What Does It Mean to Be Canadian?

A few years ago this question would have been quickly answered with “not American!” accompanied by a smug look of superiority; nowadays, not so much. One of the reasons revolves around being educated about the nature of identity and how I consider an identity to be something, not a lack of something. Another reason revolves around being educated about Canada and the subsequent disillusion with blind patriotism – which is, ironically, why so many Canadians are so quick to reject the identity of their southern neighbours and is, ultimately, simple hypocrisy. Show me a Canadian who doesn’t belt out this quick retort who isn’t also guilty of the very thing they reject (blind patriotism). The Americans simply get away with it better, and though many a Canadian would suffer the pains of death before admitting it, it is that jealousy of getting away with this blind patriotism (and perhaps having to be educated about the US without an educational reciprocation on their end) that leads Canadians to reject Americanism without a second thought.

Oh the picture of Joe Canadian with his beer mantra rejecting what many Canadians believe that Americans are ignorant of; you know, the igloos and dogsleds and “aboot” and mapleleafs. The funny thing is these same Canadians have relatives that they often visit – relatives who are generally in the know about their Canadian cousins. So where, exactly, does this perceived ignorance come from? Perhaps Canadians are as guilty as the people they point the fingers at?

Barring my cynicism about Canadian hypocrisy, blind patriotism, and desperately clinging to an ephemeral identity, I think one of the things that makes a Canadian truly that is what motivates him or her to separate himself or herself from being labelled an American: the innate and driving need to be unique. I mean really, is being labelled such so bad? Apart from the last eight years of Bush doctrine, what is it about Americans that we find so repulsive when in practice we find no two countries as friendly and open with each other (maybe not so much in recent and developing years)? I think that what Canadians abhor so much is the idea that they enjoy living in a first-class, developed country with all its privileges and freedoms, but not having a readily available identity to attach it to. Why would we, if we are not American, attach ourselves to something as superficial as beer, or a leaf rather than our superior public education system when compared to its dismally-dwindling southern counterpart? Maybe we already to some extent attach ourselves to our universal health care, but is not this universal health care something they already do in Europe, and doesn’t Europe do it much better than we? Sure, according to Michael Moore, we don’t have to pick which finger gets reattached because we don’t have insurance, but the same source also points out that Brits get cab fare to go home. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve always had to make arrangements for a ride home when I’m done (done the half-hour seeing the doctor after waiting several hours to see him/her). So, is this attachment to our oh-so-efficient medical system worth its praise? Something tells me it’s not the golden child we make it out to be.

So what other things do we Canadians pride ourselves in that fares better in the north? Peacekeeping? Treatment of blacks? A non bipartisan political system? Hockey? Let’s face it, gone are the days of Pearson when Canada stepped in as a mediator. Instead we act as but a cog in the wheel of United Nations Peacekeeping. Not really something we can call ours, now is it? Treatment of blacks? Perhaps we do treat out black people better, but ask any aboriginal person if they feel their people have been treated any differently than the Americans treat black people and I doubt you’d see a difference. Maybe there is something to be said about having more choice on a ballot and more diversity with political opinion, but what exactly can be accomplished when the more choice we have the less effective any party can govern? Division in votes – votes, I might add, representing less than two-thirds of Canadians in this latest federal election – means more chance for perpetual and inefficient minority governments. So what about hockey? Well, when was the last time we brought home the cup? I think one time in the 90s was the most recent. And sure we had half a decade of wins in the 80s with a subsequent increase before then, but what do you expect when the earlier back in time you go you start to approach a 90% supply of players for the entire NHL? Seems like Canada is resting on the laurels of a single 1976 game versus another country who favours red on their jerseys. How many current Canadians were even alive for that?

Canada is the spoiled rich kid of parents with a deep history, and needs to establish a separate list of accomplishments. Failure to do so only makes it the boss’s son which none of the other employees like. Oh sure, right now we still have our charm, but Canada is slowly fading from the minds of other nations, nations who once held us in the highest esteem. And why is that? Because we really haven’t done anything worth noting in the last few decades.

So, after tearing down all that might stand a chance to represent us, what does it really mean to be Canadian? It means that being next to a cultural giant I have to go above and beyond the normal effort to search for an identity. It means that I don’t have to attribute my identity with my nation of birth. It means that I enjoy the privileges and freedoms of a developed western nation without necessarily having the years of turmoil, conflict, and struggle to mete out some unifying idea with my fellow Canadians (how many of us identify ourselves by province or region anyway? How many people you know living on Vancouver Island refer to themselves as “Islanders” rather than British Columbians or Canadians?). It means I have the opportunity to be a pioneer in forging a global identity, to be a leader and example in forsaking nationalism and zealous imperialism. It means unpractised ideologies such as bilingualism (which is really more divisive than unifying), exportation of natural resources, kowtowing (or ankle-grabbing as some see it) to economic and military superiors even when they are clearly proven wrong over issues such as soft lumber, and ultimately walking a fine line of compromise throughout our entire history. It means being surrounded by fellow Canadians who barely have a grasp on their own history and politics, and can cite more facts and understanding about those they readily claim to not be. Yet after all of this criticism and seemingly harsh statements it’s what I call home. Home of the free, home of the polite, friendly, and generally liberal people, home of the tolerant and understanding, home of the best and the worst of the British and American systems without the extremes that either face. It is only because I am Canadian that I know enough to criticize to the extent that I do, and it is only because I am Canadian that I would not live anywhere else in spite of them.

Writing

Words are the writer's weapon, and I am equipped with a simple knife and simple training from boot camp - and I think they gave me the knife so I can peel potatoes.

Lolita

It's fair to say I've fallen in love with Nabokov's literary style. I wonder how he would express such a concept...

His expressive tone and underlying, subtle hints of ephemeral notions supplanted an impassioned and permanent love affair with his supernal writ. Page by page, perhaps even line by line I uncover layer upon layer of masterful diction, unearthing celestial treasure with each passing word. Oh that I may one day express myself as poetically, as soulfully, as beautifully succinct as Nabokov.

55 Fiction

So I've been exploring some alternative literary styles, and I came across something called "55 Fiction". It essentially means writing a story in exactly 55 words (some say less is acceptable) - title doesn't count towards word count (which can be very useful). It's an interesting technique, particularly because it demands all of the same elements that a traditional story demands: plot, characters, conflict, and resolution. Trying to pack all of that in 55 words is challenging, but I'm enjoying it. So far I've got three, but I think I'll keep one of them private (it's kind of disturbing, and I'm thinking about deleting it actually). Anyways, here are my two 55 Fictions that I wish to show off.

Some days I feel like I'm losing my mind, like in some unidentifiable way I am slipping into the abyss of insanity and that I have no way to gauge reality from fantasy or delusion. But really, isn't this the human condition? To filter truth from fictions, and to understand what we perceive and how we perceive it?

I guess what I'm struggling with the most is a daily existential dilemma, things that my old religion used to answer with such arrogant certainty. And you know, such struggles wouldn't be so bad if they weren't coupled with that oh so pervasive and ever ready depression. I really try to treat it as a separate condition - because really it is - but it makes searching for answers that much more difficult.

As a functional nihilist it's hard to find even a single reason to get up every day if that day is just a dull repeat of the empty yesterday. Really, it boils down to finding simple pleasaures in life, but hedonism is a whole other ball game in the field of lethargy and anhedonia. And it doesn't help that I have so much pressure from myself and other things: pressure to do something with my life contrasted with an inability to function at even the most basic level, pressure to deal with my education and finances contrasted with needing to slow down on school and facing being cut off of student loans as a result.

And what does the latter pressure result in? Further withdrawal and depression, more pointless escape/survival mechanisms, all with a sense of doom in the nearing future. I want to see my doctor about things, but he's practically impossible to get in to see, especially now that my days and nights are mixed up. And I loathe trying to find another doctor. The forms I need to have filled out require at least a year-long relationship, and my personal needs require a very compassionate and understanding doctor, and far too many of them judge or are cold. On top of that, not many doctors in Victoria are taking new patients. It's rather rough to be non-functional at this time.

But, for some reason or another I've inherited this stubborn quality. I refuse to give in and hang on out of sheer tenacity. Sometimes I have no idea why I hang on. It really makes no sense: if pain outweighs pleasure, then there's a strong argument for the end of a life - and I for one am a proponent of euthanasia if the right conditions are met. It is a philosophical position that I have that the most basic liberal freedom is the right to choose whether one lives or not. All other freedoms should spring from this single one. But in spite of this, I hang on. Perhaps the delusion of hope has evolved in us because it is essential for our survival. I suppose, though, that one can be disappointed only so many times before all hope is lost. I'm not there yet, but the outlook isn't too great.

Yes I Voted - This Time

To the elected leaders, be it federal, provincial, or municipal,

Today is Election Day, and it is my patriotic duty to go out and vote. It is my responsibility – nay, my privilege as a citizen of this country, as a resident of this province to participate in the democratic process. I get to choose who my leaders are and how my country and province are run by my vote. I think of many other nations that do not have this same privilege and it makes me grateful that I do. My only wish is that it was not a mockery of real democracy.

Democracy should intrinsically have an element of real choice. I understand all too well that I cannot hope to have all of my political views represented in my leaders. It would be absurd to expect this. Part of the social contract I make with my fellow citizens is a compromise in my leaders, that at least some – but not all – of my views, wishes, and desires are represented, with the expectation that my fellow citizens allow the same. The most unfortunate aspect about the democracy I see in front of me – both represented on the ballot I will mark and in the parliamentary process I observe – is that this real choice is sorely lacking.

How can we tell our children to behave with common courtesy and to exercise manners if you politicians yell at one another in a way that is indicative of a three-year-old throwing a tantrum at the grocery store because he or she cannot have a bon-bon? How can I ever have enough confidence in you, the elected, that you will do the job you are mandated to do if you care more about power than about the policies and principles that are to govern us? Finally, how can I in good conscience approve a system wherein should any individual recognize the need to rise above the pettiness and immature games that are so pervasive in politics, that he or she is made ineffective?

Is it not my duty as a citizen that rather than give tacit approval for power-hungry individuals to dictate law, I ought to protect myself and my fellow citizens from these same individuals? Should I not do everything in my power to ensure that those elected few view their mandate as a responsibility to serve the public, and not as a ticket to do what they want? And if I am powerless to effect any of this, can my apathy for anything political really be condemned?

It is not my intent to be cynical or jaded, though admittedly I am. Perhaps this is because somewhere inside me I believe that we CAN have a better system, if only those participating in it will choose to do so. Perhaps this is because I believe that our elected should be role models, examples of moral pillars and individuals who maintain the highest standards of integrity. And perhaps, most of all, that rather than seeing these ideals, I am utterly disappointed with their polar opposites that now exist and have existed for far too long.

My dear elected leaders, if you want my confidence and approval, not only for you as individuals and supporters of political ideologies but also as participants in a system that you help shape and guide, you must demonstrate that you can handle your mantle with responsibility and care. Anything less than this is a system that is broken, and a system that I cannot approve. And, most unfortunate of all, should I decide that the only way to voice my disapproval is to not vote, I am simply lumped together with the apathetic majority whom you deem as a problem. You say vote if we want to see change; I say change the system so that I can have confidence enough to vote in it. You say apathy is the problem; I say apathy is a response to the problem. Treat each other as decent human beings and display common courtesy to one another. This would be but the first step in a mile-long journey towards a political system worthy of participation and approval. Political differences aside, how can you ask me to participate in an electoral process when all I am doing is choosing who gets to throw the sand in the playground conflicts?

Signed,

A voter with a voice