Gravitas Afoot

“To A Great Lieutenant.” I looked up from the inscription and stared skeptically at the craggy face.  Romeo Dallaire stared back with a certain glint in his eye.In my hands I held his brand new book – They Fight Like Soldiers.  They Die Like Children.  “This is the second copy, hot off the press, and I wanted to get it to you,” he said (the first was for his wife). I was humbled and flushed with gratitude.  Ironically, I had in my possession a book I had recently written about Darfur that I was intending to give to him – he beat me to the punch.We were discovering certain commonalities.  We both dislike politics, preferring action over words.  There’s the love for all things Africa and the determination to take Canada to the hardest places on earth and show what Canadian compassion can do.  And there’s the shared sense of loss of peaceful influence in the world.But at that point the similarities stop.  We have both learned from our experiences and failures, but there’s something of brilliance in him.  No sooner does he happen upon a significant problem than his mind darts off seeking solutions.  He is famous, and knows it, but there’s enough of the Roman Catholic tradition in him that he carries it, not so much with humility, as with quiet dedication.  Unlike yours truly, he is a great man undertaking great missions – all at different levels, and all running at the same time.We enjoy each other’s company for the simple reason that neither one of us ever takes our eye off the ball.  But his ability to focus is truly phenomenal.  And he travels the world pursuing what others would deem impossible: helping Rwanda find redemption, fighting against the proliferation of nuclear arms, raising funds for the world’s poorest, and championing the cause of child soldiers.We have been assigned with developing coordinated policies between defense and humanitarian development that can perhaps restore Canada to the place of a true peacekeeper.  Our arcs have crossed and I am the better for it.  Presently we are working on legislation concerning child soldiers.  Romeo will introduce it in the Senate and has asked me to champion it through the House.  How can I possibly measure up to what he hopes of me?  And yet he instills the desire to try for the sake of others.  That’s what makes him influential.He’s coming to London on November 7^th to speak at a special concert for our NGO in Sudan – a land with a story of child soldiers all its own.  He’ll show a delight in my Sudanese kids, be gracious to my wife, and will give a remarkable talk.  Then it will be back to working on plans to take the Canadian image back out to the world.  Those are the moments that I wait for.Many see Romeo as a hero, a saint, or a moral man.  He’ll accept those things if it helps the cause but he easily casts such characterizations aside like a summer jacket.  He has a sense of gravitas that sometimes gives me cause for worry.  Is he haunted still by Rwanda?  Does the inner sense of frustration over the world’s lack of humanitarian response cause quiet despair?  He is driven by something that few of us can discern but which all of us can appreciate.  Morality hangs around him like a suit of armour, but it’s heavy on him – you can feel it.But for now it is just a privilege, not to stand in the shadow of the man, but to actually partner in causes that are greater than we are.  It will remain one of my privileged memories of political life.  It’s more than duty for him, or even compassion for others in terrible circumstances.  It’s the “Canadian” in him that propels him on – something we all should all emulate.  “To A Great Lieutenant?”  I don’t think so - just a man humbled by another’s humanitarian expansiveness.