gavin buchan

I regret very much I am not able to be in Ottawa this evening. Unfortunately, our ever-present “operational requirements” have taken precedence, and I am currently en route to the PRT from leave in Europe. So let me wish you good evening from Kandahar. Or more likely - because Afghanistan is eight and a half hours ahead of Ottawa and the military have a habit of putting on flights at hours that are so early as to be unethical, if not outright immoral – from the noisy confines of a Hercules transport en route to Kandahar airfield.

I should begin by confessing that this is the one award in the department that I have always hankered for. And not just because it comes with a cheque— although yes, I admit, those of you that know me will understand that part does appeal to my Scots heritage. The cheque also means nobody can make any cynical cracks about “this and 50 cents will get you a cup of coffee,” because even at modern rates it’s worth about six hundred cups. Half that if your tastes run to a double cappuccino with whipped cream and cinnamon, but even so.

The real appeal of this award is that it comes from my peers. And while I am inherently suspicious of any club which has standards so low that it will accept me as a member, this is one I’m proud to join. There have been many worthy and gifted recipients in the past, and if the Awards Committee in its wisdom is willing to debase the list by adding my name to it… well, that’s something that’s on their conscience rather than mine.

I’ve been asked a few times to explain why I agreed to go to Kandahar– usually in a perplexed voice, with eyes that are surreptitiously measuring me for a white coat with wrap-around sleeves – and I guess this is the chance to set the record straight. It might even avert future efforts to have me committed. So this is how the story went:

The day after Glyn Berry was killed, I got a call from Personnel, at home, at seven in the morning. They asked if I would be willing to consider a short stint at the Provincial Reconstruction Team, or PRT. They said my time with the Kosovo Diplomatic Observer Mission, meant I had the right profile—the first time I have ever had anyone describe my blowing up an armoured vehicle as relevant work experience, but I guess they were desperate. They said they really needed someone who knew the military, and my time in the defence relations division and as Political Advisor at US Central Command met that requirement. In short, they said all the usual things Personnel has to say when selling an unpalatable proposition.

It was early in the day. I wasn’t fully awake. Rather than tell them they were out of there minds, I said I’d think about it. That was the thin end of the wedge.

I said yes in the end for three reasons: because the work is worth doing, and gives you a chance to really make a difference; because I find the challenge fascinating; and because of a nagging social conscience that told me the department really doesn’t have many people who know about working with the military in the field. And perhaps also, at a slightly more philosophical level, there was a sense that the work Glyn Berry had begun deserved to be finished.

And believe it or not, I have no real regrets. Yes, the hours are absurdly long, working fourteen hours a day for weeks on end. Yes, the dangers are real. And yes, we’ve had to endure an unending stream of visits; the local joke is that we’ve had everybody bar the Pope and the University of Lethbridge marching band… and they’re both on the forward agenda. But the people are great and there’s a real sense of family, whether you’re talking about the military, or CIDA, or the RCMP, or Corrections Canada, or our two inimitable local staff, Shafiullah and Dr. Hashim. Above all though, the chance to make a difference on this scale is something that doesn’t happen often for a Canadian diplomat.

Kandahar is a province of about a million people, and the political center of gravity for the entire country. And here – uniquely in my experience – Canada is a true superpower. Resources are not an issue, and for once there is more money available than I could conceivably spend. I can pick up the phone at any hour and call the Governor or the Chair of the Provincial Council, and they’ll not only answer, they’ll listen to what I have to say. The issues that we deal with every day are real, and immediate, and our interventions really do help shape events. And when you get right down to it, that’s what I wanted when I originally joined DFAIT, so I feel very privileged to have had the opportunity to put our theories into practice in a way that really matters.

There is a degree of irony in my receiving the award this year. As some of you know I have been offered a position with the Department of National Defence, and while the paperwork is still being sorted out, I have accepted in principle. I have had some wonderful experiences with DFAIT and ideally I would have liked to become an EX within the department, but given the – how can I put this politely? – “haphazard” nature of our promotion processes and personnel management, I have chosen to leave the nest. So this evening is, for me, something of a capstone to fifteen years as an FS. It is with real regret that I bid farewell to colleagues and friends here assembled, but it is leavened by the knowledge that I will still be handling files with an international dimension, and will still be working with many of you.

So on that note, thank you to Scott Proudfoot and the others who put my name forward. It really does make the perfect conclusion to my time with Foreign Affairs. And for John Davison and the rest of the team who will be starting at the PRT this summer, good luck. If it is half as satisfying for you as it was for me, it will still be twice as rewarding as anything else you’ve done with your careers.

Thank you, and good night.

Last Updated: 05.19.2011