7 Things I’ve Learned About History Since Moving to the Land of the Future

April 25, 2014

“Why on earth did you study history?” I was asked last night, and on many days since I arrived in what is perhaps the world’s most future-oriented place. What answer can I give to an engineer or venture capitalist who can’t rotate his perspective enough to look backward, or see the importance of doing so? I usually say that I love to explore the rich context of our modern world, so much of which was influenced by the past. Or that history, like all the humanities, is a mirror that shows us a different version of ourselves.

But such answers will not satisfy many people here, and in wondering why, I realize I’ve learned a few things about history and its uses since learning the way (to San José):

1. America ≠ California and American History Californian History.

I write a lot about nationalism, because it is one of the ways we identify as part of a group, with shared history. I feel very Canadian, and not very Ontarian at all because I don’t see Ontario’s history as disconnected from that of the Canadian historical narrative. So I assumed it would be very “American” here, like places I’ve been on the East Coast and Midwest.

I was wrong.

The United States, though a young country, seems to be very aware of (certain parts of) its history. After all, how many other countries refer so frequently to and preserve so faithfully the intentions of their founding documents? America has an acute sense of its founding myths, and the historical reenactment culture here is an ongoing source of fascination and delight. (Who wants to be that Union solider who gets shot the first moment of battle and lies on the field the rest of the day in period costume? Is there a hierarchy, and does one get promoted each successive year based on seniority until eventually he is General Lee, or is it merit-based and depends on how well you keel over in your fleeting moment of glory? Such pressing questions.)

California Republic

California is not, however, America. It is, as the t-shirts say, “California Republic,” with its “Governator” and strange direct democracy and fiercely independent, contrarian streak. Very few people here identify as “American” so much as “Californian,” and they don’t seem to share the same historical touch points. More common are nods to the Spanish and Mexican roots of the region, through the missions and street names, or a focus on the history of global trade and cosmopolitan capitalism.

2. People have a different definition of “history” in Silicon Valley.

Silicon Valley is a whole other animal altogether (a shark, perhaps?).

In a place where the next iOS release, must-have gadget or earnings report is breathlessly anticipated, “history” becomes something that matters mostly in your browser. “Legacies” and “artifacts” are usually bad things to Valley dwellers, being outmoded or standing in the way of progress. The tech industry does not look kindly on the past – or rather, doesn’t think much of it at all, an indifference which is, as we all know, much more the opposite of love than dislike.

San José then…

Silicon Valley isn’t kind to its physical history either. The historic orchards and cherry trees that once ringed San José have been paved to make way for sprawling, two-story rental accommodations and carefully landscaped corporate lawns. Giant redwoods are regularly felled to allow for a better view of the advertisements on the side of buildings (seen from the freeway, of course). Dome-shaped Space Age cinemas one frequented by Steven Spielberg are in danger of being torn down, likely so newer, bigger malls can rise up in their places.

Even churches, those bastions of beautiful architecture, look like something out of an IKEA catalogue, all light wood and glass – nary a flying buttress in sight. It’s a full-on assault of the past by the present, in the name of the future.

3. Transience produces ambivalence and a lack of investment in the past.

Many people are new here, as the region’s explosive growth in the last 30 years can attest. Others are “just passing through.” So a lot of people feel disconnected from anything greater than their jobs or family/friend networks here, and there is a pervasive sense of rootlessness.

So why bother to invest in their communities? Or care what they used to look like? So goes the logic and thus the “San José Historic District” encompasses a single square block, with fewer than ten historic monuments. These are mainly just buildings that have survived – earthquakes, vacancy and neglect. This website catalogs the “boneyard of unwanted San José monuments” that are slowly crumbling away near the freeway and very shiny corporate HQ of Adobe.

Santa Clara County Courthouse

The courthouse, crumbling in disrepair. San José is falling down, falling down, falling down…

It’s not all that surprising though when you consider that…

4. …it is personal history that fosters pride and connection.

Perhaps I and others feel disconnected from the history here because so much of historical connection depends on identifying with who made the history in the first place. Several recent studies from the British Commonwealth (Britain itself, Canada, and Australia) and the US indicate that museum attendance increases where a greater percentage of the population identifies with the ancestry of the area. That is, if you are of Scottish origin in Toronto, you are more likely to be interested in a museum about Canadian history, which was largely architected by Scots, than if you are a Native Canadian whose world was essentially trampled on by those same Scots. You’re likely still less interested if you are a recent immigrant to Toronto from Bangladesh. Feeling as though a part of you helped to make a place what it is makes it more real and more interesting. Rightly or wrongly, you feel as if you have more of a stake in the future because “your people” had more of a stake in the past.

Even people that grew up here can barely recognize it, so feel as though a part of their past has been taken from them. Wherefore the cherry blossoms and apple orchards that used to dot the landscape of the “Valley of the Heart’s Delight”? One woman told me her family used to live bordering a fruit farm, and moved six times as the farms were paved over by housing divisions, until “we lived backing on to the mountain, and there were no farms left.”

…and San José now.

And yet, I can only feel that history is critical, from my experiences in Toronto where historical consciousness, like love and Christmas, is all around.

Thus:

5. History is often the most beautiful part.

I used to love walking through downtown Toronto because every so often a beautiful Art Deco or neo-Gothic gem would emerge amid the drab tower blocks of the 1960s and 1970s. Variations in architectural style provide interest and colour in an otherwise monotonous world of glassy office towers and utilitarian apartment buildings. Grand plazas, churches and monuments make statements about what is important to a place, and what it values.

What do these people value? It is worth cherishing and celebrating the few beautiful examples of history that exist here.

Like this one!

 

6. Historical traditions provide comfort.

This surprised me. History, of course, is about customs passed down as much as it is about actual events or physical buildings. Traditions ground us and give us some consistency in a world that changes rapidly. This is part of the reason weddings, funerals, and general church-going still exist. We need traditions to mark the big events in life.

We also need traditions to mark out who we are and how we should behave. To take a small but non-trivial example I wrote about recently: our clothing sends out signals about who we are and what we expect from life. There are no standards of dress here, at work or at play. Twenty-five-year-old men dictate the business ambiance, so beards, flip flops and holey t-shirts abound, and you can’t find a restaurant in California fancy enough that you can’t wear jeans.

It is utterly unconventional, which is perhaps just a bit the point. Wearing jeans to a meeting with someone in a suit will instantly destabilize them. It’s the same idea with non-standard working hours, perfected by the tech industry, and turning work into play (both the work itself and the space in which it is done). Even the critical and traditional accent in “José” has all but disappeared, which leads me to wonder if people in future will think this city was pronounced as something that rhymes with “banjos.”

It is groundbreaking to blow up established norms, but also somewhat unsettling. And history is necessary, if only to have something to conscientiously reject.

7. Culture clusters around history.

Life without history would not only be ignorant and untethered, but very boring.

People often view San José and its surrounds as soulless, and it’s easy to see why. One need only look at the cultural draw San Francisco has on the region to appreciate why places with deep roots are attractive. Most of San Francisco’s biggest tourist attractions are historical landmarks. What would the City be without the bridge, cable cars, Alcatraz, Haight-Ashbury, the Ferry Building, or Pier 39? Just a bunch of expensive apartments and hills, really.

History infuses places with meaning, and communities gather to add more layers. So next time someone asks me why on earth I would bother to study history, I think I will tell him that it’s because I care about beauty and culture and connection to the people and places around me — and that if he wants to live in somewhere even half-decent, he should too.

History, paved over

History, paved over


What makes a city great? Toward a hierarchy of urban needs

April 3, 2014

A few years ago I created a conceptual model of national needs, shown below, based on Maslow’s hierarchy of (personal) needs. It has become one of the most read posts on this blog, indicating that our identification with both nations and Maslow’s framework both continue to resonate today, decades after their creation.

Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs

Some context: Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, for individuals

Of course, it is difficult to map the idea of progressive needs of an individual cleanly to a political entity. Nations, like people, continue to evolve, and the role of nations in the world is changing too. Nonetheless, the idea of a hierarchy, in which basic needs must be satisfied before one can progress to a higher level of actualization and fulfilling one’s whole potential, can be applied to countries in various stages of development.

Since writing my National Needs post in 2010, a new country was created in South Sudan. It is still struggling (as indeed are many other nations) with the lowest level of securing territorial integrity and peaceful borders, and this remains its primary focus. The struggle for survival must come before feelings of security, esteem and morality.

Exon's Hierarchy of National Needs (Click for a larger version)

Exon [Smith]’s Hierarchy of National Needs, c. 2010 (Click for a larger version)

Yet there are other geographical entities with which we commonly identify, and which are becoming more and more important as centres of culture and economy as a greater percentage of the world’s population moves into them: cities. It is estimated that for the first time in human history, more people live in urban areas than outside of them, and cities are becoming important political players in their own right.

Since moving to California in late 2013 (and spending a lot of time on the Atlantic Cities channel), I have been thinking about how fundamentally important cities are. What makes them truly great? What makes them “cities” at all, in a sense apart from the obvious population requirements? For example, I live in San Jose, which is the third largest city in California, ahead of San Francisco in both population and area, and yet its own inhabitants curiously refer to San Francisco as “the city.” Why? What has to happen for a place to transform into a world-class city from a mere urban area?

So, as I am wont to do, I created a new model to explore the needs of a city, also along the lines of Maslow. I’m calling it the “Hierarchy of Urban Needs.” Note that I am assuming that this city exists within the context of a nation that ensures the rights and privileges of, as well as general governance over, its citizens.  Some discussion of the stages is below.

hierarchy1.pdf.001

Exon Smith’s hierarchy of urban needs (Click for a larger version)

Basic services 

At the most fundamental level, cities need key services delivered in an efficient and cost-effective way. (This is true even if such services aren’t necessarily paid for by the cities themselves, as is the case with, say, healthcare in Canadian cities.) This includes fire, police, and ambulance services; waste management; housing inspections to ensure both safety and affordability of housing; water treatment, and the like. For many cities, this means being able to control the tax base and be able to levy taxes on the population as necessary.

World-class cities will also have exceptional healthcare options and a focus on sustainability woven through even these fundamentals, such as extensive recycling and compost programs. San Francisco, for example, deploys teams to examine what its residents recycle properly and what they don’t so the city can mount better educational campaigns.

Of course, the basic running of the city must be free of corruption, and be able to pay its bills so it avoids a Detroit-like bankruptcy claim, or the succession of mayors Montreal has recently had.

Infrastructure

Historically, cities developed around major ports and, later, railway depots. Even today, no major cities exist without some kind of harbour, airport, train station or freeway linking them with the outside world. Inter-city transportation, undergirded by solid infrastructure, is a critical component of economic progress.

Cities with poor transit are at a huge disadvantage. Jakarta, a city of nearly ten million people, and the largest city of its size with no metro of any kind, has notoriously been working on an underground transit network for 20 years. Traffic congestion is thought to cost the city $1 billion a year. In another cautionary tale, it can take 12 hours to travel 40 miles in Lagos, Nigeria, and the way is fraught with crime and other dangers, a threat to legitimate trade.

Intra-city transportation is also a key factor, and how best to support the movement of people within a city is a subject of almost universal debate. Subways vs. light rail, bike lanes vs. car lanes, pedestrian-only roads and congestion pricing – these are major issues for all cities, and the thinking on public transportation keeps evolving.

This is one area in which San Jose currently struggles but has big plans for the future. My theory is that older cities, built before car use was predominant, have an easier time planning for pedestrian and bike access. Those (like San Jose) that were built after the advent of freeways and a Cadillac for every nuclear family tend to struggle to retrofit density in the downtown core when its points of interest are already quite far-flung.

And yet. San Jose is a critical location for high-speed rail between Los Angeles and San Francisco, as well as a hub for transportation around the San Francisco Bay (linking to San Francisco and Oakland), and has reserved space downtown for new transit links. It is planning for increased density to accompany the new transportation. Hopefully use of public transportation within city limits will also increase, because at the moment the city is hugely dependent on the car. Inefficient public transit routes poorly serve the population, resulting in, for example, 78% (!) of San Jose commuters travelling to work in single-occupancy vehicles.

Central Park

Infrastructure also includes sewers and other large-scale public works, including parks and other green space. More and more research indicates that green spaces make for happier communities, and many major cities can be identified by their parks alone (e.g. Central Park, Golden Gate Park, Bois du Boulogne, Sanjay Gandhi National Park). As I’ve said before, I love sewers, water mains and bridges, personally, and think more campaigns should be fought around securing funding for them. The recent, tragic gas explosion in Harlem only underlines the need to think the way the Victorians did about how cities really run and how we can leave a legacy for the future that is perhaps not glamourous, but that is critically important. One of Toronto’s great strengths, as is the case in many other cities, is the numerous cranes on the skyline building new architectural wonders (as well as a few duds). Would that we could focus on what lies beneath the soil as well.

A brief interlude on mayors…

Thinking about these lower levels of needs, it strikes me that the level of a city’s discourse (and thus position on this hierarchy) can often be seen through the lens of its mayoral elections. Toronto’s 2010 (as most likely will its 2014) election centered on the issues of transportation and waste in providing city services, leaving little room for discussion of higher-order issues (such as, ahem, drug use among elected officials). New York’s 2013 election, in which Bill de Blasio won almost three quarters of the votes, turned largely on issues of income inequality and pre-kindergarden education, the next level in my hierarchy. And the major issues of London’s 2012 election, won by incumbent Boris Johnson and his hair, were the economy, tackling crime, public transportation, and affordable housing.

Boris, Campaigning on Transit

Boris: Campaigning on Transit

It makes sense that the basics need to be taken care of, and continually improved upon, before a successful cultural scene can take root, in the same way that humans must be fed and watered, feel physically and emotionally safe, and feel a sense of belonging before they can achieve self-actualization.

…and then back to the hierarchy: Educational and research institutions

A strong educational foundation at every level is critical, and a well-educated population requires relative equality in the quality of schools. This is one of the main reasons cities should not fund their schools through neighbourhood taxes (and thus subject schools to the vagaries of house prices), as many cities in the United States do.  A well-educated citizenry contributes more to the economy than a poorly-educated one.

The presence of leading research and teaching institutions draws in talent and sows the seeds of innovation, which is why “cluster economies” such as Silicon Valley are the next big thing, because they focus research and development into localities with populations educated enough to feed them with employees. Every one of the world’s greatest cities has a leading university at its heart, without exception – this cannot be a coincidence.

Diversity is the key here. Cities built around just one industry are like monocultures: potentially dominant for a short while, but vulnerable to disastrous decline. Take any of the grand old cities in the Rust Belt: Buffalo, for example, was one of America’s greatest cities one hundred years ago, built on a strong grain-milling and shipping/railroad industry. After almost a century of decline, it is, well, no longer great – but it has managed to slow the decline by diversifying into the education and medical fields. Glasgow, once the premier city of Scotland, faced a similar decline due to its emphasis on a resource-based economy and de-emphasis on education.

Robust arts, sports and cultural scene

This stage is where the jump occurs from a merely livable city to one that is great. A safe, well-run, working city is lovely, but a city with a thriving cultural scene is one to fall in love with. In fact, social offerings, a broad category encompassing art, music, sport, religion and other community activities, are among the most significant contributing factors to residents’ feelings of attachment to their community. This is even above security or the state of the economy.

This stage of course includes both major municipal institutions such as museums, symphonies and ballets, but also spontaneous or smaller-scale, citizen-led activities. Being able to participate in a Sing-A-Long Messiah or see an independent movie at a film festival is as important as having the Bolshoi nearby, and also makes the arts more accessible to a wider population. Having Old Trafford around the corner is great, but so is the local curling league.

Doha’s Museum of Islamic Art

 

An arts and culture scene, moreover, is a key driver of tourism, which in turn feeds the economy on general feeling of being in a place worth being. (Just imagine Paris without the Louvre, or New York without the Empire State Building.) Older cities naturally have an advantage here because of the in-built history in ancient cathedrals, palaces or public art, but some newer cities have benefited by investing heavily in creating an arts scene. Doha, once little more than an oily afterthought, is planning for the time when its resources run out by creating a strong film industry and thriving place for modern art. It is also newly host to a major international economic forum, and will host the 2022 World Cup. (Probably.)

Openness to influence; becoming a symbolic beacon

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free !

These words adorn the base of the Statue of Liberty  and represent what I have spoken of before, being a city of the imagination. These cities are the subject of books, films, Broadway musicals, and countless daydreams, and have a romance and level of impact that serves to draw people to them, for a visit or for good.

These cities, in turn, receive their tourists and immigrants in a more or less accommodating way, taking from them the best of their cultures and using that to strengthen and further diversify the metropolis. Cuzco, Islamic Seville, and the Florence of the Medici were all historical examples of the power of such “mixing bowls” of culture: out of their cultural milieu came the starting point for a massive empire, the Golden Age of exploration, and the Uffizi Gallery. Modern equivalents spring to mind precisely because they have this pull on our hearts and minds.

The last two levels of the hierarchy are quite iterative: the greater the cultural scene and economy, the greater draw a city has for immigrants, who then enrich the culture further. It is difficult to find a world-class city without a large percentage of immigrants, who bring with them new traditions, great ideas, ambition, and excellent food. It is in fact difficult to overestimate the importance – both historically and in the present day – of immigrants to cities’ successes, which is why openness to influence and disruption may be the most important trait a city can have.

 

So there’s the model. I’d love to hear your thoughts!


The Empire Strikes Back … with Hammers

March 4, 2014

This is a post about curling.

It is also a post about colonialism and the sadness and rhetoric that accompanies the sunset of an empire.

Toward the end of the 2014 Olympics came the men’s curling final, a dramatic showdown between Great Britain and Canada. Watching in Europe, as I was, meant coverage was courtesy of the BBC and commentary by two storied skips from the grand Team GB of yesteryear. (Let’s put aside the fact that, like most British curlers, the commentators and players were all Scottish, because they all displayed a sufficient amount of “national” pride to be considered British. I will get into the whole Scottish nationalism affair later.) The stage was set: the Canadian women had beaten the female British team in the semi-finals and gone on, undefeated, to win the gold medal the day before. There was an enormous amount of pressure from home on the Canadian men to repeat their gold-medal successes of the 2010 and 2006 games. The tension was palpable.

Canada ended up winning a lopsided 9-3 for the gold.

Now, the Canadians were the odds-on favourites in this match. Despite curling being a Scottish sport originally, Canada is its foremost powerhouse nation. Since curling was introduced to the Winter Olympics in Nagano 1998, Canada has won medals in both the women’s and men’s tournaments every time. Only Sweden comes close. This particular team GB was also very good – they have won several World and European Curling Championships – but I doubt many people would have bet on them for the gold.

Our Boys Aren’t Like That

And yet, to listen to the BBC commentary, the victory was Britain’s almost by rights. The callers were making a valiant effort at being neutral at first but later abandoned the impartiality to lament the way the game was going for “our boys.” But what was most fascinating to me, as a student of nationalism and empire, was the language they used. I’ve written before about how the Olympics brings out the very best/worst in our jingoistic selves and allows the media and advertising to fall back on hoary old national tropes (the whole #wearewinter Canadian twitter campaign being just one example – do they not have winter elsewhere?).  But I had never seen this rhetoric play out between former imperial power and its precocious colony before. According to the BBC, the Canadian team was (and please say this with a Scottish accent in your heads, because I assure you it’s better) “a wee bit too aggressive,” “quite loud with their calls” and “not as polite as some of the other teams.” At one point, jokes were made that the Canadians’ shirts were too tight — or perhaps their biceps were too big? It was all just too masculine for Britain! “Our boys aren’t like that.”

 

Canadian curling skip Brad Jacobs: too much muscle mass for Britain!

Canadian curling skip Brad Jacobs: too much muscle mass and yelling for Britain!

 

Uncouth colonies! How dare you go to the gym and yell at the rink and celebrate your victories! It was a distant echo of the accusations that have always been aimed at settlement colonies, like Australia and Canada – and internal colonies, like the untamed “Wild West” within the United States – as justifications for the continuation of central control. Australia, incidentally, has never shaken off its image as the raucous outpost of empire “Down Under.” (Google suggest says: “Why are Australians so…” “Racist? Obnoxious? Violent?” Notably masculine traits, and not in a good way.)

It is odd that the British should still be falling back on this language. Perhaps sport commentary, like holiday foods, preserves tradition longer than the everyday. After all, it is hardly news that the games that originated in the former imperial capitals have since spread around the world and been mastered by foreign nationals to a far greater degree than those in the home country. Golf, a typically Scottish exercise in hitting objects with sticks, has been perfected by Americans like Tiger Woods or Fijians like Vijay Singh. Cricket is now the almost exclusive realm of South Asians. And then of course there is (sigh) soccer, an originally English sport which is now dominated at the international level by South Americans and Southern Europeans, much to my biennial chagrin.

Rugger for the Empire

Perhaps the general British population is now past the point with these sports that they feel they should win, as the original players. But that is patently not the case with every sport. For comparison, I thought a look at another English game – rugby, a product of the Victorian English public school system – would be interesting. Rugby spread about as far as the former settlement colonies of Australia, New Zealand and South Africa (though really not much further, to look at the top teams), and my hypothesis is that British commentary would deem those foreign players rough and aggressive as well. Indeed, a short search of British news outlets finds the formidable NZ All Blacks masters of “thuggery” and the English team still fending off accusations of being hampered by its antiquated class system and uselessness on the pitch. One author, a former English international rugby player, talks about how the “relentless,” “ruthless” All Blacks laughed at him and assaulted his manliness when he twisted his knee, and how a recent match between the Aussies and the All Blacks was “a frightening gauntlet thrown down to all the players in the northern hemisphere.” You can’t make this stuff up.

 

The New Zealand All Blacks: "all things dark and Kiwi"

The New Zealand All Blacks: to the English, “all things dark and Kiwi”

 

It is competitive and familiar and has overtones of parent-child conflict. This same language was appropriated by the colonies themselves to justify their independence from Mother England: “You’re right: we are stronger and healthier and more willing to get our hands dirty, so we’ll have that control of our own government now, thank you.” Canada and Australia in particular used the physical superiority of their young men as indications that the centres of empire should shift to these places where willing hands were stronger at carrying its mission forth. As one former Canadian Governor General once said, “It is in climates and countries where the white man may multiply…that we must look for the strongest elements of Empire, and it is only at the Cape of Good Hope, in British North America, and in Australasia that we find these conditions realized.” And so it was that British men became stereotyped as effete weaklings more interested in their cravats than the serious business of governing a plurality of the world’s population.

And we’re still talking about it, a century later.

Hammer Time

In curling, the team that gets to throw the last stone (and has the opportunity to win points) in each end has the “hammer.” At the moment, the imperial hammer lies with the United States. And yet, Olympic jingoism was muted this year in the US, with various news outlets decrying the “step back” from previous triumphs, with fewer medals and some surprise podium shut-outs. Much national hand-wringing and poor sportsmanship ensued, perhaps signs of an empire uncertain of its own strength.

A sign of decline? Stay tuned for accusations of China’s uncouth aggression.

Oh wait…

US News Reports of Chinese Aggression

US News Reports of Chinese Aggression


What Canada Desperately Needs: Visionary Leadership

April 20, 2011

Many people have been calling Canadians parochial throughout this election. Apparently we’re not comfortable with our leaders having opinions about politics outside our own country (and casting votes to back them up). We are apparently less involved internationally than ever before, especially in leadership roles. As a country, Canada is “retreating in on itself, clinging to the security of its own cultural stereotypes.”

Quite frankly, I think the kind of parochialism described above is but an aspiration at this point. I would love to see nation-wide parochialism. Instead, we have something closer to the real, historical definition of the word: looking no further than one’s own church parish. The campaign has showcased several variations of such limited and narrow outlooks, and the dialogue has largely been confined to pet causes, special interests, and the concerns of small minorities.

The real tragedy of this election is not that we will have spent several hundred thousand dollars to get to about the same place, give or take a few seats. It is that we – led by our fearful leaders – have failed to take the opportunity to engage in dialogue about the path Canada is on, and more importantly, what that path should be. This election has mostly been fought over the past: disrespect for Parliament, carpetbaggery, where money was and wasn’t spent, what was and wasn’t allowed to happen, and generally the same tired policies and pot shots we’ve heard for years.

Thus far, there has been a woeful lack of debate about the real issues that will shape the future, such as youth unemployment and skill development, education, and the role of urban areas. Nobody has yet talked about a solution to the looming crisis in pensions. The critical and contentious issue of technology scored nary a mention at the debates. Overall, there is a chronic lack of an overriding, national vision.

This is why I cringe every time I hear someone talk about how Gilles Duceppe would be the best person to elect. “He’s just sooo charismatic, and such a great speaker.” Indeed. (Especially en français in comparison to the other party leaders whose first language is English, n’est-ce pas?) Let’s not forget that he is running on a platform that, 150 years ago, would likely have been considered treasonous, and continues to act as a catalytic force for ill in Canadian politics.

It is very easy for Gilles Duceppe and his Bloc Party colleagues to say whatever is most appealing to Canadians because 1) they know they will never have enough power to actually act on any of their promises; 2) they know they will never have to find any money for their schemes; and 3) since they are at heart a regional party, they need not come up with any coherent vision. They can borrow from the left and the right with no regard for the practicality of their position. As Tasha Kheriddin wrote recently in the National Post:

For federalists, the Bloc continues to represent an immovable force, not only an obstacle to a majority government, but a siphon for political talent and resources which would otherwise be deployed in the other parties, most notably the Tories and the NDP.

Instead of allowing federal politics to develop on a left-right continuum, as in the Rest of Canada, the Bloc continues to perpetuate the federalist-separatist dichotomy, and run an effective extortion scheme to boot.

Basically, the Bloc constitutes a wedge between voters in Quebec and national policies enacted by widely-supported national parties.

I don’t mean to vilify the Bloc above all others, as there are several parties at fault here. I have heard the Green Party criticized for similar reasons, namely being a single-issue party. I can certainly see the merits of that argument, given that the Green party’s platform is neither particularly left- nor right-wing, but mixes and matches policies to suit its “Green” foundation. (It also siphons votes and resources away from other parties, ones that could perhaps be more usefully employed formulating policies within mainstream parties that have a hope of being elected in numbers.)

I personally disagree and think the Green Party is coherent in its vision of offering policies undergirded by a focus on sustainability, in the same way the Tories offer policies broadly based on the principles of personal accountability and small government, and Liberals’ policies are broadly based on the idea of equality of opportunity and greater state involvement. What differentiates the national parties from the Bloc is that their policies (for the most part) allow Canada to work together without demanding rights and special privileges for some and not all.

To be clear, I don’t believe that parties should stick strictly to where their political forebears have trod. But political parties are important because they organize political thought and allow voters to make decisions based on what they imagine will be consistent ideologies. No election campaign can cover every possible scenario, so we want those we elect to act along predictable lines when something unexpected occurs. Those who elected George W. Bush in 2000 should not have been surprised that he reacted to the September 11 attacks as a conservative Republican would; this was the blueprint he ran on. With some exceptions, right-wing American politicians have often shown less regard for multilateral institutions like the UN than their left-wing counterparts. It is part of their ideology.

The American comparison is useful because it also shows us what a visionary candidate for a nation’s leader looks like. Vision is a mandatory quality for American presidents. They need to be able to energize vast numbers of voters into believing in their vision of the future. George W. Bush had a vision, that of “compassionate conservatism.” Obama certainly had a vision – of hope, change, empowerment of communities and international bodies, and support for social programs. Some might argue that he was awarded the Nobel Peace Price for enacting his vision of an America in partnership with other nations around the globe in such a short time after taking office.

The last Canadian PM to win a Nobel Peace Prize was Lester Pearson. During his minority government, he implemented what are now seen as the signature Canadian social programs and icons, including universal healthcare, the CPP, and our current national flag.

Do any of our current potential national leaders have that kind of vision? Please, someone, convince me – my vote is up for grabs.


It Takes a Village: Why Not Outsource Childcare?

March 14, 2011

The 100th Anniversary of International Women’s Day last week got me thinking about how glad I am not to be Betty Draper. Yet despite our advances, the promise of happier people – which of course includes happier families – has not borne out. The feminist movement has made great strides toward equality, but often at the expense of children, many of whom now grow up in an environment with no parents at home. We could debate at length why so many families feel the need to have two working parents (is it that corporations no longer pay a “family wage”? or have standards changed and now families believe they need more things, bigger houses, etc.?), but it would not alter the fact that most families have not substituted a father working all the time – and a mother at home – with two parents alternating working half the time. Throw in a divorce rate hovering around 50% in the Western world, and single parents who have no choice but to work long hours, and the result is millions of children with almost no parental direction for much of the time, let alone quality time with two parents.

One of the enduring themes of this blog is the increasing over-specialization of work, study, and entertainment, but I have yet to touch on the arena of parenthood. So allow me to play Jonathan Swift for a moment with my own modest proposal: outsourcing childcare to those who can do it efficiently and – most important – effectively.

Why not outsource parenting? We seem to have made most of the rest of our lives as efficient as possible. Instead of each of us owning farms that grow all our own food, we have created supermarkets and other supercentres that not only sell food, but everything from pharmaceuticals to care tires. Millions of office drones sit in cubicles doing the white-collar equivalent of screwing a bolt into a chassis over and over for eight or more hours a day, the epitome of over-specialized corporate work.

And childcare itself has changed from the days of one parent teaching her young how to get on in life. Public schools were established 1 000 years ago to teach Latin to poor children who could not afford private tutors. Today it is a legal requirement in most countries that children spend their weekdays in classrooms full of other children. (And most do: the latest statistics for homeschooled children that I could find put the number at only about 3% in the United States.) We have already outsourced the majority of education to professional teachers, from the fundamentals of literacy and numeracy to advanced calculus and classic literature.

At an even more basic level, many working parents outsource childcare to day cares, nannies or relatives. Crèches, the forerunner of modern day care, were established in France in the 1840s near factories so working women could drop their children off there during the day. Today they are everywhere. As the percentage of working women (in Canada) aged 25-54 rose from around 50% in the 1970s to over 80% today, there was an accompanying rise in the number of children in non-parental care.  In 2002, 54% of Canadian parents had someone else look after their children during the day, up from 42% in the mid-nineties. In the U.S., almost two-thirds of pre-schoolers are in non-parental child care.

So outsourcing our parenting – if I can be forgiven for using such a cold, economic term – is certainly palatable to the majority of parents, at least some of the time. And there is most definitely a broader need for it, though less quantifiable. I needn’t go into the many social ills connected with a lack of influence, or parental influence, attention, or role-modelling during childhood, as these are well known.

There are many bad parents out there, but while we are quick to want to get rid of other minders who are ineffective, like teachers or nannies, social and biological conventions dictate that it is a lengthy and difficult process to “fire” parents. Leaving children exposed on mountaintops or in the care of a nunnery (in which something like 80% of the unfortunates dropped off died anyway) has gone out of fashion in developed countries, except in certain safe havens like Nebraska, so instead they remain with bad parents, or in foster care, which for most is not the optimal solution. Even parents who love their children can make bad child-rearing decisions with the best of intentions.

But what if the default option for raising children, like public schooling, was communal (or private) care by qualified parent-like figures? The right to “home parenting” (like home schooling) could be awarded only to those who are qualified to practice it, with regular supervision by a central body. Consider: specialist “parents” rearing children in groups is hardly a radical idea. The old African proverb about a child needing more than one knee, or the much more famous one that serves as the title of this post, indicates that our modern way of raising children is little more than a hiccough in the trajectory of human history.

Most parents raise only a few children, but almost all say that it gets easier the more they have, as they build experience and knowledge. Specialized parent substitutes would have the benefit of raising perhaps tens of children, and, what’s more, they would love it, because it would their career of choice. Children would also have the benefit of a diversity of tried-and-true, centrally vetted and approved child care methods, culled from what has been proven to work well internationally and throughout history — call it a “best practice” approach to parenting. Just think of what costs could be reduced or eliminated in  a society with a higher proportion of well-adjusted children – everything from healthcare (therapy and counselling) to policing and incarceration costs.

Clearly, this is not likely to happen anytime soon, and I no doubt open myself up to charges of everything from heartless communism to wanting to run state finances into the ground by proposing elaborate centralized childcare schemes such as these. But consider: we wouldn’t trust spinal surgery to someone who has never done it before and who would spend half the time we’re in the operating theatre off in corporate meetings somewhere else or on his Blackberry. We wouldn’t want an unqualified engineer building a bridge we have to drive over, especially on almost zero sleep while laying the foundations.  Yet we allow complete amateurs to raise their own children armed with little more than evolved instinct and maybe a copy of Dr. Spock. Does that really make more sense?


What Passing-Bells: Why I Remember

November 10, 2010

Local news sites are reporting that only 10% of Torontonians are wearing their poppies this year. Canadian designers are proposing new twists on the old red design that appeal more to young people, arguing that Remembrance Day risks being “lost” in a society where Gen Y apparently can’t identify with its purpose. There are fewer and fewer veterans from World Wars I and II every year to serve as a visual reminder of our military past (and present). Has Remembrance Day run its course?

This question was brought up in my presence recently, and I surprised myself with the vehemence of my reply: no. It is a very real and very necessary act of reflecting on our national history – but has implications for the present as well.

I am admittedly sentimental. I am in favour of more reflection in general about where we’ve come from and how it influences where we’re going, as nations and as individuals. And I find myself drawn to the turn-of-the-century age of our history more than most – the Ralph Vaughan Williams hymns, the neo-Gothic wrought iron and stone architecture, the sense of old boy imperial camaraderie, the Rupert Brooke poetry, and so on. But Remembrance Day is about much more than that.

With two global wars in which our nation’s soldiers are fighting, several others in which they are keeping the peace, and an untold number of skirmishes appearing daily in the news, war is an ever-present concern, not a ‘memory.’ Though many of the veterans of the First and Second World Wars have now died, there are new veterans every year, and they are physical reminders of how important it is to call attention to their sacrifices and the sacrifices of their families, even if only once a year.

This is especially true in a country like Canada, which has relatively recently styled itself a peace-loving, liberal refuge – a national self-image quite different from what it was 100 or even 50 years ago. It is necessary sometimes to call attention to the gritty underside of democracy, and the constant vigilance it requires to create and uphold, a struggle we see play out daily on the other side of the world. We are too comfortable assuming it has no relevance to us, that we were born free and needn’t concern ourselves with anyone else’s chains.

Some people oppose what they see as a militaristic strain in the ceremonies that celebrates war. I see Remembrance Day as the opposite: a sad commentary on the continuing tragedy begot by national hubris. Nations at the end of the nineteenth century were trumped-up on their own importance, caught in a feedback loop that emphasized their own moral and military superiority and desperate to prove themselves the greatest of all peoples. There are loud echoes down to today. War is as much about pride as it is about land and resources. At a time when economies and cultures are cloistering themselves in robes of protectionism and the comfort of historically-derived principles at the expense of dialogue and cooperation, the sharp reminder of the destruction of insularity and war is particularly potent.

I usually attend the University service because it is a sad reminder that many of those who fought – and died – were men and women younger than I am. The newspapers refer to them as a generation that had to grow up quickly. No doubt. Most of us never have to come face-to-face with our most basic values surrounding life and death. Most of us never have to choose between killing someone else and being killed. Most of us don’t face adjusting to life after combat, the surreal juxtaposition of normalcy at home and the violence of memory. But in war these decisions and adjustments are made every day.

History can often seem removed, and the further back it is the less we are able to empathize with and understand those who lived it.  Its personages seem to stride in, fully formed, painted in bold colours as heroes and villains. We need Remembrance Day to show us that these heroes were made, not born. They were as much the architects of their lives and destinies as we are. They were – and are – us.

We live physically and morally comfortable lives. They died, often in agony and discomfort, so we could continue to do so. We promised we would remember. It’s the very least we can do.

MARGINALIA:

  1. OpenFile is a local news source that reports on what readers request. Their special feature on Remembrance Day includes articles and interactive features about Toronto’s military history and veterans, including a Google map overlaid with poppies representing Toronto’s fallen soldiers from WWII and where they lived. It’s worth a look. (thanks, Gareth.)
  2. For those who are literarily inclined, or who were wondering where the first three words of this post’s title originated, I have linked below to some of my favourite war poems:

(I would welcome additional links to your favourites in the comments section below.)


Democracy Rules! 10 Great Reasons to Vote

October 25, 2010

Voting is both a privilege and a duty. If you’re an apathetic type, consider the following 10 less commonly heard (and only slightly sanctimonious) reasons why you should take some time off work to mark an “X” on a ballot today.

1. You’re one of the lucky few in the world who is able to do so.

Accurate numbers on this score are not easy to come by, but this report from the Hoover Institution ranks about 60% of the world’s nations as democratic in the broadest sense, namely that they hold elections. The more stringent classification of a full “liberal democracy” includes electoral competition for power but also:

  • Freedom of belief, expression, organization, and demonstration
  • Protection from political terror and unjustified imprisonment
  • A rule of law under which all citizens are treated equally and due process is secure
  • Political independence and neutrality of the judiciary and of other institutions of “horizontal accountability” that check the abuse of power
  • An open, pluralistic civil society
  • Civilian control over the military

By this measure, the number of global democracies drops to only 37% of nations worldwide. Wikipedia tells us that this is less than 15% of the global population. When you think that (due to age) only about 60-70% of the population in a full democracy can actually vote, that number drops to under 10% of people living in the world today.

2. Voting makes you disproportionately powerful over your fellow citizens.

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