The true character of a government comes out when it finds itself backed into a corner.  When it's presented with two bad options, what does it do?  Does it do the easy thing, or the hard thing?

Right now, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau finds himself faced with just such dilemma: On the one hand, the United States is caging children after tearing them away from their parents as they cross that country's southern border.  On the other hand, Canadian trade relations with the Americans are in a precarious place, with the opening salvoes of a trade war arcing across the border.

Which brings us, quite naturally, to Charles de Gaulle.

In 1931 de Gaulle was not yet de Gaulle.  He had not come to the rescue of his nation.  He had yet to stir the hearts of the masses with the cry of "Vive la France."  He had not even become mon Général, for he was still just a major.  A major in the French Army who'd just spent the bulk of the First World War in, and escaping from, a series of German prisoner of war camps.

But in that year, 1931, de Gaulle published a military memoir.  And within that book, Le Fil de l'épée (The Edge of the Sword), there is a passage the sort of which you can glimpse his fate as if in the distance, hazy on the horizon:

"Wishes and hopes turn towards the leader as iron towards the magnet.  When the crisis comes, it is he who is followed, it is he who raises the burden with his own arms, though they may break in doing so, and carries it on his shoulders though they may crack under it.  The ordinary run of events is not favourable to him, with regard to his superiors.  He is confident of his judgement and aware of his strength, and he never sacrifices anything to the desire to please. […] But as soon as matters grow serious and the danger urgent, as soon as the general safety requires immediate initiative, a taste for risk, and firmness, the whole viewpoint changes and justice comes into its own.  A kind of tidal wave sweeps the man of character to the forefront."*

I bring this all up, an extensive quote from one of those almost absurd giants of the previous century, because a wave of this sort approaches us now.

The United States, as a matter of policy, has been separating children from the parents of migrants crossing into the country as a means of deterring other migrants.  The logic, as expressed by the country's attorney general, was that by tearing families apart and tossing the children in tent encampments in the desert, it would deter others from making the journey.  Malevolence was to be the rule of the day.

As opposition grew louder in the U.S. as more stories of horror and heartbreak emerged, the crisis arrived here.  What would Canada do?  On Wednesday, the prime minister took a few small steps, put a few small sacks of that moral burden upon his shoulders.  He called the U.S. policy of family separation wrong.

"What is happening in the United States is unacceptable.  I cannot imagine what these families are going through.  Obviously this is not the way we do things in Canada," Trudeau said to reporters.  When asked later if perhaps Canadians should boycott American good, Trudeau demurred, saying Canadians could make the choices they wanted to.

(And while this was top of mind for most people, it should be noted Conservative Leader Andrew Scheer, the head of the opposition, spent the last question period before September grilling Trudeau over…the cost of a swing set at the prime minister's lake house.  I think it's clear where the tides of history might sweep this cheery lad.)

Traditionally, Trudeau's Liberals have tried very hard to walk a fine line.  Risk avoidance is the rule, almost without exception.  Any firmness in direction will be softened with consultation.  Carbon taxes will be balanced with pipelines.  Legal marijuana will be counterbalanced by broader police powers.  The country will welcome refugees, but will discourage them from crossing from the U.S.

Canada's record of separating children from their parents, specifically separating indigenous children from their parents, is a foul stain upon our nation.  But that should not prevent our government from speaking out, from acting to right other wrongs.

If we are to be firm, there are two things we can to do.  First, we can stop the indefinite detention of migrants here in Canada.  Holding people for unbounded lengths of time is ghastly and immoral and it needs to be stopped at once.  Last year more than 150 children were held alongside their parents in immigration detention centres, this too needs to end.

And while this country rights its wrongs — for there is no need to have your own house in order to criticize another — we can suspend the safe third country agreement with the U.S., and give refugees in that country the chance to cross into this country at a regular border checkpoint.  Forcing refugees to cross through fields and ditches, then arresting them is no way to treat people fleeing for safety.  It would also bring us truly closer to the rhetorical ideal of welcoming refugees.

It would be a risk, it would court American ire.  It may very well throw our trade relationship with the United States into jeopardy for as long as Trump sits in the Oval Office.

But it would be right.

If risk and firmness are what will bring justice, as de Gaulle says, what choice do we have?  What will waffling bring?

The defining characteristic of this government has been to walk a fine line whenever and wherever possible.  When the time comes, the tidal wave bearing down upon us will bring Trudeau to the fore, or it will sweep him out to sea with all the rest.  There is no middle way.

***

* As quoted from the first volume of Jean Lacouture's sprawling biography of Charles de Gaulle, The Rebel, as translated by Patrick O'Brian.