Do you know when I am most proud to be a Canadian?
When I drive onto the Lion’s Gate Bridge, and cross the harbour into Vancouver.
Why? Because during the hours I do my traveling, that ridiculous three lane bridge only has a single lane going my way. Four lanes of traffic must merge into one. There is always a jam.
But there is never a problem.
Without fail, all four lanes merge smoothly, correctly, fairly. Nobody cheats. Nobody tries to cut in. The rare few who do always bear American license plates. I don’t know about you, but that makes my heart sing, every single time.
I grew up in the US, lived there for 25 years. Trust me: anywhere in that nation, the scenario I have just described is literally unimaginable. Every merge is a dogfight. It is not only a dog eat dog country, they are proud of that. For thirty years now, I have listened to Canadians trying to define what distinguishes them from Americans, and it always baffles me because it so simple.
I can put it into a single word: kindness.
We treat each other with marginally greater kindness than many other peoples do. I do not say with perfect kindness—I have spoken with a few of our oldest residents, you see. But on balance, we cut each other rather more slack than most humans.
It’s a rural attitude, I think. If our neighbours want to have sex in a different manner than we do, we tend to mind our business. If they choose to put something different into their pipe than we do, we let it slide. We draw the line only at behaviour so weird it threatens us—we permit it to merely annoy or offend us. And we try not to annoy or offend ourselves.
I think that is magnificent. I think that is the single most admirable achievement of the human race in the last century: to have produced a place where kindness is practiced. That is the source of our famous good manners, and our alleged boringness: we are kinder than anyone else I know.
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Americans say they believe, above all, in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I’m alive, I’m free, and I can do what makes me happy! Does that sound like a proud boast to you? It once did to me. It sounds childish to me now. Even oafish.
Canadians say they believe in peace, order, and good government. Look at that first word. You’d have to define it for an American: most of them think it means “a state in which the fighting is out of earshot.” That second word you could not even define for them: they have no common referent. And the last two words will induce laughter of clinically dangerous intensity.
Peace? We haven’t started a war with anybody since the Nazis. Order? Despite some of the most irritable minorities on earth we have never had a Civil War. And while I will be among the first and loudest to admit that we have never in our history had good government, we’ve come a lot closer than average. Our governments have certainly imprisoned vastly fewer of our own citizens than those of our neighbour to the south, healed infinitely more of our sick, helped many more of our poor.
And sent fewer of our children off to kill or die. Hell, we’ve stopped a few squabbles. And cleaned up after others.