate aftermath of the missile crisis. Like Bill, my taskings came from the CIA, but by the time Bill arrived the focus had shifted from what the Soviets were doing (they were mostly gone) to Cuban activities. As amateur spies, neither of us had covered our tracks very carefully and by the end of his tour Bill was warned that increasingly effective Cuban intelligence (the dreaded G2) was on his track and that to remain in Cuba could be hazardous. As far as I know, this was the end of official Canadian “clandestine activity” in Cuba.
The stream of world headlines that accompanied the Cuban Missile Crisis were gone, but Cuba reappeared on Canadian front pages with the FLQ crisis of 1970. Bill was Chargé d’affaires in Havana at the time and soon a key player in negotiations that led to Cuban acceptance of the FLQ kidnappers.
A posting to Hong Kong was a complete, and not wholly agreeable, change for the Warden family — by now three children and a Cuban parrot. Bill describes Hong Kong as a species of mercantile jungle where most values were related to money. Relief was found in sailing and in acerbic observations of the commonalities of power between the British colonial/ local Hong Kong administration and the about-to-take-over Chinese communist bureaucracy.
Pakistan was a “now for something completely different” change. Bilateral relations had reached a plateau, access was easy and mostly welcome. Imagine being told by the minister of finance that “if there is any genuine philanthropist among our partners, it is Canada.” Travel to remote and “off limits” areas was possible and wholly bewitching.
Within a super-charged framework of diplomatic challenge there were fascinating and hair-raising excursions to weddings celebrated by guests firing locally made AK-47s and to warlords along the Khyber Pass. At an arms bazaar, Bill and Lisa were presented with pistols disguised as ball-point pens.
The posting in Pakistan was interrupted by a totally unexpected opportunity to restore “normalcy” to the relationship between Iran and Canada — ruptured three years before. This proved to be “mission impossible”, but Bill’s tenacity in Tehran was rewarded by the release of Guy Boisvert, a young Canadian imprisoned without cause by Iran’s Revolutionary Guard.
Drama was non-stop. Even the family’s departure on cross posting to India — the first time that a new Canadian High Commissioner, with family and assorted pets, had ever arrived in Delhi by car. And unsurprisingly, Bill’s appointment to India was not well received by President Zia of Pakistan. At his farewell call, he contrived to salve injured feelings by telling the President that the new job in India meant a “demotion”.
Diplomatic memoirs that crackle with energy and excitement while offering uncompromising and at times uncomfortable assessments of government policy are treasured rarities. This is such a book.
Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 30, No. 3 (2018), pp. 38–39. Read the rest of this issue →
