When Canadian Federation of Agriculture directors gathered around the table of a Charlottetown hotel last week for their summer board meeting, it was as if there were two empty and pivotal chairs at the table.
One was barely visible, buried under a pile of baggage. Its occupant, had he
chosen to make an appearance, would have been agriculture minister Lyle Vanclief.
He was close, mind you, touring Atlantic provinces but through design or coincidence, he missed the province where a
collection of his most articulate critics sat debating the shortcomings of Vanclief’s policies and approach. These CFA leaders, accustomed to being courted and respected by agriculture ministers as the most legitimate voice of the industry, are feeling excluded, belittled, marginalized by this minister.
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Fault lies on both sides but rarely has such a gap existed between a federal minister and the lobby group once referred to as “the house of agriculture.”
Just down the table sat the second empty chair, floating slightly above the floor, bathed in the soft light of camaraderie and also piled high with parcels of expectations.
This, of course, was where prime minister-in-waiting Paul Martin would have been sitting had he accepted the CFA invitation to speak.
On top of the pile sat a letter, written by the man himself and hailed by anxious farmers as proof positive that their expectations are warranted. Mind you, virtually any group in the country with an agenda and access to Martin’s camp has received assurance that once he takes over the country, their wishes and grievances will be addressed.
“Dear Bob,” it began, not even bothering with the fakery of having a secretary write “Mr. Friesen” so he could stroke it out and write “Bob.”
“Dear Bob. Thank you very much for the input you have provided to me on the state of agriculture in Canada,” wrote Martin. “I am listening carefully to what you and other farmers are telling me.”
There is no reason in the world to doubt that Martin, or his farmer-savvy aide who wrote the letter, is sincere in wanting to work with farmers to try to get the industry out of its cycles of poverty and calamity.
There is reason, though, to reflect on the ironic twists that politics can bring.
Vanclief, after all, is a minister who has extracted from government coffers spending or commitments approaching $10 billion during his six years in office. Partly because of the perilous times in which he lived, know-it-all bureaucratic advisers, his own blunt public style that is an odd mix of arrogance and defensiveness and farmers’ elevated expectations of what they were owed, it was never enough and never on time.
Meanwhile, Martin is the man who just eight years ago performed the most radical amputation of farm supports in history, slashing more than $1 billion a year in support and abolishing the venerable Crow Benefit rail transportation subsidy.
It was an act of fiscal savagery denounced by farm leaders of the day and from which some farmers and farm programs have yet to recover.
Yet all seems forgiven.
Whoever Martin picks as agriculture minister should enjoy the honeymoon, enjoying the affection and favours freely offered.
History suggests it won’t last long.
