Boris' Rag

One of the more delightful reads available to us each week is The Spectator (the British version, not at all to be confused with The American Spectator). It is, in many ways, an exemplar of why I remain, despite frequent misgivings, an anglophile at heart. The organization of the magazine reflects the underlying political culture: jumbled, frequently amusing, thoughtful, bitchy, unpredictable, but always witty and not without a certain charm. Certainly, the Spectator is able to do and say things in a way that is, sadly, all but impossible in a successful U.S. magazine. Set this week’s Spectator side-by-side with, say, this week’s National Review, New Republic or New Yorker and you’ll immediately see what I mean.

Take the issue of 16 July 2005, for example. The “portrait of the week” provides as good a summary for that week’s events as one could hope for in only a half-page, while the leader is typical of the genre, yet at the same time exceptional. Entitled “No Concessions,” it speaks to the motivation of the Islamic Fascists with a brevity and clarity one will search in vain for in the United States. An excerpt:

People who are planning to blow themselves up and to murder in the name of a mediaeval vision cannot be reached by argument. They have put themselves beyond it. As a society, our first priority must be to catch them and lock them up so that they cannot do further damage.

Surrounding the fanatical extremists, however, is a penumbra of supporters and sympathetic fellow-travelers. These people are British Muslims who have not yet reached the terminus of suicide bombings themselves, but who are sympathetic to elements in the extremist ideology. They are the people we desperately need to educate into understanding the merits of our secular and liberal society and its fundamental principle. To their great credit, the majority of Muslims in Britain show no sign of embracing the mediaeval vision. But there is a small minority which does. We, as a society, have to be totally intolerant of their extremism. There must be no concessions of any kind to it.

Other regular features found in the Spectator is the Diary, written by an always-changing and almost-always interesting succession of people, from editors of the Financial Times to Joan Collins. (Who knew Collins was so intelligent?). It’s political reporters, Simon Heffer and Peter Oborne are almost always wrong, but never boring. In fact, especially with Oborne, it’s fascinating to watch how Blair Derangement Syndrome can skew reasoning right before one’s eyes. The City and Suburban column keeps you abreast of what’s going on in the financial circles, and Paul Johnson is made available regularly.

Former Daily Telegraph editor Charles Moore writes regularly and is not to be missed. Editor Boris Johnson is a particularly interesting Tory, whose Old World weariness and cynicism battles in the open with a intellect too keen to believe the worst in everything despite his cultural disposition. And, of course, there’s always Mark Steyn, doubling here as the film critic. (Some of Steyn’s best writing appears in his film reviews.)

But, like Britain herself, it’s the little things that grab you. The end of the magazine boasts regular columns on the arts, theatre, books, television, and radio, as well as the rakish musings of Taki, best known over this side of the Pond by his co-sponsorship of Patrick Buchanan’s American Conservative. In these short columns, you never know what you’re going to find, but it’s almost always a joy.

In this issue there is, inexplicably, a review of Moneyball, by Michael Lewis. Moneyball is about Oakland Athletics GM Billy Beane and how Beane bucked the conventional wisdom by designing his own statistical system, identifying as winners players that were disregarded and/or undervalued. In this manner, Beane ended up being able to field a strong team year after year despite having one of the smallest markets and payrolls in Major League Baseball. Interesting topic, but not one you’d expect to find in a magazine from football-mad Britain.

The review is a delight, explaining to the British reader a few key facts about baseball in order to make the central point of the book clear. Along the way, the British reader comes across Jackie Robinson, Walter O’Malley, and the role of the general manager in baseball. In the end, the reviewer concludes that “even if you know nothing about baseball and care less, you will savour its humour and become absorbed in its stories of the individual players who had been rejected as failures but became Beane’s heroes.”

In the course of his review, the reviewer reveals that he became a bit of a baseball fan while living and working in New York in 1964. Curious, my eyes floated down to the italicized footnote at the end of the review, which identifies the reviewer. It reads:

Michael Howard is Leader of the Opposition

Fraternal Ties

“Children of a Common Mother”

-- Inscription, Peace Arch, U.S.-Canada Border, Interstate 5

The Peace Arch is a cliché.

Or, so I’ve heard. Despite the fact that the monument made a strong impression on me as a young boy during my first trip to Canada, I’ve yet to find a single person in adult life who looked on it as I did. Of course, my thoughts weren’t fully worked at age 12 (or now, as an upcoming post will probably make all too clear), but the basic idea was there even then.

In sum: Canada and the United States share much more than both realize or bother to think about regularly. Our institutions appear at first glance to be very different—parliamentary system versus presidential—but they both arise out of the same foundation, the British inheritance of liberal democracy and ordered liberty. Both nations moved ever West, bringing the entire span of a great continent under their sway. And both have populations that, while open to other cultures and change, remain firmly committed to a center of core values that have changed little in the past two hundred years.

It seemed to me then, as it seems to me now, that both nations are natural allies, in that they not only share a common heritage but common interest so closely bound as to be inseparable.

But we all know where we find ourselves today. On issue after issue, Canada and the United States are on two different wavelengths. From the War on Terror, to the proper role of the state in the health care industry, to trade tariffs (yes, they still exist, NAFTA notwithstanding), the Canucks and the Americans often find themselves at, well, loggerheads.

What makes this all the more regrettable is that this need not be. It’s true that to a certain large extent, the core problems of the U.S./Canada relationship are out of our hands. The Liberal Party is what it is and there is no turning back the clock. Since the disastrous time of PM Trudeau, the Liberals have successfully grafted their party platform on to the very meaning of the term “Canadian” for a large part of the population. That’s not going to change, at least not very soon.

Since the Liberal Party is, for all intents and purposes, the Canadian Government, and, further, since the policy positions held by the Liberals are those thought by the Ontario core to be fundamentally Canadian issues, our on-going diplomatic efforts through official channels is doomed to increased failure. Sure, we can work with the GoC (meaning, the Liberal Party) on a whole host of issues, and we should continue to do that, but the central thrust of the relationship is unchangeable.

That is, unless we change tack and start directing our diplomatic efforts at the third of the country that shares our point of view. Such an effort would promote those segments of the Canadian body politic that are—in either spirit or form—pro-American. Certainly, the Conservative Party fits that bill, but so do any number of smaller civic bodies and organizations in Canada. The United States must stop talking to the GoC and the major Ontario news organizations and begin reaching out to individual Canadians directly.

In truth, I suspect that there is a large silent Canadian majority out there that is waiting to be spoken to. So long as we speak with honesty, candor and respect, there is no reason not to expect that such efforts could pay off handsomely if the Conservatives ever were to be elevated to power. In fact, such an approach could help the Conservatives increase their influence by slowing chipping away at the now-deeply ingrained knee-jerk Liberalism of the average Canadian.

Such an approach would, of course, be doomed to failure if it were true that the stance of the United States really has no resonance. But some recent evidence reveals that the average Canadian just might be a tad more hawkish on the terror question than, say, your average reporter over at the CBC. A recent poll, published by the Globe and Mail on August 11, certainly suggests that to be the case. Check out these majorities:

Question: How likely will an act of terrorism take place in Canada within the next few years?
Not very likely/not at all likely: 36%
Very likely/somewhat likely: 62%
Don't know: 2%

Question: How well is Canada prepared to deal with a terrorist threat?
Not very well prepared/not prepared at all: 67%
Very well prepared/well prepared: 25%
Don't know: 8%

Question: What measures for the war on terrorism do Canadians support?
Deporting or jailing anyone who publicly supports terrorists or suicide bombers.
Oppose/strongly oppose: 15%
Strongly support/support: 81%
Don't know: 4%

Having video cameras in all public places.
Oppose/strongly oppose: 25%
Strongly support/support: 72%
Don't know: 2%

Giving the U.S. any information it requests about Canadian citizens whom they suspect of being terrorists.
Oppose/strongly oppose: 33%
Strongly support/support: 62%
Don't know: 5

We just might have more in common than we think. Down deep, where it matters, we may have the same maternally-inspired instincts. Time is long past that we speak to it, appeal to it and win our brother nation over.

Back Home

First, a profound NS apology for keeping everyone waiting. As was probably obvious, I experienced a much more difficult transition back to life in these United States than I had anticipated. A good deal of that difficulty was due to a familiar cause: my own stupidity.

It seems that when one ships the fabled Falcon Northwest Mach V--that noble machine that fuels both my gaming hobby and provides my invaluable window to the Blogosphere--one should really take a great deal of care with the packing. The poor thing arrived in Oregon looking as if it had taken a tour through Chechnya and Tikrit, with an unexpected lay-over in the Sudan. It even had what appeared to be some sort of large cat claw marks along the side.

I've gotten it up and running, though it won't win anymore beauty contests. I've secured a home, gotten the utilities turned on, found a new job, got that Internet access hooked up and I'm good to go once more.

This morning, I got off the MAX at the Library stop so that I could stroll through early-morning Portland and watch one of my favorite cities waking up. Sloppy hippy that she is, Portlandia is not an early riser. The streets were almost eerily empty, especially when compared in my mind's eye to the crowded smog of the Near Abroad city I just left. Old memories of how life is here continue to clash with new perceptions, but I'm glad to be home. As much as I miss and will miss the Foreign Service--I truly loved my all-too short time there--I'm not only accepting my return home, but relishing it. It's good to be home.

Thanks for waiting for me.