‘MIGHTY HUGHES’ WAS A WATCHDOG WITH BITE

B.C. conflict commissioner called it as it was, unafraid to upbraid politicians

During a break in the partisan follies at the legislature recently, MLAs, officials and staffers gathered in the foyer of the library to honour a great watchdog — Ted Hughes.

B.C.’s first conflict commissioner. Inquiry commissioner. High court judge in Saskatchewan. Advocate for First Nations here and elsewhere. Six decades of public service in all.

The occasion was the publication of a book about Hughes, written by my friend Craig McInnes, former Victoria bureau chief for The Vancouver Sun.

While Hughes and McInnes autographed copies for well-wishers including Premier John Horgan on Nov. 8, it fell to me to explain the title, The Mighty Hughes, which is both apt and somewhat tongue in cheek.

The origin dates back more than 25 years, to Hughes’ appointment as conflict commissioner, an office that was the joint creation of the outgoing Social Credit and incoming New Democratic Party governments.

Before that, allegations of conflict of interest were made and denied in the political arena and resolved by what amounted to trial by news media. With the office established, complaints about conflict, real and apparent, were filed with the commission and awaited the judgment of Ted Hughes.

Against that backdrop, some of us in the press gallery used to joke that rather than casting their prayers to the heavens above at the outset of every day in the house, MLAs should direct them to a more immediate arbiter of their political careers.

“Oh Mighty Hughes, judge of us all, redeemer of some, deny us not the blessings of thy mercy, but forgive us our sins, real and apparent, and lead us to the paths of re-election, so help us Ted, amen.” Or words to that effect.

The book thoroughly recounts the 90-year-old Hughes’ long service in other jurisdictions on the Canadian scene, including Saskatchewan where he was born and grew up, and Manitoba where he recently completed a landmark report on the death of a five-year-old Indigenous girl at the hands of those who should have been caring for her.

But for me, grounded in this province’s political arena, I commend the book’s retelling of Hughes’ standup dealings with three B.C. premiers.

1991: Beset by allegations

■ of conflict of interest over the sale of his Fantasy Gardens theme park to a Taiwanese billionaire, Bill Vander Zalm asked Hughes to review his actions against conflict guidelines drafted in the office of the then-premier himself.

Hughes (who was not yet the official conflict commissioner) reported back that Vander Zalm did indeed mix his public role as premier with his private business interests, thereby violating his own conflict guidelines. Vander Zalm resigned.

1996: With a provincial

■ election approaching, thenNDP premier Glen Clark seized an opening to stick it to the Opposition B.C. Liberals. Hughes was at the end of his term and Clark decided to engineer MLA David Mitchell, formerly of the B.C. Liberals, as the next conflict commissioner, knowing it would infuriate the Opposition.

Hughes initially went along with the handover. But when his wife, the no less remarkable Helen, pointed out how the premier’s political gamesmanship was damaging the office of the commissioner, he reversed direction.

“I feel like a gun was put to my head,” he told reporters at a dramatic press conference where he single-handedly derailed the Clark scheme. “I succumbed to an incredible amount of pressure and in doing so I now believe I failed this office.” Mitchell graciously withdrew. Clark, after denying he’d set out to hustle the outgoing commissioner off the stage (“I didn’t fire Ted Hughes”), apologized.

2005: Amid mounting

■ evidence that the troubled Ministry of Children and Family Development had failed to protect the children within its custody, Hughes was brought in to conduct a review.

His report, delivered to a packed press conference the following spring, documented an “unmanageable degree of change” in a ministry plagued by “revolving door” management and a tragic shortage of backup resources for beleaguered front-line social workers.

He then served up 62 recommendations that helped put the ministry back on track, including the appointment of the watchdog representative for children and youth.

But the real sting came in the followup news conference. In the first question, a reporter cited premier Gordon Campbell’s claim that budget cuts were not a factor in the ministry’s troubles.

“He was wrong,” Hughes fired back, not waiting for the reporter to finish.

The premier was wrong. “Nobody knows how to smack down a premier like Ted Hughes,” as columnist Mike Smyth wrote in the Province newspaper next day.

Three premiers, one from each of the parties that have together governed the province in modern times. In each case, Hughes provided a textbook demonstration of the art of speaking truth to power.

The Mighty Hughes is a great read about a great Canadian. But author McInnes also provided an instruction manual of sorts on the role of the independent watchdog in a polarized province that has often needed them. Back in the day when Hughes first waded into the thickets of political controversy, it used to be said that if Ted did not exist, we would need to invent him.

But reading this fine book, I was struck by how Hughes was his own invention — a public servant of unassailable integrity, who established his reputation judgment call by judgment call, including the occasional well-deserved smackdown of a premier.

I feel like a gun was put to my head. I succumbed to an incredible amount of pressure and in doing so

I now believe I failed this office.

TED HUGHES, former conflict commissioner