The Inauguration: Scenes from a Canadian Pilgrimage--Part 2

This is part 2; part 1 can be found in the previous entry.

The Jumbotrons broke away from replaying the festivities of the past few days to show the start of honoured guests arriving. Without missing a beat, the crowd began to reveal its affections and dislikes, booing the outgoing administration and all its minions--Colin Powell being the lone exception--and welcoming the democratic stars, both old and new. As Bush appeared, the crowd instinctively knew it was their last chance to vote him off the island. The boos took on a certain edge, profanity appeared for the first time, and next to me some people starting singing the stadium chant “Nah-nah naaah-nah, hey hey goo-od bye…” This was deeper than disrespect; call it disgust. Whatever connection there had once been between the nation and its president had frayed somewhere between Abu Ghraib and Katrina; now it was irreparably broken. I thought for a minute that maybe they should show some respect for the man in his last public appearance, but I got over it. Their reaction struck me as raw and honest. The crowd, supremely kind towards each one of its members, was not about to make nice for the sake of George W. Bush.

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The Obama love-in was ready to begin. Cheers when he first appeared, cheers when he recited the oath, cheers so loud that at times the Jumbotron’s giant speakers were drowned out. I began to think this was no inauguration, but rather a large public wedding ceremony. The American citizenry present on the Mall and Barack Obama were being wed to each other. Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded President? The cheers were their way of saying , “Yes, we do.”

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The speech? It was listened to. When the President gave his diagnosis of America’s current situation, you could hear the listening. And they were with him as he stated his confidence in America, as he named the work to be done and challenged the cynics, as he addressed the world--muslim and poor, and as he invoked the American spirit and values. If it wasn’t soaring, it was nonetheless on target--we’re in a mess, there’s lots to do, and we’re going to get through it.

* * * * * * * * * *

After the speech, a poet appeared. I like poetry, but most of the crowd seemed to find it irrelevant given how many people headed for the doors, so to speak. Obama would be a tough act to follow for anyone, but particularly for a poet--his rhetoric and rythms have their own captivating force and his message, of course, had a certain urgency. The news in poetry is rarely urgent though many a man, paraphrasing William Carlos Williams, is making friends with death, even as I speak, for lack of what is found there.

John Quincy Adams wrote a book of poems, and so did Jimmy Carter. Bill Clinton had a poet at both of his Inaugurations. The Democrats, at least since Kennedy invited Robert Frost to read, have apparently developed an affection for calling on a poet. If it does nothing else, poetry gives good gravitas.

* * * * * * * * * *

Our bus wasn’t leaving until six o’clock. Giving ourselves an hour and half to walk back, that left us with a good three hours to kill. We knew the Museum of American History was open, so we made our way there to warm up. The crowds in front of the museums were packed tight. For first time ever I understood the possibility of being killed in a human crush. We moved at a snail’s pace. As we got close to the museum, a guard came out and shouted “The Museum has reached capacity!”, and promptly shut the doors. I had become Dorothy outside the gates of Oz—oh no, now I’ll never get warm! I seriously needed to sit down, my back was aching, my feet were cold. But standing there in the crowd, a delightful older couple noticed we were Canadian and couldn’t wait to engage us in conversation. The spoke of their visits to Canada—they had a particular love of the Maritimes—and how they hated the past eight years, how the real villain was Cheney and on and on. The least we could do was thank them for voting in the right candidate and so we did, just as the doors opened.

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For the bus ride down and back, I’d brought an old book to look at again—Leadership Without Easy Answers by Ron Heifetz. I wouldn’t be surprised if Obama has read the book. Heifetz, who teaches a popular leadership course at Harvard, says there are four key things a leader must do. Get people to focus on significant issues, which he calls adaptive challenges—those problems that have no clear answers. Second, let people feel the stress of the issues to the point where they are aware they will need to adapt, but not to the point where they’re overwhelmed. Third, don’t allow the focus to turn to stress-reducing distractions (Remember George W. after 9/11, telling Americans to go shopping?). Finally, give the work back to the people to engage them in taking responsibility for their situation.

Obama has inherited a situation that is textbook Heifetz. Obama will have to walk what Heifetz calls the razor’s edge of leadership: “challenge people too fast, and they will push the authority figure over for failing their expectations for stability. But challenge people too slowly, and they will throw him down when they discover that no progress has been made.”

* * * * * * * * *

We walked into the warm museum, sat down on the floor and leaned our backs against a wall. A kind janitor came by and apologized as he told us we were blocking the way and would need to move. He was an older black fellow; I wanted to ask him about the meaning of the day, but something in me—exhaustion, shyness—had me refrain. We scouted out the museum’s café, but the line into it was an endless and hungry snake and none of us wanted to become its tail. Instead we sat down by a small exhibit: everything-you-ever-wanted-to-know-about-the- woman-who-invented-kevlar. I don’t remember her name; she looked like a kind grandmother, and her invention was now used in making bullet-proof vests and wheelchairs, canoes and fire equipment. Was I right to think the exhibit highlighted kevlar’s military applications? Did she really belong in this museum in the first place? I couldn't decide and didn't really care--the warmth of the museum was lovely, and I felt it slowly taking the energy out of me.

The Inauguration: Scenes from a Canadian Pilgrimage--Part 1

At 6 pm the day before the inauguration, myself and my two sons bordered a bus full of young university students eager to be part of history. The moment I bordered the bus and saw their youthfulness, I understood just how significant Obama’s impact could be. When was the last time a generation—Canadian and American—was galvanized by a President and felt personally called to become involved in remaking the world? Obama could have that effect, one that could linger long after his administration would begin to be judged by history. What might remain could be a virtuous circle of social activism and caring started by a President who elicited the best from a generation now still in school.

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When we got to the border, we stopped at the duty free shop and bought Canadian flags, little knowing how they might impact our experience in D.C. When the customs official heard our schedule—a 12 hour drive down, 12 hours in D.C. and a 12 hour drive back—he thought us somewhat crazy but, we also noticed, he was considerate in how he treated us. We had become, as it were, Canadians and not potential terrorists. Apparently, so I heard, the “level-of-threat alerts” have already ceased being announced at U.S. airports as well—perhaps an early sign of a new President who will not serve fear as his administration’s main course.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

At some point on the drive down, I awoke to hear “Oh Canada” being sung. A spontaneous outburst of national pride? Hardly a Canadian trait. Something must have sparked the students into song and, yes, it was the appearance of a Tim Horton’s in the dark of New York State. I wondered if it’s a good thing—Canadian identity called forth by a donut shop.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As we made our way into D.C., we could see other buses on the roads. At 5:30 a.m. the pilgrimage was in full swing—the sidewalks already had people beginning to make the trek to the mall. In the last warmth of the bus, we put on clothes, stuffed some food and water bottles into our pockets and headed out. As we rounded the corner, we could see the dome of the capital lit up. Hawkers were out selling Obama gear—t-shirts, hats, buttons. Obama-mania was on the rise.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Pilgrimage is always as much about the going as the arriving. Though our going had begun back in Ottawa, the real pilgrimage began, for me at least, on the walk to the mall. We were slowly joining an evergrowing sea of humanity. We came first to the start of the Mall that’s close to the Capital but, not being ticketholders, were directed to another route, a long walk under the Rte 395 tunnel, a highway closed down for the occasion that would lead us under the Reflecting Pool and up to streets we'd follow to the Mall’s more distant acreage.

Never was a tunnel more filled with light. It was far too early in the morning to be joyous, but somehow that didn’t seem to matter. Joy was the order of the day. And there was more than a bit of acknowledgment of the Canadians. People seemed genuinely thrilled to have us there—“welcome Canada!”, “good to see some Canadians here!”, “Yo Canada!”. We saw the “Button Man,” a fellow with a trench coat covered—and I do mean covered—with Obama buttons and who was in high demand for being in people's photographs. I spoke to one black woman who had come out from California and who had come for “the greatest day of my life.” We were interviewed and video-ed by bloggers from Seattle to Illinois. The tunnel echoed with cries of "Yes, we can," and it didn't take us long to figure out our cry, "Yes, we can...ada!" By the time we emerged from the tunnel, daylight had arrived and we understood this was one Great Big Sea. The 3km walk to the Mall had taken us nearly two hours and we still had another four before the ceremonies would begin.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

We came to the Mall on 12th Street. We met some other Canadians, one group had come by bus from Toronto, and we met a man who was walking around with a large Canadian flag draped over himself and asking everyone to sign it. The Mall is a large expanse, grass beaten down into dirt, surrounded by museums; on one end is the Capital and at the other, near us, the Washington Monument. Large “jumbotrons” and loud speakers were placed strategically along the Mall and were showing scenes from the previous day's celebrations.

Funny how you think you’re dressed well for the weather when you first head out, but then the reality of standing around takes hold. It was cold and windy. The sun didn’t have much to say. Some music on the jumbotrons got the crowd dancing, and the movement provided some temporary relief. By mid-morning we decided we needed to launch a small expedition to a nearby sub-shop we’d been told about for something warm to eat. During the expedition’s absence the crowd on the Mall continued to grow. By the time the expedition returned, they wouldn’t have found us without the Canadian flag held high and waving. Hot soup and chili; the wind was dying down and the sun was beginning to get its act together. Things were looking good.

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I couldn’t help but look around at faces on the Mall. Somehow the faces I most wanted to see were of elderly black folks. In my own sentimental heart, I felt this day was for them. For those who had suffered the indignities of racial inequality, surely this day had particular resonance. I went up to one black gentleman who had a grey beard and a handsome lined face and struck up a conversation. No, he didn’t believe he’d see it in his lifetime and he didn’t take Obama’s candidacy seriously for a long time. But there was a moment, he said, when Obama’s way of talking reminded him of JFK and he thought this young man has a real chance.

Obama and The White Niggers of North America

As I learned more about Quebec in Canada, I learned that francophones had compared their status in Canada to that of Blacks in the U.S. They thought of themselves as "the white niggers of North America," (apparently from an old book of the same title--though I have not been able to confirm this yet)--a disenfranchised minority, discriminated against, beaten down, subjected to a history of injustices.

It struck me then, as it strikes me now, as a deeply flawed comparison. Though surely there is some hook to hang the comparison on--francophones in Canada are a minority community that has suffered discrimination--it strikes me as a comparison that either underestimates the degree of historical oppression Black America has faced or that cannot see the degree of enfranchisement of French Canada.

The core argument I used to bring out to Quebecers about the comparison's flaws always hinged on the number of Quebecers who had been Prime Minister, and of the necessity of Prime Ministerial candidates to have mastered the language no matter where they're from. In the States, I used to say, there has never been a black president, not even a viable black candidate. You do not understand, I would go on, how much French Canada has a significant voice in the life of the nation compared to Black America; I don't expect to see a black president in my lifetime!

Who would've thunk it! I was wrong. French Canadians never were the white niggers of North America, but just maybe, finally, Black America will forever more have the voice in the U.S. that French Canada has had up here. Wouldn't that be a gift?

Monday, I am taking my two sons down to D.C. to see the Inauguration. They may not understand its import much more than I understood what was going on when my father took me out of school in the 3rd grade to walk in a march with Martin Luther King. However, I do remember the day well; so will they.

Banner Headline--Canada's Obsession Fulfilled!

Canada, are you happy now? Do you feel the love?

Yesterday's newspaper headlines around the country--Obama To Visit Canada First. That first matters to Canadians (see my Dec. 19th posting-"Canada's Surprising Obsession").

Yesterday's article explains: New U.S. Presidents, dating to Warren Harding in 1923, have typically made Canada their first international visit following their election. But Mr. Bush deviated from that pattern after his election in 2001.

That deviation seemed like a national trauma. But Obama, healer that he is, will assuage the bruised ego of Canada by gracing us with his FIRST visit. Once again, we're America's favorite child, and all is well north of the 49th parallel.

Afghanistan--Strategy Anyone?

Recently the journalist who is taking over as anchor of Radio Canada's primary news program was interviewed by CBC. At one point, she was talking about Afghanistan and her belief in the positive changes that Canada's presence was having in Kandahar--girls in schools, more education, various positive local impacts supported by the professionalism and bravery of Canada's soldiers. Her belief in the Canadian presence in Afghanistan was apparent. As I listened, I was expecting a more strategic perspective to follow. None did.

Her perspective on Canada in Afghanistan reminded me of how General Hillier, the former commander of Canada's forces in the country, would sell the mission. It was a pitch focused almost wholly on local success stories. A soldier, even a journalist, can be forgiven for not having a strategic sensibility; they are not the ones responsible for coming up with the strategic justification for deploying Canada's forces. That justification has to come from the Prime Minister and Minister of Defense. However, it was never offered by the Liberals, who first committed the troops, and it hasn't been offered by the conservatives who inherited the mission.

Harper, so far as I can tell, as done no better than this when he was unveiling a motion on the future of the mission:

My party has been proud and consistent in support of the Afghanistan mission since the Liberal Government first decided to send combat troops to that country in 2001. We believed, and continue to believe, that these actions are not only justified by the nature of the conflict, but also firmly rooted in the traditions of Canadian foreign and defence policy.

Then, after praising the troops, he adds We should be very proud of our contributions and accomplishments in Afghanistan.We are making a real, positive difference there.

Well, that explains everything! Now I get it. It's about the nature of the conflict, it's rooted in our traditions and--this is the kicker--we're making a difference. Canada has made a huge commitment to Afghanistan. So why hasn't a compelling rationale been offered? Perhaps because there isn't one. No compelling strategic reason for the engagement exists. (For Canada's entry into the commitment, read Unexpected War by Janice Stein and Eugene Lang) What's most worrisome is the apparent inability of the Canadian political class to think and speak strategically, particularly when compared to the U.S., even--dare I say it--when compared to George W. Bush.

First, an aside: to establish Bush as strategic, I need to offer a one-sentence aside on strategic thinking. At its simplest, strategic thinking is composed of two core elements: going up in altitude to see context, and projecting forward into the future to envision consequences and results. As an example, the sales pitch Bush finally landed on to sell his folly in Iraq--after weapons of mass destruction didn't work, and removing Saddam proved inadequate--was that Iraq would serve as the beachhead of democracy for the region. Eventually, so the theory went, democracy would come to the region, the U.S. dependence on foreign oil would no longer require it to buy from dictatorships, and with democracy in place, the Arab-Israeli dynamic would transform, etc., etc. Bush's rationale went up in altitude from Iraq to the larger context of the region, and then projected into the future, and up in altitude, to where the connection to the interests of the U.S. could be seen.

Never mind that it was pure fantasy, it's an example of connecting something far away to one's national interests. When an American then asks why are we in Iraq, an answer could come back that makes it clear it's not just about, or even primarily about, Iraq. Canadians, on the other hand, when asking why are we in Afghanistan, seem unable to receive any broader answer than our good soldiers are making a difference in Kandahar. True as that may be, it offers no explanation of why there as opposed to elsewhere, of why it might be in Canada's interest to pour significant resources into making a difference in a small local area of a country that no foreign force has been able to transform.

The U.S. wouldn't tolerate a signficant application of resources without a large and lofty reason. Vietnam had the domino theory--if Vietnam falls, then the region over time will fall into China's hand. Again, that's up in altitude and forward in time. Canada, on the other hand, seems content with good deed doing. Perhaps it's a remnant from its 40 year-long self-image as a nation of peacekeepers. We will deploy our forces there, between those two enemies and prevent them from killing each other. Clear purpose. No big context. Good deed doing...And so Afghanistan took Canada by surprise. Oh my god, we're in a war! What the ___! Not used to thinking strategically about force deployment, strategy never made it on the agenda. And it still hasn't.

The consolation for Canada: when there's no large strategic reason, Canadian politicians don't seem to have the guile to invent one; the U.S., on the other hand, would have no choice but to invent one and too often, it's wrong.

CBC Radio's Embarrassing Idea

I can just the wheels turning in some marketing dept at CBC:
Some exec says, "We need a new hook for our viewers, something snappy, how about we think out of the box?" "Well, jeez," says the eager beaver, "we get our best ratings when we solicit the public's opinions about music, you know, the top 100 Canadian songs, stuff like that, and jeez if we reveal just a few songs each week, we can keep 'em listeing for months! Damn, we're clever." Then somebody else pipes in with, " you know, given all the bizarre stuff going on with our politicians right now, Canadians are really digging Barack Obama. He's even more popular up here then down there. Maybe we could do something on Obama." A third ads in, "how about we combine the two--Obama and music?" Suddenly the exec snaps to attention, "that's it, that's the idea we've been looking for!"

CBC has, of late, been soliciting the 49 quintessential Canadian songs that should be sent to the President-elect as a way "to best define our country." You can see how it's positioned here: http://www.cbc.ca/radio2/r2drive/2009/01/49_songs_from_north_of_the_49t.html
The voting happend from January 6th-16th. My guess is a few songs will be revealed each day, with the last five being revealed just before inauguration day. Mark these broadcasts in your calendar...as times to boycott CBC.

Exactly what does it say about Canada that its national broadcaster is soliciting music from Canadians for the incoming American President? Am I the only one who thinks it odd? From an American perspective, no radio station in the States would EVER do such a thing, unless it was to satirize and mock some foreign ruler, but CBC is doing this with complete and utter earnestness. I see a sweet third grader, little Canada, bringing in an apple to his favorite teacher, Mr. Obama, and shyly handing it to him saying, with eyes averted, "Mr. Obama, I heard you like fruit, this is for you."

If you can't tell, I find this more than a little troubling. He's a foreign head of state--why is the whole country supposed to focus on deciding what songs of ours we would like to share with him? Canada, please stop and reconsider. I mean, where's our dignity?

I do know that eight years of the Bush administration deeply troubled the Canadian soul, as it did much of the world; I know nearly all of us up here are happy Obama won the election, and I know Obama likes music (since the CBC pointed it out), but these are not sufficient reasons to fawn, are they?

What's next? The man apparently likes basketball--does that mean Canada should develop a DVD full of the best moments from Canada's National Team? "Call in and name the Canadian Hoops One Hundred for the incoming Prez!" If you send it to him, maybe he'll really and truly love us then, Canada. Won't we be happy!

The Queen's Representative and Sacred Events of the Nation

First, I don't have much use for the monarchy. When I moved up here, the whole "monarchy thing" baffled me. More than that, it appalled me--kowtowing to people who seemed to have no social utility at all and milk the taxpayers to support their lifestyles. It seemed positively bizarre to me the first time I tuned in to hear the Prime Minister's speech from the throne, only to discover that the Governor General was going to deliver the speech by reading it outloud. What's the deal? Did the PM forget his glasses?

I will admit the that British monachy, along with its various franchises, delivers pomp better than anyone, and they do provide some distracting salacious news now and then when their behaviors are less than regal. But these hardly justify the line item expense in the national budget. One could easily consider them nothing more than the national vestigial organ of the empire. Should the monarchy go on the operating table immediately (they do get to hop the queue, after all) and be excised from the body of the nation?

I think not. After years of living in a land where a presence called the Governor General abides, I've come to believe there is a meaningful purpose for sustaining this role of the Queen's representative in Canada. Tempting though it may be, I'm not going to focus on those rare moments--and one Canada just had--when the Governor General actually has real power in deciding the fate of the government. What's needed to justify the role is a reason for the largely ceremonial and symbolic activities that take up most of the position--commemorations, funerals, celebrations.

It's easy to dismiss the position as all fluff and puffery, or to use a more American idiom, as all sizzle and no steak. To do that, however, is to underestimate the significance of those moments in national life that require invoking realms of feeling to deep for policy to hold, during times when a nation experiences itself, despite its wide and mighty differences, as a single community bound together by history and tragedy.

In my American childhood, it was always the President who spoke to those moments. LBJ spoke to the nation about Civil Rights, Ford commemorated the Bicentennial, Reagan eulogized the astronauts of the shuttle Challenger. The President, elected to run the country and enact laws and policies, was also the holder of the sacred, the high priest to the nation's aching soul. It is why the U.S. Presidency seems to be an office designed for a God-King more than a politician.

In Canada, it is entirely different. It struck me, fairly early on after moving up here, that the PM is--get this--a regular person...whose job is in politics. Deference to the position is far less. Not only does the nation not vote for him directly, he doesn't have to carry the symbolic weight of the nation. He can be a policy guy, he can set direction, and when that direction results in deaths, another person holds and symbolizes the nation's grief. The office of Prime Minister is not imbued with the immense historical weight given to the office of the President; the trappings of the office of Prime Minister are relatively benign; Sussex Ave and the White House are symbolically not in the same ballpark.

Why does this difference matter? Because in Canada the sacred occassions of state need not be compromised by the taint of policy. When George W. Bush attends a military funeral for soldiers killed in Iraq, his policy decisions are directly linked to those dead sons and daughters of the Republic. Depending on one's feelings towards those policies, the President can be an inappropriate presence in honouring the dead. To be blunt, would you want to have the man ultimately responsible for your son's death to attend his funeral? And so the office of the Governer General allows the sacred affairs of the nation to not be contaminated by politicians and their policies, however inspired or daft.

This leads me to the relatively subdued nature of political rhetoric in Canada, but that's for a later post...

Comparative New Year's

Quick thought:

I grew up with Guy Lombardo and/or Dick Clark as the New Year's eve's celebrations to watch. Each offered different generations the chance to dance to the music they loved. The Canadian tradition, however, seems to focus on using New Year's Eve to review the year and milk it for every bit of political humour possible.

One country wants to end the year dancing; the other, laughing.