"We all need a holiday, I guess," sighed Canada's Prime Minister last week. Mike Pearson had reason to feel weary. Since taking office early last year, his minority Liberal government has weathered no fewer than 25 votes of confidence; its defenses are often weak and clumsy in the uncontrolled parliamentary debates, its legislative program is making only the slowest progress. And like Pearson, Canada's politicians, its press and public are beginning to get tired of the game.
The one man who seems to enjoy it all immensely is old John Diefenbaker, the ex-Prime Minister who suffered the same wasp-stinging from Pearson and now leads the Conservative opposition. When Diefenbaker was under attack, there were major issues at stake such as Canada's nuclear commitment to the U.S. Now the rough and tumble in the House of Commons often sounds more like a schoolyard squabble. Diefenbaker makes the most of it to be devil Pearson and ridicule him before the splinter parties on which he depends for support.
Kites & Flags. When Pearson's government recently hinted that "the realities of the situation" might force Canada to depart from its policy of nonrecognition of Red China, Diefenbaker rose in Commons to demand "whether this was just a case of kite flying, or does it represent a change of viewpoint on the part of the government?" Replied Pearson: "It does not represent a change of viewpoint." "So it is kite flying," snapped Diefenbaker. When Pearson revealed in the House that the government is making a study of the growing secessionist pressures in French Quebec and how secession would affect Canada economically, Diefenbaker all but accused him of plotting secession and forced embarrassed attempts to "clarify." The loudest and longest hassle erupted last May when Pearson proposed a new maple leaf national flag to replace the Red Ensign. "Flags," roared Diefenbaker, "cannot be imposed on the Canadian people by the simple, capricious personal choice of the Prime Minister! His personal choice will divide the nation." And with help from Diefenbaker, it did.
Even so seemingly minor a matter as a Canadian Broadcasting Co. TV film of a day in the life of the Prime Minister threw Parliament into a tizzy. Conservatives charged that Pearson had first tried to censor the film, then persuaded CBC to kill it altogether—meanwhile sarily hesitant replies (he had seen an early version but not the final version) left Canadians with the vaguely uneasy feeling that perhaps there was something to the fuss after all. Said an exasperated member of the Pearson-supporting New Democrats: "Here we have a situation that could have been cleared up right off by a candid, complete statement of about 200 words by the Prime Minister. But instead he backed away and backed away. Ever since they got in, the Liberals have flubbed on point after point."