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Who is Steven Guilbeault? Before he quit cabinet, before he ran for the Liberals, he was a Greenpeace radical
Despite the fervour of social media it is rare to see a federal politician in handcuffs and under arrest, so an old photo of Steven Guilbeault, who until Thursday was a member of cabinet, always piques curiosity, perhaps now even more because the circumstances of his resignation and of his 2001 arrest intertwine.
Guilbeault’s resignation, his turning away from the profile, influence and salary of a cabinet minister on a point of principle — which is opposing an agreement by Ottawa with Alberta to push for a new oil pipeline — rekindles a sense of fire in his belly that he had when first making news as an environmental activist, a reckless radical in the eyes of opponents.
His resignation is perhaps his biggest act of disobedience since his last arrest as a Greenpeace activist, when he scaled the side of Toronto’s best-known landmark, the CN Tower, making it 340 metres up before unfurling a banner saying “Canada and Bush Climate Killers,” a poke at both his government and then-U.S. president George W. Bush. The stunt urged ratification of the Kyoto Protocol, a treaty to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.
Guilbeault and a Greenpeace colleague lasted 12 hours on the tower and were arrested when they came down while news crews ate up the scene. It made him one of Canada’s best-known activists, broadly dissecting public opinion on him between love and hate.
Political office has always seemed an awkward fit.
The stern, recalcitrant stare in old photos of him being led away by armed police is a portrait of a badass. With unkempt hair swept back, his bright jumpsuit — part of his attire not a jailhouse amenity as it first appears — his hands chained give him a look of a movie villain. A touch of Hans Gruber from Die Hard or Cyrus the Virus from Con Air.
He was 31 at the time. He is now 55.
The photos are a contrast to his recent image in the halls of power, where he dons a suit and tie and heavy glasses; his hair, while still unkempt hangs in a shag over his forehead, giving him a nerdy look. More Rick Moranis than Alan Rickman.
Guilbeault might think so too. He hung a photo from the arrest incident on his campaign office wall in 2019 when he first ran for office, although he chose one of him dangling from ropes in front of the massive sign rather than of him in custody.
He was considered a star Liberal candidate under Justin Trudeau then, running in the Montreal riding of Laurier—Sainte-Marie. At the time, a new generation of environmental activists had been shutting down bridges in Montreal. When Guilbeault, the would-be politician, was asked about their antics, he revealed he had gone straight.
“I decided I’ve already done that. As the anglophones say, ‘Been there, done that, got the T-shirt,’” he said then. “I’ve decided to pursue my political action differently.”
For some of his fellow campaigners and activists, he was seen as a disappointing sellout, a traitor even. The move came when a long oil pipeline was the environmental hot button. His message then was that doing something good with the Liberals was better than surrendering to the Conservatives.
He called himself a “radical pragmatist” while speaking to National Post at the time. “In many ways,” he said then, “I’m still this guy who climbed the CN Tower.”
Maybe he did think that. Maybe he still does.
Guilbeault won that election, taking the riding from the NDP. He was immediately brought into Trudeau’s cabinet as minister of Canadian Heritage. Following re-election in 2021, Trudeau made Guilbeault minister of environment and climate change.
It might have been his dream job, but his past brought baggage to the role, and sent a jolt of panic in the oil, gas and energy sectors, and to others who remembered his environmental protests with frustration.
Pierre Poilievre, then a backbench Conservative MP, called him the “looney-left environment minister.” Conservative MP Michelle Rempel Garner called him “an ideological anti-energy activist.”
Guilbeault had heard it all before.
He grew up in Quebec. His father was a butcher, and he learned English from his mother, who was of Irish background. In high school he was involved in student politics, helping to organize a student strike protesting a school transport strike.
He said his ideology was inspired by his uncle who was a missionary in Haiti. It was Guilbeault’s idea that his parents adopt a child from that country. He studied political science and theology at the Université de Montréal and was vocal on environmental issues.
Guilbeault joined Greenpeace in 1997. It was a global high-profile network of activists and campaigners, and he became a spokesman on environmental policy. He was arrested four times at various protests and stunts designed to draw attention to their issues.
Many of the protest stunts reveal a sense of daring: blocking a ship from unloading coal by suspending activists over the hopper doors; fastening themselves to the top of an enormous piece of oil equipment, requiring the RCMP to rent cherry pickers to grab them. In 2002 he and colleagues climbed onto the roof of then-Alberta Premier Ralph Klein’s house to install solar panels. And then the CN Tower climb.
In office as environment minister Guilbeault issued the Emission Reduction Plan in 2022, called a roadmap to meeting international commitments to cut carbon emissions by 2030. He supported Trudeau’s carbon tax and approved of an eastcoast deep-sea oil drilling project, something he said was “particularly challenging” for him.
There was tension over many files. How could a radical environmental activist live up to the expectations of his former comrades while respecting the balances of federal governing? How could he straddle his personal passion with his government’s actions? Could he speak his mind like he could as a swashbuckling activist?
The answer, in a new government under Prime Minister Mark Carney, was to shift him from the environment portfolio to a newly named one: Canadian culture and identity. Perhaps as a nod to his tree-hugging past, minister of nature and Parks Canada was added to his responsibilities.
On Thursday, his juggling came to an end as the strain of conviction collided too harshly with political reality. The deal Carney struck with Alberta Premier Danielle Smith was one pipeline too far.
He said his resignation caused him “great sadness.”
“I chose to enter politics to champion the fight against climate change and the protection of the environment,” he wrote in a statement that outlined successes he saw over ten years of a Liberal government.
“I remain one of those for whom environmental issues must remain front and centre. That’s why I strongly oppose the memorandum of understanding between the federal government and the government of Alberta,” Guilbeault wrote.
He said he will remain a Liberal member of Parliament.
This afternoon, I informed the Prime Minister of my decision to resign as Minister of Canadian Identity and Culture, Minister responsible for Official Languages, Minister of Nature and Parks Canada, as well as his Lieutenant in Quebec. You can find my full statement below. pic.twitter.com/6s7HhdXaLO
— Steven Guilbeault (@s_guilbeault) November 27, 2025
— With files from National Post
• Email: ahumphreys@postmedia.com | X: AD_Humphreys
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