In Washington, even us rubes have a say
Monday, 6 December 2004
Ted Byfield
The Liberal rejectee Sheila Copps, now reborn as a newspaper columnist, had a somber comment on the American election. "A house divided against itself," she intoned, "cannot stand." The person who actually said this was Jesus Christ, an authority she has not been in the habit of quoting in the past.
But she was not alone in her observation. The schism in the American electorate--portrayed as grievous, shocking, alarming--was deplored by most of the Canadian print media. None managed to take into account, however, that much the same divide has been demonstrated in Canada for the last three general elections, and over many of the same issues--"family values" prominent among them.
Yet here it is rarely viewed as particularly dire. We do not perceive ourselves as a nation philosophically split down the geographic middle. Rather, we are viewed as a people resolutely behind the Liberal agenda, except for a few rubes in the outback who haven't caught up with the times.
To bolster the rube theory, the Canadian split is widely portrayed as an urban versus rural phenomenon, the West being "rural," and Real Canada--meaning Toronto, Montreal and Ottawa--being urban. This ignores the fact that the supposedly "rural" Tories carried Greater Vancouver, Calgary, Edmonton and half of Winnipeg. The split is not urban-rural. It is East-West. But why, one wonders, is it regarded as ominously dangerous in the U.S., and a trivial nuisance in Canada?
One reason is the vast constitutional distinction between the two countries. Ours was established to assure the permanent ascendancy of Toronto and Montreal. If any region threatens this, the federal authority is there to crush the upstart. The institution that prevents this in the U.S. is the Senate. Its powers are awesome, and all the states share that power equally. Our Senate, because it is appointed rather than elected, has been reduced to a retirement home for federal sycophants. So, in Washington, the outback matters. In Ottawa, it does not.
Then there's the American institution of the referendum. Eleven states voted on the question of gay marriage and it was almost everywhere trounced. This scares activist politicians and judges, so that gay marriage in the U.S. is now a dead issue.
But Canadians are customarily denied referendums because, we're told, they're "divisive." That is, they may go the wrong way from the point of view of our rulers. Take, for example, the disastrous consequences of one of the few referendums we were allowed--the Charlottetown Accord. The people voted wrong; Ottawa was appalled. Democracy is all very well, they said, but when it gets to the point where the public begins to interfere with the proper running of government, it has plainly got out of hand. The rubes could take over.
Something else about these referendums was observed by Edmonton columnist Lorne Gunter. The margins by which gay marriage was rejected in those 11 states were remarkably greater than the margins by which George W. Bush was favoured in them. In other words, tens of thousands of voters must have voted for John Kerry but against gay marriage. This told the Democrats that opposition to gay marriage is very powerful among their own people, and the Democrats can therefore be expected to back away from it. By denying us referendums, Canada escapes such awkward manifestations of public opinion.
Somebody in the election aftermath produced a comic map, showing "the United States of Canada," as a single horseshoe-shaped country, extending up the west coast from California, through Canada, and down the American eastern seaboard, thereby enclosing "the United States of America," consisting of the American South and West, in the center of the horseshoe.
The map was inaccurate. The real cultural geography of North America would have to put much of the Canadian West in with "the United States of America," and, unless something is done soon to change the Canadian system, that cultural reality could easily become the political reality as well.
Monday, 6 December 2004
Ted Byfield
The Liberal rejectee Sheila Copps, now reborn as a newspaper columnist, had a somber comment on the American election. "A house divided against itself," she intoned, "cannot stand." The person who actually said this was Jesus Christ, an authority she has not been in the habit of quoting in the past.
But she was not alone in her observation. The schism in the American electorate--portrayed as grievous, shocking, alarming--was deplored by most of the Canadian print media. None managed to take into account, however, that much the same divide has been demonstrated in Canada for the last three general elections, and over many of the same issues--"family values" prominent among them.
Yet here it is rarely viewed as particularly dire. We do not perceive ourselves as a nation philosophically split down the geographic middle. Rather, we are viewed as a people resolutely behind the Liberal agenda, except for a few rubes in the outback who haven't caught up with the times.
To bolster the rube theory, the Canadian split is widely portrayed as an urban versus rural phenomenon, the West being "rural," and Real Canada--meaning Toronto, Montreal and Ottawa--being urban. This ignores the fact that the supposedly "rural" Tories carried Greater Vancouver, Calgary, Edmonton and half of Winnipeg. The split is not urban-rural. It is East-West. But why, one wonders, is it regarded as ominously dangerous in the U.S., and a trivial nuisance in Canada?
One reason is the vast constitutional distinction between the two countries. Ours was established to assure the permanent ascendancy of Toronto and Montreal. If any region threatens this, the federal authority is there to crush the upstart. The institution that prevents this in the U.S. is the Senate. Its powers are awesome, and all the states share that power equally. Our Senate, because it is appointed rather than elected, has been reduced to a retirement home for federal sycophants. So, in Washington, the outback matters. In Ottawa, it does not.
Then there's the American institution of the referendum. Eleven states voted on the question of gay marriage and it was almost everywhere trounced. This scares activist politicians and judges, so that gay marriage in the U.S. is now a dead issue.
But Canadians are customarily denied referendums because, we're told, they're "divisive." That is, they may go the wrong way from the point of view of our rulers. Take, for example, the disastrous consequences of one of the few referendums we were allowed--the Charlottetown Accord. The people voted wrong; Ottawa was appalled. Democracy is all very well, they said, but when it gets to the point where the public begins to interfere with the proper running of government, it has plainly got out of hand. The rubes could take over.
Something else about these referendums was observed by Edmonton columnist Lorne Gunter. The margins by which gay marriage was rejected in those 11 states were remarkably greater than the margins by which George W. Bush was favoured in them. In other words, tens of thousands of voters must have voted for John Kerry but against gay marriage. This told the Democrats that opposition to gay marriage is very powerful among their own people, and the Democrats can therefore be expected to back away from it. By denying us referendums, Canada escapes such awkward manifestations of public opinion.
Somebody in the election aftermath produced a comic map, showing "the United States of Canada," as a single horseshoe-shaped country, extending up the west coast from California, through Canada, and down the American eastern seaboard, thereby enclosing "the United States of America," consisting of the American South and West, in the center of the horseshoe.
The map was inaccurate. The real cultural geography of North America would have to put much of the Canadian West in with "the United States of America," and, unless something is done soon to change the Canadian system, that cultural reality could easily become the political reality as well.
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