Canadians have come to embrace their country as a “postmodern state”—a nation that downplays its history and makes few demands on its citizens, allowing them to find their allegiances where they may—in their region, their ethnic heritage or the language they speak. The notion of a Canadian national identity, with shared responsibilities and a common purpose, is considered out of date, even a disadvantage in a borderless world of transnational economies, resurgent regions and global immigration.
In his timely and provocative book Who We Are, Rudyard Griffiths argues that this vision of Canada is an intellectual and practical dead end. Without a strong national identity, and robust Canadian civic values and engagement, the country will be hard pressed to meet the daunting challenges that lie ahead: the social costs of an aging population, the unavoidable effects of global warming and the fallout of a dysfunctional immigration system.
What’s needed is a rediscovery of the founding principles that made Canada the nation it is today, core values that can form a civic creed for our own times. In a passionate call to revitalize our shared Canadian citizenship, Griffiths reminds us of who we are and what we’ve accomplished.
Impassioned, wholly sincere, and, in that Griffiths enthusiastically incorporates the purview of his peers from as diverse a cross-selection as John Ralston Saul, Jack Granatstein, George Grant and B.W. Powe, surprisingly coherent. A significant part of me is attracted by the vision that Griffiths presents herein, though his answers, as I noticed and as other reviewers have pointed out, ofttimes seem guided more by instinct and commonsensical notions, rather than empirical data or analytical rigor—and may be tethered too straightly to the ideal of a Canadian past that will, perhaps should, resist extension into the unknown future in the manner of the author's (good) intentions.
But I was reminded throughout of how white the Canada of my childhood was—how I had never seen a black fellow citizen until I was in high school, and wherein minorities remained but a drop in that bucket filled to the brim with British, Irish, French, and European Latinate surnames. Since that time, it has flowered with the diversity of an incredibly broad and rich influx of peoples from all parts of the globe. Griffiths, looking upon this seedbed of change, and spurred as a youth to such reflection by the political angst and tensions aroused by the course of the Québec separatist referendum of 1995, ponders and dissects the effect of this multicultural embrace and reality against the concept—traditional, constitutional, and quotidian—of Canadian citizenship and concomitant identity. A key anchor point here is Yann Martel's post-Booker-win remark about Canada being the greatest hotel on Earth: it welcomes people from everywhere, with that aspect of welcome set against the more troubling transitoriness of hotel status. What's more, the author espies a lassitude towards the symbols, values, and institutions of their nationhood well outside the immigrant experience. The fading of our collective knowledge of Canadian history had begun prior to the Trudeau era that marked a sharp turn towards and into the new millennium.
Looking at rights and obligations, historical awareness and regional particularism, a globalized economy, vast physicality and resource wealth, and attendant future uncertainties against a relatively young and conceptually flexible nation conceived within the formal and tradition-rich structure of our French Monarchical cum British Imperial birth—and with American pressure ever being exerted across the border—Griffiths outlines what he believes is the way to reconcile these realities, that our understanding of ourselves as Canadians will reinforce, and feed itself off of, a Canada that can confidently stride the global stage if it has successfully stabilized its own fluctuating actuality to a coherent and agreed upon degree. Above all else, Griffiths is targeting what he sees as an alarmingly pervasive and perduring apathy, political and otherwise, among Canadian citizens, stemming in large part from the low demands placed upon being one in our modern era. Canadian nationalism? Oxymoronic as that may sound to some ears, the author probingly propounds it as the skeletal frame upon which a healthy, confident and enduring polity can be enfleshed. And whether or not you are persuaded by Griffiths' presentation, his ardent mustering of facts and/or opinions, the questions he raises are compelling and well worth being (re)visited, if only to hone the edge of disagreement.
Unfortunately, I just don't see any opening whatsoever for the kind of national discussion begged by those selfsame questions and ideas broached and stirred by the author throughout this excellent book. When I look at the current abject state of political discourse in this country—trifling, theatrical, and clownish within a Commons of burgeoning irrelevancy, and increasingly polarized, superficial, and obsessed with the minutiae of seriousness and the competitive element from the media on down—I fail to see where a starting point could be effected. Certainly, no politician of any note seems prepared to spend political capital on such a nebulous project—especially when they discern (correctly) that the fragile state of economic recovery across the globe continues to tower above all other concerns.
As I've doubtless made apparent, Who We Are is a singularly Canadian read, one that, apart from a purely informational perspective, would only possess itself of marginal interest to a reader not living within its vast borders. Or at least, that's what I suspect—keeping in mind that our collective lack of national self-esteem makes such a caveat basically de rigueur in any self-respecting review of a native socio-politico-cultural extended essay like this. Three-and-a-half stars (I'm stuck in that median point between natural numbers an awful lot recently), rounded up because of the seriousness and earnestness with which Griffiths addresses an appreciably difficult, unwieldy, and contentious subject.
Rudyard Griffith’s (co-founder of the Dominion Institute, those people who remind us every year around Canada Day how little most of us in fact know about Canadian history) book, Who We Are, is a public declaration of policy ideas and principles of a highly political nature. Griffiths and the Dominion Institute have been telling us for years how little most Canadian citizens know about their national history, structure of government, and public institutions.
Members of the “academic fringe,” as Griffiths refers to those who subscribe to an inclusive (rather than exclusive) definition of Canada, who believe the nation is better served by celebrating difference, will find his book, Who We Are, highly problematic and troubling. However, if one believes in the idea that Canada should subscribe to a conservative ethnic nationalism that rallies around “a strong national identity based on shared institutions,” this book will be proverbial. One need look no further than the cover-art of Who We Are to get a sense of what Griffiths is promoting – the cube-like design on the cover sums up the main thesis of the book, which calls for Canadians to adopt a limited, boxed notion of who they are. Griffiths asks Canadians to rally around one identity, and proposes this be achieved, in part, by eliminating the possibility for citizens to hold more than one passport. Griffith’s argument is nothing new. Similar calls have been made frequently in the past, mostly by the same people who praise Griffiths on the book’s jacket (J.L. Granatstein, Andrew Cohen, Margaret Wente, etc.). Who We Are will appeal to the burgeoning group of conservative flag-waving Canadian nationalists that have sprung-up in numbers since the Quebec Referendum in 1995, and those who have worked to build firewalls around Canada since September, 2001. But such unwillingness to recognise and make room for diversity may ultimately be the undoing of Canada, despite Griffith’s and others’ efforts to the contrary.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This was a solid book which addresses important and cross cutting issues that quite frankly are underrepresented in the media and contemporary debates. Canada is by its geography and recent history, a country of regions with limited spatial and social mobility. More coordination and cooperation is necessary to confront grand challenges and secure a future that is worth looking forward to. Individuals, as he correctly argues, will under-supply the optimal levels of social capital when left to their own devices. This is ever more true in the unique Canadian context described above. The proposals Griffiths outlines are for the most part feasible and sensible…and it’s disappointing to see them remain untouched nearly 15 years on. Additionally, the benefits of such proposals are much wider-reaching and interrelated with other challenges than Griffiths potentially admits or identifies. For example, Canada’s hostile brand of federalism, and inability to make progress on senate reform and interprovincial free trade all come to mind as issues which would benefit greatly from a more empowered notion of citizenship and social trust.
It did bog down in spots and it took me awhile to find his bias. I did finish it in time. It is due at the library tomorrow and other folks have it on hold so there would be no renewal chance for me.