On Looking Normal, or a reflection on positive deception

A businessman and a hippie walk into a bar. They both look the part. Before speaking to each other they already know what the other will say. Any topic they discuss will be filtered through assumptions. “I already disagree with you” is the point of departure. Even if they strike up a congenial conversation, even if they happen to agree on most things, even if they could gain real, potentially life-changing insight from one another, their discussion will no doubt remain guarded, tempered by grains of salt on either side.

When we present ourselves in a particular way, when we cover our faces in tattoos, say, or wear expensive watches and jewellery, we are saying something about our worldview and our values. These things are inherently unifying and divisive. They are a badge that invites the confidences of the likeminded while at the same time repelling those of a different persuasion. Of course we can all long for a world where we will overlook such superficial differences, but the fact is first impressions are one of the primary ways that people organize and understand the world.

As a professor, I don’t want people to look at me and think “Oh, he’s that type of guy. I’ve already made up my mind about that type. I will note his ideas and regurgitate them back to him but keep myself insulated from taking them to heart.” In order to make an impact I need to navigate first impressions. For the same reason, when I travel I try to look fairly neutral. I don’t want to be judged as a wealthy tourist or a spoiled American kid when I visit Haiti. Unable to change the colour of my skin, I want to minimize preconceptions and let my voice and my ideas speak for themselves.

I’m not a “normal person.” I have particular (some might say eccentric) beliefs and interests. I have specific ideas about what’s wrong with the world and what needs to change. But if I want people to listen to my abnormal opinions I need to present myself as relatively normal. I’m not a normal person, but I appreciate the usefulness of looking like one.

An open letter to a toddler (at the end of my year as a stay-at-home dad)

JJ,

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.

I can't tell you how much of a privilege it was to spend these last ten months with you. The swim lessons, the trips to the music store, the nature walks, the library play groups where I was the only dad, awkwardly visiting Aunt Melinda at the underwear store where she works, colouring, the Art Factory with grandma and cousin Ary, blowing bubbles, and just goofing around. I don't doubt it has been a formative experience for the both of us.

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.

I'm back to school in the fall, and it won't be long before you're in school too. But no matter what I'm doing, no matter how busy I get, I will always hold your hand and help you with the next step.

Love always,

-Dada

A case for the monarchy

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. 

A brief thought on patriotism

The leader of a country has to wear (at least) two hats. He must fully be a citizen of his country as well as a citizen of the world. He must fully understand his own people, but he must also represent them on the world stage. To do the latter, he must not be blind to his country’s place in the global community. He must understand that the populist rhetoric ‘my country first’ is counterproductive outside of ‘my country.’ That is what leads to wars. When nationalistic demagogues are elected it puts the world at risk. Is there a fundamental conflict between what is best for the world and what is best for ‘my country’? Are we returning to the age of mercantilism where one nation’s gain is tantamount to another nation’s loss? I don’t think we are, but that simplistic explanation is gaining traction among a large section of the population. You can’t elect the man who will stop at nothing to ‘make my country great.’ ‘My country’ can only be great if it is at peace with other countries, if it understands its role in the balance of resources, if it gives to the world and doesn’t simply take.

Patriotism, when not paired with an understanding of our shared, border-less humanity, is a bad thing. The First World War happened because nationalisms were stacked against each other. The people of France and the people of Great Britain and the people of Germany and the people of Russia and the people of Austria-Hungary believed that ‘my country’ was best and ‘your country’ had to lose for ‘my country’ to win. If the twentieth century has taught us anything it is that this kind of pride always leads to a fall. Of course, ‘my country’ should think about its own people, should build a welfare system to protect its weakest citizens, should foster a shared national identity. But that identity should not be based on the exclusion of the other. Our national borders should not blind us to what is common between all humanity. Greatness, when defined as power, is a fools errand. It can never be the end goal because the contest for power is a state of permanent competition. It is unstable by its definition. To make a country truly great, the goal must be not greatness, but humanity. And humanity requires humility. Make ‘my country’ humble.