O Canada
As a Canadian, I rarely think about how good I have it. Despite the diverse cities, towering mountains, and vast forests that make up my home, it’s usually much easier to view Canada in terms of its deficiencies. Its want of geopolitical strength and lack of significant culture, as well as its mistreatment of Indigenous people and its abuse of tar oil. As COVID-19 vaccine rollouts continue at a snail’s crawl across the world, I’m once again reminded of how rich Canada is.
Much like its southern neighbour, Canada failed to contain the virus by locking down borders and cities, relying eventually on its wealth to acquire vaccines and inoculate its population. The pandemic is virtually over in most of Canada, masks optional and indoor services fully resuming. Meanwhile, many of the countries that did a good job of locking down early and remaining at zero cases must now contend with super-variants of the virus bred by others. If someone asked me prior to the pandemic if Japan was more powerful than Canada, I would have certainly replied in the affirmative. But now I see how privileged Canada truly is, and in turn, how privileged I am to be Canadian.
Bashing rich Western countries and blaming them for every problem under the sun has been very much in the vogue of late, particularly by their leftist constituents. It’s satisfying to stick it to man, to blame the powers that be for all that is broken. And they’re not entirely wrong. Careless policies, both domestic and foreign, perpetuate inequities. Capitalist systems inherently tends towards unequal wealth distribution. The accumulation of power and the maintenance of that status are founded on subjugation of other people and countries. I believe spreading this awareness is important and will lead to more compassionate decision-making in the future.
At the same time, it’s important not to lose the forest for the trees. As much as everyday Canadian comforts are built on the backs of means of somewhat questionable ethics, what’s a nation and its people to do? Canada is a great country. If I were to be born to parents anywhere in the world, I’d probably pick somewhere in Scandinavia if I could chose to be white. If not, Canada is a very close second. There is some degree of meritocracy and some degree of a social safety net. The government is as competent as any democratically chosen representation. People are free to speak, assemble, and protest. And as if to disavow any moral compunction, more immigrants arrive every year. Of course, you can never blame the players, least of all the newer players to the game.
I’m glad my parents immigrated to Canada. At the same time, I’m not ingratiatingly thankful of Canada, only of the sacrifices my parents made. Canada didn’t take them out of the goodness of her heart, but because she knew they would be productive members of society. Not that I’m complaining either, but it’s important to temper any gratitude with an understanding of immigration.
As I see it, skilled immigrants not only contribute economically to their new home country, but do so without having drained the country’s resources for the first twenty-odd years of their lives. Furthermore, a growing population leads to increased valuation of real estate, already owned by non-immigrants. Obviously, there are tradeoffs, like the change in demography and culture. I think anti-immigration is a valid political stance; though it often stems from xenophobia, there is a balance to be struck between economic growth and a sort of national unity.
Despite racist incidents that seem to be making national headlines every month however, Canada isn’t a bad place for immigrants. I’d argue that there’s nowhere else in the world that is as comfortable, so much that I’m all but positive that I’ll settle down in Canada. Canada has the most diverse cities in the world, cities where being a racial minority isn’t particular. With each generation of immigrants and their children meeting other immigrants and their children, xenophobia lessens and lessens.
Perhaps most importantly, in Canada I can be Chinese-Canadian or Chinese, Asian-Canadian or Asian, and of course, simply Canadian. This sort of nuance is difficult to find elsewhere in the world, but no one will bat an eye if I describe myself using any of those labels. Being Chinese means speaking the language and understanding the culture of my parents and grandparents. Being Asian means that I can find solidarity with other minorities and celebrate the overlap; while acknowledging differences exist, we face many similar issues in the West, and this solidarity makes us stronger.
Being Canadian means that I am a part of this country composed of many different home cultures and customs, but have settled on commonly accepted values of equality and equity and inclusion and diversity. It means that I don’t have to choose between any of these forms of identity, and I can be all three simultaneously if I so chose. In countries without such a high immigrant content, it would perhaps be not only uncomfortable, but also confusing to make such a distinction.
Is Canada a perfect nation? Far from it. Do I have concerns and complains about Canada? Certainly. But I do think Canada is the greatest country in the world for me, and one that I’m very proud to call home.
