Appointed by Prime Minister Paul Martin in early 2005 as chief of the defence staff (cds), Hillier is intelligent, strategic, honest, and charismatic, and he does something many Ottawa mandarins and politicians would rather he not do — talk directly to Canadians. Moreover, he is good at it, perhaps exceptionally so. Hillier has become a household name, a rarity for a Canadian military officer, and is the public face of Canada’s mission in Afghanistan and its most articulate and compelling spokesperson. Perhaps most tellingly, as an unabashed champion of Canada’s men and women in uniform, he has almost single-handedly re-established the image of the Canadian Forces (CF) as a premier national institution.
Even before he became cds, Hillier’s leadership style rippled through the CF. In early 2003, Defence Minister John McCallum was lobbying hard for increases to the defence budget. After years of cutbacks and downsizing under Prime Minister Chrétien and Finance Minister Martin, new funding for the military finally appeared to be on the horizon. Eight hundred soldiers had been deployed to Kandahar in 2002, and the CF were preparing to deploy a larger force to Kabul in 2003. After 9/11, the military was becoming an important instrument of foreign policy, and rebuilding it was a priority. Then, as budget day approached, something unusual happened at National Defence Headquarters (ndhq) — the nerve centre of the defence establishment. Lieutenant-General Hillier, then the newly appointed assistant chief of land staff, wrote a confidential memo to his boss, cds Ray Henault. It was leaked, found its way into the national media, and caused a firestorm inside the cloistered confines of Canada’s senior officer class.
This exercise in budget lobbying was Hillier’s first foray into the bureaucratic decision-making and internecine politics at ndhq. Although his memo failed to convince Henault of the need for an asymmetric allocation of resources, it did underline Hillier’s style. He was a leader with vision and focus, fully prepared to challenge conventional thinking and discard traditions. These qualities have now raised the badly misunderstood issue of “civilian control of the military.” Hillier represents a model of military leadership more akin to that of the US or Britain, but has he overstepped by inappropriately treading on the domain of elected leaders, Americanizing the leadership of the CF, and militarizing Canadian society?
“In public, civil servants are like children: they should be seen but not heard,” a senior bureaucrat told us, echoing the visceral discomfort many civil servants express about Hillier’s public profile. Although there is no legal prohibition against the cds having a strong public presence, senior public servants invoke decorum, tradition, Canadian restraint, and deference to Parliament as arguments critical of Hillier’s approach. If Hillier makes official Ottawa’s skin crawl, the grumbling is as much about breaking cultural taboos as it is about politics.
To some extent, Hillier’s heightened visibility is a consequence of the CF being at war for the first time in decades. Under such circumstances, the military leadership has a duty to keep the public informed about operations, whether in Kandahar or the Balkans. Few would quarrel with this, and Hillier’s predecessors regularly complied. But Hillier has taken it a step further. In late 2007, for instance, he contradicted Prime Minister Harper about a military estimate, and he did so publicly. Harper had declared that Canada would be able to withdraw from Kandahar in 2011, because the Afghan National Army (ana) would be trained and ready in sufficient numbers to take over. A few days later, when asked about this during a visit to Kandahar, Hillier did not mince his words: training the ana would take at least ten years, he said. No doubt Hillier is correct — military experts know that to get the job done Canada’s engagement in Afghanistan will have to be long term — but his comments provoked allegations that the military leadership was out of control. If Hillier had reservations, a former minister of defence argued, he should express them in private.
Unpacking this contretemps is instructive. Hillier did exactly what a responsible military leader is supposed to do: provide his best estimate of operational conditions. History suggests that when generals fail to speak out, when they are reluctant to express reservations about the feasibility or progress of military operations, policy often goes badly off the rails. Much of what has gone wrong in Iraq, for example, dates back to the (unusual) unwillingness or inability of senior military leaders in Washington to make known their anxiety about the effectiveness of existing plans — in a forceful, timely, and, if necessary, public way. Speaking truth to power is one of the most fundamental responsibilities of a cds.
It is not Hillier’s record of speaking his mind that worries seasoned observers; it is that he does so in public. Veteran politicians bristle at the thought of being publicly contradicted by an unelected appointee, especially on an issue as sensitive as Canada’s war in Afghanistan. And the subtext of Hillier’s comment was lost on no one: Don’t play politics with military operations, and tell Canadians the truth or I will. While that message is certainly not appreciated in the halls of power, the cds has privileged access to information and is expert at interpreting it, and the reluctance to allow Canada’s senior military officer to disclose critical judgments denies the public access to vital information and knowledge. At a time when concerns about a “democratic deficit” have rarely been higher, keeping military leaders on a tight leash is a curious practice, especially given that this government, like its predecessors, preaches the values of transparency and democratic engagement.
It is true that outspoken military leaders are more likely to be found in “imperial” capitals with long and active military traditions — e.g., Colin Powell, the former US chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, and Sir Richard Dannatt, chief of the British general staff — rather than in smaller countries accustomed to fitting seamlessly (and almost invisibly) into alliance structures. In the US, vigorous, well-funded, and well-staffed congressional committees routinely compel testimony by the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff and from military officers. (Arguably, this is easier in a political system built on checks and balances, but Britain’s parliamentary system also does a far better job than Canada’s.) Committee members with security clearances and substantial research budgets routinely ask tough questions and follow up when they are dissatisfied with the answers. Senators and members of Congress spend years on committees dealing with defence, national security, and foreign policy. They become recognized experts and can challenge government officials and military leaders authoritatively.
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