By Ian Ferguson
In 1984 the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to Bishop Desmond Tutu, then Auxiliary Bishop of Johannesburg and general secretary of the South African Council of Churches. On his way home from the award ceremony in Oslo, he paid a visit to Canada. At that time, I was assigned to the South Africa desk at the old Department of External Affairs. It was agreed that I would serve as His Grace’s escort for the official part of the Ottawa program. External’s Protocol Division even agreed to provide a car and driver.
Events included a meeting with parliamentarians, recognition during Question Period, and a public address to a large crowd at Christ Church Cathedral. A highlight was the call on then Prime Minister Mulroney. The Bishop and Prime Minister held very substantive and timely discussions just as Canada was planning a foreign policy review. The Bishop was the first African personality to meet the relatively new Prime Minister. Until 1985, Canadian ministers did not meet with ANC representatives, so conversations with religious and non-governmental figures assumed an important dimension in helping political leaders appreciate what was occurring in South Africa and how Canada could help. The Bishop’s visit certainly had a catalytic effect as Canada moved subsequently towards increasing pressure on the South African Government to end apartheid.
Throughout the snowy day of the visit in early December, we received messages from Canadian photographer Yousuf Karsh requesting that His Grace sit for his portrait. As the program was already very heavy, we politely declined and then ignored the follow-up messages which arrived throughout the day. Finally, towards the end of the afternoon, we received a note from Karsh recalling that he had attempted to photograph Chief Albert Luthuli, President of the African National Congress (ANC) from 1952 to 1960, and the Nobel Peace Prize winner in 1960, the first African honoured in this manner. In addition, Karsh had refused to photograph then South African Prime Minister Hendrik Verwoerd. That proved the key that turned the lock for His Grace, and we trooped over to the Karsh Studio in the Chateau Laurier where the portrait shown here was taken, and later published.
I remember that His Grace was unfailingly gracious to his interlocutors despite an exhausting schedule. On occasion he displayed his famous sense of humour. When he did, there was always a twinkle in his eye, which you can remark in this photograph.
In 2017, a monument to Yousuf Karsh (1908-2002) was erected outside the Chateau Laurier where his studio was located from 1972 to 1992. A gift of the people of Armenia for Canada’s 150th anniversary, the monument also commemorated 25 years of diplomatic relations between Canada and the Republic of Armenia. The sculptor is Megerditch Tarakdjian, a Canadian physician of Armenian origin, born in Aleppo, and now based in Montreal. The works of this artist often reflect motion and have a semi-abstract quality where only a portion of a figure is portrayed. This can be seen in the bust of Karsh, which lacks shoulders, and where the photographer’s disembodied hand appears poised to activate the large box camera’s shutter.