For many of us, abolishing the monarchy in Canada seems like the most natural thing in the world. We describe our country to ourselves with adjectives like modern, Western, liberal and democratic, and we find it hard to reconcile this idea with that foreign aristocrat, ruling by divine right on the basis of hereditary succession, whose face is stamped on our money. Wouldn't it be altogether logical, inevitable even, to dispense with the archaic institution, call ourselves the Republic of Canada, and get on with handing out trophies to Gordon Downie?
Logical, sure. But beneficial? Would Canada actually be better for it?
The way I see it, having Queen Elizabeth as a traditional figurehead, reminding us of our imperial history is not a bad thing in and of itself. If we give the monarchy the royal flush and recast the nation as a modern federal republic, founded on universal principles of liberty and equality, if we neglect our traditions and ignore our unique historical development, the good bits as well as the bad, we run the risk of believing that this land belongs to us. That we've always been here. Countries that start with a blank slate, that bow to nothing but universal principles, that think of themselves as outside of history, as the beacon of enlightened political thought, they tend to let it go to their head. It allows them to gloss over the darker chapters in their history, the darker corners of their present, and believe that it is all justified in the pursuit of a higher ideal. We mustn't shake off the residue of colonialism only to become the colonialists ourselves.
When my son looks at a five dollar bill, sees Wilfrid Laurier and says "Who's that guy?," what will I say? Apart from proving that you can earn an MA in history and not remember two things about our seventh prime minister, I doubt whether it will lead to a very enlightening conversation. But when he works his way up the corporate ladder and finally earns twenty dollars, and he says "Dad, who's that old lady?" I will be able to tell him the history of Canada. "She's the queen of England, son." "Why's the queen of England on our money?" "Because a long time ago, English people came across the ocean and set up a colony in Canada so they could all wear beaver hats." "But weren't there any people here already?" "Good question, son..."
There were people here before. People have continued to come since. It's a conversation that is at the core of our existence as a nation. Who belongs? If a foreign aristocrat can be welcome here, why can't a refugee? The Queen reminds us that Canada is many different things. It's a hodge-podge of encounters. It's a work in progress. It's continually trying to define itself as one thing, but never quite succeeding. It is, if I may, successive failures. Most of what I've seen written about Canada's 150th anniversary has been critical of Canada. Wondering who we are is part of our identity. It helps keep us humble. And wondering why our head of state is some lady who lives across the ocean is a beautiful and paradoxical part of that.
It's the 21st of June: the first day of your second summer. Your mom's teaching year is coming to an end, which means so is my stint as your stay-at-home dad. No more raisin bread and deli meat for lunch. No more watching Peppa Pig just so I can read the last five pages of The Deathly Hallows. No more Rush jam session in the basement while your mom is at work. I miss it already.
A typical occurrence: We are out in the backyard and you're roaming around picking grass or rolling stuff down your Fisher Price slide or writing on the footpath with sidewalk chalk. I'm sitting and reading or working on my thesis on my laptop. Then, suddenly you say "hand" and I look up at you standing at the edge of the deck and wanting help to get down to the ground. No matter what I'm doing I drop everything to help you down.
