Exclusive: How I faced down the ‘coalition coup’ — by Stephen Harper - National Post
By Stephen J. Harper October 31, 2026 at 6:26 a.m. Stephen Harper releases Here for Canada: Memoirs of the 22nd Prime Minister, on Tuesday, Nov. 3. It begins with the Harper family’s arrival in Nova Scotia in 1774, and ends with his final days in office, with a short afterword about his post-politics life — and his thoughts on Canada’s abilities to withstand current challenges, including the American one. In the middle is a roller-coaster of a tale ably told by the last Conservative to hold the PMO. In this exclusive excerpt, Harper describes the crisis he faced when, in the middle of the 2008 worldwide financial meltdown triggered by the collapse of the U.S. housing bubble, three opposition parties, having just lost an election, make a bid to replace Harper’s minority government without going to the voters. And the moment when he went to a decidedly unfancy restaurant outside Ottawa and concluded Canadians were firmly on his side. — National Post
Sometime between putting together our new ministry and parliamentary team, my post-election international travel to summits, and my cross-country trips for economic consultations, I had managed to meet with the opposition leaders. This was standard practice at the beginning of any parliament, rendered critical by the reality that we were again in a minority situation. I needed to hear what measures might get their support, or at least lessen our chances of defeat. Besides, we were always looking for ideas from the outside that, if adopted, might strengthen our standing with the public.
This time, however, the meetings were very different. Indeed, they were highly unusual. I met with the three leaders individually in my Langevin Block office. In each case, their approach was the same: they were not communicating their priorities. For Stéphane Dion, that was not strange. He had always been taciturn in meetings with me, and he was clearly smarting from the election defeat. But it was much more irregular in the case of Gilles Duceppe, and even more so for Jack Layton. The NDP leader would normally be brimming with suggestions, anxious to look for some horse-trading. But there was little of that this time. When I pressed them about what was on their minds, on what they wanted from the government, the answer I got from all three was little more than, “We’ll see.”
I concluded from these meetings that they had already decided that they were going to defeat our Government and force a new election as soon as that was viable. It was not hard to imagine how this would play out. In the first weeks and months of the 40th Parliament, the economic growth and job numbers would be spiralling down. That was now a certainty, given the global developments already underway. Our inability to deliver on our platform commitments would be a further cause for censure. Finally, the coming deficits would be the ultimate proof point that we were both failing and had broken our promises.
Nevertheless, we had to govern, and the first formal indication of how we were going to address the current situation was the Throne Speech of November 19. To ensure that people could not miss the point, we titled it “Dealing with a Global Financial Crisis.” We officially reiterated that our agenda was going to be different than what people were expecting in the middle of October. Throne Speeches, however, are just broad statements of the government’s intentions. The first real political “meat” would be delivered in the Economic and Fiscal Update (EFU) scheduled for eight days later, on November 27.
Minister Flaherty and I were already huddling on the EFU and the parliamentary situation as we travelled to the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) Summit. It was slated for Lima, Peru, just three days after Parliament had re-convened. Jim would provide updates on his measures to keep financial markets operating in Canada, and he would undertake further actions for the financial sector. Most notably, he would announce measures to expand the credit available to Canadians through the government’s own financial institutions — the Business Development Bank of Canada, the Export Development Corporation, and Farm Credit Canada. As mentioned, we had already been providing substantial assistance to the chartered banks, but this would further prod them to extend more credit to Canadians. This proved to be a wise decision; the federal financial organizations became effective and important parts of the economic recovery.
Given the large deficits we expected to announce in the upcoming budget, Minister Flaherty also took action to control the longer-term trajectory of the fiscal path. The problem was that events independent of any stimulus measures were threatening our financial position. Although not the only area, the most important one was Equalization. The record oil prices preceding the financial crisis — in the range of $140 per barrel — would radically push up our payments to the provinces just at the time when resource revenues for the federal government — oil was now under $40 — were tanking. We therefore limited the growth of Equalization payments to nominal GDP.
One other measure Jim and I agreed on was the ending of the direct per-vote subsidy payments to political parties, beginning in the 2009–2010 fiscal year. It was a relatively small item in our expenditures, but we had concluded that we needed to do it to buy time. If, as I believed — and as Jim had surmised as well — the opposition parties were simply waiting for a moment to defeat us, this would give them pause.
Given the political furor that erupted over this, it is easy to overlook the arguments for it. Our party had always been opposed to this payment, and we had been clear on that. After all, there are lots of ways in which the taxpayers support political parties. These include the generous tax credits that people receive for political donations, as well as the expenditure reimbursements that parties and candidates get from Elections Canada (and which they use as collateral to borrow). The per-vote subsidy, in contrast, was just a gift, unrelated to any actual effort by the parties themselves. In the extreme case of the Bloc Québécois, some parties just stopped trying to raise their own funds altogether.
My colleagues had been urging the removal of these payments for some time, and there was a virtually unanimous view in Cabinet and caucus that we should do so. Indeed, when I told the caucus this was coming, the news was greeted with wild cheering. I urged caution, though, and not just because the measure would not be universally popular. Even though we were the party that was least dependent on the subsidy, we were also its largest benefactors. In other words, this would be a significant risk for us if we found ourselves forced to fight an election in the next couple of years.
The opposition response to the Economic and Fiscal Update was strongly negative. Their position was that it did not go far enough in addressing the economic crisis. To that I can only say, of course it did not go far enough. It was not a full budgetary or economic plan, and even at breakneck speed, we would require a few more weeks at a minimum to produce one. The idea that a full suite of new, unforeseen measures could be implemented immediately after the election was neither promised nor realistic.
We knew that the real reason for the opposition’s anger was the removal of the per-vote subsidy: we believed it had upset their intended political strategy. On this, they took a radical position — that the measure was an “attack on democracy.” That line was immediately taken up by the press gallery. Frankly, how requiring a political party to raise some of its own money is inherently undemocratic, I do not know. Besides, we knew from polling that the measure (at least in its own right) was widely supported by the public.
I was not surprised by the initial opposition response. I also did not think that this would be perceived by the public as the basis on which to force an election. I believed the opposition, after a lot of yelling, would have to accept that they needed to wait for the public to be ready for an election and prepared to help them finance one.
As it turned out, I had accurately divined the opposition’s motives. What I had underestimated was their ambition.
The Economic and Fiscal Update took place on Thursday. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday saw growing rumours that the opposition would bring forward a non-confidence motion to defeat the government over the EFU. These quickly morphed into reports that they might try to form some kind of a coalition to replace the government.
Things were obviously moving quickly — so quickly, in fact, that I concluded the train had likely left the station well before my unproductive consultations. Only the timetable had moved up.
Yet I still found it hard to believe that political subsidies, regardless of the baying of the press gallery, was an issue they could hang a defeat of the government and an election on. And, in truth, I had never seriously considered the possibility of a coalition. Why not? Simple math. Combining the Liberals and NDP seat count, their number was nowhere near ours. It just did not make sense. I thought this seemed like a big bluff, at least initially.
But over those three days, the real complication was on our side. The party seemed to lose all will to defend the repeal of the per-vote subsidies and the government more generally. This was true in Cabinet, caucus, our communications teams, and even, to some degree, among our grassroots. The view that this was a crisis entirely of our own making was taking hold. That was in turn fuelling the opposition’s aggression.
Some close to me thought I had lost the will to fight back…. No one outside my inner circle knew how ill I was.
In the face of this collapsing confidence, I know that some close to me thought I had lost the will to fight back. That was a misreading. My demeanour was partly brought on by the fact that I had been unwell. On the way to Peru, I had come down with, to be polite, an all-symptoms flu bug. When my presence had not been publicly and absolutely required, I had been sick in bed, although no one outside my inner circle knew how ill I was.
(Considering my medical history, particularly when I was young, it was amazing how little work I missed due to illness while PM. I do not have an exact count, but it would not have exceeded a half-dozen days in that near decade.) My seeming passivity in the days leading up to the coalition announcement was for medical not political reasons.
What is true is that I was unsure how to fight back, given the turmoil within the party. I bought some time by delaying upcoming confidence votes in the House. Then I called a caucus meeting for Monday, December 1, to gauge the mood. I was largely in listening mode (which likely reinforced a view that I was resigned). At that meeting, the sense of alarm was clear to me but, so too, I believed, was a willingness to fight if we could re-establish a narrative. Fortunately, the opposition quickly supplied it.
Later that day, the other parties made their announcement on the coming coalition. Just outside my office, a few staffers had gathered to watch it. After a few minutes, I stepped out to join them. My jaw literally hit the floor.
There they were, sitting in the National Press Theatre. Mr. Dion, who had just suffered one of the worst defeats of any Liberal leader in history, telling the country he would be the prime minister. Jarring, but what did you expect? Mr. Layton, playing the third-party kingmaker. A bit less jarring perhaps. And Mr. Duceppe, grinning like a Cheshire cat, an apparent co-equal in the grand project. At that point, with that image, I knew this was a fight I could win.
Of course, there had to be some part for the Bloc Québécois somewhere in this. Given the numbers, it could not be otherwise. But I thought everyone understood that relations with the Bloc had to be managed with great care. After all, we had co-operated on a limited basis with them from time to time. Even that limited co-operation had raised accusations of my being “in bed with the separatists.”
As it turned out, I had thought this issue through much more thoroughly than my critics. But I had done more than that; over the years, I had also looked carefully at the data. The data showed that the opposition was on a suicide course.
There was one matter on which about 90 per cent of the English-Canadian population was united: a dislike of Quebec separatists. No, not a mere dislike — a loathing. Quebec separatists were not merely people English-Canadians disagreed with; they viewed them as, in essence, illegitimate.
Knowing this was a third rail of politics outside Quebec, I had always limited my interaction with the Bloc to tactic-specific actions. I knew anything general in nature had to be off the table. If, as a mainstream English-Canadian politician, you were ever seen as being in alliance with Quebec separatists, it would be a career-ending move. There was no way you could justify it to the public, and if it became the subject of a fight, there was no way you could survive.
NDP supporters — then almost entirely anglophone — were not as allergic to a deal with the Bloc as the supporters of other parties. The far left was the one group of English-Canadians who had charitable views of Quebec separatists, because they were (then) perceived as good leftists. To these people, left-wing ideology mattered more than anything, including the country (and, frankly, much of the anglophone press gallery would fit into that group).
However, this venture was not riskless for the NDP. Their base might have stayed with them, but any appeal beyond that would have been destroyed. An even greater danger for them was being the junior partner in the coalition. In any democratic system, but especially under first-past-the-post, it is the riskiest position to be in. If people like the government, they tend to vote for the leading party; if not, they will tend to vote for the opposition. Support for the junior partner vanishes. Of course, as it turned out, the NDP never did have to deal with that risk.
In contrast, for the Liberals this was unambiguously bad. Since at least the days of Pierre Trudeau, the Liberals had trademarked themselves as the party of national unity. From childhood, I could recall images of Trudeau standing in defiance of bottle-throwing separatists at a Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day event. Here was a Quebecer prepared to stand up to Quebec separatists! It was a brand the Liberals had retained throughout the following decades, as the party always willing to defend Canadian unity. Jean Chrétien had built his national political success on this attribute, despite (or perhaps because of) the reservations within his own province.
Ironically, Stéphane Dion’s own willingness to take on the separatists had been instrumental to his rise in federal politics. There was, however, no way for Mr. Dion to rationalize this new gambit. Quite simply, he risked permanently destroying the Liberal Party’s most fundamental electoral asset.
Then there was the Bloc. For them, this arrangement was a dream come true. After its initial success under Lucien Bouchard, the Bloc had always struggled to show their relevance in Ottawa. That was a big part of the reason we had been able to pull a base of voters off the BQ’s right flank — their “impuissance.” Now, that problem was solved. The Bloc was not merely relevant; it was the most relevant player in Ottawa. It had made itself the potential swing vote in the House of Commons, able to have the government of its choosing.
Apologists for the arrangement tried to highlight that the Bloc was not technically “in” the coalition. But that made it even worse. Yes, Duceppe would not be part of the government. But that only meant that, while being critical to its survival, he would have no responsibility for its actions. He would be, to be blunt, the puppet master. As long as the government did what he wanted, he could support it. As soon as it did not, he could allege betrayal. I had long known that this was Duceppe’s ultimate objective. I was just surprised that he found someone willing to actually give it to him.
That evening was the Conservative Christmas Party, where I was scheduled to give the normal seasonal good-cheer speech. By the time it came around, I had resolved to use the scene from the National Press Theatre as my campaign launch against “the coalition with the separatists.” My aim would not be to merely defeat it; I would crush it in a way that nobody would ever consider it again. I delivered a rousing and combative address to get the troops ready for the battle to come.
The next day in the House of Commons, Stéphane Dion got up in Question Period (QP) to launch his opening salvo in the plan to remove the government. I suspect I caught him off-guard with the unvarnished, brutal tenor of my reply. Quite simply, I called his deal with the Bloc a sellout of the country’s interests.
The “leader’s round” — the opening five questions — went badly for Dion. He had no real comeback because what I said was true. He tried to counter by continuing to rise as the QP went on. I just kept pummelling him. By the end of it, our guys were in a frenzy singing “O Canada” on the floor of the House of Commons. The opposition looked like they had been shelled by heavy artillery.
Prorogation would give us more breathing room, and let cooler heads prevail on all sides.
But we did not limit our barrage to Parliament. That very day we began to run a countrywide radio campaign attacking the coalition deal. The next day, I followed up with a national television broadcast. We knew we were winning at that point.
But we were not merely winning. Contrary to the press gallery’s chosen narrative of coalition success and Conservative suicide, we were watching Liberal support freefall in real time across the country. Our data suggested that, had an election been called at that moment on that issue, we would have had a shot at winning every single riding outside Quebec. That is how bad it was for the opposition.
Canadians were in an uproar. I received a graphic confirmation of this on Friday, December 5. I was in Kanata, a suburb of Ottawa, taking Ben to a hockey tournament. It was in a Conservative-held riding, but no right-wing bastion. I entered what I will describe as a working-class restaurant to have a bite with the other hockey dads.
On similar occasions in the past, when I was recognized, people might come over and ask for pictures. In this case, the whole restaurant leapt up, spontaneously cheering and singing the national anthem. Our campaign against the coalition had become unstoppable. The only way you could miss it was if you lived in a bubble on Parliament Hill. Or, perhaps, if you lived in Quebec.
Public opinion in Quebec was different, reflective of the very different political reality in that province. Sure, lots of Quebecers are strong federalists and do not agree with the separatists politically. But every francophone has relatives and friends who are Quebec sovereigntists. They are people like any other people. They have been in government. They are respectable.In short, the issue of sovereignty is seen as well within the bounds of normal political discourse in Quebec. In English Canada, to be a Quebec separatist is beyond the pale, equated with any form of unacceptable political extremism. On this, neither “solitude” really appreciates the depth of the other’s feelings.
Our anti-coalition campaign underway, there were only three paths forward in dealing with the situation. Two of those we deemed unacceptable.
The first would have been to let things play out. If the current session continued, the opposition would have been able to schedule a confidence vote sooner rather than later. Initially, everyone would have thought they would win it and form their new government. However, that outcome was more in doubt with each passing day. Stéphane Dion had followed his disastrous House performance with a disastrous national TV address in an effort to counter mine. (I will not elaborate here except to say that the production was so poor that it overwhelmed whatever message Dion was trying to communicate.) Rumours of a plot within the Liberal caucus to remove him were already beginning to circulate.
Still, we gamed out the prospect of a Liberal-NDP-Bloc coalition. It would come to power viewed not merely as unpopular but also as illegitimate. The hostility against it in a majority of the electorate would have been nuclear.
It is hard to imagine that it would have governed either long or successfully. After all, given Duceppe’s longer-term agenda, it was in his interests that this Bloc puppet government ultimately fail. So before long, we might have been back in power with a stronger mandate. But who really knows? Would our own party have faced internal strife in the meantime?
The second option would have been to call an election ourselves, given the surge of public opinion and the spectacular polls in favour of our government. But we quickly took that off the table as well. The public did not really want an election. In fact, they did not want any of this. Canadians were extremely anxious about the economy, and that is what they wanted the focus to be on. There was always the possibility, too, that they could go back to blaming us for the crisis.
While we thought that improbable, given the revulsion demonstrated by Canadians at the very idea of the coalition, the likely outcome was also unpalatable. We would win the vast majority of seats outside Quebec while the Bloc would win most of that province’s, leaving the Liberals and NDP with just a smattering of ridings. The result would therefore have been a country completely polarized, with the sovereignty agenda back on the table. We had worked for three years to get rid of that, and we had been making real progress. It was not in the country’s long-term interests to have it resurrected, and we certainly did not need that challenge back on our plates during such a perilous time. This once again underscored how the Bloc would be the sole clear winner if the coalition scenario continued to play out.
That left the only viable scenario: to ask Governor General Michaëlle Jean to prorogue Parliament. The idea had come to me first (and virtually simultaneously) from two sources. One was John Baird. The other was a longtime Conservative organizer in Ottawa, my close friend Colin McSweeney. The rationale for this was compelling. It would delay a confidence vote until we could present our budget. Then, if we were to be defeated in the House, it would be on our full economic plan, on which work was already under way. Defeating us on substantive economic policy would only have strengthened our hand. Added to the ugly motivations of the opposition coalition, it would have put us in an almost unassailable political position.
The logic of prorogation grew with each passing day, as did support for the notion in our caucus. We were already in a position to win this confrontation. Prorogation would give us more breathing room, and let cooler heads prevail on all sides. The Liberals were likely to use the time to extricate themselves from this dilemma, which was in the interests of both our parties. We indicated we would cancel the upcoming repeal of the per-vote subsidies as a way of helping this along.
The meeting with the governor general was on December 4. We planned carefully. Although there was a great media show of drama, we never really had any doubt of being granted a prorogation. Our constitutional position was rock solid on the matter.
Having (I am sure) consulted the same legal authorities as we had, Michaëlle Jean conducted the meeting as we expected. For her, though, it was a no-win situation, so her handling of the matter needs to be fully appreciated. No expert on the constitutional position of governor general when she was appointed, Mme Jean worked hard to understand her duties and to perform them diligently in the best interests of the country. As for the initial rumours that she was supportive of, or at least sympathetic to, Quebec separatism, my experience was that nothing could be further from the truth. She is your typical Canadian immigrant, extremely proud of her country of choice.
The prorogation was granted, with one important caveat — that the government was not trying to indefinitely avoid a confidence vote. On this, Governor General Jean wanted an assurance. “By no means,” I said. “In fact, we are going to come back before the end of January, with the first order of business being a budget containing the full economic action plan. That will of course be a confidence vote.”
Frankly, at that point, I relished having that confidence vote.
Although this turn of events deeply disappointed most of the media, by now the line that we were the ones on a suicide course was quickly unravelling. Only a few days later, on December 10, Dion was forced to resign. His successor, Michael Ignatieff, skilfully slipped into the interim leadership by subtly signalling an unwillingness to continue with the coalition pact. Although its official demise was not announced until January 28, there was zero doubt that the Liberal Party had gotten the message that the coalition was a suicidal political strategy.
The election had officially concluded on October 14. Only now had it finally ended in the minds of Messrs. Dion, Layton, and Duceppe. Yet, while the political crisis was winding down, another chapter in the economic crisis was quickly taking shape.
Reprinted with permission from Here for Canada: Memoirs of the 22nd Prime Minister, published by Signal, an imprint of McClelland & Stewart, a division of Penguin Random House Canada.
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