After the Payette Controversy, Does Canada even need a Governor General?
Here’s what history tells us
Julie Payette’s resignation as Governor General of Canada last week, in the wake of a third-party report that confirmed accusations of a toxic work environment at Rideau Hall, has brought the normally ceremonial position back into the Canadian political conversation.
In addition to the accusations against Payette and her secretary, Assunta di Lorenzo, the vetting process that preceded Payette’s appointment in 2017 has been called into question, as Payette had left two other jobs for workplace harassment in the past. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau has been accused of choosing a celebrity for the position over others more suited to the role. Others have questioned whether Canada even needs a governor general.
Indeed, the position has become somewhat antiquated. Historically, the governor general held powers that are no longer relevant to the way Canadian democracy works, despite what is laid out in our constitution. We know longer grant legitimacy to political institutions that are not directly elected, leaving the governor general with little to do beyond the ceremonial.
The governor general position was created to fulfill the duties of the head of state in the Canadian parliament when Canada was granted dominion status by the British government in 1867. In order to create a British-style parliamentary system, where the Queen/King is head of state and performs certain ceremonial roles, such as giving royal assent to legislation, reading throne speeches, and dissolving parliament, the monarch needed a representative in Canada, as it would have been impossible in the nineteenth century for Queen Victoria to cross the ocean anytime a bill needed royal assent.
In the early days, when Governor Generals of Canada were appointed from the British aristocracy, the position also allowed the British government to maintain some control of the dominion parliament. As the governor general had to give royal assent to any bill passed by the Canadian parliament, they could block the passage of any legislation deemed unfavourable to Britain, as was done six times between 1867 and 1878. It’s debatable whether or not the governor general still has that power.
The British government also maintained what are called reservation and disallowance powers. The governor general could reserve a bill, that is to neither grant royal assent or refuse it, and pass the decision on to the British Privy Council, which could disallow the bill, simply refuse to allow the bill to become law. Interestingly, the powers of reservation and disallowance could also be applied by the federal government to provincial government legislation. Both powers are actually still part of the Canadian constitution, but are considered politically taboo.
In an era when the British government maintained control of Canadian foreign policy and the Judicial Council of the British Privy Council was the highest court in Canada, the governor general also served as a kind of go-between the Canadian and British governments. The governor general, as a British-born representative often with British government experience, could communicate the wishes of Canadian and British politicians to each other.
Payette is the first Canadian governor general to have resigned in controversy, but she is not the most controversial governor general in Canadian history. That honour likely goes to Lord Julian Byng, who clashed with Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King during the 1925 and 1926 federal elections.
The King-Byng affair, as the controversy is known, began with the October 29, 1925 federal election, where King’s governing Liberal Party narrowly lost to Arthur Meighen’s Conservatives, who won a 15 seat minority. Byng advised King to resign and allow Meighen, as the leader of the party with the most seats, to form a government, but King refused. He continued to govern with the support of the Progressive Party, which held 22 seats, introducing old-age pension legislation in 1926 to maintain their support.
By June 1926, the Liberal/Progressive alliance collapsed in the wake of a Liberal bribery scandal. King asked Byng to dissolve parliament and call an election. Byng, still angry that King had ignored his advice in 1925, refused and asked Meighen to form government. King, angry at Byng’s interference, rallied the Progressives and defeated Meighen’s government in a confidence vote just three days later.
This time Byng allowed an election to be held on September 14, 1926. King won a minority government. By then, Byng’s term as governor general had ended, he left office on August 5, 1926, but King remained angry. The governor general, appointed by a foreign power, had, in King’s mind, unjustly interfered with Canadian politics and his right to govern. He carried his anger to the Imperial Conference of 1926, where he pushed for more Canadian autonomy from Britain. King won concessions, and five years later, Canada and the other dominions were granted full autonomy by the 1931 Statute of Westminster.
Whenever I think of the King-Bing affair, I imagine what would happen today if a prime minister tried to hang on to power like King. Imagine if in the 2019 federal election, for example, Andrew Scheer won a minority government, but Justin Trudeau refused to leave office and negotiated a coalition with the NDP. It would be completely constitutional, but Canadians would be outraged.
The last time a governor general had to make such a decision was in 2008, when the Liberal and NDP parties under Stéphane Dion and Jack Layton formed a coalition, with the support of the Bloc Québécois and Green parties. They threatened to pass a motion of non-confidence in Stephen Harper’s government and ask Governor General Michaëlle Jean to let them form government. Harper asked Jean to prorogue parliament to avoid the non-confidence vote. Jean decided she had no choice but to accept the prime minster’s advice and granted Harper’s request for prorogation.
Had the coalition succeeded in passing a non-confidence motion, Harper likely would have asked Jean to call an election, rather than offer the coalition a chance to form government, as King did in 1926. While Jean had the constitutional authority and historic precedent to refuse to call a new election, however, I don’t think she could have rejected Harper’s advice. Had Scheer won in 2019, the governor general would have had to give him a chance to govern and grant a new election if he failed. Canadians would simply refuse to accept a decision by an unelected official to let an unelected government into office.
Despite the broad powers held by the governor general in the past, today the position is bound by the advice of the democratically elected prime minister. And if the governor general must follow the advice of the prime minister, then I don’t know if we need a governor general.
That said, the governor general’s ceremonial role in hosting foreign dignitaries, honouring the notable contributions of Canadians, and promoting our nation’s history surely has some value. And given how notoriously hard it is to amend the Canadian constitution, we are probably stuck with the position.
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