With everlasting power being the Holy Grail of politics, our long-serving prime minister likely sees himself as King Arthur — the “Once and Future King.”

As befits a quest, Stephen Harper has used the military to carry him forward. He embraced a war against Islamic fundamentalists and asserted Canada must be “a courageous warrior.”

Harper spent heavily on military equipment — a quarter of a trillion dollars more, over eight years, than if spending had been left at the pre-existing level of 1.1 per cent of GDP.

It was an astounding sum, especially when you consider how little equipment the military has actually received.

Indeed, when it comes to defence procurement, Harper is straight out of Monty Python — about as effective as a knight riding a make-believe horse while knocking two coconuts together to simulate the beating of hooves.

Try as they might, neither the knight nor Harper can mask his inadequacy.

Take Harper’s effort to replace the half-century-old Sea King helicopters. The procurement has pitted the Prime Minister against U.S.-based manufacturer Sikorsky, which long ago lost interest in building Cyclone helicopters only Canada would be foolish enough to buy.

The latest problem reportedly concerns Sikorsky’s failure to integrate copper mesh into the airframe — mesh that is necessary to shield the Cyclone’s electronics from the electromagnetic waves generated by radar on naval vessels.

Then there are the F-35s, the stealth fighter jets the U.S. military, for selfish reasons, wants Canada to buy.

Just about everyone knows the F-35 is a lemon that resulted from the Pentagon’s attempt to design and build a single aircraft model for the air force, navy and marines. An unachievable aircraft that would land vertically, evade radar detection and still hold its own in a dogfight.

Jean Chrétien said no to the Iraq War. Paul Martin said no to U.S. missile defence. But Harper trembles before the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who Monty Python fans will recognize as the “Knights who say Ni.”

It was on Harper’s watch that in 2006 Canada took on a new combat mission in Kandahar. It must have seemed like a quick win for a new prime minister lacking defence experience. The seemingly primitive and disorganized Taliban looked about as menacing as the fluffy white “Rabbit of Caerbannog.”

Like the rabbit, the Taliban soon proved murderous, prompting Harper’s then-defence minister Gordon O’Connor to send some of Canada’s aged Leopard tanks to Afghanistan, and buy 100 newer tanks from Germany and the Netherlands. The tanks served a purpose, briefly, by forcing the Taliban to abandon their strategy of fighting Canadian troops head-on. But instead of giving up, the Taliban adopted the improvised explosive device, to which the tanks, with their flat and lightly armoured bottoms, were acutely exposed.

Harper has actually exceeded the comedy of Monty Python with his string of procurement defeats: Arctic offshore patrol ships too fragile to break ice and too slow to patrol that will cost five to10 times more than what other countries pay for more capable vessels; joint support ships that, after eight years of deliberations and designs, have yet to see a construction contract signed.

Harper even failed in his effort to buy search-and-rescue aircraft, despite a perfectly suited Canadian-made option — the Bombardier Q400 — already flying in the liveries of Porter, WestJet and Air Canada. He abandoned a plan to replace the half-century-old Lee-Enfield 303 rifles used by the Canadian Rangers in the Arctic, despite excellent replacements being available at Canadian Tire.

Our allies scratch their heads and wonder why this government cannot even procure something as simple as trucks for the Canadian Army.

It did not help that Harper appointed a succession of Monty Python-like ministers to oversee defence procurement.

Peter MacKay was, of course, Sir Galahad, the character distracted by scores of young women desperate to please. Julian Fantino was Sir Lancelot, so puffed up with “everything holy and decent” about defence procurement that he never bothered to read. And then there was Chris Alexander, or Patsy — King Arthur’s trusted squire.

All three of Harper’s men repeatedly fail to answer easy questions posed by journalists — the bridge-keepers of our time.

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In contrast, the men and women of the Canadian Armed Forces have behaved stoically through all the procurement failures, much like the Black Knight who dismissed the loss of four limbs as “but a flesh wound.”

Still, they know they’ve been let down. For Harper, who seeks victory on their backs, is more like Graham Chapman or John Cleese than the real knights of yore.

Michael Byers holds the Canada Research Chair in Global Politics and International Law at the University of British Columbia.

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