From Amazon
Sheila Copps, author, is very much like Sheila Copps, politician: blunt, forceful, and hugely divisive. As such, it's certain Worth Fighting For will arm her opponents and her supporters equally. Those who decry the former Deputy Prime Minister as shrill, naïve, and nursing a persecution complex will find heaps of supporting evidence. Ditto, sympathizers who view Copps as a trailblazer dogged by a patriarchal government and sexist media. The two things both camps will agree on, and possibly the best reasons to recommend her book, are these: Copps understands and cherishes the Liberal party and writes about it with clarity, and she hates Paul Martin's guts. What better reason to digest a political memoir mired in controversy about its facts or lack thereof? The knocks on Martin come early and often. "There is no doubt in my mind that if Paul Martin had been leader, we would have gone to Iraq with the United States," Copps writes in the book's most scathing chapter, snidely titled "The Coronation." The hits never stop. "Our prime ministers' archives are kept by the state through the Library and Archives of Canada, but, sadly, most of their material is available only to scholars and elites with special access. Jean Chrétien's planned Canada History Museum would have tried to change that, but as part of his effort to obliterate his predecessor's history Mr. Martin cancelled the project." Though Copps accuses Martin and his cronies of everything from physical intimidation to political malfeasance, her assertion that the former Finance Minister contemplated a "plan to end the outdated Canada Health Act and replace it with something more flexible" has brought the most derisive howls. If true, it's an astonishing and important revelation about Canada's most powerful elected official that should have been tabled with great care. But since Copps wrote the book, in her words, "from memory," including no corroborating documentation, it's hard to judge the truth of her claim. That kind of credibility gap casts a pall over the entire book. Too bad, because Copps has genuine insight into hot-button topics like the environment, defence, what's wrong with the civil service, and why nurturing multiculturalism is essential in a post 9/11 world. --Kim Hughes
Review
“Copps gives readers a blunt, no-holds-barred glimpse into the seamy backrooms of Canadian politics, laying bare the scheming and the backstabbing.”
–The Gazette (Montreal)
–The Gazette (Montreal)
Book Description
Born into a political family, the daughter of a popular Hamilton mayor, Sheila Copps was destined for a life in politics. After graduating in English and French, she became a journalist with the Ottawa Citizen and the Hamilton Spectator. A spell behind the scenes with the provincial Liberals led to her election to the Ontario legislature in 1981 but she reached her true home in the House of Commons in 1984, where she has been re-elected ever since. In opposition she made her name as a member of the “Rat Pack” that harassed Brian Mulroney’s government, and was a loyal supporter of John Turner. In turn, she was a loyal member of Jean Chrétien’s government, a member of his Cabinet from 1993 on, with posts that ranged from Deputy Prime Minister to Minister of the Environment to Minister of Communications and, latterly, Minister of Canadian Heritage. In 2003 she ran for Prime Minister and lost.
In 2004, against all Liberal party tradition, she was squeezed out of her Hamilton seat in a famously controversial nomination fight. As a result, because she feels that Paul Martin and his team of insiders have broken the code of fair treatment, she is writing this book to shine light in dark places.
The key to this book’s success is that Sheila Copps has been at the centre of power throughout all the days of Paul Martin’s time at Finance and knows which cupboards hide skeletons. A left-wing Liberal, she believes that there are secrets from Paul Martin’s past that should be revealed, and now – in her own voice with no ghost writer involved – this former journalist is ready to reveal them. As a result, the book will be embargoed – with no excerpts – until its revelations hit the front pages.
In 2004, against all Liberal party tradition, she was squeezed out of her Hamilton seat in a famously controversial nomination fight. As a result, because she feels that Paul Martin and his team of insiders have broken the code of fair treatment, she is writing this book to shine light in dark places.
The key to this book’s success is that Sheila Copps has been at the centre of power throughout all the days of Paul Martin’s time at Finance and knows which cupboards hide skeletons. A left-wing Liberal, she believes that there are secrets from Paul Martin’s past that should be revealed, and now – in her own voice with no ghost writer involved – this former journalist is ready to reveal them. As a result, the book will be embargoed – with no excerpts – until its revelations hit the front pages.
From the Back Cover
“Copps gives readers a blunt, no-holds-barred glimpse into the seamy backrooms of Canadian politics, laying bare the scheming and the backstabbing.”
–The Gazette (Montreal)
–The Gazette (Montreal)
About the Author
Sheila Copps, former Minister of Canadian Heritage, is well-known and liked across the country. She is a tireless advocate for women in the political world (As her first book, Nobody’s Baby, demonstrated).
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Much to my surprise, after I informed the central campaign of my full availability, the phone did not start ringing. This was a mystery. Over time I learned that the “No” campaign, headed by the provincial Liberals, had three kinds of tours: the A tour, for the people they wanted speaking throughout the province (primarily provincial Liberals and Tories); the B tour, for lesser-known lights who might be able to cover off some of the less important tour areas; and the C tour, for people they really did not want to show up in the province. I was relegated to the C tour. I found out later that invitations were flooding in from all parts of the province for ministers from outside Quebec, because organizers wanted to be able to show their regions that the rest of Canada truly did care about the outcome of this election. As soon as the invitations reached the “No” headquarters in Montreal, however, they would be cancelled or detoured to Quebec politicians. Incredibly, the “No” team was worried the presence of people from outside Quebec would actually attract votes for the separatists. At one point, I angrily remarked to one of our people, “We act as though the province is already separate and then we wonder why people want to separate!”
Let me give an example of how bad it was. I was sent in to an east end Montreal riding which was literally a stone's throw from the main ”No” campaign headquarters in Montreal. I arrived with national media in tow to find an empty committee room with about six people in it. The event had all the makings of a disaster, which would reflect badly on me and worse on the campaign momentum. In the campaign office I quickly sized up the situation and announced to the waiting media that today we were going to be riding the rails — the Montreal subway system, to be exact. We left the office, made our way down to the nearest subway entrance with the six workers, and proceeded to campaign for Canada on the Montreal metro. The television clips were great, people's reaction was positive and we averted one of many near-disasters in a dismal campaign.
At this point, I was so frustrated, I went to the “No” campaign headquarters and tracked down one of the key organizers, Pierre Anctil. I told him about the near-disaster we had just been through that morning and asked him why nobody from outside Quebec seemed welcome in the referendum fight for Canada. Pierre spoke bluntly and directly. As far as he, and most Quebecers were concerned, this was a fight within the family and as outsiders (non-Quebecers), our presence would not be helpful. He then went on to say something that absolutely stunned me. He told me he did not care what the outcome of the race was, win or lose, as long as the difference between the no and the yes was not too great. I could hardly believe my ears. Imagine going into a campaign for your country when your concern for family peace overrides your desire to keep your country together! That, I’m certain, was not only the view of Pierre Anctil. It reflected the general thrust of the leadership of the “No” forces. Here we were, in a fight to the death for Canada, and many of the provincial geniuses in charge of the campaign were playing some silly tactical game of their own. So perhaps it should have come as no surprise that a smart, positive separatist campaign, coupled with internal federal divisions finally produced a near-death experience for Canada.
Only a few days before the end, the numbers on the referendum showed the separatists were poised to win. I was travelling in the west when I received a phone call from Brian Tobin. The usually ebullient Brian sounded positively shaken as he recounted the deadly numbers in the latest referendum internal polling. We were trailing by seven points. What to do? We immediately decided that the time had come to take matters into our own hands. We would let Quebecers know that we cared. And if Liberal organizers kept us out of the province, as federal mps and ministers, we would go full steam ahead and damn the torpedoes, and organize our own rally. And so the rally that saw 100,000 people converge on Canada Place in downtown Montreal took shape in seventy-two hours. We lined up every train, plane, and taxi that could get our people in Montreal. In my own case, we sent sixteen school buses from Hamilton for a gruelling one-day round trip, and there were so many people lined up for the twenty-hour voyage that hundreds were left stranded in Hamilton. Mayor Bob Morrow organized a parallel rally to accommodate those who could not get to Montreal. Liberal mps like Dennis Mills were pulling people in from across the country. The energy was palpable. We were positive and buoyant, sure our message was going to get through to Quebecers, who had been left wondering for weeks why no one cared.
That morning, Brian Tobin and I rose early with the intention of getting on stage about an hour before the official program, to warm up the crowd. We had already been told that, even though we had organized the rally, no non-Quebecers would be speaking as part of the official program. We knew the unofficial program would be just as important. So while mike checks were taking place, we bounded onto the stage, only to have the power disconnected by a key “No” committee organizer, to make sure we could not use the microphones. I could not believe how little so many of the organizers apparently wanted to win.
We even gave up on any semblance of an official tour. Right after the rally, we organized a small plane and Brian Tobin and I headed to the Gaspé and Sept-Îles, ending the whirlwind four-day campaign on Sunday in the Magdalen Islands. In those four days, we went from fishing village to church basement to aboriginal centre, encouraging everyone to cast their vote for Canada. I remember meeting with an aboriginal chief outside Sept-Îles on Saturday morning. Less than forty-eight hours before the vote, no one had ever bothered to contact him to seek his support; Indian Affairs Minister Ron Irwin had offered to go, but he was waiting for the okay from the “No” committee that never came. When I met with the chief and the tribal council, he told me that they intended to boycott the vote. I literally begged him to convince his people to take a stand for Canada. In the end, his people came out 7,000 strong to vote. That one Saturday morning meeting could literally have made the difference between winning and losing our country.
Yet while Brian and I were on the road, the “No” committee central campaign was on the phone in Montreal trying to cancel our visit. At one point, I received a call from a desperate local, begging us to visit their community for a final Sunday brunch pep rally. We agreed and he was ecstatic. An hour later, he was called by a member of the central committee and told to advise us we were not welcome. I won't repeat the very frank message we left for the central committee but I will tell you that the Sunday morning rally was one of the most successful of the campaign. Conservatives and Liberals came together in the fight of our lives, the fight in which saving Canada meant much more than any political feuding.
A final word about that rally we organized in Montreal’s Canada Place. Cynics may say that it had no effect, other than helping out the Montreal tourist trade. But I believe that we all owe a huge debt to the people who made the effort, and who undoubtedly swung some votes — maybe enough to win the election in that nail-biting night of October 30. So if you were among those who made the trek to Montreal, thank you. What you did was important.
As for my own role, I take it as a badge of honour that I was so active in organizing the rally in the teeth of the Johnson Liberals’ opposition that they refused to let me speak there.
Let me give an example of how bad it was. I was sent in to an east end Montreal riding which was literally a stone's throw from the main ”No” campaign headquarters in Montreal. I arrived with national media in tow to find an empty committee room with about six people in it. The event had all the makings of a disaster, which would reflect badly on me and worse on the campaign momentum. In the campaign office I quickly sized up the situation and announced to the waiting media that today we were going to be riding the rails — the Montreal subway system, to be exact. We left the office, made our way down to the nearest subway entrance with the six workers, and proceeded to campaign for Canada on the Montreal metro. The television clips were great, people's reaction was positive and we averted one of many near-disasters in a dismal campaign.
At this point, I was so frustrated, I went to the “No” campaign headquarters and tracked down one of the key organizers, Pierre Anctil. I told him about the near-disaster we had just been through that morning and asked him why nobody from outside Quebec seemed welcome in the referendum fight for Canada. Pierre spoke bluntly and directly. As far as he, and most Quebecers were concerned, this was a fight within the family and as outsiders (non-Quebecers), our presence would not be helpful. He then went on to say something that absolutely stunned me. He told me he did not care what the outcome of the race was, win or lose, as long as the difference between the no and the yes was not too great. I could hardly believe my ears. Imagine going into a campaign for your country when your concern for family peace overrides your desire to keep your country together! That, I’m certain, was not only the view of Pierre Anctil. It reflected the general thrust of the leadership of the “No” forces. Here we were, in a fight to the death for Canada, and many of the provincial geniuses in charge of the campaign were playing some silly tactical game of their own. So perhaps it should have come as no surprise that a smart, positive separatist campaign, coupled with internal federal divisions finally produced a near-death experience for Canada.
Only a few days before the end, the numbers on the referendum showed the separatists were poised to win. I was travelling in the west when I received a phone call from Brian Tobin. The usually ebullient Brian sounded positively shaken as he recounted the deadly numbers in the latest referendum internal polling. We were trailing by seven points. What to do? We immediately decided that the time had come to take matters into our own hands. We would let Quebecers know that we cared. And if Liberal organizers kept us out of the province, as federal mps and ministers, we would go full steam ahead and damn the torpedoes, and organize our own rally. And so the rally that saw 100,000 people converge on Canada Place in downtown Montreal took shape in seventy-two hours. We lined up every train, plane, and taxi that could get our people in Montreal. In my own case, we sent sixteen school buses from Hamilton for a gruelling one-day round trip, and there were so many people lined up for the twenty-hour voyage that hundreds were left stranded in Hamilton. Mayor Bob Morrow organized a parallel rally to accommodate those who could not get to Montreal. Liberal mps like Dennis Mills were pulling people in from across the country. The energy was palpable. We were positive and buoyant, sure our message was going to get through to Quebecers, who had been left wondering for weeks why no one cared.
That morning, Brian Tobin and I rose early with the intention of getting on stage about an hour before the official program, to warm up the crowd. We had already been told that, even though we had organized the rally, no non-Quebecers would be speaking as part of the official program. We knew the unofficial program would be just as important. So while mike checks were taking place, we bounded onto the stage, only to have the power disconnected by a key “No” committee organizer, to make sure we could not use the microphones. I could not believe how little so many of the organizers apparently wanted to win.
We even gave up on any semblance of an official tour. Right after the rally, we organized a small plane and Brian Tobin and I headed to the Gaspé and Sept-Îles, ending the whirlwind four-day campaign on Sunday in the Magdalen Islands. In those four days, we went from fishing village to church basement to aboriginal centre, encouraging everyone to cast their vote for Canada. I remember meeting with an aboriginal chief outside Sept-Îles on Saturday morning. Less than forty-eight hours before the vote, no one had ever bothered to contact him to seek his support; Indian Affairs Minister Ron Irwin had offered to go, but he was waiting for the okay from the “No” committee that never came. When I met with the chief and the tribal council, he told me that they intended to boycott the vote. I literally begged him to convince his people to take a stand for Canada. In the end, his people came out 7,000 strong to vote. That one Saturday morning meeting could literally have made the difference between winning and losing our country.
Yet while Brian and I were on the road, the “No” committee central campaign was on the phone in Montreal trying to cancel our visit. At one point, I received a call from a desperate local, begging us to visit their community for a final Sunday brunch pep rally. We agreed and he was ecstatic. An hour later, he was called by a member of the central committee and told to advise us we were not welcome. I won't repeat the very frank message we left for the central committee but I will tell you that the Sunday morning rally was one of the most successful of the campaign. Conservatives and Liberals came together in the fight of our lives, the fight in which saving Canada meant much more than any political feuding.
A final word about that rally we organized in Montreal’s Canada Place. Cynics may say that it had no effect, other than helping out the Montreal tourist trade. But I believe that we all owe a huge debt to the people who made the effort, and who undoubtedly swung some votes — maybe enough to win the election in that nail-biting night of October 30. So if you were among those who made the trek to Montreal, thank you. What you did was important.
As for my own role, I take it as a badge of honour that I was so active in organizing the rally in the teeth of the Johnson Liberals’ opposition that they refused to let me speak there.
