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Showing posts with label Canada. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Canada. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 14, 2024

Two Short(ish) Thoughts About Socialists and other Nice People to my North

Minnesota isn't Ontario, of course, and Tim Walz isn't a secular Jew and bass player who became passionately devoted to hard and progressive rock in the late 1960s and early 1970s, the same way Geddy Lee isn't a Minnesota Lutheran schoolteacher turned Governor and now possibly the future Vice President of the United States. But I see something similar in them nonetheless.

First, a couple passages from Lee's autobiography, My Effin' Life, which I just recently finished. It's a good book! Not fantastic--while I appreciated the way Lee wove into his reflections about Rush and their albums and their tours numerous insightful observations about his family history and the music industry and much more, the encyclopedic character of the memoir was ultimately a little much. Still, one of those insightful observations stood out: a two-page rant on libertarianism. Preceding his comments is a short reflection on an interview the band had with Barry Miles for NME in March 1978, who pushed them to get political:

“Admittedly, we were a little too young and naive to have arrived at a fully informed worldview. We considered ourselves capitalists but voted Liberal; we thought of ourselves as independent but valued our country’s social safety net and national health scheme. We didn’t see that conservative and liberal--or even capitalist and socialist--were values necessarily at odds.” 

Keep that in mind as we jump a few pages forward, to some thoughts of his about Rush's wonderful (and, in this context, notorious) song "Freewill“:

"In 1979, when [Neil Peart] handed me the lyrics for ‘Freewill,’ I instantly loved the song. It was a powerful expression of the way Rush was taking control of its own destiny, and also echoed my own refusal of religious dogma, of subjection to the hand of God or, more abstractly, fate. Even if some of Neil’s concepts were bit of a stretch for me, I sang it every night with confidence and pride, offering it to our audiences as a contribution to the time-honoured discussion about existentialism, determinism and faith. It was, in fact, indeterminism that I believe was at the the heart of it--the idea that our lives are not predetermined--and I hope that would come across, but in the four decades since, I’ve seen people play fast and loose with the interpretation of the last lines of the chorus: I will choose a path that’s clear / I will choose free will.

“To my dismay, those words have been cited without regard for the song’s overall message and used as a catch-all, a license for some to do whatever they want. It makes me want to scream. Taken out of context, it becomes an oversimplified idea of free will, narrow and naive, not taking into consideration that even the strongest individual must, to some extent, bow to the needs of a responsible society....

“I’m afraid that life is too complicated for us to simply ‘choose free will.’ You can’t just say or do anything, prizing your rights over everyone else’s. Generations of scholars (notably Talmudic ones) have spend their lives arguing in byzantine detail the interpretations of society’s rules, because it all depends on context: when, exactly, will I choose free will?...A vague grasp of complicated ideas is not the same a virtuous independence.

“I may sound like I’m a grumpy old man yelling at clouds or that I’ve drunk the Kool-Aid of my quasi-socialist country, but my point of view has evolved with experience as I’ve watched and cared about what life has thrown at friends, neighbours and strangers alike. We have a social safety net here in Canada that includes national health care, day care and so on--it isn’t perfect, but it works pretty well most of the time, especially for those on the lower rungs of the socioeconomic ladder. Living in that kind of society of almost (ahem) seventy years has made me see the world through more compassionate eyes than I had as a youth or in 1979. Sure, we pay more taxes than many other do, but I prefer to live in a world that gives a shit, even for people I don’t know”
(pp. 250, 289-292). 

What's the point of pulling out this reflection, aside to make the banal observation that the stuff people think they understand when they're 27 isn't going to be the same when they're 70? It's to underscore something that gets lost so often in polarized ideological arguments that it needs to be repeated, again and again and again: that what people like Geddy Lee--a smart, observant, and well-read man, a bit of an armchair historian, but not a political philosopher, much less an economist or politician by any means--mean when they speak of "socialism" (or "quasi-socialism") is, almost always, very simply: not being a radical individualist, and instead, choosing to give a shit about one's friends, neighbors, and even strangers. 

There are, obviously, a great many ways to do that; providing guaranteed health care and day care is just one of those ways (though looking around the world, it's obviously an exceptionally popular one). "Socialism," in all its various construals and constructions and controversies throughout world history, some murderously horrific and some peacefully communal and most some mangy democratic compromise in between, always begins with this: the socialization, or in other words the sharing, the making public and available and collectively empowering, of the goods which human beings find and refine and create. If you insist that there is no other possible use of the term, no other possible articulation of any of the above, which can be separated from, say Karl Marx's materialistic dialectic of history, or from Vladimir Lenin's advocacy of a revolutionary vanguard, or Mao Zedong's collectivization of agriculture, then you're both wrong, and not listening with any kind of open-mindedness to the way many hundreds of millions of human beings (38 million of whom live in the country just north of us Americans) happen to talk about their own political choices when it comes to, yes, giving a shit about one another. Is that real world talk itself often contentious and critical of others' (including their own national histories') formulations of socialism? Of course; human beings make sense of and situate their own thinking in endlessly diverse contexts and ways. Sometimes they even think, as Lee wrote, that "capitalist and socialist" value schemes aren't at odds with one another. Which, depending on the claim you happen to be making, they aren't necessarily at all.

And that, of course, is what brings us around to Tim Walz, who has many of the usual people up in arms, screaming about the Minnesotan's secret wish to impose the Khmer Rouge upon America, all because he said...what? Oh yes, while talking about his "progressive values" (which, accordingly to him, includes things like pouring money into veterans benefits, free breakfast in public schools, strong support for NATO, etc.) to his political supporters, he observed, in the campaign context of reaching out to those who disagree, that "one person's socialism is another person's neighborliness." Which is exactly the correct point to make. Walz is a progressive Democrat in the United States in 2024; he wants to use the power of government to, in Lee's words, give a shit about his neighbors: to be neighborly, in other words, and to do so via funding and expanding government welfare programs to aid children, veterans, the elderly, the unemployed, the poor, and others (including some not in the United States) in need. Is that "socialism"? Or maybe "quasi-socialism"? Could be! It's not Bernie Sanders's New Deal-style, so-called "democratic socialism," but obviously it's related to it. (Sanders's influence on the Democratic party of today, including on Walz, is deep and, I think, entirely for the best.) Far, far, far more related to it, to be certain, then any of the horrific Ghosts of Certain Types of Socialism Past that too many people--people whom for the most part I (like Walz!) assume to be good people, just ones who happen to think that the progressive Democratic form of giving a shit about one's neighbors either doesn't work or isn't worth the cost or actually makes things worse--are tempted to associate this genial Minnesota liberal with.

This isn't going to change this discourse, of course. Libertarian paranoia is too deeply embedded in too many assumptions throughout our political culture to imagine that Sanders, or Walz, or me, or anyone else is going to be able to get a paradigm going such that a critical number of Americans might actually start getting comfortable (again!) with seeing in the broad umbrella idea of socialism arguments about how best to give a shit about one's neighbor. Hopefully, generational change will take care of that; Walz is only 61, after all.

Thursday, May 08, 2014

Half Edward Abbey, Half George Grant, All Natural

[Cross-posted to Front Porch Republic]

Farley Mowat has died. Long before I knew anything about alternatives to the late-20th-century American way of life, long before I considered myself an environmentalist or localist or anti-capitalist, long before I had any kind of serious understanding of what it actually means to be committed to "conservation," I was being taught by Mowat. In 1983, I went to the theater and watched Never Cry Wolf, a film which most might remember today as a vaguely hippie defense of chasing after wolves in the tundra in the buff, but which for me cracked open questions--about nature, progress, and humanity's place in our understanding of both--that haunt me still:



In 1984, in my sophomore year of high school, I read People of the Deer, and while more than a few books from that year have long stayed with me--like Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle, or Richard Wright's Native Son--it was People of the Deer's powerful, lyrical, and indignant condemnation of the technological and economic motions of the world that left devastated cultures in its wake which, as my thinking for the past 30 years have more than demonstrated, obviously had the greatest impact:

When trading ceased to pay the high profits always required of it, the great company withdrew its post and the new way of life which had been taught to the People in their innocence now became death. Men who were once great hunters of the deer had instead become great hunters of the fox, but men cannot eat fox pelts. The People could not change their ways again. "Surely," they thought, "if we trap the fox this winter and take the pelts south, we shall find the trader has returned." But when the hunters traveled south, the trading post stood empty and decayed, as it had stood for many hungry years. The traders came, stayed briefly while their profits warranted, then left the land, abandoned it, and thought no more of the destruction they had wrought. Franz lived their still. And he could not drive out the hidden knowledge of the fault....

It was mid-March and Angleyalak had returned from a futile hunt during which he carried no gun, only a crude bow which served him little better than a toy serves a child; for the men of the Ihalmiut had forgotten how to make cunning bows of horn, during the long years when they had no need of bows, and the bright guns and shells were to be had in return for pelts....

For a month before that final hunt of Angleyalak's there had been no more than a mouthful of food for each person on each day, and this hunt had been a last desperate effort to halt the slow attrition of the gut. The hunt had failed, as it was bound to fail, and now the course of things followed and inevitable pattern which the hunter could no longer break, no matter how he tried. Death was upon the camp and all that the people there could do was to channel the approach of death so that the least important of the living might go first. There was no open mention of the problem, for none was needed. While Angleyalak still lived there was still hope. But should he, the hunter, die, then the family must perish, even thought the deer returned in numbers to the Little Hills
(People of the Deer, 1951, pp. 55-56).

Mowat never ceased representing, in all his writings and activism, a usually mostly hopeless alternative: one that respected Canadian sovereignty and attacked the global capitalism which the superpower war-machine made possible (he was once refused entrance into the United States, perhaps on the grounds that he'd once shot his rifle at American planes carrying nuclear payloads through Canadian airspace, thousands of the feet over his head), one that looked for a more sustainable, less exploitive, more rooted way of life. His frustration gave him an Abbey-esque edge, ultimately concluding that the best things that can be done with national parks is keep human beings out of them as much as possible. I don't care for kind of defiant environmental absolutism. But I prefer to contextualize it with some Grant-style red Toryism, and see in him a man who loved the local world near him--the vast, deep, quiet Canadian wilderness--so very much, that keeping it separate from those systems which would poison it seemed like the obvious imperative. That's a position I can respect--and even, if not to the same degree, hope to emulate. RIP.

Friday, July 01, 2011

Obligatory Canada Day Post

We interrupt this vacation to provide the essential geek/Canada Day image for all my comic-book reading friends north of the 49th parallel (Jacob is actually the only one I can think of right now, but I'm sure there are others). Enjoy!


If you need more, there's always this.

Thursday, May 05, 2011

What Makes a Political Culture (Start To, Maybe) Change?

Fan of all things Canadian that I am, I suppose I ought to say something about the monumental election in Canada this past Monday. (This is how long it usually takes me to get around to talking about our neighbors to the north, anyway.) The old joke about Canadian government being about the boring thing imaginable won't go away anytime soon, I'm sure, but when you have an election which delivers to the political party which has dominated Canadian life for decades its worst electoral showing in its entire existence, and is followed with the resignation of not just one but two thoroughly trounced party leaders, both of whom not only brought their parties to defeat but also lost their own seats in Parliament, at least a little attention must be paid.

Most of that attention is, reasonably, being paid to the Conservatives, who, after cobbling together mostly ineffective minority-coalition governments over the past five years, now have a decided majority, and seem entirely determined to make use of it. But I think the more intriguing story of the 2011 election is not the triumph of the Conservatives over the Liberals, but the triumph of Jack Layton and the New Democrats over their mainstream liberal/left-leaning rivals. The NDP is a party with roots in populist, socialist, and other communitarian thinkers and movements from Canada's past, though the degree to which anyone could reasonably call is a "socialist" party today is almost negligible. Still, it certainly does represent a more clearly social democratic option than do the Liberals--and now, with a showing in a national election more than twice as successful as ever before (their previous high was 43 seats in Parliament, in the 1988 election; on Monday, they won 102), they are the voice of the opposition in Canada, with the Liberals and the Bloc Québécois effectively out of the running entirely. What happened?

Two obvious responses, neither of which is remotely original with me, but which I may as well say anyway: first, it may be seen as the first decisive step--or, relatedly, as a natural, logical progression--in an ideological re-alignment in Canada; second, it may be seen as (again) an important beginning--or a important continuation--of the transformation of Quebec. The two are interrelated, though their implications are not the same.

First, what about this re-alignment--the rise of an "American-style" conservatism in Western Canada, particularly Alberta, and its transformative effect on Canadian politics, turning what was, both in names and in ideas, a "Liberal" and "Progressive" conservative movement, into something quite different? Some people, including good friends of mine who are die-hard Liberals, can't believe it's really happening. It's a reasonable conclusion--after all, the Liberals held power for 70 years throughout the 20th century, and it's been over a 100 years since any Liberal leader hasn't taken a turn as Prime Minister. There are very, very few other democracies on the planet where one party can so plausibly present itself as the sole possessor of the intellectual and political resources needed to effectively and legitimately govern the whole country; perhaps Japan's Liberal Democratic Party comes to mind, but even there the comparison pales. Quite simply, for generations, the language of "Canadian values"--which Erna Paris lists as "moderation in civil discourse; toleration of dissent; support for human rights and the institutions of civil society; respect for the rule of law; a commitment to multilateralism abroad and pluralism at home; and a dedication to the public good, which includes a sensitivity to our uniqueness as one of the world’s most ethnically diverse countries"--were essentially indistinguishable from the platform and record of the Liberal Party, and the centers of Canada's population and economic strength (namely, Ontario, and in particular Toronto) seemed to like it that way. But maybe not any longer. In that same article, Paris wonders about the unity of Canada, which held its "solitudes" together through a unified belief (as the voices of liberalism--and Liberalism--held it) in certain international, democratic standards, the cracking of which she associates with the fate of Omar Khadr, a Canadian citizen who was apprehended by the U.S. in Afghanistan in 2002 when he was 15 years old, and has been held in Guantanamo Bay ever since:

During...[a] vote in the UN General Assembly, Paul Dewar, the NDP’s foreign affairs critic, said something that triggered a personal memory from my own childhood. When he said, “Canada must have a seat on the Security Council. It’s in our DNA,” I recalled that the principal of my Toronto elementary school had papered the corridor walls with the entire Universal Declaration of Human Rights. I saw myself standing on my tiptoes, reading avidly, a young Jewish girl who knew nothing about the Holocaust except that something terrible had happened to my people, and that this document promised hope and protection. Yes, I thought, the United Nations has been in my DNA for a lifetime--as a hope, as an institution that would always be better than nothing at all, even when it appeared to fail and needed reform. I have never considered abandoning my support of the UN, because the alternative would be unspeakably worse....

For decades, Canada elicited admiration for policies that advanced the cause of peace and justice abroad, and equality at home. Now we are observed with puzzlement on many fronts, including our apparent abandonment of the core citizenship rights that define all democracies. Without an inalienable commitment to shared equality, the democratic centre of any country will soon fall into jeopardy. To the world outside our borders, our shabby treatment of Omar Khadr has exposed a crack in Canada’s foundations....“Canada’s reputation as a global human rights leader has taken a big hit,” says Alex Neve, secretary-general of Amnesty International Canada. “Right up to the very end, the determination of the Canadian government to appear unconcerned and disinterested was stunning. Last-minute interventions from two UN human rights experts, including the secretary-general’s special representative on children and armed conflict, calling for Canada to intervene on Omar Khadr’s behalf, went unheeded or outright ignored.”

On the other side of this moral and legal divide, conservative pundits wrote vitriolic critiques of the Harper government for agreeing to bring Khadr home in 2011 to serve the remainder of his sentence in Canada (a demand of the Obama administration). An Ipsos Reid survey in the immediate aftermath of the trial quantified our disagreement on the Khadr question: 49 percent of the population wanted him kept out.


What could possibly account, Paris wonders, for this declining attachment to international organizations and procedures--to the vision of Canada playing a large, liberal, role on the global stage? She speaks critically of her fellow Canadians being hoodwinked into embracing an image of "little Canada"--focused on harnessing its own economic resources and localizing its own sense of responsibility, giving up the cosmopolitan implications of the Canada which Pierre Trudeau helped to make. I suppose she has a point. But then again, to what extent was that cosmopolitanism ever truly shared outside the boundaries of Toronto (which is, truly, one of the great metropolises of the world)? What happens when the cultural balance which allowed the Liberals to speak for that sentiment, while the "little" or "local" attitudes it eschewed are divided like scraps being fought for between Quebec and all the other provinces, changes? Or at least, maybe, begins to change?

For decades, one version or another of the Conservative party found grounds for tactical alliances with the Bloc Québécois; not that they ever supported calls for secession and separation, but they, on one issue or another, could present themselves as working to respect Canada's unusual cultural and linguistic situation, whereas the Liberals, despite their many overtures to the feelings (and the votes) of Quebeckers, had a nationalist legacy that prevented left-leaning median voters in Quebec from fully supporting the party that was presumably closer to them ideologically. But 2011 represents two changes in this dynamic: first, an NDP which far more aggressively than ever before promised to align its social democratic aims with the political and economic interests of Quebec, and a Conservative party that believed that, between the West and the new firm establishment of entrepreneurial, family-oriented, less "cosmopolitanly-aware" (in the old Liberal sense, anyway) immigrant communities, particularly Indian and Chinese, throughout urban Canada, that the moment for a truly national conservative majority had arrived.

The votes, depending on how one reads them, may provide evidence in support of either, or both, of these agendas. Quebec nationalism does still matter, some way, just not in the same secessionist manner as in times past; witness the huge support in the province for NDP candidates (more than a few of whom had no real connection to the French-Canadian history that traditionally has been so important in the province). On the other hand, the divide between English-speaking Canada and French-speaking Canada simply isn't what it was 16 years ago, when a referendum calling for Quebec separation and sovereignty lost by the narrowest of margins. The pace of technological and economic change in Canada through the internet boom (and global bust) of the past couple of decades has had massive consequences for how their politicians and parties--following their voters themselves--operate and conceive of their place in their nation and world, no less than how such changes have effected the United States and practically every other country on the planet. It just may be that, on Monday, the consequences of those changes took a great many people--people who have long assumed that, in a culturally divided nation like Canada, the ideological preferences of the majority of (English-speaking) voters could be fairly efficiently sorted between cosmopolitan Liberals and ineffective Conservatives--by surprise.

What comes next? Some of my friends remind me that the Bloc Québécois may have suffered a big defeat, but the sentiments they have long served have hardly disappeared; perhaps 30% to 40% of Quebeckers desire some form of sovereignty, and that's enough to win a fair number of ridings. Of course, the NDP, in its minority position under the Conservatives, can make all sorts of promises to the Quebec sovereientists and be free of the obligation to deliver; in the meantime, they may be able to respond to local inputs and continue to refine their social democratic commitments to more comfortably incorporate some of the protectionist and culturally localist beliefs which their erstwhile supporters still hold to. Then again, perhaps the decline from nearly 50% in 1995 to perhaps a third of the population of Quebec as of today represents some sort of definitive evolution of Quebec communitarianism; perhaps the NDP picked up votes simply because the Bloc Québécois was considered passé and the Liberals ran a poor campaign in the face of the Conservatives strongly unified attacks. If the majority of voters in Quebec really are increasingly content with their own particular place in a national regime, if their economy really is increasingly tied to Toronto, Ontario, and the rest of Canada, then perhaps the Liberals, as the "natural ruling party" of Canada, is in no sense prepared to fade into the background, to be replaced as the Liberal party of Great Britain was replaced by a (just to hammer home the parallel) a more "socialist" party at the turn of the last century, when the Labor party emerged from its own third-run status to form the backbone of modern British liberalism. Perhaps the Liberals, in confronting the more clearly nationalized Conservatives, will move more clearly away from the center...but to turn away from Canada's 30-year tradition of presenting itself as a model of a multicultural, peaceful, rational, cosmopolitan, internationally aware democracy? Couldn't happen, or so some of friends north of border insist.

I don't know which is more likely. What is likely, anyway, is that 2011 is going to be remember in Canada for a while. Aside from a new notable exceptions, it's actually not at all common for a stable democracy to have a nation-wide election that reflects--or at least potentially reflects--truly serious ideological differences. That is, you don't often get to see, in election returns, a whole political culture evolve, or at least begin to, in one direction or another. It happened in the U.S. in 1860, in 1932, arguably in 1980. Maybe it happened in Canada on Monday. You'd think more people would want to pay attention to such things!

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Defining Red Toryism (Again)

[Cross-posted to Front Porch Republic]

A month ago, Cato Unbound put up a mini-sympoisum on "the Red Toryism of Phillip Blond." It featured essays by Patrick Deneen and Jacob Levy, both responding in part to Blond's essay "Shattered Society", a version of which Blond gave as a speech when he visited Georgetown University earlier this year. An additional contribution by Reihan Salam and a further response by Blond himself were also promised, but never materialized, and now CU's gone on to another topic. (Though Jacob has posted his response to Patrick here.) I feel bad for not having written up some thoughts and sent them in sooner; Blond's Red Tory ideas fascinate me (as my many comments on them demonstrate), and wanted to throw my two cents in, discussing (again) what I think Red Toryism does, or at least could, mean. But hey, better late than never.

I don't have much to say about Blond's essay itself; his claims are essentially the same as those he advanced when he spoke at Villanova, and while I wasn't there, what I heard in the recording of his lecture was enough to give me serious pause, as my comments in this Front Porch Republic thread indicate. Very simply, Blond struck me as much more willing to engage in a foolish bit of caricature, to lump together all the things which he dislikes both philosophically and politically (the writings of Rousseau and the progressive leftism which in some ways counts Rousseau as an intellectual ancestor on the one hand, the liberal individualism of the modern capitalist marketplace on the other) however distinct they actually be, than he had been when he wrote his earlier "Rise of the Red Tories" essay, which is part of what sparked the fascination with him in the first place. I've finally gotten a hold of a copy of Blond's book, so perhaps will have something more to say about Blond's own arguments once I've finished it. But the caricaturing which Blond employed in his essay leads me directly to Jacob's contribution, since that is what he most immediately focuses on. Jacob's response to Blond (and, by extension, to Patrick as well) came in for some comment and criticism on FPR; let me see if I can build on that, clarifying (if only for myself) where I think Jacob's right and where I think he's wrong, and see if I can make a case for Red Toryism (which may not, it should be noted, be the same as Blond argument at all).

Let me begin with the phrase Red Toryism itself. The use of the "ism" implies a degree of ideological coherence: a package of theories, organized around and/or grounded by a shared set of philosophical or religious beliefs, that together present a normative argument for, and an idea of how to politically or socially advance, the conclusions, priorities and aims of those theories. This isn't the only way to think about "ideologies," of course, but it is mine, one that I've used a few times in the past. Jacob, however, wants to eschew ideological talk--he considers it a distraction, each and every one of them weighted down with too much "specific baggage." This is a reasonable point, but it is also an effective rhetorical move by which to begin his response, because it means that he wants to move away an intellectual consideration of the from the different ways in which people might plausibly organize and package together the various theories of politics and society which their foundational beliefs potentially support. In place of such (arguably ahistorical) intellectual considerations, he proposes that we look solely at different "isms" as "party-ideas"--and that, of course, means that we must ask first of all what parties are advancing those ideas. Looked at in such a way, he is able to more firmly associate Red Toryism with "Toryism simpliciter" the "red" part of the label being a mere "retro-fit (like 'pocketwatch') that only has to be invented after some other version has come around." Red Toryism is, therefore, just another iteration of the party-idea of Toryism, meaning conservatism more generally. And who are the conservatives? Jacob answers:

Conservatism is the party-idea of slowing the pace of change, of preserving order and returning to real or imagined lost virtues and communal ways of life. One part of conservatism’s base has traditionally been the armed agents of the state--the military and police. But the rest of its social base has an odd character. It is the alliance of the rural landlord and the rural peasant, of the established-church priest and his relatively poor flock. It is the party idea of resisting the changes associated with the urban middle class and working class alike, of protecting traditional ways of life (including, importantly, traditional hierarchies) against the disruptions associated with both markets and politics....

[C]onservatism is bitterly anticapitalist, much as it is anti-urban and for much the same reasons. The traditional rural elite finds that the creative destruction of the market threatens his status; the traditional rural poor resent that the city draws away their young to a godless and promiscuous life while also disrupting their stable economy. A local economy based on primary goods (farming, fishing) could be stable for generations, and then suddenly become uncompetitive for mysterious reasons of finance or long-distance trade, apparently decided far away by other people. Conservatism as a party-idea is in large part the attempt to defend against those disruptions — or to express resentment after they take place.


By setting up the argument along these terms, Jacob makes it plain that in arguing against Blond--and really, arguing against the very notion of Red Toryism in general--he is in fact arguing against "the party of the traditional elite," one which gains the support "of those they have traditionally dominated" by offering them an "alliance...against the tacky, educated, often-Jewish new money city slicker." And moreover, since "the aristocrat sets the terms of the alliance," it is a given that the avocations of the rural, the local, and the traditional, are really negligible in the debate: this is a debate between those who support the spread of personal liberty (the party of "liberalism") and those elites who benefit from the wealth it creates, but who also have no wish to see its opportunities shared by any who is not already part of their class.

Let me admit to the obvious: there is much truth to be uncovered by looking at Red Toryism solely through this frame. It is, of course, true that anyone sympathetic to preserving small communities and front porches, who praises the virtues of farming villages and local economies, is going to have to, one way or another, confront the fact that they are talking in terms of limits, restrictions, and boundaries, and obviously those who are already on the inside of those lines (whether cultural, moral, economic, or political) are in a position to benefit to the exclusion of others. There may, of course, be a host of reasonable arguments to support any number of such arrangements, but one cannot pretend that it doesn't at least potentially involve a certain level of self-righteousness, of territoriality, of close-mindedness and defensive superiority...all of which are exactly the faults so stereotypically--yet also, to be sure, often accurately--attributed to the aristocrats, elites, and upper-classes that make up the pantheon of reviled Fat Cats throughout history. So does this mean that the jig is up: that people sympathetic to Red Toryism have to recognize that their talk of "paternalism and protectionism, [and] the insulation of the poor from market forces" is really just all about protecting the privileges of aristocracy?

I don't think so, and the reason why begins with the limits of Jacob's framing of his analysis. For he leaves another party-idea out almost entirely: socialism. Jacob does acknowledge the fact of this constellation of views, but as it "quintessentially represented the interests of the organized industrial working class, and disproportionately represented the ideas of professional intellectuals and urban artists," he simply does not take it seriously as an element of the Red Tory package. In this Jacob is, surprisingly, voices a perspective on the possibility of a Red Tory ideology that is actually a kind of simplistic mirror image of that which Peter Lawler has regularly advanced on the Postmodern Conservative blog: that Red Toryism is just a weird, incoherent longing by socialists or Marxists or various wanna-bes to see "Tory values" protected or promoted, all of whom fail to understand that putting socialist alongside anything conservative is simply oxymoronic. So for for both Jacob and Peter, Red Toryism is just a confused conservatism, only for Peter it is redeemable (because it is, after all, "Tory"), and for Jacob it isn't (because it isn't liberal). Both of these perspectives are, I think, wrong for essentially the same reason: they fail to appreciate that the Red Tory idea, properly understood, is a left or socialist conservatism, not a traditionalism that happened to oddly pick up a few egalitarian rhetorical tropes along the way.

No doubt Jacob could develop a strong argument against this reading of Red Toryism; after all, if we want to think about "party ideas," then the Red Tory idea was born in Canada, where Jacob now resides. The party which advanced it was a gang of various intellectuals and patriots who sought, in different ways, from the late 19th up through the mid-20th centuries, to borrow the progressive elements of Benjamin Disraeli's "one nation conservatism" and apply them to continent-spanning, mostly classless, and (at the time, anyway) primarily rural modern state. It grew out of the Cooperative Commonwealth Federation and the Progressive Conservative party; it recognized the necessity of collective action in order to develop egalitarian policies which would benefit and empower diverse localities across the nation, and it assumed the continuity of a common cultural and religious base in order to articulate and harness the democratic support which such collective actions would need to maintain legitimacy. That ideal, quite plainly, never found a strong political basis as Canada became increasingly pluralistic (not to mention constitutionally torn over the place of Quebec in the federation), but its basic communitarian sensibility--a conjoining of egalitarian priorities with a determination to conserve the shared identity (and the various traditional supports that such depends upon) which makes them politically possible--endured in isolated instances throughout Canada, up to the present day. Is it "conservatism"? It is when you look at its professed cultural concerns, but not when you consider who was articulating that ideology, and why, in the first place. Is it "socialism"? Gerry Neal, determined to save Red Toryism from the wanna-bes which Peter mocked in his post, insists it is not:

Toryism...maintains that most basic social unit, the family, is itself prior to the individual, and that society is not a contractual construction of individuals, but a natural outgrowth of the social life that begins in the family. Families live together in neighborhoods, worship together in churches, and out of their cooperation form communities, which generate the customs, traditions, and prescription that form the cultural and social foundation upon which the political and economic edifice which is the country is built. Society is organic, because the institutions which comprise it, have their distinct functions which cooperate together to make the whole work, the way a body’s organs and systems work together....

Society, we are told by progressives and "Red Tories," has a responsibility to the widow and the orphan, to the poor, the sick and the infirm, and to the needy in general. They are correct in principle but err in their application....The welfare-state is not an “organic society”. It is an attempt to re-create by government the organic society which liberalism had sought to destroy. Organic society, however, cannot be created by government fiat. It must grow naturally, out of the everyday communal life that is generated by the cooperative efforts of families, churches, and neighborhoods.


This, then, is the proper argument to have about Red Toryism: not to sideline it by reducing it to conservatism or traditionalism in a simplistic sense, but to ask how, and if, it can propose socialist-egalitarian and culture-respecting policies simultaneously; how and if, that is, it can present a persuasive alternative to straightforward progressivism. Many people doubt that--and one of the reasons why is apparent in the failure of Blond's argument, at least as Jacob presents it, to actually explain what it really is that such culture-conserving policies could theoretically accomplish which progressive liberalism isn't doing already. After all, even if we grant (as I do, at least) that there is something intellectually appealing about the mix of vaguely localist, populist, and socialist values and concerns articulated by Canada's Red Tories and progressive conservatives a half-century ago, something that isn't by definition fatally compromised by the historic taint of the aristocratic landowner and the rich clergyman of yore (a possibility that, as I said above, shouldn't be denied, but has to be confronted and struggled with), there remains the fact that, in the 50 years since, Canada and Great Britain (which is where Blond's ideas arguably may now enjoy a political window of opportunity, though I personally doubt it) and the United States and, really, pretty much the whole of the Western world have become immensely more rich, diverse, complex, interdependent, secular, and individualistic--all of which suggests that Red Toryism, whatever its internal coherence, is less workable and less politically appealing that ever. The usual conservative response is to emphasize the variety of harms which all that liberal progress has visited upon Western states, and thus make cultural conservatism seem more necessary than ever. Blond does exactly that in his essay--and Jacob, mostly, and mostly rightly, makes mincemeat of him:

It is undoubtedly true that there has been a long-term decline in some of those organizations [meaning local governments, trade unions, cooperative societies, civic organizations, etc.]. But, again, there have been variations and cycles, and there is considerable reason to think that the last generation has been better than the one before. At least in the United States...church attendance has shown no measurable decline, and the density of counter-establishment civil society institutions (schools, media outlets, churches, and more) created by fundamentalist Protestants over that time has been stunning. This does nothing for my social capital, but it’s simply false to think that the last generation has seen some new collapse of the intermediate institutions of civil society. It seems to me that Blond is uninterested in such historical niceties, and that he is pronouncing the conservative’s eternal complaint.

For my part, I believe there are plenty of reasons for cultural pessimism, and consequently some room to speak of broad social disorder and decline. But Blond does not, at least not in the aforementioned article, put the emphasis on the proper set of causes--that is, the socio-economic ones, the (let's be blunt) Marxist ones, of social power and inequality. Both he and Deneen are eloquent about the "conspiracy between the state and the market," but neither explain, I think, very clearly exactly why the concentration of power which contemporary government bureaucracies and business corporations enjoy is so resist to the sort of freedom enabled through the application of liberal policies as to necessitate the development of a different, new (or old?) ideological approach. After all, as Jacob ably documents (and reiterates in his response to Patrick), individual freedom enables persons to "create and inhabit and maintain and perpetuate [civic] organizations and institutions"; so why isn't the answer just more liberal freedom?

As I have argued before when speaking of the place of Marxian categories when thinking through the question of localism and traditionalism, Marxism, and socialist thought more generally, concentrates our attention upon basic Rousseauian insights into the production of dependency and alienation in and through individualistic modern life. That's not the only place to find those arguments, of course, and just as surely one may not find them persuasive, but at least that way of thinking puts the proper questions on the table, ones that a liberal like Jacob and a communitarian like Blond (whether he would accept the label or not) can argue over, rather than making it a slam-dunk for those who would paint Red Toryism as a media stunt. As I put it then:

Marx...recognized the truth of the Burkean (though for him it was really more Hegelian, and therefore Rousseauian) insight into the connection between consciousness and communal, historical, material reality. Repairing the human consciousness did not mean a continuing project of subjective liberation, with the aim of making the burdens of modernity privately manageable, but rather addressing issues of power and and place and production that make the transformations of modernity--and most particularly the spaital ones, with solid traditions and properties and roles and locales evaporating into the thin air of free trade and the cash economy--into alienating burdens in the first place....The Rousseauian perspective says, okay, our original, grounded nature has been lost, we're in chains....Rousseau's response (to this problem, and thus Marx's too) preserves true conservative seriousness...it respects the need for embeddedness and connection by suggesting that we remake our chains--that we remake modernity, and resist those who would portray our restless condition as a fait accompli, the emergence of which was inherent to our natures. Why can we do that? Because within and through modernity the deep structure abides; we're just having difficulties actualizing it, because we've been so intent in fighting internecine battles within liberalism that we've ignored all the other ways in which we could be responding to the world.

Of course my language in that final sentence anticipates a reference to the old liberal-communitarian argument, which Jacob also notes:

[Blond's argument] is much the same [as the] complaint that surfaced in Anglo-American political theory in the 1980s and came to be labeled "communitarianism"...One of the most important pieces of writing from that era’s denouement was Michael Walzer’s "The Communitarian Critique of Liberalism"...and [in that article] Walzer saw, as Blond does not, that communitarianism is a permanent feature of and within the life of modern liberal societies, not a root-and-branch critique of them. Its value is corrective--to round sharp corners, soften rough edges, and slow rather than reverse changes.

I've used that very article multiple times before, and Jacob and I can continue to argue over what it conclusively demonstrates and what it doesn't (for what it's worth, I interpret Walzer's argument as foregrounding the question of substantial--meaning moral or cultural or metaphysical--commitments; liberalism can provide a substantive politics, but it can also be a way of involving oneself in a politics with a different, non-liberal substantive grounding). Either way, the point for this post is that Blond, in simply writing off Rousseau (as Jacob smartly puts it, "Blond’s depiction Rousseau has just enough truth in it to be wildly misleading"), Blond empties his attempted articulation of a Red Tory position of exactly that kind of substantively socio-economic critique that someone who truly wants to talk about how the alienating and undemocratic concentrations of political and economic power needs to be countered by promoting and equalizing communities simply must have.

As I said before, I still need to read Blond's book; what I'm dealing with here, and what I am using to frame my response to Jacob's trenchant criticism, is something less than Blond's complete Red Tory argument. Perhaps he has developed, or at least points the way towards developing, a persuasive "party idea" that democratically partakes of both conservatism and socialism equally, and does so without the help of Rousseau, Marx, or anything drawn from the actual egalitarian tradition that animated those who first articulated the Red Tory label a half-century ago. Perhaps--but I am doubtful. In the meantime, Jacob has obliged me to raise the philosophical bar for Blond's arguments even higher...but he hasn't convinced me that, whatever the limitations of his own articulation of this particular ideological vision, the vision itself isn't worth continuing to pursue.

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Canada Day Round-Up

Happy Canada Day to my friends in Toronto, Montreal, and elsewhere across the Great White North. Herewith, a few Canadian hits from blog posts past:

Some old thoughts of mine about Canada, Red Tories, conservatism and Stephen Harper, slightly updated for Front Porch Republic, can be found here.

Some not-quite-so-old thoughts, focusing on communitarianism, Quebec, the philosophy of Charles Taylor and the fate of Canada, can be found here.

Because it sparked such a fine and fun comments thread last time around, here it is again--my Top 10 Things I Like About Canada list:

10) Rush, Barenaked Ladies, The Guess Who, and Gordon Lightfoot. I have no idea if one could make a cultural argument that there is anything particularly Canadian that all of them share, but anyway, my life would be worse without them.

9) Red Tories. A historical label which not only reflected pretty much exactly the sort of democratic political ideology (economically agrarian and egalitarian, politically communitarian, culturally traditionalist, religiously Christian) that I like, but which also describes a variety of relatively successful real-world political movements and politicians that--had I been a Canadian voter 50 years ago--would have had very close to my complete support, maybe even more than America's own Populists from a century or more ago would have gotten from me. (Forget about Harper's Conservatives and the New Democratic Party, everyone: let's bring the old Progressive Conservatives and the Cooperative Commonwealth Federation!)

8) Point Peele National Park. A small peninsula jutting southward from the Canadian mainland into Lake Erie, it's a beautiful stretch of forest and beach where my wife's family--she grew up in Michigan--used to spend their July 4th holidays (a smart way to avoid the crowds and get some good swimming in).

7) Relative avoidance of sugar processed from high fructose corn syrup. Once when we were visiting the Ontario Science Centre, we saw a display--in some sort of health exhibit--on the manufacturing of sugar and the relative amounts consumed by residents of the U.S. and residents of Canada. Our sugar consumption towered over theirs...primarily because most of our sugar intake comes from corn syrup, which we put into everything. It was an early part of our determination to change what we eat.

6) Speaking of food...Shreddies. Enough said.

5) Toronto. Yes, it's too big, and too expensive, and it dominates English-speaking Canada's economic, cultural, political and intellectual life to an unjustifiable degree. But a cleaner, more multicultural, more fun big city you're not likely ever to find.

4) Socialized medicine. Of course, it's not really socialized medicine; various levels of government only cover a little over two-thirds of all heath care costs in the country, and the providers are a patchwork of government-run, for-profit, and non-profit organizations. But it's universal care, and your basic medical needs don't cost you an arm and a leg (sometimes literally), and besides, my oldest friend from graduate school, James Meloche, helps run one of the Local Health Integration Networks in Ontario. That's good enough for me.

3) The intellectual problem of Canada. Why do I find Canada's perpetual crises over language rights, sovereignty, religious freedom and more, as embodied in questions about constitutionality, Quebec's unique cultural and political status, and the future of the Canadian federation itself--and reflected in documents from the Constitution Act to the Meech Lake Accord to today's Commission on Accommodation--so engaging and admirable? Because they actually exist: it's political theory made real. Unlike other nations that ponder in the abstract about nationality and identity, in Canada you find all these issues, which are usually just fodder for pretentious intellectuals like myself, being treated with great seriousness by actual politicians and parties and voters. The fact that our divided neighbors to the north have been able to survive intact--as a distinct nation with the smaller nation of Quebec still a part of it, despite all the conflicts and all the talk of separation for so long--is due to the hard work and aspirations of millions of ordinary Canadians who have taken the time to think and talk about sort of difficult matters which most citizens in most democratic societies would prefer to leave alone, so all credit to them. (Though, to give pretentious intellectuals a nod, it's probably not a coincidence that Canada has produced some of truly profound political thinkers, none more so than Charles Taylor, the--in my opinion--greatest political and moral philosopher of the 20th century.)

2) SCTV. Better than Monty Python? Um...no, not really. But better than any of the many incarnations of Saturday Night Live over the years? Oh yes, definitely.

1) The loonie. Why have a one-dollar coin? For luck, of course.


And finally, some parting and very Canadian advice for all of us, from Bob and Doug McKenzie and Geddy Lee:

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Ten Things I Like About Canada (In Honor of Canada Day)

Herewith, a partly serious, partly humorous, entirely personal tribute to our fine neighbors in Great White North:

10) Rush, Barenaked Ladies, The Guess Who, and Gordon Lightfoot. I have no idea if one could make a cultural argument that there is anything particularly Canadian that all of them share, but anyway, my life would be worse without them.

9) Red Tories. A historical label which not only reflected pretty much exactly the sort of democratic political ideology (economically agrarian and egalitarian, politically communitarian, culturally traditionalist, religiously Christian) that I like, but which also describes a variety of relatively successful real-world political movements and politicians that--had I been a Canadian voter 50 years ago--would have had very close to my complete support, maybe even more than America's own Populists from a century or more ago would have gotten from me. (Forget about Harper's Conservatives and the New Democratic Party, everyone: let's bring the old Progressive Conservatives and the Cooperative Commonwealth Federation!)

8) Point Peele National Park. A small peninsula jutting southward from the Canadian mainland into Lake Erie, it's a beautiful stretch of forest and beach where my wife's family--she grew up in Michigan--used to spend their July 4th holidays (a smart way to avoid the crowds and get some good swimming in).

7) Relative avoidance of sugar processed from high fructose corn syrup. Once when we were visiting the Ontario Science Centre, we saw a display--in some sort of health exhibit--on the manufacturing of sugar and the relative amounts consumed by residents of the U.S. and residents of Canada. Our sugar consumption towered over theirs...primarily because most of our sugar intake comes from corn syrup, which we put into everything. It was an early part of our determination to change what we eat.

6) Speaking of food...Shreddies. Enough said.

5) Toronto. Yes, it's too big, and too expensive, and it dominates English-speaking Canada's economic, cultural, political and intellectual life to an unjustifiable degree. But a cleaner, more multicultural, more fun big city you're not likely ever to find.

4) Socialized medicine. Of course, it's not really socialized medicine; various levels of government only cover a little over two-thirds of all heath care costs in the country, and the providers are a patchwork of government-run, for-profit, and non-profit organizations. But it's universal care, and your basic medical needs don't cost you an arm and a leg (sometimes literally), and besides, my oldest friend from graduate school, James Meloche, helps run one of the Local Health Integration Networks in Ontario. That's good enough for me.

3) The intellectual problem of Canada. Why do I find Canada's perpetual crises over language rights, sovereignty, religious freedom and more, as embodied in questions about constitutionality, Quebec's unique cultural and political status, and the future of the Canadian federation itself--and reflected in documents from the Constitution Act to the Meech Lake Accord to today's Commission on Accommodation--so engaging and admirable? Because they actually exist: it's political theory made real. Unlike other nations that ponder in the abstract about nationality and identity, in Canada you find all these issues, which are usually just fodder for pretentious intellectuals like myself, being treated with great seriousness by actual politicians and parties and voters. The fact that our divided neighbors to the north have been able to survive intact--as a distinct nation with the smaller nation of Quebec still a part of it, despite all the conflicts and all the talk of separation for so long--is due to the hard work and aspirations of millions of ordinary Canadians who have taken the time to think and talk about sort of difficult matters which most citizens in most democratic societies would prefer to leave alone, so all credit to them. (Though, to give pretentious intellectuals a nod, it's probably not a coincidence that Canada has produced some of truly profound political thinkers, none more so than Charles Taylor, the--in my opinion--greatest political and moral philosopher of the 20th century.)

2) SCTV. Better than Monty Python? Um...no, not really. But better than any of the many incarnations of Saturday Night Live over the years? Oh yes, definitely.

1) The loonie. Why have a one-dollar coin? For luck, of course.

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

The Future of Communitarianism and (or in) Quebec

I finally got around to reading the 99-paged abridged report--formally titled "Building The Future: A Time For Reconciliation"--of the findings and recommendations of Quebec's "Consultation Commission on Accommodation Practices Related to Cultural Differences." It hasn't attracted much comment from the American blogosphere, though it should--I can't think of another work of public political thinking nearly as careful yet ambitious and serious as this.

Why did I read it? For a couple of reasons. First, because I care about Canadian politics (see here and here for examples)--partly because of old friends we have there, partly because my family and I have spent a fair amount of time there, but mostly because I think Canada's political environment brings forward issues and ideas that we rarely see expressed in the United States, and yet which are, I suspect, crucial to the future of the modern liberal polity. Of course, this isn't an original observation. Canada's convoluted constitutional arrangements, its struggles over language rights, its frequent arguments over national identity: all have been used creatively and thoughtfully by many scholars in recent decades to explore multiculturalism, liberalism, nationalism and so forth...with the not incidental result of pushing more than a few Canadian philosophers and political theorists who know this material best to the forefront of their respective fields, the greatest example of which clearly being Charles Taylor. Which leads me to the second reason I read the report: Taylor was the co-author of it, along with the sociologist Gérard Bouchard (though both of these men are bilingual, it was typical for Quebec to appoint co-chairs to the Commission, an Anglophone--Taylor--and a Francophone--Bouchard). Sucker for communitarian philosophy that I am, I've read just about everything by Taylor that I could get my hands on (and yes, my blogging of A Secular Age will start...soon) for years now, and this report wasn't going to be an exception. And I'm glad for that, since it was very much worth my time.

To put it in a nutshell, Quebec faces a constant quandary, a question about how to maintain elements of its particular constitutive cultural identity (which is itself hardly that of an isolated, inclosed, premodern Amish community, but rather is actually quite modern and liberal, as far as these things go) in the midst of both the larger multicultural reality without--the federation of Canada, of course, though also in a sense all of North America--and the emerging challenge of multicultural accommodation within--represented in this report mostly by Muslim ethnic and religious movements, but more broadly pertaining to many other such internal challenges as well. In writing this report, Taylor and Bouchard have essentially written an instruction manual for liberal nationalists and communitarians everywhere. What the report has to say about "interculturalism," "harmonization," "public language," and more, all gives examples of what the practical project of maintaining a community--a community without the advantage of being tiny or the ward of an overarching pluralistic state, but rather a community which sees itself as a "nation" and thus must governs itself in light of international trends and realities--requires today.

The background story of the report is pretty straightforward. A little more than a year ago, following a series of continuing controversies over immigration and cultural (in)sensitivity that had grown in intensity (though the report suggests that much of that supposed intensity has been the product of media-enabled misperceptions on all sides), the Quebec government called for the formation of a commission to conduct public hearings, investigate legal claims and allegations, and make recommendations as to how Quebec ought to handle such controversies in the future. The overarching goal was to articulate, within the context of the sort of society Quebec is and presumably wants to remain, a policy regarding the "reasonable accommodation" of diversity and minority claims which greater numbers of Quebecers could accept. This led to the appointment of Bouchard and Taylor, and the beginnings of a long process of dialogue with dozens of communities and representative groups, a great many of which led, unfortunately, to the airing of paranoia and suspicion, and sometimes outright bigotry. Jacob Levy--nicely ensconced at McGill University in Montreal--followed this process for months, and with the completion of the commission's task and publication of its findings and recommendations, he conducted a fine online summary discussion of the report with Globe and Mail readers. Jacob has been able to talk to Taylor about the report, and Taylor is apparently optimistic about it effects; despite the fact that, as Jacob documents, the government of Jean Charest in Quebec immediately squelched the report's most prominent suggested reform--that the crucifix which hangs on a wall in the Quebec National Assembly be removed--Taylor apparently feels that the simple fact that the commission did what it did (note that the front cover of the report carries the slogan, "dialogue makes a difference") will contribute to an improvement in feelings in Quebec...or, at the very least, will have helped prevent feelings and actions from getting much worse.

The report is filled with numerous small details that I would think anyone interested in issues of religion, culture, and democracy would find fascinating. (That France combines a rigorous official secularism with extremely generous state support of religious schooling, for example.) But for those who care about Quebec, Canada, and what both might have to teach the U.S. about community and culture in our late-modern world, there are a few key points in the report which deserve special attention:

1. No amount of theorizing can deny basic demographic and economic choices.

Despite the wishes and fears of unreconstructed, rural, Catholic Quebecers (whether such people are real and numerous or mostly just brought into existence by worried conservatives), communities change, and the basic foundation for those changes are to be found in how individuals in a free society choose to act. The reports spells about those choices and changes bluntly:

Readers should keep in mind that our reflection is delineated by the basic societal choices that Quebecers have made in recent decades. Their low birthrate and desire to sustain demographic and economic growth have led them to opt for immigration. At the same time, many Quebecers have abandoned religious practice and have distanced themselves from the French-Canadian identity in favor of the new Quebec identity. They have also decided (until further notice) to belong to Canada and, consequently, have come under the jurisdiction of its intitutions. They have undertaken to shift to globalization and, as the common expression would have it, "openness to the world." (Abridged Commission Report, pg. 11)

This is not to say that Taylor and Bouchard discerned an easy liberalism hiding beneath the stated preferences of Quebecers, and make recommendations accordingly: they emphasized and respected the deeply felt uniqueness and precariousness of Quebec's situation, acknowledging that, as a "small nation" it is understandable that Quebec is "constantly concerned about its future as a cultural minority" (pg. 40), and that "for Quebecers of French-Canadian descent, the combination of their majority status in Quebec and their minority status in Canada and North America is not easy" (pg. 75). But their ultimate conclusion is once balanced by the communal and moral concerns which invariably follow in the wake of economic and demographic choices:

French-speaking Quebec is a minority culture and needs a strong identity to allay its anxieties and behave like a serene majority. This is the first lesson we should draw from recent events. The identity inherited from the French-Canadian past is perfectly legitimate and it must survive, but it can no longer occupy alone the Quebec identity space. It must hinge on the other identities present, in a spirit of interculturalism, in order to prevent fragmentation and exclusion....[I]t is a question of sustaining through symbols and imagination the common public culture, which is made up of universal values and rights, but without disfiguring it (pg. 75).

2. Interculturalism as a communitarian response to multicultural realities in liberal states.

The report defines "interculturalism" as the preferred mode of response to cultural controversies for Quebec, distinguishing itself from the policy of multiculturalism employed elsewhere in Canada, given that in the rest of Canada "anxiety over language is not an important factor" and that "there is no longer a majority ethnic group...citizens of British origin account for 34% of the [Canadian] population, while citizens of French-Canadian origin make up a strong majority of the population of Quebec, i.e. roughly 77%" (pg. 39). Interculturalism as a policy thus makes sense of how a dominant (but still basically modern and liberal) cultural majority should act upon and deal with diversity: rather than abandoning cultural history and identity entirely to individual choice, rights and differences should be respected and accommodated in light of certain public continuities and practices that have a genuine moral weight in themselves. For Quebec these include, first and foremost, "French as the common public language," as "the intercultural approach would hardly have any meaning if Quebecers were unable to communicate with each other in the same language"; following this comes the importance of the formal "development of a feeling of belonging to Quebec society" through school curricula and "symbols of collective life," all of which is premised upon "[t]he associative idea that places intercultural exchanges in the realm of concrete, citizen action" (pgs. 88-89). Democracy and dialogue are not to be seen primarily in terms of acknowledging and accounting for individual preferences, but as ways to interactively articulate and thereby identify (and help to integrate) common contexts and points of consensus in the midst of cultural diversity. Taylor's deep commitment to certain aspects of the civic republican ideal are clear here: the liberal communitarian or nationalist has to believe that the constitutive underpinnings and worth of their nation or community is not static, trapped in the past and under constant assault, but rather that--note: given shared modes of expression and participation--one's nation or community can grow, adapt, even change, without undermining the value it collectively offers to those beholden to it. (Having been much influenced by Taylor, and in turn by Herder here, this is why I tend to believe that language policy, while surely not disconnected from immigration policy, is nonetheless far more important than it.) And moreover, this adaptation shouldn't be framed in terms of individual rights, but rather as collective harmonization.

3. Local harmony and open secularism as opposed to top-down equality.

Going along with their commitment to delineating exactly what, on the basis of their studies and their public dialogues, Quebec does and does not wanting to see done about the issues of cultural difference, Taylor and Bouchard firmly state that "Quebec's political system is both democratic and liberal," in that "political power ultimately resides with the people," but also that "individual rights and freedoms are deemed to be fundamental and are thus confirmed and protected by the State" (pg. 35). Moreover, those who participated in the commission's public consultations "massively espoused the concept of secularism" (pg. 43). But this gets to the heart of one of the largest problems which the commission faced, namely: what kind of "secularism" is appropriate for a nation where Catholicism has had such a deep and longstanding impact, especially when the secularism of post-"Quiet Revolution" seems to many Quebecers of French-Canadian descent to contrast poorly with the aggressive piety of many Muslim and Sikh immigrants? What accommodations are truly fair and proper, in such an environment? How to address the arguable ostentation of certain immigrant religious practices in light of the historical vestiges of Quebec's own once-dominant symbols, rituals, and practices?

Again, the important point seems not to be necessarily the content of proposed accommodations, but the manner in which they are achieved. (Which--going back again to Jacob's comments--would suggest that the real problem wasn't the Assembly's refusal to go along with the report's recommendation that the crucifix be moved from the Assembly Hall to a different location, but the speedy and almost contemptuous way they did it.) Throughout the report, Taylor and Bouchard are critical of a too-quick resort to the courts and juridical solutions, as opposed to following the lead of managers and interveners--whether they be social workers, union representatives, public affairs committees, neighborhood groups, or others--who are actually working in the field. They call this the tendency to go the "legal route" rather than the "citizen route" of "concerted adjustment" (pg. 51-52). Frequently, in their judgment, the accusations and animosities which lead to public outcries and demands for action spring not from those addressing the dilemma itself, finding instead that often those actually striving to come up with local compromise solutions--especially those dealing with religious claims and differences--end up coming very close to those outcomes which the statements of rights which Quebec (both as a province and as a part of Canada) has committed itself to seem to require, and with less hostility along the way. Such adjustments are part of an "open secularism"--a commitment to a neutral state which recognizes that neutrality itself to be a particular historical and cultural construction, with its own (post-)religious elements as part of it, and therefore a construction whose basic principles are not necessarily compromised by various local religious allowances, regarding food, dress, educational practices, and so forth. Extending a little bit beyond the actual wording of the report here, it seems that Taylor and Bouchard believe that part of the reason for the increase in apparent hostility on broader levels of inquiry and action is that, when conflicts and adjustments are allowed to reach that point, overarching principles of "equal treatment" become voiced ever more vociferously, with the unanticipated result of making different responses to specific problems seem "unfair," when in fact it is the reaction to them which potentially increases--by shifting--the unfairness. The report spells it out thusly:

Sociologically speaking, we have observed that a number of apparently neutral or universal norms in actual fact reproduce worldviews, values, and implicit norms that are those of the majority culture or population....Even if they do not exclude a priori any individual or group, these provisions can nonetheless lead to discrimination toward individuals because of specific traits such as a temporary or permanent physical disability, age, or religious belief. It follows that absolute rigor in the application of legislation and regulations is not always synonymous with fairness....[T]he right to equality and freedom of religion do not necessarily have as a corollary uniformity or homogeneity. According to jurists, a given right may demand adjustments in treatment that must not b equated with privileges or exemptions since they are intended to remedy a flaw in the application of a statute or a regulation. As the experts have expressed it, a treatment can be differential without being preferential.

"Differential without being preferential." For the United States, which continues to operate for the most part--legally, at least, though in much of our popular and political culture as well--under the fiction that we don't have, don't want to have, and don't need to have a common, constitutive culture (instead, we supposedly have a disembodied "creed"...as if ethnicities and nationalities and cultures don't have ideological and civic aspects to them as well), a line like this one is important. It reminds us the assimilation of cultures--or, worse, the making-irrelevant of cultures through globalization--isn't the only possible response to diversity which still respects liberal equality and freedoms. You could instead, as Taylor and Bouchard encourage their fellow Quebecers to do, take culture seriously...which means, in a liberal state at least, making the decisions necessary to make collective participation in it both available and important to all, and then adapting the particulars of the various aspects of your community accordingly. Sounds like a plan to me.

There's much more in the report than this, of course, with a great many specifics, arising from debates over kosher food, the kirpan, headscarves, and more. If you're into political or legal or cultural debates, do yourself a favor: print it out, and give the whole thing a read. This is one work of "public philosophy" that I suspect will be cited for many years to come.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

On Blackberries, Canada, and Conservatism

Yes, it's another one of those big, summarizing "on" posts. But see what's the connection this time? I don't have a Blackberry, I'm not Canadian, and my relationship to contemporary conservatism is complicated, to say the least, so why the post?

Well, the post came together in my head through a column by John Ibbitson in The Globe and Mail (via Laura Turner), written on the day of Canada's federal elections last Monday. I followed the contest between Stephen Harper of the Conservative Party and everyone else fairly closely, at least for an American; we have close friends in Toronto, and Canadian politics and political thinking has always interested me. But there was another reason why I followed the campaign news from Canada, one that perhaps only makes sense in the context of my relationship to the rather paltry political continuum which marks the limits of most politics in the U.S.: in Canada, there are Tories, and I wish we had some here.

Except that the Conservative Party in Canada today, though called "Tory," isn't really, at least not in the way I like to use the term. What am I looking for? I'm looking for Red Tories in the original sense--the noble, old-fashioned "conservative" mix of religion, egalitarianism, self-government and national populism, which goes back to Benjamin Disraeli and John MacDonald, and found strong expression in Canada through the Progressive Conservative Party of John Diefenbaker and Robert Stanfield. We don't have Tories in the U.S. Oh sure, someone will occasionally pull the term out of their hat, but it has no real meaning in the overwhelmingly liberal (philosophically speaking) terrain of American society: the number of people who identify their conservatism with a need to protect social goods and promote social justice and virtue through community and state action is vanishingly small. It'd be wonderful to be able to vote for such a candidate someday, and so whenever an election is called in Canada, I find myself watching the Conservative party, hoping to see someone flying my preferred banner. That hope is mostly in vain though. Sure, the Canadian Conservatives are a lot more comfortable with social programs than American "conservatives" are; it's a much more "moderate" or even, in a crude sense, "socialist" party as far as that goes, and good for them. But for all that, Stephen Harper didn't run and win his minority government as a Red Tory; the fact is, he barely ran as a Tory at all. The Ibbitson column I mentioned above explains why:

[Whoever wins,] the Canada that Canada is becoming will carry on. The immigrants will continue to arrive by the hundreds of thousands each year; hundreds of thousands of native-born Canadians will leave, or be driven from, rural life. The Conservatives cannot stop these exoduses. And so either Mr. Harper will continue the transformation of his party, seeking to infuse the urban reality of Canadian society with a dynamic conservatism--and yes, the two can co-exist--or he will let his party and his soul become hostage to the resentful, rural redoubt that still lurks in the wings.

There is a posture of inevitability in this passage, which carries the assumption that "dynamic conservatism" is the only possible, respectful conservatism these days, the only conservatism that isn't the refuge of "resentful" losers out on the farm. Of course, what Ibbitson really means by dynamic conservatism is the "conservatism" which has been polished into a bright sheen by Republicans (and Democrats!) in the U.S. since the Reagan administration, if not earlier: that is, neoliberalism with some nice communitarian and localist rhetoric thrown in. It's all about the suburbs and the corporations, tax cuts and law and order, growth and trade. The farm, the community, the nation: those are all well and good, but they need to be taught their place. And let's not pretend that isn't an attractive package! The majority of Americans, and with every passing year more and more Canadians as well, have embraced in practice (but perhaps more importantly in principle) a liberal and liberated and urbanized version of modern life, where commerce is quick and homes are interchangeable and borders are open and change is constant and the internet connects everybody anyway. What we want is our neighborhoods clean, our tax burden low, our civic obligations minimal and our government out of our business. Of course, for many liberals this would be the point where my analysis breaks down: a lot of the political muscle behind this "conservatism," in the U.S. and, again, increasingly in Canada as well, comes from various Christian groups that have very strong opinions about how the government ought to involve itself in our (moral) business. Fair enough; certain elements of what might be called Toryism survive. But since for the most part they are not combined with anything like a genuinely populist and egalitarian socio-economic platform, the whole package of "dynamic conservatism" fails, at least in my view. But when liberalism--as expressed by both Canadian Liberals and American Democrats--mostly fails to make much of a communal or moral connection with the people (much less actually offer an alternative to the ideology of growth), all the people for the most part have left is the question of who to blame for high taxes and high unemployment and high crime, and the "dynamic" capitalists will always have a persuasive answer to that question, at least.

Yesterday, Laura McKenna shared another one those stories she is so good at getting to the heart of: how her husband is being pressured to spend even more time at work and away from her and the kids so that he can "get ahead," and how his boss wants him to carry a Blackberry--because, of course, there's so much important work to be done that you really ought to make sure you can read the latest e-mails from The Man at any time of the day. A typical tale of high-pressure corporate life, you say; true, but also, as Laura notes, another bit of supporting evidence for her conclusion that "corporate life is the enemy of the modern family." My friend and frequent antagonist Nate Oman takes exception to this conclusion: he's no ally of those who embrace the "super-turbo-charged-24/7/365-at-the-office" ethos which characterizes so much of modern corporate capitalist practice, but doesn't think the Blackberry supports such--on the contrary, he sees the Blackberry, and the world of constant and interchangeable information which it is just one very small part of, as a triumph of networks over hierarchy, a liberation of energy and activity (and time) which has torn apart the old socio-economic contract in favor of a much more meritocratic one. He admits that a "a reward system based on results" is more competitive, less secure, and less forgiving that the old system, but as it is also more "flexible," perhaps it is, ultimately, even more friendly to families than all that came before. (Or at least, that's what I read you as saying, Nate; no doubt you'll correct me if I'm wrong....)

The modern world is, practically by definition, a flexible one. As political revolution, social atomization, and technological innovation makes for ever more options and opportunities, all we individuals want is to be better able to respond to it, to go with its flow, to bend with it. The old Red Tory idea--and it's not just theirs; it's an idea that existed at the heart of practically every serious populist or egalitarian movement of the past three hundred years--was that, of course, we need flexibility....but we also need to make sure everyone is guaranteed a place, a home, a society, a space beyond the pace of the market, wherein they can put down roots and so be able to bend without breaking or being bowled over. No one who isn't psychopathically libertarian can honestly deny this, not even the neoliberals who call themselves "conservative" today. And so in America the Republicans associate themselves with the religious right, and at manage to keep various family values issues on the table; and the Democrats (despite the wishes of some of their big-city blue-state mandarins) keep trying to keep farmers and unions and those concerned about consequences of globalization politically viable. And in Canada, the Liberals rightly defend their country's attempt to make health care a duty of the whole; while across the aisle at least the Conservative government will presumably put a stop (for a while, anyway) to now ex-Prime Minister Paul Martin's desperate last-minute promise to get rid of the "notwithstanding" clause in the Canadian constitution--supposedly a threat to rights of individual Canadians everywhere but in fact one of the truly and admirably localist (or at least regionalist) aspects of Canadian politics. So yes, there are still options for populists out there; some good compromises can sometimes be made, here and there. But for the most part, whatever their more superficial political differences, the way Nate sees the world is probably about the same way John Ibbitson sees the world--and, on the basis of the evidence, it's a way of seeing the world that Stephen Harper has little problem committing himself to. I bet he carries a Blackberry.