[BRIEF NOTE] Eatock on what separates English Canada from the United States

At 3 Quarks Daily, Colin Eatock writes about the factors distinguishing Canada from the United States.

Eatock's is an interesting essay, presenting--consciously and otherwise--a particularly English Canadian perspective on Canadian identity. He excludes official bilingualism as a marker, for instance, since he identifies it not as a marker of a pan-Canadian biculturalism so much as it does the existence of Québec's status as a distinct society marked by its French language within greater Canada. Québec's relationship to the United States is complex, but because Québec's distinctiveness versus the United States is easily provable, more so than the comparable English Canadian case, Eatock focuses on English Canada. He still uses the term "Canada", mind. He's right in pointing out that monarchy, a marker of a distinctive Canadian political identity, isn't so relevant at the lived level; yes, we're path of the Commonwealth and we have a Governor-General, but monarchism isn't an active choice so much as it's a default setting we just leave be because we can't stand another constitutional debate.

Canada, Eatock suggests, is more left-wing than the United States--universal public health care, gun control, multiculturalism, all are cited--and favour state intervention to a greater degree than the United States does. (The question as to whether state intervention is intrinsically left-wing is an interesting one that he doesn't explore.) The author identifies the relatively stronger links of Canada with Europe as an important factor, but that--as he acknowledges--isn't so important as Canada's non-participation in the history and myths of the United States, that self-consciously revolutionary and ideologically-defined country. Canadian identity is taken for granted, perhaps as a consequence of the difficulty of coming up with a convincing articulation; American identity is something consciously, constantly articulated.

The USA was founded on a set of political principles, clearly set forth in the constitution and other documents. Americans have a term for ideas that are at odds with the nation’s foundational principles: they are called “un-American.” But no idea is “un-Canadian.” Indeed, the term barely exists – if used at all, it would probably be aimed at someone who doesn’t like hockey.

But enough about politics. There are other complexities to explore here.

Here’s a big one: Canadians are less – much less – nationalistic than Americans. Nothing makes us feel more not-like-Americans than seeing a bunch of agitated Yanks chanting “U-S-A! U-S-A!” We think Americans can be insensitive and superior when vacationing in other countries, so we stitch Canadian flags to our backpacks, lest we be mistaken for one. And we disapprove of the way that the US education system so strongly emphasizes American history, American geography and American literature, to the exclusion of so much else. Most Canadians have heard of the first President of the United States. How many Americans could name Canada’s first Prime Minister?

But just a moment – how many Canadians could name Canada’s first Prime Minister? Even though Sir John A. MacDonald is on our ten-dollar bill, poll after embarrassing poll has shown that plenty of Canadians have no idea who he was. In our efforts to be as un-nationalistic as possible, we have chosen not to learn about ourselves. How many Canadians know that a Canadian invented the light bulb, or the game of basketball? (Consult Google, if you don’t believe me!) If America is inward-looking to a fault, Canada is too self-effacing. For better or for worse, that’s the way it is – and it’s a huge difference.

The “nationalism-gap” between Canada and the USA manifests itself in other ways, too. For instance, we Canadians like to think of ourselves as less bellicose than Americans. I say “like to think” because this hasn’t always been the case. Canada marched off to World War I in 1914 (not 1917, as the Americans did), and to World War II in 1939 (not 1941, when Pearl Harbor was attacked). But after WW II, we had a change of heart: Canada’s armed forces were scaled down and retooled as a peacekeeping force.

This made us quite pleased with ourselves – and from our moral high ground, we scorned American military adventurism. We sheltered draft-dodgers during the Vietnam era and shook our heads at the invasion of Iraq. It’s true that we did send our army off to Afghanistan, as a post-9/11 gesture of solidarity – but this was only because we thought it was going to be yet another peacekeeping mission. How wrong we were! One more point: Canada has plenty of uranium, and an assortment of nuclear reactors dotting the landscape. We could build a bomb any time we wanted to. We just don’t want to.

If America constantly aspires to be the best in the world, Canadians can be uncomfortable with striving for excellence. We are less competitive and more risk-adverse than Americans, and we certainly don’t want to appear “uppity.” There are a few exceptions: we sincerely want our national hockey team will come back from the Winter Olympics with gold medals. But in many areas of human endeavour – the arts, sciences, commerce – Canadians often take a curious pride in being at the centre of the herd, rather than out in front.

And there’s more. Americans are friendly (if they like you), and Canadians are polite (whether they like you or not). Racism in America can be shockingly blunt; racism in Canada is carefully veiled – and many Canadians will deny it exists in their country. Americans are more inclined to take a strong stand on one side or another of an issue. Canadians like to look at things from all perspectives, and are reluctant to unequivocally ally themselves with any single view.

Eatock concludes by noting the contrast between the American Declaration of Independence's declaration of "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" as key values, and the Canadian constitution's promises of "peace, order and good government."

Thoughts? In the final analysis, Eatock's essay seems to argue that English Canada is distinct from the United States--distinct enough to count as non-American, at least--because English Canadians don't buy into American styles of narrative and self-examination. It's a matter of degree, sure, given the permeability of the American-Canadian border, but it's a notable degree. It also manages to pose an interesting question as to the nature and extent of European-Canadian links beyond the obvious ones: is the Canadian state as civilianized, largely non-military, as many European states are? how much history does Canada share with Europe that it doesn't with the United States?

[BRIEF NOTE] Three notes on Colley on Scandinavia as a model for the United Kingdom

Of late I've begun visiting the Guardian's Comment is free section. British historian Lynda Colley's article "Europe, not empire: Britain's foreign policy challenge" caught my attention, not least with the editorial summary "Scandinavia is the model for a UK that can no longer rely on its imperial history, but must seek alliances in Europe". With Britain falling outside an increasingly integrated European federation, regional powers rising to diminish British heft and its attractiveness to the United States as a favoured partner, and the Commonwealth heritage at risk not only to republicanism in Australasia but via Scottish independence, Colley argues that Britain--united or otherwise--should look to Scandinavia. (I'd blogged earlier about British claims to a Scandinavian identity.)

Of course the UK, and its component parts, should seek out as many connections with as many parts of the world as is profitable and feasible. But to play any kind of global role effectively, the UK is likely always to require allies within its own continent, and far more enterprise needs devoting to this.

Consider the Scandinavian countries. Like the UK, these have been predominantly Protestant states; they are monarchies; possess strong maritime and imperial traditions; and are geographically on the circumference of Europe. Their social and educational policies are admirable, as is their meritocracy. They should be obvious allies and points of reference not just for Edinburgh, but also for politicians in London.

Responding to Britain's future challenges will require unceasing agility in seeking out new alliances and refurbishing old ones inside Europe, not just outside it. But crucially it will involve something more. It has become fashionable to argue that it is England, not the UK as a whole, that faces particular difficulties in adapting to a changing world. This is not entirely correct. There is a degree, for instance, that some Scottish nationalism falls prey to the same fallacies to which little Englandism is subject. In both cases there can be an excessive, even narcissistic, faith in the beauties and possibilities of small nationhood.

Yet, while the old empires have gone, this is still a world dominated by vast overland powers that retain some of the characteristics of empires, and that possess vast economic and military resources. In such a world, all small nations are potentially at risk and at a disadvantage. Facing up to the implications of this is hard. So is accepting the bitter truth that, in strategic terms, countries in relative decline (which includes all Europe) must choose between a limited set of options, none of which is likely to be are wholly attractive. Yet coming to terms with these harsh realities is essential. The best way of dealing with a potential perfect storm is to adjust and prepare our minds.

Colley gained fame with her 1993 Britons: Forging the Nation, 1707-1837. Her thesis was that the identity of the United Kingdom created by the 1707 unification of Scotland with England was fourfold, grounded on an identity as a Protestant community in a largely Catholic Europe, as a military power specializing in navies not armies, as an imperial power, and as a rival of France. These four distinctive qualities greatly diminished after the end of the Empire and Britain's integration into a European community, Colley argued, the traditional nations of England and Scotland and Wales would go their separate ways. Her recommendation that the United Kingdom look to Scandinavia, traditionally Protestant, its core states still constitutional monarchies, and on the critical fringes of the European project, does make sense. There's problems, though.

1. It's worth noting that Scandinavia, or Norden, isn't very much on the fringe--only Norway and Iceland are outside of the European Union altogether, the entire region (unlike the United Kingdom and Ireland) adheres to Schengen, Finland has adopted the Euro while the Danish krona is tied to that currency. How close is the United Kingdom (or the United Kingdom and Scotland) supposed to not get? Using Scandinavia as a model suggests that there should be greater integration.

2. Colley's right to point tout that Canada and India and Singapore and South Africa and Malaysia don't particularly need the United Kingdom as a metropole, no more than Mexico and Venezuela and Argentina need Spain to speak on their behalf, certainly no more than Brazil needs Portugal. The countries of the Commonwealth that are identified as the thriving potential markets replacing Europe's, whether the old settler colonies like Canada and Australia or the rising powers like India, Malaysia and Pakistan, have the institutional capacity needed to conduct foreign affairs without the guidance of the erstwhile metropole, thanks. We've got our own priorities, too, and have developed our own connections with European and non-European countries alike. The time of the unified Commonwealth is over, and critics of the European Union in Britain who think those ties could be strengthened are ridiculous ...

... but those ties do persist. Could the Commonwealth ever plausibly displace the European Union? No. It does provide Britain with connections that other European countries don't have, at least not to the same degree, at least for the time being.

3. There's the matter of size. For an independent Scotland, say, the idea of emulating the Scandinavian policy of broadly greater but critical engagement with Europe, and a retreat from an imperial presence generally, may be quite plausible. But what of the rump United Kingdom? (Neither Wales nor Northern Ireland are nearly as likely as Scotland to accede to independence.) If England still had a small population relative to continental Europe as it did well into the 19th century, in the range of a few millions, rather than a population now only somewhat smaller than France and plausibly larger than Germany's in a generation's time, then it might make sense to talk about Sweden as a model. But it doesn't: England, unlike Scotland or Sweden, is not a small nation. Declining it might be, England still has options that Scandinavia does not.