Title: The Governors General: An Intimate History of Canada’s Highest Office
Author: John Fraser
Genre: Non-fiction
Publisher: Sutherland House Books
Pages: 138
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Sometimes one of the most important things about a book is its subtitle. This is true of The Governors General: An Intimate History of Canada’s Highest Office.
We could use a substantial new book on the history and evolution of the Crown’s representative in Canada, one that chronicles the appointee’s evolving role, major issues and hidden intrigues.
This is not that book. Instead, John Fraser offers personal glimpses – an Intimate History – of the Canadian-born governors-general, from Vincent Massey (1952-1959) to Mary Simon (2021 to present), based largely on his dealings with them or those close to them. And there is nothing wrong with that. Fraser served at The Globe and Mail as China correspondent, London correspondent, Ottawa bureau chief and columnist (also, dance critic). He edited the defunct Saturday Night magazine in the late 80s and early 90s and helmed Massey College, the elite enclave at University of Toronto, for 19 years. He is an able administrator, a fine writer and a notorious gossip.
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This slender book is far from authoritative. But it is delicious.
We learn that Massey was so stuck-up he insisted that his family members bow and curtsey in his presence at home. (When reading that, I was reminded that Lord Salisbury once remarked: “Vincent’s a fine chap, but he does make one feel like a bit of a savage.”)
And that Roland Michener (1967-1974) was so concerned about Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau’s request that he authorize the War Measures Act in 1970 that the governor-general demanded to be kept informed of what was happening to those arrested.
And that senior officials at Rideau Hall worried Maurice Sauvé might be exploiting his position as the vice-regal consort of Jeanne Sauvé (1984-1990) to obtain information that could help him in his business dealings.
And that Roméo LeBlanc (1995-1999) took offence to the heraldic lion on the governor-general’s coat of arms, demanding that its tongue and claws be removed on greeting cards, stationery and the like.
And that Adrienne Clarkson (1999-2005) fought an epic battle with Ontario lieutenant-governor Hilary Weston over which of them should attend as the Queen’s representative when the University of Toronto awarded anti-apartheid leader Desmond Tutu an honorary doctorate. (In the end, both showed up.)
This doesn’t begin to spill all the beans that Fraser has gathered over the years talking with and about governors-general he has known.
One of the most important contributions of the book is Fraser’s discourse on the role of the governor-general’s spouse, who can be pivotal to the occupant’s success or failure.
Pauline Vanier, wife of the beloved Georges Vanier (1959-1967) and Gabrielle Léger, wife of Jules Léger, (1974-1979) took on many of the responsibilities of governor-general when their husbands fell ill.
John Ralston Saul, a well-known writer and philosopher, contributed so greatly to Clarkson’s tenure that it seemed at times they were almost – almost – co-governors.
In today’s Rideau Hall, Fraser observes, vice-regal consort Whit Fraser’s affability and good cheer help to soften the somewhat austere demeanour of Governor-General Simon. (Disclosure: I provided an endorsement for Fraser’s soon-to-be-published memoir.)
Conversely, Gerda Hnatyshyn, wife of Ray Hnatyshyn (1990-1995), bristled at being expected to attend so many events with her husband, and at all the security. Diana Fowler LeBlanc, wife of Roméo, “was not hugely loved in her role,” and was not happy in it, Fraser tells us, which may have contributed to what the author sees as LeBlanc’s weak tenure.
The role of the governor-general’s spouse should be more heavily considered in any appointment, Fraser believes. And he believes also that the practice instigated by Stephen Harper and abandoned by Justin Trudeau of appointing a board of advisers who submit a shortlist of vice-regal candidates to the prime minister should be revived.
Fraser has some choice and cutting words about Justin Trudeau. “The often-charming, young prime minister liked making a big splash for immediate effect, but this was unfortunately, and repeatedly, accompanied by precious little ability to ponder the possible negative consequences.”
He is scathing about Trudeau’s “inability to see beyond a good next-day headline,” which led him to convince David Johnston, who had served ably as governor-general from 2010 to 2017, to inquire into allegations of Chinese interference in Canadian elections.
Johnston should never have accepted the post, but took it out of a sense of duty. His “nothing to see here” initial conclusions, along with allegations of conflict of interest, forced his resignation.
“It must have been galling to him that his senior years were marred by nonsense caused as much by Justin Trudeau’s quick fixes, and Johnston’s own inability to see the perils before him,” Fraser writes. “But he was a good governor-general.”
Trudeau’s greatest misjudgment of all, having scrapped the advisory panel, was to nominate Julie Payette as governor-general in 2017.
Her resume was impressive: a woman engineer in a mostly male profession; a NASA astronaut who had twice been in space; director of the Montreal Science Centre. What could possibly go wrong?
Trudeau’s advisers had failed to explore a past that media dug up before she had even been installed: a car accident in which she had killed a pedestrian (she was found not at fault); an assault charge, later dropped, involving her estranged husband; allegations that she was difficult to work with.
Once in office, problems multiplied. Payette refused to live in Rideau Hall, staff complained of her imperious behavior, she was reluctant to attend ceremonial events and more – so much more that in 2021 she was forced to resign, leaving Chief Justice Richard Wagner to serve in her place until Mary Simon was appointed.
Fraser is especially critical of Payette’s reluctance to embrace the role of governor-general in Indigenous reconciliation. The author believes Payette and many other French Canadians resent being told they were not Canada’s founding nation. “In the new dispensation, the French settlements in Canada were simply those of another European intruder,” which Payette, “this lost soul,” reflected in her discomfort with Indigenous issues and ceremonies, he writes. Many will vigorously disagree with Fraser’s interpretation.
There are other elements of this book some will disagree with, or that are just plain wrong. Fraser gives credit to John Diefenbaker for effectively abolishing capital punishment, but I believe Lester Pearson deserves that honour – although, as in so many things, Dief laid the groundwork for Mike.
Fraser has Roland and Norah Michener touring Newfoundland and Labrador on a Canadian battleship. The Canadian navy has never had a battleship.
Fraser maintains that Simon is a poor governor-general, unable to speak about anything other than Indigenous issues – the inverse of Payette. “Mary Simon’s Indigenous identity is trotted out on all occasions, but she seems to have trouble to get beyond it, to reach and evoke the full range of the Canadian population,” he writes.
I would say instead that, after the traumas of the Payette years, Simon has stabilized the role of governor-general, thus preserving its legitimacy. And if her lack of ability to speak French has alienated some in French Canada, Trudeau knew that would happen when he appointed her.
There are other things to take issue with – including an excessive amount of copying and pasting of past speeches and columns into the book’s already thin content. But this remains a delightful sneak peek into the workings of the Crown’s representative.
Fraser’s intimate portrait is a quick read both because it’s so short and so hard to put down.
John Ibbitson is a writer and journalist and the author of The Duel: Diefenbaker, Pearson and the Making of Modern Canada.