Thank you very much, and thank you for inviting me to appear before the committee.
I want to note, just in the interest of full disclosure, that 40 years ago I worked in Brian Mulroney’s Prime Minister's Office as the assistant to Dalton Camp, who was then Mr. Mulroney’s senior adviser. I believe—if it's the same David McLaughlin—that David McLaughlin was a friend and a colleague of mine at that time. I haven't seen him since, so it's a pleasure to be reunited, if it's the right fella.
I have had no partisan involvement since well before the Progressive Conservative Party disappeared over 20 years ago. I am here as an academic. Partly because of my background, though, I want to make a brief opening statement not about the law of conflict of interest but about the politics of conflict of interest.
Suppose we know that an office-holder has been influenced in their official conduct by a personal interest that they have. We have actual evidence—maybe through emails they wrote or comments they made to a third party—that their judgment was tainted. That’s not a conflict of interest. That’s corruption. Their judgment in office was corrupted because it was influenced by the personal stake they had in the matter.
A conflict of interest arises when an official is merely in a position to do something in office that affects their interests. They may well be a person of sufficient integrity that they will rise above and totally ignore those interests in their actual decision-making. The problem is that we can never rummage through an official’s mind and know for sure that their judgment was unimpaired by their interest. Therefore, we say to officials not to even raise the question as to whether their judgment was ever impaired. This is because that question is unanswerable. We tell them to arrange their affairs so that they aren’t even in a position where their interests could affect their judgment.
Being in a conflict of interest is thus a serious matter, but it is not necessarily corruption. Conflict of interest law is prophylactic law. It doesn’t prohibit wrongdoing; it prohibits officials from being in a position where they could do something wrong. It does so because any actual wrong would take place in the mind of the office-holder, a place we can never access. In a way, it’s a misnomer to call the conflict of interest laws “ethics laws,” because an official can violate conflict of interest law and still be a person of complete integrity.
Unfortunately, both politicians who get into conflicts of interest and their critics often misunderstand this. A minister who finds himself in a conflict of interest will defensively and indignantly believe that he is being accused of some kind of corruption, so he will angrily deny that he is in any kind of conflict of interest. That doesn’t follow. Maybe his judgment wasn’t corrupted at all. Maybe he feels absolutely certain in his own mind that it wasn’t, but he could still have been in a conflict of interest if he was in a position where it could have been corrupted.
His opposition critics, meanwhile, will suggest that because he was in a conflict of interest, he has done something corrupt. That doesn’t follow either. Just because we know a minister was in a conflict of interest, that doesn’t mean anything one way or another about whether his judgment was actually corrupted.
For his critics, then, the fact that a minister is in a conflict of interest means that he is corrupt; for the minister, his certainty that he is not corrupt means that he couldn’t have even been in a conflict of interest. Both sides mistakenly equate conflict of interest with corruption, so we get consumed with unnecessarily overheated conflict of interest controversies when there are so many more important things on the public agenda.
Let me close with a model of how conflicts of interest should be handled politically, in my view.
In October 2003, Canada’s labour minister, Claudette Bradshaw, announced that she had inadvertently violated federal conflict of interest rules. She had accepted free travel from the Irving family of New Brunswick. As soon as it came to her attention that doing so was prohibited, she took action to reimburse the Irvings, acknowledged that she had fallen afoul of the rules, and apologized. “I apologize to the House,” she said, “and I apologize to all Canadians.” Opposition leader Stephen Harper then responded simply that “Claudette Bradshaw did the honourable thing”. That was it. The matter was closed. Both Ms. Bradshaw and Mr. Harper handled the affair appropriately. Everybody moved on.
That, I believe, is a model of how conflict of interest controversies can and should be handled politically.
Thank you.