Only in Canada
Since I was in secondary school, over 30 plus years ago, all discussions on Canadian nationalism start with us defining ourselves as ‘not American’. This always struck as particularly quirky. Think about it…do you think Mexicans engage in any discussions about Mexican nationalism by defining themselves as ‘not American’ from the get-go? Does a French man define himself as ‘not’ being an Englishman? We are probably the only state in the world whose national character contains an element of what we are not.
We are unique people, an often contrary and contrasting people. A nation of eccentrics, whose idea of good government begins at compromise and must end with consensus. We write, we read, we paint, we make music and we dance…some of us even play hockey. But who are we really?
Peter in the comments suggested I run a contest for…well, peculiarities of being Canadian. I looked around for a prized possession to offer and discovered you cannot hock off your children as indentured servants anymore so the spoils of my treasure chest are a tad on the light side. So nix that idea. But what I want to know is this; who are we really? My grandfather use to use this expression – ‘what is bred in the bone comes out in the flesh’ so what is bred in our bones as a nation?
And why does this story strike such a chord of prime Canadianna? The Toronto Star
Allegations that nude photographs of a senior Manitoba judge in bondage, chains and performing oral sex were posted on an Internet porn site have kindled debate about how much of a judge’s private life is private.
The Canadian Judicial Council’s Ethical Principles for Judges — which judges are encouraged but not required to follow — say they should strive to conduct themselves with integrity and avoid conduct that would diminish public respect for the judiciary.
It might be my latent Amazon persona shining through but I cannot think of anything more natural or awe inspiring than a woman with a whip who is poised to strike… but seriously now – what other country in the world would a judiciary council have to rule on whether ‘someone who poses naked with a whip be considered a person of integrity, or does the question open the door to inappropriate moral judgments about an individual’s personal life?’ Only in Canada I say.
Who knew that Canadian judges had such kinky sex lives? It sure blows the image of the mild, bland Canadian all to pieces. I wonder if the question “Who are we, really” can be answered – whether one is Canadian or American. I like the quote from Whitman about containing multitudes. Why not? We all came from all over the globe so why not be several things, sometimes contradictory, sometimes not. When one’s religious or cultural group ties are very strong, wouldn’t that trump a more vague “Canadian-ness?”
I certainly think that the Canadians that I have met have been more polite than a lot of Americans but I don’t have extensive experience. I’ve been to Vancouver several times, Quebec once (and that was VERY interesting) and Calgary/Banff once. I love the country, could see myself living in or around Vancouver but haven’t have the motivation to move.
Now about that whip….
A lot of Canadians will say we are half American, half British, or at least they used to. But Robertson Davies, who had a very keen eye about such things, suggested that we really aren’t like the British at all, and that half American, half Nordic would be more accurate and explain our eclectic combination of enlightened principles and neurotic prudishness, and also our difficulty in seeing ourselves as others see us and laughing at ourselves. The example about topless women I recounted below is classic Canadian, and so too is our reaction to the Manitoba judge. Can you imagine the fun the Americans and Brits would have with this story? Watching the CBC report on it last night I had the impression the announcer was telling us about a particularly poignant natural disaster. And you are bang on the money, Kate, why would we turn to other judges and proudly humourless legal scholars to tell us what to think about this? Were our chartered accountants all too busy?
Mordechi Richler once defined us as a very decent people who have built a particularly agreeable place to live, and I’m not sure we can or should try to add much to that. But we really should laugh at ourselves more, and I don’t mean just making fun of bumpkins like Mike from Canmore, I mean at our ideals and beautiful people. Am I the only one who sees Margaret Atwood as the archtypical meddlesome Victorian grandmother who lectures you unsmilingly on everything you do in a way that makes you yearn to escape outside and have some fun?
Nancy, Canadians are perennial gold medalists in the “nice and polite” competition, but Americans are friendlier. They are also frequently more helpful. No one can apologize and commiserate like a Canadian who can’t help you, but an American will use the time to try and steer you to someone who can.
Peter, you articulated something about Atwood which I always instinctively felt but never articulated. Why we should we shove Atwood down the throats of high school students rather than Davies is something which has always puzzled me. Of course, I always had a soft spot for Jung rather than Freud…but then, I would wouldn’t I – being a Canadian and all. Can you imagine having that for a Mother – for sure, it would have made me a dominatrix out of me.
And your bang on about the downright dourness of how this story is being aired in the media..although I am not sure the land which gave birth to the Moral Majority would have such fun with it in the news media but it is enough material for an entire season of Letterman. The Brits, for sure. Could it be that our inability to laugh at ourselves like the Brits do comes from insufficient quantities of rum and repeated exposures to sodomy and the lash? Maybe, I need to get a whip and use it liberally….
“I am not sure the land which gave birth to the Moral Majority would have such fun with it…”
But Kateland, after a hard day’s work, wouldn’t you rather be entertained by Southern Baptists spluttering about how our judicial sinners are all going to hell than by legal scholars from someplace like UNB droning on about how she may have been a tad disingenous on her application form?
It’s the focus on the form that is slaying me. You see, as Canadians, we think judges recruiting studs based on race and posting kinky porn pictures of themselves on the Intenet may be perfectly acceptable and nobody’s business provided, of course, it is fully disclosed on their application forms! You can almost hear the collective sighs of relief from our straightlaced progressives as they latch on to this as the “real” issue in order to avoid having to confess they think it’s all rather warped and appalling.
@Peter Between the hell fires of Southern Baptists and legal scholars droning on about judicial disingenuousness in form disclosure – can’t we have a made in Canada ‘none of the above option’?
Although, I must say, I am deriving a great deal enjoyment from the whole scenario – my dinner table discussions with the tribe have not been this lively for quite some time.
You like Davies as well? When I started to read psychology, a teacher recommended him to me as a great introduction to Jung. I was hooked! Re; Atwood – I have never particularly liked her. Her take on feminism, women’s history and Americans irritates me deeply. I AM a feminist but she is so wrong in so many ways. Rant. Rant. Rant.
Kate – I’ll bet dinner discussions are lively – whips, kink and the Canadian-ness of Canada. Fascinating.
Peter – thank you for the compliment on American helpfulness. Living in SF, I know that I spend a lot of time directing lost tourists. Of course, I love my city and know all her byways- where to go and what to avoid – but it’s nice to get a commendation for that instead of the usual American bashing.
(which is not to say that we are above criticism)….
I adore Davies and have since I first read Fifth Business at 18 – besides, he is one of the few who actually likes the Rom. He had to known a few but i have never been able to track down who knew him…the garlic slices shoved up the nose was a little to real for me and was actually something I was tortured with – which was why I refused to admit or acknowledge sickness around my grandmother.