As to the idea that it’s “a story about us,” no, it’s a story about him: the vandalism he does to the memory of Kaydance and Santana Pauchay, the tasteless opportunism of cashing in on their fate by conscripting a grimly particular episode to the cheap generalities of societal guilt, the horrible glimpse inside the husk of a man once genuinely engaged by Iraq and Bosnia and reduced by ambition to peddling what he knows to be bilge.
To be sure, one could argue that it is “about us” in the sense that Christopher Pauchay wouldn’t be taking his daughters for 50-below midnight strolls in diapers had the white man not unloaded the boat half a millennium ago. Or, alternatively, it’s “about us” in the sense that the lavish government “compassion” and neo-segregationism of the last half-century have inflicted far more damage on Canada’s Aboriginal population than the bead-sellers, mythical smallpox bearers, Victorian imperialists and Christian missionaries could have accomplished in their wildest dreams. I naturally incline to the latter view, which is no doubt “racist.” But isn’t the real racism Ignatieff’s? In seeking, by his weaselly language and revolting argument, to burden all of us with Pauchay’s actions, the Liberal leader is being the quintessential New Racist: he and I are sophisticated human beings who are accountable for our actions, but Christopher Pauchay is excused. To Ignatieff, Pauchay is not fully human, but something closer to a lame animal whom one cannot reasonably hold responsible for his moral choices. If I had to be on the receiving end of whitey’s condescension, I think I’d rather be a “noble savage” than an incorrigible one.
Most Canadians—even Liberals, even Jack Layton—know this is not “a story about us.” But then, as Tonto remarked in another context, “What do you mean, ‘we,’ kemo sabe?” Last week’s Maclean’s had a cover story about Canadians’ “disturbing” attitudes to different religions. As “disturbing” as the poll was, I found the Maclean’s copy editors’ sub-headlines rather more so. The front cover roared: “A disturbing new poll shows the limits of our tolerance.” “Disturbing” to whom, kemo sabe? Presumably not to the 62 per cent of respondents who think “laws and norms should not be modified to accommodate minorities.” And surely, with numbers like that, there’s a sporting chance a majority of Maclean’s readers feel the same way. “This runs counter to all we espouse,” complains the Angus Reid pollster. Again: what do you mean, “we”?
Kenneth Whyte, the head honcho of this magazine, claimed to detect “an unhealthily low level of tolerance toward immigrant communities . . . still.” What would be the “healthy” level and can it be administered intravenously or would that only add to wait times at the Royal Victoria? My Maclean’s colleagues seem perilously close to a maple-flavoured variant of the old Brecht line that we need to elect a new people.
Obviously, “tolerance” has to have “limits.” Otherwise, it’s just a fluffy euphemism for nihilism. We “tolerate” apartheid legal systems such as Yellow Quill’s “sentencing circles.” Should we, therefore, tolerate Islamic law? Indeed, are we still permitted to give any thought to the matter and weigh the differences between, say, common law and sharia? Or is Canadian-style tolerance meant to be a blank cheque for any novelty item in the glorious multiculti mosaic?
And if the poll findings truly “run counter to all we espouse,” maybe it’s because you guys are espousing it so badly. When Michael Ignatieff insists that a “father” “trying” to take “two sick little girls to their parents” is “a story of us,” he is inviting Canadians to collude in a lie as obvious as it is wicked. When he tells 30 million people at a time of economic recession that the country they live in can only be “imagined,” the truly pitiful thing is how tired and fake it all sounds. Yet this dead, desiccated language has become the only acceptable form of public discourse about Canadian identity—even though, as that poll demonstrates, it’s at odds with how actual Canadians think of their country. The story Maclean’s couldn’t quite bring itself to acknowledge last week is that, after 40 years of self-flattering Trudeaupian fantasy promoted relentlessly by every institution in society, huge numbers of Canadians “still” (Ken Whyte’s word) don’t buy it. Instead of recoiling in horror like Lady Bracknell, maybe it would be more useful to ask: why?
Alas, the nation’s “experts” have spent so much time “imagining a country” Ignatieff-fashion that they cannot bear a rare glimpse of the non-imaginary one.
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