RCMP MUST BE INDEPENDENT OF POLITICS

This is the last in a series on the RCMP, an organization that relies
heavily on tradition to underpin its reputation. So, let's have a
brief look at some history.

At the end of the First World War, the Royal Northwest Mounted Police
was down to about 300 members. Its original mandate - to bring law
and order to the frontier - had been largely accomplished and many
who had gone off to fight in Europe declined to rejoin the force upon
their return.

In 1919, that meager remnant of the force earned a dubious reputation
when, to end the Winnipeg general strike, it charged into a crowd,
clubbed two people to death and injured 30 more. It was therefore no
surprise that there was heated debate in Parliament in 1920 when the
proposal was made to merge the force with the even smaller Dominion
Police (whose duties were mainly to protect Parliament Hill, provide
bodyguards for ministers and patrol naval yards). Many MPs were
justifiably more than a little wary of a nationwide paramilitary police force.

In the end, what saved the Mounties was dope. Canada was just getting
into the swing of the drug prohibition business, and Parliament
ultimately decided that a national presence was necessary to
effectively enforce the Opium and Drug Act. The Royal Canadian
Mounted Police was born, and today employs 60,000 men and women. That
crucial role of drugs in the history of the RCMP is important when
trying to make sense of some of the more intriguing actions on the
part of its high-level decision-makers over the past couple of years.

Mayerthorpe is a good example. When Commissioner Giuliano Zaccardelli
first learned about what was undoubtedly the most tragic episode in
the force's recent history, he took the opportunity to warn darkly
about drugs and organized crime - referring to a small grow op that
had been found in James Roszco's Quonset hut.

It was obvious from the outset that the grow op had nothing to do
with the shootings. On the other hand, there were serious questions
about the planning and execution of the raid on the farm of a
volatile, well-known and well-armed cop-hater. The investigation is
now 16 months old and the public is none the wiser.

That episode neatly illustrates a pattern found in a number of recent
events presumably directed from the top: political posturing,
inordinate delay and, with one notable exception, secrecy.

The RCMP is infatuated with the idea of creating "teams" - usually
with considerable fanfare, essentially a political gesture intended
to convey the impression that something important is going on.
Unfortunately, that is not always evident.

In 2004, the force created Marijuana Grow Operation Teams across the
country. On Feb. 28 last, 18 months later, it announced the
conclusion of their "first major operation" when, the press release
proudly proclaimed, they "uncovered a Montreal-based criminal
organization involved in the trafficking, importation and exportation
of cannabis seeds."

It took 16 months of hard work by the seven dedicated men and women
of Operation Courriel to nail a group that had been openly
trafficking in seeds over the Internet since 1998. "Courriel" means
e-mail in French - and that pretty much says it all. What major
operation? What was there to "uncover"?

But that didn't deter the spokesman for the team from proudly
proclaiming that seizure of a huge pile of seeds had prevented the
ultimate rolling of 42 million joints - quite in keeping with the
force's habit of making sometimes laughable claims to get attention
while obscuring the fact that not much is going on. There are four
other "teams" out there and it's been nearly two years. Are they
pursuing equally challenging investigations?

Similarly, Integrated Market Enforcement Teams were formed in 2003 to
investigate financial fraud across the country. They burst into
public view when the Toronto team got into a snit about the Bank of
Nova Scotia not responding appropriately (in the team's opinion) to
court orders for the production of certain documents related to an
investigation. The RCMP expressed its displeasure by staging a
completely unnecessary but dramatic daylight "raid" on the bank's
head office in Toronto's financial district. Along with the flashing
lights of more than a dozen squad cars and a huge van to serve as a
sort of on-site headquarters, more than 25 uniformed officers with
"POLICE" on their jackets stormed into the building, a remarkably
brazen piece of street theatre obviously intended to intimidate one
of Canada's oldest and most respected financial institutions.

Apparently, that wasn't enough for that intrepid team. Shortly after,
in the same investigation, it managed to secure a search warrant that
included the name of the then finance minister in the Ontario
government, Greg Sorbara. Although he was highly critical of the
warrant, he did the right thing and resigned while protesting his innocence.

A few months ago, a judge of the Ontario Superior Court ordered that
Sorbara's name be deleted from the warrant. In doing so, the judge
castigated the RCMP for the "contradictory" and "doubtful" and
"entirely unsatisfactory" evidence it put forward in the first place
to obtain it.

Once again, a publicity stunt that yielded nothing of value while the
nitty-gritty of the investigation went awry. Not much has been heard
since about the investigation, now in its third year.

But in the end, the most troubling event of all is the interference
by Commissioner Zaccardelli in last winter's election campaign, a
move that demonstrated clearly how the force can choose not to hide
behind silence and secrecy when it sees a political upside.

An NDP MP sent a letter in November of 2005 to the RCMP suggesting
that there had been a deliberate leak in the Liberal government's
finance department regarding a change in policy regarding income
trusts. Just after Christmas, Zaccardelli replied to the MP,
confirming that the force had launched a formal investigation into
her allegations. He had to be aware that, in the midst of a campaign
being fought almost exclusively on the issue of corruption, that
letter would become public - particularly in the slow-news lull of
Christmas week.

There is little doubt that, even considering all other factors, that
disclosure tipped the balance in favour of the Tories. From that
point on they surged ahead in the polls.

It doesn't much matter what Zaccardelli's motive was, although the
fact that, so far, this government has dumped the idea of
decriminalizing cannabis, added $161 million to the force's budget,
and has provided funds for an additional 1,000 members and the
refurbishing of the clubhouse in Regina might be considered dead giveaways.

The commissioner, dubbed a "consummate political operative" by
well-connected Ottawa commentator Lawrence Martin, quite deliberately
interfered in an election campaign. This is not just another arm of
the bureaucracy. This is a police force, an organization we have
empowered to regulate our lives, through the use of force if
necessary. It is fundamental that they must remain at arm's length
from the making of policies they are mandated to enforce. The B.C.
Civil Liberties Association, when filing an official complaint in
July with the Commissioner for Public Complaints about that episode,
said it best: "Police meddling in an election is poison to a democracy."

The all-powerful FBI under J. Edgar Hoover often resorted to similar
attention-grabbing stunts and was certainly a politically active
organization. On the other hand, it made sure that agents in the
field rarely became the targets of public censure or ridicule.

In any event, although Canadians are traditionally deferential to
authority, are they really interested in replicating here that kind
of national police presence, one that is self-perpetuating and
apparently not subject to serious civilian control?