From Policy Wonk to Agent of Change

In one of the many pieces of advice he offered fellow politicians more than 2100 years ago, the Roman statesman Cicero recommended they “avoid any specific discussion of public policy at public meetings.” The reasons remain largely unchanged today: Problems are easy to identify, but solutions are more complex, controversial, and uncertain in outcome. Those qualities are anathema to politicians who depend on public approval and votes. As a result, they often prefer tried-and-tested policies and look suspiciously on anyone and anything beyond the norm.

That, in turn, means that anyone who formulates and brings forward policy ideas must also bring a deep reservoir of knowledge, thick skin and self-confidence to the task. For all that, there is Charles J. McMillan, who, for almost four decades, has been a leading participant, innovator and debater of public policy in Canada. Now, he has brought his encyclopedic knowledge to bear with The Age of Consequence: The Ordeals of Public Policy in Canada. Weighing in at 363 pages, it is a sweeping, balanced and thoroughly engaging summing up of the people, thinking and process behind major policy decisions in Canada since Confederation.

Known to his many friends and acquaintances as just “Charley”, McMillan is a famously happy warrior with a quick, sharp sense of humour, a perpetually-inquiring nature, and an insatiable appetite for new ideas and the cut-and-thrust of accompanying debate. Those qualities are in full evidence here. The book was written, McMillan notes, “for the general public, interested in the ‘sausage machine’ of how law and public policy are actually made, the cleavages and conflicts facing senior members of the government, and the unique burdens placed on the prime minister.”

The topics explored include, among many, free trade, the advent of public health care, environmental legislation, the manner in which Canada became a multicultural society, efforts to reconcile our relationship with Indigenous Peoples, and our efforts to make our mark on the world stage. As McMillan writes, “Canada is a testament to the carefully contrived policy outcomes of a smallish population in such a huge country.”

Now 76 and still teaching at York University’s Schulich School of Business, Charley’s direct engagement in major policy circles started with the election of Brian Mulroney’s government in 1984 and his appointment as senior policy advisor in the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO). Not surprisingly, he devotes large sections of the book to initiatives taken during Mulroney’s nine years in office. McMillan provides background to internal party debates and how the decision-making process unfolded on everything from negotiating free trade with the United States to the reform of national tax policy with the Goods and Services Tax (GST) to the near-success and then bruising failure of the Meech Lake constitutional accord.

Policy advisers are often regarded by the general public – when they’re considered at all – as reserved academics unaccustomed to and uncomfortable with the cut, thrust and occasional knife-fights of daily politics. That description does not apply to Charley. In Mulroney’s 2007 Memoirs: 1939-1993, he describes McMillan as “a brilliant university economics professor and author whose quick wit and irrepressible humour kept us focused in times of uncertainty.”  In and around the Prime Minister’s Office, he was renowned – and sometimes feared – for his smartly-written, brief and often blunt analyses of situations, individuals and recommended courses of action. Several memos are reproduced in this book. Charley also retains his ability to use anecdotes to scathing effect. For example, he recalls that Fred Doucet – a controversial special adviser to Mulroney – “brought two things” [to his job]…and he did not hide them. The first was his access to Brian Mulroney. The second was his ability to state, ‘The prime minister wants’…without ever explaining why.”

Anecdotes like that bring spice and a sense of the manner in which personalities and internal politics colour every aspect of public life: Doucet had been an acquaintance of Mulroney since their days together at St. Francis Xavier University, and that gave him enhanced status that he used to full effect.

At the same time, McMillan understands how external optics and expectations affect policy development. On the Canada-US Free Trade Agreement, precursor to NAFTA – Mulroney, he writes, was initially interested only in expanding certain sectors of trade with the United States rather than a more comprehensive agreement. He gradually became more supportive of a full agreement even as he publicly mocked the concept during the 1983 campaign for the leadership of the Progressive Conservative Party. He continued to speak vigorously against it because, among other things, he felt that to come out in favour would cause attention to focus on that one issue to the detriment of his overall campaign. After winning the leadership, his thinking continued to evolve – particularly after the release in 1985 of the final report of the Macdonald Commission, chaired by former Liberal finance minister Donald Macdonald, who had strong nationalist credentials but supported enhanced trade. That helped provide the impetus to move ahead.

McMillan provides a larger historical roadmap to the challenges, frustrations and achievements of federal governments of all stripes over the years. Those include the age-old headaches of governing a country that, while peaceable, is often riven by divisions between rural and urban, English and French, regional rivalries, and socio-cultural debates even within political parties. Policies that benefit one sector are almost invariably portrayed as detrimental to, or ignoring, another. 

McMillan gives credit to both the Liberals and Conservatives for their willingness at crucial times to come together over some contentious issues. Unlike the US, Canada has avoided bitter arguments over abortion because in both major parties, the leadership simply refused to let that happen. As well, after intense debate and disagreement on some major issues, Liberals and Conservatives have, once they formed government, retained or made only minor adjustments to their predecessor’s key initiatives. Examples include the opening up of immigration under John Diefenbaker that was then enhanced by the Liberals; and the tax reform and free trade agreements of the Mulroney government that were continued by the Liberals after their initial opposition.

Among the book’s many strengths is the fact that McMillan is, ultimately, more of a policy wonk than a partisan politico – and also a dab hand at the keyboard with an easy, fluid style. He’s far more interested generally in explaining the need for, and background of, policies than in scoring partisan points. Like a skilled colour commentator at a hockey or baseball game, he understands the play- by-play and background thinking involved so implicitly that his explanations are clear and easy to grasp on even the most complex topics.

At the same time, he is careful – perhaps too much, at times – to stay in the background and avoid discussing his own role in specific issues at length. Strikingly for a political book, the first-person singular is almost absent. Even when he injects himself into an issue, it’s usually to quote from one of his memos at the time rather than to explore his feelings or direct actions.

In an era of growing populism and frustration with politicians, it’s easy to overlook the complexities and importance of public policy decisions, especially those that don’t seem to touch our lives directly. The Age of Consequence reminds us that countries are framed in their existing forms by policies and philosophies conceived by people who pressed forward against the safe, conventional wisdom of their times and ignored Cicero’s dictum to shy away from such trouble. Much respect and gratitude to them – including, most certainly, Charley.  

Contributing Writer Anthony Wilson-Smith, President and CEO of Historica Canada, is a former editor-in-chief of Maclean’s.