Canadian Nationalism

Until recently, the phrase “Canadian nationalism” would have sounded borderline meaningless. If you heard or read it, you would surely have smiled, as at a light-hearted joke. But now you see it come alive everywhere. You see it in the shops, in the faces of people checking product labels to make sure they were not made in Trump-land; you read it every day in the comments sections of newspapers, radio, and television; you run into it on social media and, without a doubt, in politicians of every level and every stripe.

Things have come to the point where you are no longer surprised to see fifty thousand people on their feet in a Bryan Adams concert hall, belting out the lyrics “We will never be the fifty-first state” at the top of their voices.

Despite the fervor, Canadian nationalism does not manifest itself in that ugly chauvinist form that puts others down in order to lift itself up; it has nothing to do with territorial or domineering ambitions, and in no way claims the superiority or supremacy of one nation over another.

Canadian nationalism is the most logical form of nationalism — if such a thing can exist. It is simply the polite but very clear and firm expression of the determination of a group of people to keep their shared values intact and to protect the economy of their shared home.

If there is any meaning for a given group of people to call themselves a nation, a state, or a community, that meaning could only lie within the framework of efforts to preserve a package of cultural, social, and moral values they have agreed to accept as their own, and to secure the best possible economic standard as a community. Canadians have long been aware of this function of their nation, and within this function they strive to preserve and improve the state and its governance.

Until very recently, this effort was simply an organic part of the normal life of every Canadian citizen. Nobody felt the need to wave the flag, to sing the national anthem at the top of their lungs, to hurl slogans and patriotic oaths, or to bare their teeth at anyone else. With their only land neighbor, the United States of America, they drew a border with a ruler back in 1814, entirely avoiding the possibility of territorial squabbles. For more than two centuries, they have exchanged with them, in the most peaceful and understanding way possible, everything they could exchange — goods, culture, people, technology, science. To Canadians, America seemed like their only neighbor — wealthy, noisy, but very close, much like having your first cousin living right next door. To Americans, or that portion of them who had any idea that Canada existed, it was the country of people much like themselves, who spoke the same language, only more polite and more soft-spoken.

The neighbors got along so well that their biggest “frictions” — the “historic” ones — consisted of a president calling the Canadian prime minister an “asshole” (fool), and the latter replying: “I have been called much worse by better men.” Or the U.S. administration’s request, after September 11, 2001, to require passports for border crossings — because before that date you could cross by simply showing your driver’s license.

Until the day an unbalanced man entered the White House who began to fantasize about annexing Canada, renaming seas and lakes, and playing the tariff stock market to line his own pockets and divert attention from the scandals of his vices.

I feel a sadness for Canadians, who are forced to display a side of themselves that in other circumstances they would have preferred to keep hidden — nationalism, patriotism. But what can you do — people want to survive. At least in Canada, nationalism has a dignified face.