Post Election Reflections
“Opinions have their own neighbourhoods; some despise each other across the narrowest of alleys” – Elias Canetti
If I told my neighbours, we must love one another – I would die of shame. Or else they would kill me. D.J. Enright
It has been a remarkable eight weeks. I can only hope to live another 20 years so I can look back on it with my by then middle aged sons, and reflect on what the January 23, 2006 election meant for Canada. Will this be a tipping point for Canada? Have we just taken the first step toward reversing the tide of rampant liberalism and post-modernism, or is it just rest station on the way to continued antinomianism?
I cried when I listened to Stephen Harper’s speech tonight. That should be enough for some of you to hit the delete button. Or as Canetti forecast, you might simply glare at me across the alley separating our opinions.
I cried in response to the elegance of its message and delivery. I cried in response to its acknowledgment of our history and the sacrifice of those who preceded us. I cried in response to his invocation of a collective memory, which if reflected upon, should unite us. I cried when he spoke of aspiring to a spirit of hope, and not one of fear. My tears may have had something to do with the fact I was tired after 14 hours of volunteering as a poll captain at two polling stations, all in support of a losing candidate. And you should know that I am prone to becoming stuck in the lachrymose mode after I have had a few glasses of wine. I cry at certain hymns on Sunday, and I cry when I tell jokes.
I had watched Mr. Martin bid his farewell to Canadians, dignified and gracious, in sharp contrast to his performance on the hustings, and befitting the real man once he had shed the political skin. I wasn’t moved or touched, but I was respectful of his seeming conviction. I had also watched Mr. Layton, and had grown increasingly aggravated as he droned on, hogging the stage for what seemed like 30 minutes and thus assuring that most Canadians East of the Saskatchewan/Manitoba border would have gone to bed before Mr. Harper was able to deliver his victory speech. I worked my way through the bellicose stage during Layton’s speech.
I met some lovely people over the past week as I volunteered for the local Conservative candidate. A couple with whom I shared a scrutineer’s table during the advanced polls intrigued me as they passed the time on a word game. I love word games. They were scrutineers for the NDP. We began to chat. It turns out we are neighbours. They aren’t the type to kill me, so it is more likely I would die of shame if I told them I loved them. They won’t likely read this blog so I will have to tell them the next time we meet by the post box on the corner.
Politically there exists an immense chasm between my new neighbours and me, but they seem like lovely people. Jack Layton would hold them up as ordinary working Canadians to whom he is devoted. My question of Jack is how devoted will he be to me, just as hard working and living only a stone’s throw away from his supporters? We both even drive a Subaru. I used to have an unkempt beard like my new neighbour, and I once had long hair like his, when I had hair. How will Jack reconcile the deep differences that exist between my neighbours and me on social and economic issues that seem quite incapable of living together?
It is a strange and enigmatic country in which we live. The shared values espoused by Liberal and NDP politicians remain recondite to all but pockets of homogeneous urban dwellers in Canada’s three largest cities who rallied round Liberal candidates like a musk-ox circle. (Sound of ruler slapping knuckles!!) I stand guilty as accused of my first hyperbolism. There are of course Canadians outside those great cities that voted Liberal and NDP, but it is a remarkable result to see the Conservatives shut out of the urban centre of these three great cities.
In place of the East/West divide, we now have a shadowy and potentially dangerous alleyway dividing highly concentrated cities from the rest of Canada. It is quite remarkable, given the overwhelming consensus countrywide of the need for change, that the Liberals managed to win over 100 seats. The outcome brings to mind the joke about how to make a Canadian apologize? Kick him again!
As the prelude to Shutz’s St. Matthew’s Passion takes me to a higher and more sublime place as I prepare for bed ( a more glorious 52 seconds of musical splendour I am incapable of imagining), my prayer is that we might have a period of political stability during which truthfulness might reign. A period during which politicians might acknowledge that “ordinary Canadians” are not all necessarily attracted to the political message of one political party, that Canadian values of the majority are not necessarily Liberal or liberal values - a period during which candid and intelligent discourse might occur between Canadians, at the rural mailbox, on the Go-Train, in the rugby clubhouse, and the bridge club.
Hopeless optimist and romantic that I am I look for good in this result, and as a pathway to that end, I offer the words of Wendell Berry’s Jayber Crow:
If I told my neighbours, we must love one another – I would die of shame. Or else they would kill me. D.J. Enright
It has been a remarkable eight weeks. I can only hope to live another 20 years so I can look back on it with my by then middle aged sons, and reflect on what the January 23, 2006 election meant for Canada. Will this be a tipping point for Canada? Have we just taken the first step toward reversing the tide of rampant liberalism and post-modernism, or is it just rest station on the way to continued antinomianism?
I cried when I listened to Stephen Harper’s speech tonight. That should be enough for some of you to hit the delete button. Or as Canetti forecast, you might simply glare at me across the alley separating our opinions.
I cried in response to the elegance of its message and delivery. I cried in response to its acknowledgment of our history and the sacrifice of those who preceded us. I cried in response to his invocation of a collective memory, which if reflected upon, should unite us. I cried when he spoke of aspiring to a spirit of hope, and not one of fear. My tears may have had something to do with the fact I was tired after 14 hours of volunteering as a poll captain at two polling stations, all in support of a losing candidate. And you should know that I am prone to becoming stuck in the lachrymose mode after I have had a few glasses of wine. I cry at certain hymns on Sunday, and I cry when I tell jokes.
I had watched Mr. Martin bid his farewell to Canadians, dignified and gracious, in sharp contrast to his performance on the hustings, and befitting the real man once he had shed the political skin. I wasn’t moved or touched, but I was respectful of his seeming conviction. I had also watched Mr. Layton, and had grown increasingly aggravated as he droned on, hogging the stage for what seemed like 30 minutes and thus assuring that most Canadians East of the Saskatchewan/Manitoba border would have gone to bed before Mr. Harper was able to deliver his victory speech. I worked my way through the bellicose stage during Layton’s speech.
I met some lovely people over the past week as I volunteered for the local Conservative candidate. A couple with whom I shared a scrutineer’s table during the advanced polls intrigued me as they passed the time on a word game. I love word games. They were scrutineers for the NDP. We began to chat. It turns out we are neighbours. They aren’t the type to kill me, so it is more likely I would die of shame if I told them I loved them. They won’t likely read this blog so I will have to tell them the next time we meet by the post box on the corner.
Politically there exists an immense chasm between my new neighbours and me, but they seem like lovely people. Jack Layton would hold them up as ordinary working Canadians to whom he is devoted. My question of Jack is how devoted will he be to me, just as hard working and living only a stone’s throw away from his supporters? We both even drive a Subaru. I used to have an unkempt beard like my new neighbour, and I once had long hair like his, when I had hair. How will Jack reconcile the deep differences that exist between my neighbours and me on social and economic issues that seem quite incapable of living together?
It is a strange and enigmatic country in which we live. The shared values espoused by Liberal and NDP politicians remain recondite to all but pockets of homogeneous urban dwellers in Canada’s three largest cities who rallied round Liberal candidates like a musk-ox circle. (Sound of ruler slapping knuckles!!) I stand guilty as accused of my first hyperbolism. There are of course Canadians outside those great cities that voted Liberal and NDP, but it is a remarkable result to see the Conservatives shut out of the urban centre of these three great cities.
In place of the East/West divide, we now have a shadowy and potentially dangerous alleyway dividing highly concentrated cities from the rest of Canada. It is quite remarkable, given the overwhelming consensus countrywide of the need for change, that the Liberals managed to win over 100 seats. The outcome brings to mind the joke about how to make a Canadian apologize? Kick him again!
As the prelude to Shutz’s St. Matthew’s Passion takes me to a higher and more sublime place as I prepare for bed ( a more glorious 52 seconds of musical splendour I am incapable of imagining), my prayer is that we might have a period of political stability during which truthfulness might reign. A period during which politicians might acknowledge that “ordinary Canadians” are not all necessarily attracted to the political message of one political party, that Canadian values of the majority are not necessarily Liberal or liberal values - a period during which candid and intelligent discourse might occur between Canadians, at the rural mailbox, on the Go-Train, in the rugby clubhouse, and the bridge club.
Hopeless optimist and romantic that I am I look for good in this result, and as a pathway to that end, I offer the words of Wendell Berry’s Jayber Crow:
For a long time then I seemed to live by a slender thread of faith, spun out from within me. From this single thread I spun strands that joined me to the good things of the world. And then I spun more threads and joined all the strands together, making a life. When it was complete, or nearly so, it was shapely and beautiful in the light of day.”
posted by Ben Buan | 1:25 a.m.
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