The Idea File

There’s one point on which Plato, Aristotle, Machiavelli, Rousseau, John
Locke, and indeed all the major political thinkers agree: the act of
political founding is the greatest of human endeavours.

At Canadian Confederation no one had a more elevated sense of the occasion
than George Brown. Here he is in the Legislative Assembly of the old
Province of Canada, defending the proposal for colonial union drafted at the
Quebec Conference of 1864.

“We are striving to do peacefully what Holland and Belgium, after years of
strife, were unable to accomplish. We are seeking by calm discussion to
settle questions that Austria and Hungary, that Denmark and Germany, that
Russia and Poland, could only crush by the iron heel, or armed force. We are
seeking to do without foreign intervention that which deluged in blood the
sunny plains of Italy. We are striving to settle forever issues hardly less
momentous than those that have rent the neighbouring republic and are now
exposing it to all the horrors of civil war. Have we not then … great
cause of thankfulness that we have found a better way for the solution of
our troubles than that which entailed on other countries such deplorable
results?” (Ajzenstat et al., eds, Canada’s Founding Debates, University of
Toronto Press, 2003, page14).

He is referring to the Belgian overthrow of Dutch rule in 1830, the
Hungarian uprising against Hapsburg rule in 1848, the uprising of 1863 in
Russian Poland, the Danish-German war of 1864 over the provinces of
Schleswig and Holstein, the continuing struggle for Italian unity and
independence, and the civil war in the United States.

Historians do not fail to note that the Fathers of Confederation watched the
progress of the American Civil War closely, afraid that the huge army built
up by the northern states would at some point turn against British North
America. They less often comment on the surely extraordinary fact that the
sight of the modern world’s first federation tearing itself apart did not
dissuade the British North Americans from advancing bold plans for a second.

Brown’s contention could not be more striking. We, that is, the authors of
the Quebec Resolutions of 1864, the Fathers of Confederation, have found a
way to forestall rebellions, secessionist claims, civil war, and armed
intervention, a “way” unknown in Europe and in the United States.

There’s lots to say about this extraordinary speech and I’ll say some of it
tomorrow.

“A scant 25% of Canadians express respect for those who enter public office”
(Keith Martin, Member of Parliament for Esquimalt-Juan de Fuca, in the
National Post, May 18).

An all-time low? Maybe. Even lawyers get a better rating, at 44 per cent.

Mr. Martin offers this explanation. MPs work hard, but Parliament’s “dysfunctional
structure blocks ideas from moving forward.” Effecting change, he says, “has
become a truly Sisyphean task.” In other words, the individual MP can’t make
much of a difference and can’t get things done.

It’s an old complaint. But the fact is that in parliamentary systems the
Member of Parliament isn’t there to get things done. Or to move ideas
forward. She or he is there to object (in caucus, in committee, or in open
debate in the legislature) when the government of the day tries to put
through legislation that will adversely affect the interests of her/his
constituents. First and foremost among her tasks is to see that the
government doesn’t squander the money it takes from our pockets or siphon
it off for private purposes. See sections 53 and 54 of the Constitution Act
(1867), the beloved and venerable document that was once known as the
British North America Act (1867). It’s a tricky job deserving of respect.

Spare a thought for the lawyers, only somewhat less unpopular. At a Christmas
party in Toronto’s Annex district (aka the Centre of the Universe: cramped
quarters, standing room only, trendy decorations, good red wine and massive
amounts of excellent food) I found myself in conversation with someone who
told me that so-and-so had gone back to school to study seriology. “Oh,
sociology,” I said. “Surely Ben can do better than that.” “Seriology,” said
the someone. “Musical composition. But let me ask you. If you don’t think
much of sociologists, what’s your opinion of lawyers?” And I said, and not
just because it flashed on me that I was talking to a lawyer, “ The law is
an ancient and honourable profession. In a liberal democracy lawyers are
among the guardians of the citizen’s freedom.”

Lawyers and Members of Parliament. Guardians of our freedoms.

Allan Bloom told me to read Canadian constitutional history from the
perspective of political philosophy. I’d hoped to do a Ph.D. thesis on
Rousseau, or Plato. What else? I’d been a T.A. for Bloom’s famous 101 course
in Political Philosophy. (I’m talking about his years at the University of
Toronto.) I’d taken his graduate course on Rousseau’s Emile. I wanted more.
More!

I wasn’t going to get it. Not that he ruled out the possibility of a thesis
on Rousseau. (Plato was forbidden. I didn’t have Greek.) But he urgently
recommended study of Canadian political history. I was crushed. The Canadian
constitution? It seemed like such a small thing to devote one’s life to. I
was going to be turning my back on the world of great ideas.

I opened a general history of Canada (some of you have heard this story
before) and found that there was one constitutional document that was always
prefaced by the engaging word, “famous.” Lord Durham’s famous Report on the
Affairs of British North America (1839). So, somewhat reluctantly, I
announced that I was going to do my doctoral thesis on Lord Durham. And the
adventure started.

One topic led to another. After Durham, Pierre Bedard. How curious that
Bedard recommended “responsible government” in 1806. Durham’s commentators,
Canadian and British, had convinced me that the principle of “responsible
government” developed only later in British history. In Durham’s day, in
fact! A hint from Fernand Ouellet sent me to Bedard’s journal Le Canadien.
And Bedard sent me to Burke and Charles James Fox in the British
parliamentary debate of 1791 on the grant of representative institutions to
the French Canadians. The question was whether people who had always lived
under authoritarian institutions could master the art of governing
themselves in a representative legislature. (Which comes “first”? Culture or
institutions?) And so it went. There was always a question beckoning. A
puzzle to be spelled out.

I now have a list of puzzles and topics that I will never be able to explore
fully. I’ve hinted at some in previous blogs. Imperialism. The process of
constitutional amendment. Comparative political foundings.

So let me repeat the invitation in my first blog. Help yourself to anything
in The Idea File that takes your fancy.

The trick is to do justice to conventional interpretations of
Canadian/British/American documentary history, while using one’s knowledge
of political philosophy to assess those interpretations. One has to read the
commentators, and then emancipate oneself from them. Help is always at hand:
Blackstone, Jean Louis De Lolme. There’s always the possibility that one
will end up confirming the earlier interpretations. But that’s never been my
experience. Well, almost never.

P.S. George Breckenridge tells me that Leo Strauss told his students to use
their knowledge of political philosophy to study American political history.
So Alan Bloom was just passing the advice along, adapting it to the Canadian
context.

“Do political institutions in any crucial sense matter?” This is Donald
Smiley’s question (Canada in Question, 1980, pages 3, 4). “Does Society
decisively determine Government – or is it the other way round? In a formal
sense, is Society the independent variable, and Government the dependent
variable?”

By 1980 the question had been settled to the satisfaction of most political
scientists. I’m surprised that Smiley was still going over the old ground at
that late date. Most Canadian social scientists had long since convinced
themselves that Society is the decisive influence. Society – history,
patterns of immigration, the period in which a country is settled, and the
ideas carried in the minds of the immigrants; geography, terrain - these are
the factors that make a nation. In 1980, that was the received wisdom. In
2008 it’s still the received wisdom.

But Smiley was right. On two counts. He was right to raise the question. And
right to come down on the side of institutions. He argued that a country’s
political constitution is the determinative factor in the life of the
nation. He had allies: Alan Cairns, and some others, not many. And the
political science community has always respected Smiley and Cairns. But for
all that, the institutionalists remained, and still remain, in the minority.

Two articles in the current issue of the Literary Review of Canada (May,
2008) are revealing.

The first is Philip Resnick’s review of Robert C. Sibley’s Northern Spirits:
John Watson, George Grant, and Charles Taylor, Appropriations of Hegelian
Political Thought (McGill-Queen’s, 2007). It’s a good book; I wrote an
endorsement that appears on the back cover, and I’ll stand by it. So: highly
recommended. It is in essence an exploration of the question I’ve just
broached: which matters more in determining the character of a nation –
institutions, or history and culture? Sibley argues that in exploring this
issue, a knowledge of Hegel is helpful, and he demonstrates through an
exposition of Hegel’s influence on his three authors. So what does Resnick
make of the book? He very nearly does it justice. I would never
underestimate Philip Resnick’s insight or scholarship. But the fact remains
that he is still gripped by the idea, dating from the the1960s and 70s that
“Society determines.” He knows intellectually that institutions must be
given their due. But his heart remains with “Society.” He inclines to the
communitarian side. And so he almost endorses Sibley’s even-handed
exploration, but not quite.

The principal objective of the scholars who adopted the view that “Society
determines,” was to show that Canada is not like the United States. They
argue that because our history was different, because we admitted immigrants
who held different philosophies, our nation is different. Canadians are not
Americans. Our culture and way of life are distinctive. That’s the usual
argument. And that’s what’s taught in the schools.

Now consider Edward Grabb’s review in the current Literary Review, of
Reginald C. Stuart’s Dispersed Relations: Americans and Canadians in Upper
North America (Woodrow Wilson Press and Johns Hopkins). Stuart argues that
Canada and the United States are “not so different after all.” The two
countries share, “democratic and human rights, faith in the rule of law,
individualism flowing from constitutional provisions, balanced individual
and community outlooks, and broad tolerance.” They are, all in all,
“remarkably similar societies.” Similar societies because they have similar
political institutions? That’s Stuart’s opinion.

Grabb’s own work concentrates on Canadian-American similarities and
dissimilarities and he and his colleagues have found remarkable social
similarities. But Grabb doesn’t credit the influence of similar
institutions. In his many publications he gets the same answer as Stuart,
but it’s a bit of a puzzle to see how he does it.

“Democratic and human rights … faith in the rule of law … broad
tolerance.” Yes. That’s what we have in common with the U.S. Smiley would
agree.

It’s amazing how many political scientists, sociologists, and students of
“the Canadian identity,” can’t bring themselves to admit the similarity of
the constitutions and form of government. I am not saying that the two
countries are similar in all respects. I’m not saying that there aren’t some
constitutional differences (minor ones). I’m not saying that there are not
regional and social differences in Canada, and in the United States. Of
course not. I’m not saying that institutions determine all the
particularities. And I’m not suggesting that we shouldn’t enjoy differences.
And what the heck, even boast of them.

But we’re selling ourselves short if we don’t admit – with Smiley – that our
good institutions, our freedoms, our history of rights, are the principal
determinant of our way of life, and the principal reason for being glad to
live in this country. And to love it.

“The fault dear Brutus is not in our stars, but in ourselves that we are
underlings”  (Cassius, in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar).

There are a zillion entries in Google for this quotation. And why not. We’ve
all thought at one time or another that a problem – whatever we’re facing,
however defined – is our fault. And, not to make things too complicated -
much of the time we want to think that our problems are our fault. Because
if they are, then we can do something about them.

“The fault is in ourselves”: it’s an idea that inflates our sense of
individual and collective “agency.” Our fault! O.K. So, let’s change things.
Let’s get to work.

Assume responsibility. Mend the world. Reduce our carbon footprint.

I am not going to talk about climate change. When the subject is broached,
e-mail chat lines crumble; life-long e-enemies are formed, blogs die.

But perhaps, we’ll clarify thinking on fault and cause in public policy.

We can side with Brutus. The “fault” lies with the stars; climate change is
caused by the sun and sunspots, the circling stars and planets. Ten thousand
years ago the Northern hemisphere was covered with ice; ten thousand years
from now, there’ll be ice again. But to side with Brutus is to give up that
precious sense of human agency. From the Brutus-perspective, there’s not a
great deal humans can do. We can hope to adapt. Move populations; build
dikes; grow new crops; be kind to one another as we diminish. We’ll read
Camus. We’ll read the Greeks on the plague in Athens.

Or we can side with Cassius. Humans are to blame. The sense of agency and
purpose returns! Now we have plenty to do and it’s all very satisfying.
Attacks on capitalists and capitalism are just the beginning. Don’t curse
the cold and darkness. Or the heat! Light your personal candle.

Brutus or Cassius. I’m not making recommendations.

Barack Obama is being critized for his supposed lack of patriotism. Some
Americans – who knows how many - think he is flirting with anti-Americanism.

There’s a rich tradition of anti-Americanism in the United States. Canadians
like to fool around it. But we’re pussycats compared to the real thing, the
Americans who love to hate their country. You will understand that I am not
talking about critics of the party in office, or critics of national
policies. I mean the Americans who despise “the West” and liberal democracy.
I mean the American Counter Enlightenment. (A useful first book on this
topic is Ian Buruma and Avishai Margalit, Occidentalism, The West in the
Eyes of Its Enemies, Penguin, 2004). Our question might be phrased in this
way: is Obama an “Occidentalist,” a despiser of “the West”? (Is his pastor a
despiser?)

I propose to bring George-Etienne Cartier forward into the twenty-first
century to assist us. He’s a good choice I suggest, because he once carried
arms against the government of Lower Canada. He knew – he knows - what it is
to be profoundly dissatisfied with constitution and country. (It was after
the introduction of the principle of “responsible government” that he became
a supporter of the British parliamentary system.) He’s a good choice for a
second reason. He was deeply critical of the American Constitution.

John A Macdonald praised it Here’s Macdonald in the Confederation debates:
“It is the fashion now to enlarge on the defects of the constitution of the
United States, but I am not one of those who look upon it as a failure. I
think and believe that it is one of the most skilful works which human
intelligence ever created; is one of the most perfect organizations that
ever governed a free people.” He’s betraying his lieutenant Cartier in this
statement!

Here’s Cartier: “We found ourselves at the present day discussing the
question of the federation of the British North American provinces, while
the great federation of the United States of America was broken up and
divided against itself. There was, however, this important difference to be
observed in considering the action of the two peoples. They [the Americans]
had founded a federation for the purpose of carrying out and perpetuating
democracy on this continent; but we, who had the benefit of being able to
contemplate republicanism in action during a period of eighty years, saw its
defects, and felt convinced that that purely democratic institutions could
not be conducive to the peace and prosperity of nations” (Canadian
Legislative Assembly, February, 1865).

Commentators cite this passage to suggest that the Fathers of Confederation,
Cartier foremost among them, despised democracy. One prominent Canadian
historian says: “It has long been known that the Fathers of Confederation
were not democrats and that they were determined to secure the protection of
property and to create barriers against the democratic excesses which, in
their minds, had led to the collapse of the American constitution and to the
American Civil War.” But in the passage I cite above Cartier is in fact
defending democracy, defined as liberal democracy. What he objected to in
the U.S. Constitution was that it assigned to the American President two
roles that ought to be distinguished: head of state and head of government.
The signally admirable feature of the British system, in Cartier’s view, is
that it expects the head of state, the Queen, or Governor, who represents
the Constitution and the country as a whole, to refrain from meddling in
party politics. Thus a British citizen can dislike the Prime Minister while
remaining a patriot, loving Constitution and country. In the United States,
in contrast – this is Cartier’s understanding - because the president speaks
for party and country, dislike of the President and his party invites,
positively encourages, dislike of country and Constitution.

So. I think Cartier’s first reaction will be to say, “I told you so.”
Dislike of presidential candidates is bound to get mixed up with dislike of
country. The American Constitution is to blame.

But does Cartier have the whole story? Perhaps not. After all the Americans
seem to muddle through. The president wears his two hats – head of state and
head of government – with considerable grace and citizens finds to express
disdain for the party in office while retaining confidence in the form of
government.

No. I think something else is going on. And I have already hinted at what
that something else might be.

I’ve said enough in this note. But I’m going to ask Cartier to stick around.
I think he may have more to say about Obama as he becomes acclimatized. And
He’s a political man. He’ll enjoy watching the course of the American
election on television. Just wait ‘til we introduce him to politics on You
Tube!

1. David Smith is the winner of this year’s Donner Prize with a book on Parliament entitled The People’s House of Common: Theories of Democracy in Contention. Institutions Rule!

Here’s a paragraph from a short piece Smith published in the National Post on April 17, addressing the issue of Canadians’ declining confidence in Parliament and politicians. It is a mistake to see the past as a golden age, he says.

“It is not that Canada’s past MPs were paragons and today’s are fallen men and women. If anything, the reverse is true. Between the 19th and 21st centuries, an inversion in private and public morality occurred. At one time Victorian rectitude at home and buccaneering attitudes in public life were the norm; now anything seems to go in the private sphere, while the politician has become the modern scapegoat. If there is a parliamentary growth industry today, it is in ethics and accountability for public officials.”

2. The first volume of David A. Wilson’s biography of Thomas D’Arcy McGee is out. I’ll read it. And I’m looking forward to the second volume, which will pick up the story in 1858 and cover the Confederation years. Here’s an excerpt from McGee’s speech on the Quebec Resolutions and the prospects for colonial union in the Legislative Assembly of the Province of Canada (February 9, 1865).

“The two great things that all men aim at in any free government are liberty and permanency. We have had liberty enough – too much perhaps in some respects – but at all events, liberty to our hearts’ content. There is not on the face of the earth a freer people than the inhabitants of these colonies.”

The retired eminence who lives down the block (Professor of Archaeology and Forensic Anthropology) complains that the snowflake on the back of the Canadian five-dollar bill is not a true a true crystalline form. It’s not a snowflake! The Five has Wilfrid Laurier on the front; on the back are engaging winter scenes: kids playing hockey on a snowy rink, a bundled-up tobogganer, a skating lesson, snowy spruces. And hovering above, tying the images together, the giant “snowflake.”

It lacks the requisite symmetry, says the eminence. It’s a travesty. He’s written to the Canadian Mint, but so far has not received a satisfactory answer.

There’s a similar complaint about the image of maple leaves on the Canadian penny. The Mint is thinking about withdrawing the one-cent piece from circulation and everyone’s taking a fresh look at it. A sort of good-bye look. There’s no problem with the design; all acknowledge that it’s a small masterpiece. But are the leaves really maple leaves? There’s a resemblance certainly. There’s a strong sense of maple-leafness. But perhaps the twigs are wrong, the branching?

And then there are Janet Ajzenstat’s worries about the Canadian Twenty. It depicts Bill Reid’s huge, famous, supremely compelling sculpture, The Black Canoe. A gigantic crowned figure sits in a tippy canoe, surrounded by squabbling, jostling creatures of all sizes, some of whom are human. It’s certainly appropriate to display Canadian art on our currency. No quarrel there. And Reid’s piece is wonderful, wonderful. The problem is that The Black Canoe is strongly associated with the now disputed Canadian policy of multiculturalism.

In Strange Multiplicity: Constitutionalism in an Age of Diversity (1995), James Tully uses Reid’s image and the Haida myth on which it is based, to argue that the liberal democratic constitution in its classic definition is profoundly deficient. In Tully’s interpretation, the creatures in Reid’s canoe are telling their “diverse stories and claims,” speaking and vocalizing, each in his or her own language. It’s a happy situation. The tippy canoe is the just constitution. As the beings converse, they keep paddling, and – most wonderful – the canoe moves steadily forward.

In Tully’s opinion, recognition of cultural diversity answers a deep and abiding human need. “The suppression of cultural differences in the name of uniformity and unity is one of the leading causes of civil strife, disunity and dissolution today.” It’s liberalism that’s chiefly responsible for the suppression. Liberalism in the classic definition is intolerant, repressive, and imperialistic. Its arguments are inadequate and its practices cruel. Reid and his Haida ancestors had the right take on things. That’s Tully.

So. What are we to make of the fact that some of the creatures in the canoe are truly frightening: large wolf-like and bear-like things. Some are half human and half-animal. Is this a helpful image of multiculturalism? Humans and half-humans squabbling? What are we to make of the crowned figure? Does she/he represent Big Government? She’s the one who interprets the creature’s various languages and noises.

Of course we don’t have to take Tully’s interpretation as the one and only way to see Reid’s masterwork. The Haida stories may be telling something quite different about the creation, and the human condition.

In a previous note I said that it’s time to write about Canada’s experience as the Senior Dominion in the greatest empire of modern times. It’s been done, of course. But it’s time to do it again.

If you are planning to write as a political scientist, you’ll need a scheme of categories. Historians have chronology. Political scientists have categories. (There are drawbacks in either case, as the post moderns remind us. And they’re right about the drawbacks. If you posit a category you shine a satisfactory light on something. But the dark springs up all around. If you rely on chronology you’re inviting the “specter of causality.”) There’s no winning this debate. So here I describe a system of two categories.

I’m confining my inquiries to issues of law. And the question is this: in law, what is the best way to tie a dependency to the metropolis? Oops. I’ve skipped the prior question; why sustain the empire; why not opt immediately for revolution and independence. Let me rephrase. Supposing a colony, or indeed a federal union of colonies, wishes to remain within the empire, for whatever reason – avoiding a revolutionary war, fear of letting loose the “passions of the mob,” etc. - what is the best arrangement in constitutional law? In the eighteenth century and the early nineteenth century two arrangements presented themselves. So I am supposing.

I take the first from Ron Chernow’s account of Alexander Hamilton. See Chernow’s biography (Penguin, 2004), chapters two and three, for references. While he was still thinking about retaining the connection with Britain, Hamilton argued that the Colonies were subject to the British Crown and not to the British Parliament. He did his homework; searching the records, he found that indeed no power to legislate for the colonies had been reserved to Parliament. Thus one could hope to retain the imperial connection while absolving the colonists of obedience to British law.

In my opinion Lord Durham (Report on the Affairs of British North America, 1839) took exactly this position. (Though I do not think he read Hamilton.) Durham’s recommendation that the colonies adopt the principle of “responsible government” meant that the political executive in each colony would answer to the people’s representatives in the elective chamber of the colonial parliament. It met a raft of objections in the colonies and in Britain, the gist of which was that the introduction of “responsible government” would sever the imperial connection. Dependencies should be dependent, for goodness’ sakes! You couldn’t have an empire that was composed of sovereign countries! But that’s exactly what Durham seems to have had in mind. He says repeatedly that if Britain didn’t give the colonists all powers of legislation the British North Americans would go the way of the Thirteen Colonies.

But in time Durham’s own words on the imperial connection, are given another interpretation and he is presented as recommending a division of powers between the dependencies and the British Parliament. His list of reasons why the colonists and Britain would not differ on certain vital matters (the form of colonial government, immigration, trade, and defense) is taken to describe legislative fields to be formally reserved for the British Parliament. Those who interpret him in this fashion are sometimes known as “dyarchists.” See my Introduction to the new edition of 1839 Report (McGill-Queens, 2007.) Dyarchists who recommend the representation of colonists in the imperial Parliament, come to be known as “imperial federalists.” Imperial federalism in this sense was still on the table for some of those participating in the legislative debates on Confederation in the colonies from 1864 to 1873.

At any rate, we now have our two categories: the Hamiltonians, and the dyarchists. I think it’s time to employ those categories (perhaps under new names) in an account of Canada’s story as Senior Dominion in the British Empire.

Stories about the Pope on page one! Discussions of the Seven Deadly Sins. Review of a book on Passover on the op-ed page. A children’s book on Passover! I can tell you that when I worked for the Globe and Mail (1959-60) religion was decently hidden away in the back pages with news about health, education, marriage and other social matters.

The Women’s Section had a Religion Editor who wrote a weekly column touching gently on what one might call religious “manners and morals.” It also ran announcements of church events: an exhibition of paintings at Grace Church on the Hill, a carol service at Rosedale Presbyterian, and so on. Events and practice were reported, belief avoided.

Of course, everyone had a religious affiliation in those days. And sometimes attended services. But one didn’t talk about it. In my family of origin the kids were taught that there were three topics to avoid at the dinner table: religion (a brief blessing at the start of the meal was allowed, but no discussion, please), money, and whatever.

Now we’re living in the Secular Age. And the newspapers never let up on the subject of religion. Isn’t it the strangest thing? I’m looking at the National Post of a few days ago (April 12, A19). There’s a story on the evangelisation of the Jews, another on a Saudi blogger’s view of Christianity – it’s too violent for his taste – and a announcement (running down a full column) that on his visit to Ground Zero the Pope will pray for the redemption of Islamic terrorists.