EDDIE Goldenberg was one of the key Ottawa insiders of the past two political generations, an aide to Jean Chrétien for three decades and a fly on the wall through some of Canada’s riveting political dramas.
His recent political memoir The Way it Works recounts in fascinating detail how budgets are put together, how conflicting ministerial wish lists are reconciled to broader government objectives (or not) and how cabinet budget debates often become battles between ambitious ministers with agendas far greater than the item discussed.
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Although the governing party has changed, Goldenberg’s narrative offers a glimpse of the pressures that Conservative finance minister Jim Flaherty went through preparing the March 19 budget.
In a minority Parliament, a budget is as much a political document as a financial one. Friendship and political alliances mean little in these verbal bare-knuckle brawls.
The prime minister sets the framework and the finance minister is supposed to craft the balancing act that will implement it. Egos get bruised along the way, ministerial agendas and personal electoral prospects often get undermined for what is considered the greater good.
The party needs seats in Quebec and urban Ontario. The party needs to hold onto the rural seats it won in Ontario in 2006, including Diane Finley’s riding where tobacco farmers are restless.
See what you can do for them, Jim. Oh yes, and don’t forget to balance the books.
A classic case of bruising budget debates as recounted by Goldenberg came in late 2001 when industry minister Brian Tobin was pushing for a large investment in rural broadband and finance minister Paul Martin was resisting, in part because he thought the idea poorly thought out and in part because he saw Tobin as a leadership rival trying to build a base in rural Canada.
Tobin appealed to his old political ally prime minister Jean Chrétien, who was angry about Martin’s own leadership ambitions. To Tobin’s chagrin, Chrétien backed Martin, believing the boss should not undermine the finance minister.
“Tobin, deeply hurt and feeling let down by the prime minister, shortly afterwards resigned from cabinet,” wrote Goldenberg.
He also cites cabinet debates about agricultural support programs as an illustration of how generic sympathy for farmers does not always translate into hard support for spending.
At one point, an expensive aid package for grains and oilseeds farmers was being considered. All ministers sounded sympathetic. As the prime minister’s representative, Goldenberg noted the broad support for more farm spending but it would mean cuts elsewhere. Who would offer up programs to be sacrificed?
“The response was total silence,” he writes. “My point, as I expected, was completely ignored as the discussion progressed.”
Ralph Goodale no doubt had a glimpse of déjàvu at that moment. In 1995, as Martin was preparing his program slashing budget, Agriculture Canada was slated to be one of the hardest hit. The Crow Benefit was on the table and other budgets.
Goodale appealed to his political ally Martin for a better deal. No dice.
He appealed directly to politically astute Chrétien, arguing that if the West felt there had been a Crow betrayal, Liberals would be punished in rural ridings for generations. No dice. The rest is history.
