Stanton Atkins & Dosil Publishers

Identity Crisis From Chapter One

A Flag for Canada Winner of the 2002 Prose Non-Fiction Illustrated Alcuin Award for Excellence in Book Design in Canada

As Lester B. "Mike" Pearson relaxed in the prime ministerial seat of the government jet taking him to Winnipeg on the afternoon of Saturday, May 16, 1964, he leafed casually through back issues of The Legionary, the magazine of the Royal Canadian Legion. Skimming article after article condemning his flag policy, he must have felt some anxiety about the speech he would be giving Sunday evening to the Legion's 20th Dominion Convention. From the moment Mike Pearson promised Canadians a flag of their own, the Legion had been among his loudest critics, second only to Tory leader John Diefenbaker, whom he'd recently deposed as prime minister. A decisive majority of the Legion's quarter-million members - all of them veterans of Canada's armed forces - seemed to stand behind the cover of their magazine, which for months had borne a picture of the Canadian Red Ensign with the caption, "This Is Canada's Flag: Keep It Flying."

Pearson knew that if his speech went well - if he was respectfully heard - then he would be commended for his courage in facing his critics and speaking his mind. But if the old warriors shouted him down, if he looked weak or vacillating, he would be pilloried and his cause damaged. Yet according to John Matheson, the Liberal MP for Leeds who was Pearson's parliamentary secretary and his right-hand man on the flag issue, "Nothing appeared to bother him. When he stepped off the plane in Winnipeg it was obvious he felt at home and relaxed. He might as well have been with intimate old comrades from Gallipoli or the Royal Flying Corps."

Did the prime minister even notice as he was being driven to his hotel that from every building and flagpole and from every light standard along Portage Avenue there flapped a Red Ensign or a Union Jack? Did he remember that Winnipeg was the birthplace of the Royal Canadian Legion? Did he wonder if he'd made a dreadful mistake? Wisely, Matheson had persuaded Pearson to bring along his medals, something he'd been reluctant to do. He was, after all, one of them, a veteran of the First World War. And as one of them, he surely knew how hard-minded they would be when it came to matters of patriotic principle.

Sunday evening, nearly two thousand delegates and their wives crowded into Winnipeg's Capitol Theatre as the Legion president, Judge Clare C. Sparling, who had publicly called for a national plebiscite on the flag question, introduced the prime minister. The podium was lit by garish lights from the CBC television crew that all but blinded the guest speaker. Perhaps the lights saved Pearson from contemplating the Red Ensigns pinned to many a legionnaire's lapel, a sea of silent protest. Polite applause followed the introduction. Then Pearson began.

Canada's fourteenth prime minister was a man of many parts. A great orator, a commanding presence he was not. His predilection for bow ties made him look more like the university professor and Ottawa mandarin he had been than the national leader he now was. His slight but perceptible lisp tended to undercut his attempts at sounding dignified and made him too easy to parody. His public diffidence, his self-deprecating manner seldom moved or inspired. First Pearson talked about hospital care for veterans, a topic near to the hearts of everyone in his audience. The legionnaires listened quietly and applauded politely. Then he turned to his main subject, which had been well advertised in advance.

"Members of the Legion are aware of my Government's commitment, made by our party some years ago, to ask Parliament to decide on a distinctive Canadian flag within a certain period of time. I, too, am very much aware of your Legion executive's current attitude towards that Government policy." The audience stirred and muttered. "This mutual awareness of our attitudes, I believe, precludes any possibility that I should appear before you tonight and attempt to dodge the flag issue. After all, you are men who know what it means to go into battle! So I intend to talk briefly, but frankly, about this issue: To put my own feelings, my beliefs, my judgment squarely and honestly before you. You would expect me to do this and I believe it is my duty also. I expect dissent. I also respect it."

The prime minister seemed to be in good form, speaking well and forcefully. But he had yet to challenge his listeners. "Mr. Chairman, when I went overseas in 1915 I had as comrades in my section men whose names were Cameron, Kimura, English, Bleidenstein, O'Shaughnessy, De Chapin. We didn't fall in, or fall out, as Irish Canadians, French Canadians, Japanese Canadians, Dutch Canadians. We wore the same uniform with the same maple leaf badge" - at the words "maple leaf" a few boos came back from the audience - "and we were proud to be known as Canadians, to serve as Canadians and to die, if that had to be, as Canadians. I wish our country had more of that spirit today, of unity, 'togetherness,' and resolve; the spirit that was shown by Canadians in time of war when the survival of our country was at stake. Well, the survival of our country as a united and strong federal state is at stake today."

So far, the audience seemed willing to give him a hearing, and the prime minister seemed to be settling into his speech. Maybe this was not going to be as tough as everyone had predicted.

"What we need is a patriotism that will put Canada ahead of its parts," Pearson continued, warming up for the main punch of his argument. "Our ties to the mother country do not now include any trace of political subordination." He was conveniently forgetting that the Canadian constitution was still an act of the British parliament. "They are ties of affection, of tradition and respect. As a Canadian, I don't want them destroyed or weakened. But they have changed, and the symbols of Canada have changed with them. This is an inevitable process. In World War I, the flag that flew for Canadian soldiers overseas was the Union Jack." Pearson, who had not served in France, believed this to be true; many veterans in his audience who had fought in the trenches remembered seeing the Red Ensign used, if unofficially, by the soldiers at the front. "In World War II, in January 1944, the Red Ensign came officially on the scene . . ."

At the words "Red Ensign" loud cheering erupted in the hall, forcing the prime minister to pause. A group of troubleŽmakers in the audience raised a Red Ensign on a pole and waved it above the crowd. A large number of legionnaires stood up and roared in approval. As the cheers persisted, Judge Sparling attempted to quiet the ruckus by brandishing his gavel. When the shouting subsided, he admonished the assembly: "I thought you were all ladies and gentlemen. This is an honoured guest invited here." As the protesters sat back down one of them yelled, "No, throw him out!"

The prime minister soldiered on, pointing out that the Legion's own badge, adopted after much debate, featured a single maple leaf. "I believe that today a flag designed around the maple leaf will symbolize - will be a true reflection of - the new Canada." Loud boos filled the hall. One veteran shouted out, "We don't want it, we've got a flag!" Another voice called out, "Where is your flag?" And another: "Put it to the people!"

Pearson tried valiantly to stay with his text and on his message. "Would such a change mean disrespect for the Union Jack?" "Yes!" the crowd roared back, drowning the prime minister's answer. He plowed forward, vowing not to abandon the Union Jack but arguing that it should become "a symbol of our membership in the Commonwealth of Nations and of our loyalty to the crown."

The audience had now reached a pitch of rowdiness that made it difficult for the prime minister to be heard. "You're selling us out to the pea-soupers," someone shouted. Came another: "God save Diefenbaker." And another: "Keep the Red Ensign." And yet another: "Go home!"

It had become impossible for Pearson to continue. Judge Sparling attempted to gavel the hall into relative quiet. "It's all right, Mr. Chairman," Pearson retorted. "This is a veterans' meeting." The comment prompted laughter and some applause that seemed to shift the mood somewhat in the prime minister's favour. "I remember Harry Truman saying, 'If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.'" More laughter and clapping. Mike had not been rattled. He could take the heat.