A fine line between treason and titillation
by George Jonas
National Post
July 10, 2010
Carried away by the sound of their own voices, some parliamentarians were demanding this week that Canadian Security and Intelligence Services chief Richard Fadden put up or shut up. They said Fadden should either name any B.C. politician or civil servant of Chinese extraction who succumbed to China's blandishments -- perhaps even charge them with "treason" -- or recant everything he said about such goings-on in a recent CBC interview.
Fadden all but told grandstanding MPs to go fly a kite. I wish he had used the actual words. Here's a story to illustrate why.
A journalist covering Canada's security services put a Toronto publisher in touch with a former member of the RCMP in 1987. The ex-Mountie seemed ready to tell tales out of school. The journalist himself was all RCMP-d out, having just published a book on the force, but the source was authentic and the publisher believed his stories could be explosive. He asked me to take a closer look.
The informant turned out to be a spic-and-span officer with an alcohol problem, and maybe a dozen inside stories. I code-named him "Beaver" and turned on the tape recorder.
Among some mildly scandalous though hardly explosive stories, Beaver named three prominent Canadians observed by the RCMP Watcher Service attending surreptitious meetings with Soviet diplomats suspected of running or recruiting agents during the 1970s. Beaver believed these Canadians had never been investigated, let alone confronted by the authorities.
"What if our side used them for bait?" I asked him. "What if we were developing them as double agents?"
"You read too many spy novels," he replied.
"Would you know, necessarily?"
"Well -- not necessarily, no."
Beaver didn't pitch his tales too high, which enhanced his credibility, but not his cachet. His stories, though fascinating, may have become a series of libel suits more readily than an expose of treachery on the Rideau Canal. In addition, the publisher became concerned that putting the ex-Mountie's account into print might contravene the Official Secrets Act.
I had an additional concern. Although it was hard to see how Beaver's stories could offer any aid and comfort to Canada's enemies, it might give them information. After consultations, I put the publisher's concern to Marc Rosenberg (now Mr. Justice Rosenberg of the Ontario Court of Appeal) and my own concern to the journalist who unearthed Beaver initially.
It turned out to be a conversation between an Earthling and a Martian. A seasoned pro, Beaver's original discoverer couldn't fathom what my problem was. As far as he was concerned, investigative journalists sniff and tell. The rest isn't their department. If what they publish helps the good guys, fine; if it hurts them, tough cheese.
Who were the good guys, anyway?
This, I think, was the crux of the matter. Dig-and-print schools of investigative reporting rarely know who the good guys are. Some consider "them" and "us" morally equivalent. The investigative purist's credo is reporting; not hurting his side is merely a bonus, if that. My colleague didn't actually say "a reporter's patriotism is truth," but only because he hadn't thought of it.
Declaring that a reporter's patriotism is truth sounds impressive, but it won't fly. Air travel requires wings and a passport. Truth may be without nationality, but journalists aren't. Reports may require no visas, but reporters do. Sniff, find and oink is an exemplary formula for pigs rooting for truffles, but journalists ought to be more discerning.
At least, if you ask me.
As it turned out, the law mooted ethics. In Marc Rosenberg's opinion, publishing Beaver's saga could have breached Section 4 of the relevant Act at the time. Just listening to Beaver tell his stories might have been unlawful. The publisher believed the law was an ass but didn't like its kick, and decided to obey it.
An ex-"Sparks" from the Merchant Marine bulk-erased the tapes for me, and Beaver's tale went up in magnetic smoke. It did so shortly before the hammer and sickle flew over the Kremlin for the last time. If the Soviets did recruit three well-known Canadians as agents of influence in the 1970s, they could now take their secrets to the grave.
One has done so since. Two are with us still.
What changed in 20 years? Postal codes, not much else. The Russians have been there, done that. So have others. Attempts to recruit politicians and civil servants as agents of influence are nothing new. Grabbing psychologically vulnerable people by the short hairs of their ethnicity goes back to Tokyo Rose and beyond. The syndrome hasn't been created by multiculturalism.
Multiculturalism's contribution is different. It's parliamentarians getting their knickers in a twist when counterespionage officials talk openly about the facts of life. It's making certain topics a no-no. Unmentionable. Politically incorrect.
Not in front of the children, chief! How could you?
Bully for the chief, I say. A stitch in time saves nine. The parties involved know who they are. Telling them today that CSIS is on to them may preclude the need to try them for treason tomorrow.