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5 March 2005 |
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COLORADO SPRINGS, Colo. - The Canadian flag is still fluttering outside NORAD headquarters here, and deep within its granite fortress, Col. Doug McLennan - a Canadian - had the big job yesterday of overseeing the air defence of North America. A week after Paul Martin bowed out of missile defence, it's business as usual at the North American Aerospace Defense Command, according to NORAD's top commander. "The Prime Minister's decision does not change the mission we do here," says Admiral Timothy Keating, an American. The view is backed up by Lt.-Gen. Rick Findley, NORAD's deputy commander, a job traditionally held by a Canadian, who says the decision has been getting more attention in Canada than it has at NORAD. "It doesn't change fundamentally what we do," he says. Carved into the Rockies and protected by 25-tonne doors, NORAD's underground command facility was built to withstand the blast of a Soviet nuclear attack. But the question now is whether this 47-year-old military alliance - held up as a shining example of co-operation and friendship between Canada and the United States - can survive the fallout of Ottawa's rejection of missile defence. The Liberal government's surprise decision to rebuff American demands and bow out of any further participation in the program has sparked doubts about NORAD's future. Canada's decision aside, the missile defence operation has taken up a place in the command centre, where it can now share in the information about incoming threats gathered by NORAD. The missile defence officer sits in a place of prominence to the right of the NORAD command director, a job shared by Canadians and Americans. While Findley was a booster of Canada's involvement in the missile defence program, arguing that it gives governments more options to deal with a missile attack, he says the decision whether to deploy missile defence was always going to be up to the Americans. But he sees nothing wrong with Canadians helping track incoming missiles but being left on the sidelines when deciding about a response. He likens it to a police officer who reports a fire. "The firefighter goes to put the fire out," Findley says. Or in this case, an American decides to engage a missile headed toward North America without any input from Canadians. As for Martin's demand that U.S. officials consult their Canadian counterparts before launching an interceptor over their northern neighbour, the Americans aren't making any promises. Keating says it's technically feasible to give Ottawa a call, but Washington hasn't decided on its policy yet. "Those decisions as to who we notify would be included in that policy statement," he says. Still, if the Americans are steamed at Canada's decision, there was little hint yesterday as officers from both countries unveiled a new high-tech command room at the centre of the underground bunker. Since 1966, this remarkable facility has been NORAD's nerve centre - where the data from a constellation of satellites, squadrons of fighter jets and a network of powerful, long-range radars dotting the Canadian north, Alaska, Greenland and Britain come together to protect North American airspace from attack. This continental guard post just got smarter with a dramatic makeover of its command centre. It's twice as big as the old one, with new technology to improve communications and new personnel in the room to reflect new responsibilities. One spot is occupied by an adviser from the Federal Aviation Administration, now that NORAD is keeping a close eye on commercial jets in the wake of the terrorist hijackings in 2001. At yesterday's event, American generals stressed the "legendary" relationship between the two nations and called NORAD a "binational treasure." That picture of co-operation extends to NORAD's administrative headquarters located across town at Peterson Air Force base. There, a picture of Martin stares at President George W. Bush across the building's lobby. Inside, a gallery of dramatic photos showcases the best of both countries - Toronto's CN Tower and Seattle's Space Needle, a snap of the Yankees playing the Blue Jays, a bald eagle and a Canadian beaver. As a symbol of those close ties, NORAD officials love to tell the tale of how Findley was in charge of NORAD's response on Sept. 11, when terrorists attacked New York and Washington with hijacked airliners. Retired Canadian lieutenant-general George MacDonald describes the ballistic missile decision as a "wrinkle" with uncertain consequences for Canada's long-term involvement in NORAD. As the former deputy commander of NORAD, he fears it could leave Canada out in the cold on key aspects of the agency's operations. Even before the decision was made, Canadians in Cheyenne Mountain were paying a price for the Liberal foot-dragging, left out as Americans began putting the missile system through its paces, he says. "They've done some tests, for example, and Canadians have not been allowed in the tests because we had not indicated whether we were going to participate in the system." `The Prime Minister's decision does not change the mission we do here' U.S. Admiral Timothy Keating, commander of NORAD And, MacDonald says, as computers are upgraded to incorporate missile defence, Canadians will be frozen out even further. "I think Canadians will be relegated to a need-to-know basis for ballistic missile defence because there's no need for Canadians to be involved in the rules of engagement, the parameters that are used to employ the system," he says. "If you can't then even operate the system, then the real question becomes ... whether there's any point in having Canadians involved." But Maj.-Gen. Angus Watt, a Canadian who serves as NORAD's director of operations, suggests those concerns are overstated. NORAD has always had the task of detecting and warning of an incoming missile attack and the Americans have always had sole responsibility for deciding how to react, he says. "The only response up until very recently has been to launch a missile in the other direction. That was always a U.S.-only mission," Watt says. "What's changed with missile defence, now we have two options instead of one. Instead of responding with a missile in the other direction, an ICBM, you can respond by trying to shoot down the missile. That also is being executed as a U.S.-only." As for the worry that Canadians are being frozen out of information on missile defence, Watt says it's no different from how the Americans protect information about their missile strike plans. "The Prime Minister's decision hasn't fundamentally changed anything for NORAD," he says. "Between last week and this week, nothing has changed." But not long ago, Ottawa was clearly thinking that NORAD would take on the task of missile defence and that Canada would be at the centre of the change. "A key focus of our co-operation in missile defence should be through NORAD, then-defence minister David Pratt said in a letter to U.S. Secretary of Defence Donald Rumsfeld in January of last year. "NORAD's long-standing global threat warning and attack assessment role can make an important contribution to the execution of the missile defence mission." And Pratt signalled Ottawa's apparent willingness to join when he wrote that Canada sought the "closest possible involvement ... in the U.S. missile defence program." For NORAD, it was one more step in an evolving mission that dates back to 1958, when Canada and the United States got together to guard against the Soviet bombers that many feared would come droning from the north. The Distant Early Warning radar posts were built across the Arctic to serve as a trip wire for invading Soviet bombers. In the 1960s, the threat of intercontinental ballistic missile attack became a priority. The role of NORAD -usually unseen and unsung - has been "absolutely essential" to the protection of the continent, says Joseph Jockel, a professor of Canadian studies at St. Lawrence University in Canton, N.Y. "We would not be safe if there were no command providing warning and assessment of attack on the continent," he says. In the years after the collapse of the Soviet Union, NORAD's traditional foe faded, leaving the organization looking for work. It jumped at the task of going after drug smugglers but still had to fend off questions about its relevance in the new security environment. For a time, NORAD was better known for tracking Santa on Christmas Eve than protecting the continent. Then came Sept. 11. An investigation would later detail the confusion as defence officials struggled to respond to an attack they had never planned for. Fighter jets were scrambled across the U.S. northeast - but not in time to intercept any of the four hijacked airliners. NORAD that day was like a doughnut - a well-protected perimeter and nothing on the inside, Watt says. "We had radars, we had sensors, we had alert sites. The inside of the doughnut was empty because we didn't think there would be any threat," he says. Almost immediately, NORAD established Operation Noble Eagle, a code name for the round-the-clock patrols by Canadian and American fighters that continue today. Fighter bases, mothballed at the end of the Cold War, were reactivated and armed jets put on standby. NORAD has tapped into the civilian radars used for air-traffic control to keep vigil over the thousands of commercial flights that criss-cross Canada and the U.S. Procedures were written and fighter pilots in both countries briefed for the unthinkable - shooting down a jetliner. "It's the toughest mission that NORAD has ever faced. I'd much rather face a horde of Soviet bombers coming over the pole because you know that their intent is bad," Watt says. Since the terror attacks, Canadian and American fighter jets have flown 40,000 sorties and been scrambled or diverted from air patrols 2,000 times to check out suspicious aircraft. The challenge on these new missions is to quickly determine whether an innocent navigation error or communications breakdown has put the jetliner in the crosshairs.
"The people who hijack airliners don't typically call us up and say, `Hi, I've
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