The following essay is part of Northern Dawn’s Symposium for Canada’s 150th anniversary. The theme is Canada: Who Are We? We hope these studies of Canada’s heritage will inspire readers to consider its future, and the broader civilization of which it is a part. Those who rule must know what they are ruling.
The following essay is by Cole Dutton. Cole blogs at The Dominion Standard about a variety of traditionalist and conservative themes.
The traditionalist Canadian often faces a certain type of assertion roughly analogous to ‘why is that the role of the government?’ Or ‘the government deserves no part in that.’ Now, aside from market considerations, it becomes very difficult to respond to such assertions in a succinct and cogent fashion. It is the aim then of this piece to take a glance backwards at Canada and its liberal political discourse and contrast it with the principal notion of intellectual and political conservatism: the assertion that government for conservatives has an end or purpose specific to it. This position enables one to see the importance of government in asking the critical question fielded by Northern Dawn in response to Canada 150. And that question is ‘who are we?’
From this observation, it behoves the conservative to counter that the government plays a larger role than the electoral apparatus, the law, or social services. In contrast to both the classically liberal perspective and the egalitarian doctrines, the conservative considers neither freedom nor equality substantive when comprehending the fullness of government. This position is one of government as a necessary and positive institution in society. The government, in this case, has drifted from its appropriate purpose and lost its orientation. This change has come at the expense of the well-being of society and the free individual.
The chief problem of Canadian politics is identical to the one that has infested and metastasized across the western world. Erik Kuenhelt-Leddihn termed it the choice between Calvin or Rousseau. The western world chose Rousseau and a vision of mankind’s goodness that led western man to see the state as a little more than an instrument. This modern western man perceives the state as something that is not its own organism, and intertwined with the soul of the civil society as Roger Scruton imagined it. Rather, his view of the state presupposes two particular principles: first, that mankind is by nature good; second, that even when it is self-evident that the individual is not by nature good, democratic elevation of the majority is a capable antidote to the ills of the individual.
The position then becomes one of man as corrupted creature. However, in response the modern mind imagines that the herd is wise; to the modern western man, good men will always outnumber the bad (as if the bad were not the same men as the good). The modern vision of man’s corruption is not corruption in the sense of the metaphysical. It is not the corruption of the mind referenced by Susan Schreiner in her masterful study of reformation intellectual history entitled Are You Alone Wise? Nor is it the corruption encapsulated in the story of Genesis. It is the corruption of man by inadequate political and social systems. These systems operate in a systematic fashion upon the individual character. This is the liberal and socialistic paradigm. A paradigm that consists of the argument that material and social conditions govern the quality of the individual and find expression in social pathology. This diagnostic view paves the way for immediate prognostication and remediation. The government then becomes the engine of reform and revolution. The state exists as merely a tool to remake the society. This liberal state stands independent of the institutions of government, in the name of the artificial and elevated virtues of equality and liberty.
This is problematic for a simple reason: upholding liberty and equality as the paramount virtues necessitates the obliteration of other virtues in kind. This elevation comes at the expense of justice, piety, obligation, and temperance in particular. For they demand the destruction of distinction and the levelling of value to embolden those who engage in vices condemned by historical and traditional norms. Given these basic claims, the liberal and egalitarian transformation of the social fabric of Canada makes sense. The extirpation of the history of Canada creates incredible problems. This arises because the system of authority embodied by the current state destroys the basis for civil society: tradition. In the same fashion, this movement also undermines the promogulated norms that legitimise the authority of the state.
Yet, this has not stopped the chattering classes of Canada, particularly the liberal party, from innumerable crimes against the nation. These acts consist of eliminating the Royal designation from numerous institutions. The list in no particular chronology and only in part reads as follows. The Liberal Party adopted a new flag, and the Alberta NDP attacked Catholic schools on the issue of LGBT rights. The Liberal Party weakened the already feeble Senate; it also established a vacuous national anthem in O’Canada; meanwhile, it aimed to destroy our first past the post system. Various groups have also agitated on behalf of a narrative of aboriginal genocide. The liberal party continues to claim Canada had a multicultural history of mass migration; Justin Trudeau asserted Canada is a post national state (itself a contradiction in terms); and lastly, Pierre Trudeau and his Liberal Party wrote a charter which undermines the principles of Parliamentary supremacy and the validity of the king in Parliament.
How then may conservatives challenge the position of the government as utility? How can they obstruct the tendency of the modern western mind to engage in instrumental thinking at the expense of the soul of civil society and the state? The answer demands a clear statement of what conservatives in Canada ought to imagine as an ideal understanding of the government. By understanding the purpose of government, Canadian conservatives can direct their policy proposals toward doing justice to who we are.
From this position, the argument is that government exists as the proper and capable trustee of the soul of civil society. The distinct communities, institutions, families, faith, and modes of living which allow the emergence of the fully distinct and free individual compose the soul of civil society. Philosopher John Kekes terms the same soul the pluralism of tradition. This pluralism of traditions provides a framework, unconscious to most and embodied in natural prejudice, that enables individuals to interact with each other in a coherent and predictable fashion. This predictable engagement is necessary for the exercise freedom without sin both against the future and the past. Kekes states, ‘when individuals form their conceptions of a good life, what they are to a very large extent doing is deciding which traditions they should participate in. The decisions may reflect thoughtful choices, thoughtless conformity to familiar patterns, or something in between.’ This same pluralism of traditions allows numerous historically couched visions of the constitution of good government to attempt to address the demands of human nature in varying ways while adhering to the same objective realities of the human condition.
Working from Edmund Burke’s fundamental political axiom: mere ‘renters’ cannot fulfil true government. Instead, the government must be a compact between ‘not only . . . those who are living, but between those who are living, those who are dead, and those who are to be born.’ Government, given that it cannot exist solely for those interests currently embodied in the present generation, is not an instrument of the political class or of the demos; it is a being itself with a life of its own and duties appropriate to it. In fact, it is the only body in existence that can take the soul of the people and instantiate it beyond the limits of generation and time. To abrogate this principle is to not only attack our ancestry, but to attack future generations who may have no trust that their land, people, institutions, and faith will be safeguarded in the future. It is to put ourselves and the present in the position of supremacy and shackle those to come. Tradition defines the framework for social relations and answers to the questions of how best to live. In this way, it becomes imperative for the conservative theory of government to steward custom and history both so that the present may benefit from them as well as the future. This is the first principle of conservative government, but not the last.
The final and most important principle in a conservative theory of government is its stance against evil. Of course, asserting the existence of evil, especially for the modern mind, is begging the question. When we cannot agree on the basic constitution of evil in the world, we do not have a failure of philosophy or theology, but a reflection of the moral vacuity of our present condition. Regardless, for my purposes here it is enough to concede the existence of evil, and leave the definitions to the philosophers and theologians.
It’s important to recognise that evil did not play a minor role in constitutional theorising in the past. Even in the humanist epoch of the Renaissance the force that is evil was acknowledged. Recognition of evil had a strong theological founding located in the scepticism of medieval theorists. Renaissance thinkers recognised the instability and frailty in mankind. Dante Alighieri noted in his De Monarchia ‘higher natur[ed]’ men must leave behind a legacy to posterity. However, if there is a higher nature there must be a lower something not admitted in our modern discourse. Marsilius of Padua spoke likewise in his support for a plurality of governing institutions; he states that he is dealing with a fallen man, when he argues “and [if Adam] had remained in this state [of innocence], the institution or differentiation of civil functions would not have been necessary.’ Modern man does not make the same theological claims, but he need not abandon the assumption of evil and the need to respond to it. For the government, itself stands ready as an arbitrator to do justice between victim and perpetrator.
This is where government’s moral role enters the political calculus. Liberals, secularists, and socialists think that the purview of the state should be limited to ambivalence regarding right conduct. The state instead should direct its sympathy toward the individual. This individual himself is a product of conditions, not natural frailty. This position is evident in the abject surrender in the Omar Khadr settlement. There is no judgment of evil in this instance. The rights of the individual, in this case, Khadr came without duties. For Khadr being born on Canadian soil entitled him to all the rights and protections of the liberal state without any necessary obligations in return. Meanwhile, the state itself could not condemn such an individual if he was by nature good. Likewise, the state abandoned its moral imperative or more likely lost confidence in it. A conservative state then is one that is sure of its moral position, recognises the evil in man, and buttresses itself and the society against such evils. It is a state that demands of its participants something in return beyond taxes and offers more than freedom. David Lowenthal speaks to the need of free societies to affect the morality of their civil life, and though his examples pertain to America they are apt here as well:
…for men to live together as a civilised nation devoted to their common freedom rather than as a loose collection of individuals devoted to their own pleasures, moral virtues are necessary. . . . Only in free societies does what pleases most individuals—whether it is consistent with sustaining the regime or inconsistent with it—make a crucial difference to their destinies. Only free societies require of all their members the moral dispositions and capacities that make cooperation in self-government possible.
Freedom is empty without good people. In turn, the state in its active prevention of evil brings about the condition for good lives while not permitting evil to flourish in its name.
To pull the threads together, it is worth examining another claim from Kekes that necessarily arouses the consternation of the liberal modern man. To Kekes, autonomy is an inadequate political end in part because by loosening the fetters on the good, we likewise loosen the fetters on the evil. It is only possible to admit absolutes of liberty when we surrender the moral imperative to prevent evil. This is not the only problem the liberal or egalitarian mind faces because the conservative vision of government, in its stewardship of history and tradition, limits the potential of government to act as an emancipatory engine. A vision of Canada as a specific state, character, and history is a necessary leash on the attack dog of liberalism. Therefore, to the modern mind, virtue and the past must both kneel before the modern man. The modern mind does not care to answer the question ‘who are we?’ because the answer is always ‘I am only who I am and who I am is my present consciousness and no more.’ They reject the a priori concepts and the antecedent reality in which they emerged because to be beholden to the past is limiting to the autonomous individual and the levelling projects of the egalitarians.
In response, Canadians can answer the question ‘who are we’ by building a government that lets those answers emerge through the civil society of which it is the transgenerational expression. By acting as custodians of our inheritance while building and enforcing a moral framework accommodating the reality of evil, conservative government can protect the social fabric. This social fabric enables the soul of civil society to respond to the question proposed.
 Erik Von Ritter Kuehnelt-Leddihn, “The Western Dilemma: Calvin or Rousseau?” Modern Age, Winter 1971, 45-46, 48.  Roger Scruton, The Meaning of Conservatism, 3rd ed. (South Bend, IN: St. Augustine Press, 2014), 40.  Kuehnelt-Leddihn, “The Western Dilemma: Calvin or Rousseau?” 52.  John Kekes, “A Case for Conservatism,” The Good Society 8, no. 2 (1998): 5.  Kekes, “A Case for Conservatism,” 6.  Edmund Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France: and on the proceedings in certain societies in London relative to that event, ed. Conor Cruise O’Brien (London: Penguin Books, 2004), 194.  Dante Alighieri, De Monarchia, Trans. Prue Shaw (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 3.  Marsilius Of Padua, The Defender of the Peace, trans. Annabel Brett (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 31.  David Lowenthal, No Liberty for License: the forgotten logic of the first amendment (Dallas, Tex: Spence Publishing Company, 1997), 91, 102.  John Kekes, A Case for Conservatism (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2001), 81, 86-88.
The following essay is part of Northern Dawn’s Symposium for Canada’s 150th anniversary. The theme is Canada: Who Are We? We hope these studies of Canada’s heritage will inspire readers to consider its future, and the broader civilization of which it is a part. Those who rule must know what they are ruling.
The following essay is by Warg Franklin.
Is Canada a political community, or isn’t it? This is Northern Dawn’s core question of investigation.
For the past one hundred and fifty years of our peoples’ collective adventure on the North American continent, the answer to that question has been a decisive yes.
One of the very first moves our leaders took on the founding of our nation was the construction of the Canadian Pacific Railway. The reason is obvious: The CPR turned Canada from a disjointed set of British territories, held by British military power and tied together by British sail, into an entity in its own right. The railway made it possible to hold Canada by Canadian power, and to trade and travel via Canadian rail. If rail could move Canadian troops more effectively across the land than rebels, natives, and foreigners could attack, then Canada could be militarily self-sufficient. In peacetime, if rail could move goods and settlers within the community effectively enough, then it became useful to speak of a specifically Canadian economy and a specifically Canadian community.
In this way, the practical reality of a community is not in its formal existence on a piece of paper, or even in people’s minds and blood, but in its ability to exist as a unit provided by its infrastructure of collective existence.
We must not forget that these early projects undertaken by the leaders of our nation were not just measures in pursuit of economic prosperity, but also in pursuit of political strength and unity. To forget this is to forget how to build our own political community, and thus to surrender our unique endowment to the forces of global homogenization.
Throughout our history, the same story has played out with other infrastructure: our highways, our universities, our geological survey, our legal system, our nationalized utility monopolies, our protected industries, and of course, our CBC.
In recent times, “Conservative” political factions within Canada have taken to criticizing taxpayer support of these institutions, especially the CBC, claiming that they should be left to sink or swim on the free market. This is not part of the historical conservatism of MacDonald and the High Tories, but an imported free market ideology championed by libertarian think-tanks, small-government devotees, and assorted Jewish-American intellectuals .
This is partially understandable, as the CBC is manned by the political enemies of conservatism. They lace its programming with a “progressive” narrative about what Canada ought to be about. Conservatives rightly identify that this narrative is both hostile to their values and constituency, and ultimately short-sighted and destructive for Canada as a whole. They are also right that destroying the CBC would be a blow to this narrative, and at least a temporary boon to their “team”. With simple us-vs-them thinking of the kind you sometimes need in an existential fight, the decision to attack the CBC is thus understandable.
But let’s step back and take an objective look at the questions here.
The CBC is a big part of Canada’s infrastructure of intellectual and cultural sovereignty. We all grew up watching 22 Minutes, Red Green, and Hockey Night in Canada on CBC, and listening to CBC radio. Because of its publicly supported ubiquity, many of us had the CBC and little else, and were mostly unaware of the avalanche of more polished American content that would otherwise have taken its place. Canadian content became our shared cultural reference material that defined what it meant to be Canadian, and helped tie Canada together against cultural dissolution into our neighbours to the south.
The market would not deliver this service to us. Cultural protection is a collective action problem, and the market does not solve collective action problems. It would give us more polished American content, funded by advertisers and investors for purposes that have little to do with public education or cultivation of shared culture. We would lose an important piece of our cultural cohesion, in exchange for some money and more compelling content.
In individualist free market ideology, this is a great outcome. Why shouldn’t all the world have a homogenous individualist monoculture controlled by Hollywood and CNN? Of what value is the cultural integrity and heritage of “Canada”, when we could have slightly lower taxes and “better” television instead?
Needless to say, Northern Dawn, and most serious people, reject this deracinated viewpoint. There is value in the uniqueness of our cultural and political community, and as a community, we should support it through institutions like a publicly funded CBC.
Society, the political community, organized through the institution of the state, is prior to the individual. It is necessary and proper that the state have a large formal stake in the shaping of culture and the national idea. It is the collective organization of culture that makes it possible for that culture to express a higher meaning and purpose. Otherwise, as a society we lose our ability to organize ourselves. Our culture becomes nothing more than entertainment to be consumed, and we are dissolved into the meaningless global consumer monoculture.
A society, a nation, and a civilization is much more than a system of infrastructure to deliver material goods and optimized entertainment content to the individual. That is turning the natural order on its head. Civilization is the organization of the mass of individual humans into an order that is larger and more meaningful than themselves. That organization requires public support. This is the principle behind the CBC, that Canada is more than a hotel to deliver cheap and compelling service to a mass of individuals; Canada is a nation. A nation requires a strong state, and a strong state requires a strong public broadcaster.
It’s great to say that this can be done more efficiently, or the content could be better, or that the current progressive narrative promulgated by the CBC is antithetical to Canada’s true purpose. All these things are true. But the proper way address them is to propose visionary measures to improve things in accordance with their purposes. Canada’s cultural production should be made more efficient so that we can have more of it and so that we have resources to spend on other things, not because we just don’t want to pay the costs. The content of the CBC should be better so that Canadian culture is made stronger, not so that individuals are “better entertained”. The narrative content of public messaging should be changed to promote a healthy and strong national concept, not just so that we don’t have to endure the propaganda of a degenerate elite that hates the true substance of Canada.
Conservatives understand very little of this. All they understand is that the CBC is staffed by their political enemies, and that “muh free market” is a popular rallying cry of their people. Too bad.
This brings us to addressing the second question: is attacking enemy-controlled infrastructure like the CBC a viable or commendable strategy for conservatives?
If the conservatives weren’t what they are, if they had a serious and viable program to crush their enemies, install themselves as a new elite, build a new state, and rule Canada as it deserves to be ruled, then it would be proper to do so by any means necessary, including destroying the CBC. But they have no such ambition. The resentment by conservatives of the CBC is just that: the resentment of the ruler by the ruled.
Achieving the conservative idea of victory over the CBC, all we would get for our trouble is some more market-optimized television, a more globalized and Americanized culture, and a pissed off elite. Once the conservatives were routed from parliament again, like rats from a palace, and the liberal elite restored to its proper place, the business of actually ruling Canada would be able to proceed. And ruling requires that the state and elite propagate its perspective to society. They would continue to do so, only now with a more vengeful attitude towards conservatives, and more socially expensive means. Some victory.
This is why the conservatives are not taken seriously by thinking people. They propose stupid things for tactical reasons that wouldn’t even pan out in a worthwhile victory, motivated by sheer resentment populism.
What if we were serious about ruling Canada properly? What should be done with the CBC?
It’s not our place in this single essay to work out the details and economics, but we can comment on the heart of the matter, and the heart of the matter is simple: Canada needs a strong public broadcaster with as little advertising as possible, ubiquitous free availability, a focus on public education and exploration of the soul of Canada, and deep integration with the ruling class and the most powerful, fashionable, and educated perspectives in the nation.
But what about the politics of the matter? Isn’t the CBC controlled by liberal progressives and SJWs? Don’t they hate the traditional values and ethnic core of Canada and want to replace them with degeneracy and obedient imported voter bases? Wouldn’t empowering the CBC just be handing power to the hated enemy? Well yes, and no.
Consider this: the progressive ideas are foreign. It’s not coming from ourselves. We’re into that stuff for three reasons:
1. It makes us look good to the international community: “Look how nice we are. Please accept us.”
2. It’s a vector of power. Immigrants vote Liberal, and degenerated “old stock” Canadians are less of a problem than when they are strong and free.
3. We don’t have our own home-grown cultural value system and national self-concept to replace it. We pick what’s available.
But the more secure power you have, for example through a stronger CBC, the less you feel the need to suck up to your fashionable friends at Harvard, and more you have subordinates instead of enemies. A subordinate is an asset, and an enemy is a liability. I for one would rather be treated by our rulers as an asset than a liability. And in what forum are we to develop our home grown national self-concept, if not the CBC?
Here’s how would we want to see this playing out:
At first, a more powerful CBC would simply push the same stuff. But soon, as it began to pick up cultural currency and build a stronger distinctly Canadian culture, a deeper conversation would develop. We would start being able to think thoughts and have debates that are not just rehashes of the same stale culture war that is playing out all across the West, but would start going in our own direction.
And most importantly, with power over the national conversation and culture, our dear leaders would begin to feel in charge. Once you feel securely in charge, an important change in priorities naturally follows: you put away childish things like old rivalries and the latest social justice craze, and start thinking about how to rule.
Naturally, to transition to a true aristocracy is a long process that will not happen overnight, and it wouldn’t happen automatically, even with a stronger CBC. It will require a movement within the CBC and the elite to revive the concept of responsible rule for collective greatness. This is of course what we’re up to here at Northern Dawn.
Instead of getting into resentment-fueled attacks on Canada’s infrastructure of cultural sovereignty in the name of short-sighted political fights and shaky abstractions like the “free market”, Canadian patriots should take a more nuanced two-pronged strategy:
1. Strengthen the institutions of central state and elite power and national sovereignty, like the CBC, to strengthen Canada and Canadian culture, and incentivise the elite to think in a more aristocratic mode.
2. Do what can be done to drive the culture of the CBC and the elite more generally towards the aristocratic idea and the development of a stronger and healthier national concept. Mostly by actually developing the alternative perspective and evangelizing it to the right people.
This is what the Conservatives (or the Liberals, for that matter) would be doing if they were serious. But they won’t, so it will have to be us.
We want a revival of Canadian culture and political tradition, a stronger Canada, and an aristocratic elite that is thinking about how to rule for the greatness of Canada. A stronger CBC is crucial for that.
So here’s to Canadian content on the CBC, and 150 more years of Peace, Order, and Good Government.
The following essay is part of Northern Dawn’s Symposium for Canada’s 150th anniversary. The theme is Canada: Who Are We? We hope these studies of Canada’s heritage will inspire readers to consider its future, and the broader civilization of which it is a part. Those who rule must know what they are ruling.
The following essay is by Bill Marchant. He writes at Northern Reaction.
Why are we celebrating Canada’s 150th birthday on July 1st, and not the 241st birthday on July 4th? Why did Canada not join America’s rebellion against Great Britain? (Being a good Loyalist, I will use the contemporary British name for what others call the American Revolution.) This is a question that seems to attract essentially no inquiry on the Canadian side, despite the fact that Canada as a sovereign state only exists because the answer to this question. Americans will occasionally tackle it, but it is usually framed as a military question: “Why were we not able to ‘liberate’ Canada when we liberated ourselves?” However, even this question has faded into the distance in the last 100 years, since Justin Smith published Our Struggle for the Fourteenth Colony, and essentially answered the American side.
Perhaps the reason why Canadians do not ask this question is because the answer reveals uncomfortable truths about America’s founding, Canada’s old stock, and the nature of political power. But we here have no fear of uncomfortable truths; we revel in them, as an uncomfortable truth is no less a truth than a comfortable one.
Before revealing the true answer, it is important to dispel an easy answer that is absolutely false. This is the idea that America simply did not care about Canada, since it was cold and full of Frenchmen. In fact, the Continental Congress sent three letters, four delegates, and an invading army into Canada to convince them to join the Continental Congress and by extension the Rebellion. They also put an open invitation to Canada (and to no other colony) in the Articles of Confederation, and Benjamin Franklin’s opening offer for peace with Britain in the Paris negotiations was that Britain give Canada to America.
Clearly America cared, and cared deeply, about securing Canada to their cause. There are many, many reasons for this desire. It doesn’t really matter for our purposes why they wanted Canada. (If you’re curious, read the first five chapters of Smith’s book. It’s available for free.) What we want to know is, why did Canada say no? Though there are nearly as many reasons for this rejection as there was for America’s desire for Canada, two of the most important factors were Governor Guy Carleton, and the role of the American soldiers themselves. This implies that most other factors mentioned by Smith and others could be removed; if Carlton and the American soldiers maintained their roles, Canada would still have rejected America’s rebellion.
First, Carleton. Guy Carleton was British officer in the War of Austrian Succession and the Seven Years’ War. After the Seven Years’ war, in 1768, Carleton was chosen to be the Governor of Canada (at that point, basically Quebec). His actions as Governor are the first of our reasons why Canada did not rebel with the Americans. Carleton did two things incredibly, shockingly well: he restricted the press, and he kept the elites on his side.
Press in Canada was very close to nonexistent. There was a single printing press, which was used to print a newspaper called the Quebec Gazette. Carleton made the sensible and safe choice to continue the policy of his predecessors, and use the Quebec Gazette to post all new laws affecting the colonists, any government job postings, and information about what ships were coming and going and when. This seems trivial, but what it meant was that the Quebec Gazette was financially dependant upon the government of Canada in general, and Carleton in particular. And Carleton made it clear that there should be no politics in the Quebec Gazette. It is quite odd to read Smith and other modern historians discuss this; they describe the Quebec Gazette as incredibly conservative, when all sides agree that its content was in every way apolitical. The implication is that by not being expressly rebellious, the paper was therefore anti-rebellion. It is left to the reader to look for modern parallels.
The Quebec Gazette stands in stark contrast to American newspapers at the time. Everyone knows that the Federalist Papers were originally published in newspapers, but that was true of many political documents, the angry ramblings of Samuel Adams, Alexander Hamilton’s anti-Catholic conspiracy theories, and insane imagined speeches by British politicians, calling for the blood of Americans, all to work the American people into a rebellious fervor. And it worked. Congress was able to raise armies because the American people believed (wrongly) that the British were baying for their blood, and this belief was fomented and in many ways created by the radical newspapers coming out of Boston and New York and elsewhere.
Essentially, by passively preventing the Quebec Gazette from becoming rebellious, Carleton stopped it from inciting the Canadian people.
“But,” I hear my more reactionary readers call out, “what does it matter what the people want? Every successful revolution is just a power struggle between two sets of elites. They often use ‘the people’ as pawns, but the people are not the drivers!” This is a sound criticism that comes from Pareto and de Jouvenal. The belief is that there are no successful “popular uprisings”, outside of elites weaponizing sections of “the people” against each other.
I do not know if Carleton intuited this concept, or if he just happened to stumble on the right answer, but he acted as if he knew it. Carleton chose exactly the correct groups of people to keep on his side, and the correct group to neglect. There were five groups in Canada that could possibly be considered “elites.”
The first of them, the British civil servants, were appointed directly by London, and as such had a lot to lose in any potential rebellion. Carleton did not have to worry about them. The second group was the British military. As Carleton was a military man by birth and occupation, it was only natural that he would give preferential treatment to them. This also kept his men loyal during the American invasion, even when Montreal fell and things looked grim.
The next two groups were the old French elite class, left over from before Canada was given to Britain in exchange for Guadeloupe. These two groups, the Catholic Priests and the Seigneurs, were the groups most closely connected to the vast French peasant population. Carleton ensured that both of these groups were taken care of in the governing document of Canada, The Quebec Act. The priests were once again allowed to tithe the Catholic population, and the Seigneurs were ensured that their property rights would be respected. As such, when the rebellion came to Canada, both the Priests and the Seigneurs remained loyal to Britain.
The final group of elites was the English-speaking merchants in Quebec City and Montreal. These were mostly immigrants from America. They brought with them their rebellious American ideas. It has been noted previously that Britain attempted to appease the American demands for unimpeded speech, and that such appeasement encouraged rebellion by spreading and normalizing their ideas. Carleton made no such appeasements to the English merchants, and although they attempted to help the Americans, they never saw much chance of success, and kept their rebellious thoughts mostly to themselves.
By keeping the first four groups of elites on his side, and by not appeasing the fifth group, Carleton ensured that any rebellion would at the very least have an uphill battle. However, if the Americans had acted perfectly, they may have still flipped one or two of the groups to their cause. However, the American invasion was poorly planned. There were not enough supplies, so the army started buying Canadian goods. But they did not not bring enough gold either, so they started using paper currency, which the Canadians did not want. When the Americans realised that their money was useless, they began to steal from and pillage the Canadians. This was the final straw, turning large numbers of the neutral peasants and the somewhat pro-American merchants against the rebellion.
The Americans were not removed completely from Canada until much later, when Carleton routed them after the invasion of Quebec, but their hopes of having Canada join them as the fourteenth colony were essentially quashed at that point. America would continue their attempts. Another letter, the invitation in the Articles, the offer to Britain, later the War of 1812, and many more attempts both official and surreptitious were tried. But Canada rejected each, and that rejection can be traced back to Guy Carleton’s wise decisions, and the American Army’s poor planning and ill-prepared state in the early stages of the uprising.
There are at least two lessons to be learned here. The first is that a “free” press is a powerful weapon. Whoever controls the press in many ways controls the fate of the nation. The fact that the vast majority of the press today is aligned against those with rightward values should be grave cause for concern. The second lesson is that Canada is not America. We do not have the violent rebellious beginning that America had. We rejected that beginning. We instead chose to gradually change into what we are today. Yes, what we are today, politically, is an embarrassment. But, unlike America, we did not burn our bridges. For Americans, there is no going back beyond the American Rebellion without another bloody rebellion. We, in the Great White North, may have exited through the door on the far left, and we may have closed the door behind us. But we did not throw away the key. Perhaps, one day, we will walk right back through that door.
The following essay is by Gerry T. Neal. A self described royalist with a libertarian streak, he writes at Throne, Altar, Liberty.
A country is more than just the territory that falls within its recognized boundaries. It is that territory, but it is also the people who live there, the customs and traditions that shape their way of life, and their social, cultural, religious, and political institutions. Yet if one was to go by the English lyrics of the song that has served as Canada’s official national anthem for thirty-seven years one could be forgiven for thinking that the only thing denoted by the name “Canada” was the large chunk of territory to the north of the United States.
In the first stanza of “O Canada”, which is the only part of the song that most Canadians are familiar with, Canada is identified as “our home and native land” and “the true North, strong and free.” We assert our patriotic love for her and declare that we stand on guard for her, but no further information about her is provided and the only additional information in the subsequent, seldom sung, stanzas, is geographic in nature, such as “Where pines and maples grow; Great prairies spread, and lordly rivers flow.”
John Farthing, in his Freedom Wears a Crown, published posthumously in 1957, made the following appropriate comments:
I sometimes wonder if any other people has ever taken seriously a national song or anthem which says so little as O Canada, and that little all but completely amoral. While thousands of young Canadians were giving their lives in a war to save us and the world from a philosophy of ‘blood and soil’, those Canadians who remained at home were solemnly singing in honour and well-nigh worship of the Canadian soil – without the humanity of any blood. (1)
When Farthing wrote these words, “O Canada” was not yet the official national anthem. It was about ten years later that a Royal Commission appointed by Lester Pearson recommended that “O Canada” be officially declared our national anthem with the status of royal anthem to be given to “God Save the Queen.” At the time “God Save the Queen” was the closest thing to an official anthem we had, with “O Canada” and “The Maple Leaf Forever” in informal competition as our unofficial national anthems.
“The Maple Leaf Forever” was written in 1867 – the year of Confederation – by Alexander Muir and for decades served alongside “God Save the Queen” as Canada’s unofficial national anthem. It was only on the eve of World War II that the English version of “O Canada” became a serious competitor for this status. “The Maple Leaf Forever” was everything that a patriot of the Dominion founded in 1867 could possibly hope for in a national anthem. It speaks, not just of a geographical location, but of Canada’s history, heritage, and national symbols. The chorus asks God’s blessing both upon our Royal Sovereign – echoing the words of Britain’s national anthem – and upon the country itself through her national emblem of the maple leaf. The stanzas make reference to key events in Canada’s pre-Confederation history, from the triumph of General Wolfe at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham to the victories over American invaders at Queenston Heights and Lundy’s Lane in the War of 1812. It is, of course, the very aspects of this song that made it so appealing to the patriot of the old Dominion of Canada that made it unacceptable to the Liberals of the twentieth century.
The only way to make sense out of the actions of the Liberal Party of Canada, which governed Canada for most of the twentieth century, is to recognize that from its beginnings in the nineteenth century, it had set itself up as the opposition, not just to the Conservative Party that had governed Canada for twenty four of her first thirty years, but to the entire project of Confederation as well.
Confederation, beginning with the Charlottetown Conference of 1864 shortly before the end of the American War Between the States, was the process whereby the North American provinces and colonies of the British Empire came together in a federal union to form the new country that would be given the name Canada. Previously, that name had belonged to one or two of the provinces. (2) That Canada envisioned by the Fathers of Confederation, was to be a country that would grow up within the British Empire and attain full nationhood, without severing its ties to Britain or the rest of the Empire – the opposite, in other words, of the United States.
It was to be British in its political institutions – governed by a Parliament based on the Westminster model over which the monarch would reign as Royal Sovereign. It was to be designated a “Dominion”, which was at first a term chosen from the Bible (3) as a substitute for “Kingdom” that would be less offensive to our republican neighbours but which later, as proposals were made to reorganize the British Empire along federal lines, came to take on the meaning of a self-governing country within what would become the British Commonwealth. One of the principal reasons for undertaking this project at this time was the perceived threat of invasion from the United States. This was not an imaginary fear – the United States had invaded what would become Canada in a so-called attempt at “liberation” during the War of 1812 and subsequently, especially around the time of their war with Mexico, her editorialists and statesmen had spoken of their country’s “Manifest Destiny” to rule over all of North America.
The Confederation project was consistent with the history and heritage of both English and French Canadians. The first society to be called Canada was one of the colonies of New France. It was a seigneurial society, with an economy based on agriculture and trade, in which the most powerful institution was the Roman Catholic Church. It was ceded to Great Britain in 1763 at the end of the Seven Years War and eleven years later, in the Quebec Act, King George III guaranteed its right to retain its French language, culture, and civil law and its established Roman Catholicism, in keeping with a promise he had made the French king. This outraged many of the leaders of the Thirteen Colonies, the ideological descendants of the Puritan fanatics who had driven King Charles I from his throne and beheaded him because he would not persecute the co-religionists of his Queen, the French Catholic Henrietta Maria, to the extent they desired. In their inflamed anti-papist fervour and zeal they rebelled against King and Parliament, drawing up an indictment of tyranny in language as lofty as its charges were spurious and its reasoning was fallacious, ensuring that it would live forever in the annals of demagogic propaganda.
Needless to say, a sizeable number of English colonists, saw no reason to go along with this revolting revolution and fought against the rebels on the side of their King. When the rebelling colonies won their independence there was an exodus of Loyalists out of the new republic to the northern territory that remained under British governance, including the Maritime provinces and French-speaking Canada which, understandably, had preferred to remain under the British Crown that protected their language and religion rather than join those who wished to extirpate both from North American soil. Out of these United Empire Loyalists, English Canada was born and in the century between the American Revolution and Confederation, French and English Canadians would fight, alongside the British army, to drive out American invaders bent on their “liberation” at Châteauguay and Crysler’s Farm, Stoney Creek and Beaverdams (4), Queenston Heights and Lundy’s Lane.
In this shared history, in which English-speaking Protestants and French-speaking Catholics remained loyal to the Crown and Empire that protected them both, against the common threat from the south, the foundations of Confederation were laid.
The Liberal Party’s agenda, from the beginning, was one of continentalism and free trade. The Liberals believed that Canada’s future lay in closer economic and political partnership with the United States and they sought to move Canada towards that future, even if doing so meant cutting her off from her past. Initially, they found that their agenda, so contrary to the goals of Confederation, was very difficult to sell to the Canadian electorate. It did not help their case that some of their intellectuals took their agenda to scandalous extremes in print. In 1891, for example, the year in which Sir John A. MacDonald, running on a patriotic platform that appealed to tradition and continuity with the past, won his last election – a landslide victory over Sir Wilfred Laurier’s Liberals who were campaigning for trade reciprocity with the United States – Liberal intellectual Goldwin Smith published his book Canada and the Canadian Question, which argued that there was no point to there being a Canada and that it ought to be annexed by the United States. (5)
Few Liberal intellectuals went as far as Smith, however, and by the early twentieth century the Liberals had become much more successful at winning elections. Although their policies were still such as would move Canada further and further into the orbit of the United States, they began to pitch them in the language of a new nationalism that was the opposite of that of the Fathers of Confederation. Whereas to the latter, Canada’s traditional British identity was indispensable to their project of building a nation and keeping it from being swallowed up by the United States, the Liberals, who saw that identity as the main roadblock standing in the way of their get rich quick scheme of technological progress, modernization, and Americanization, began to attack Canada’s Britishness as the mark of a colonialism that we would need to throw off to truly become a nation.
To promote the new nationalism, Liberal historians began propagating their own version of Canada’s national story. In this version Canada was portrayed as struggling against British imperial power in her efforts to emerge from colonialism and become a nation. This is an obvious substitution of the American national myth – watered down, with independence being achieved by diplomacy rather than revolution – for Canada’s own story. That the Liberal historians were rewriting Canada’s story to fit the American myth was blatantly acknowledged by one of their own, Dr. John Wesley Dafoe, who edited what is now the Winnipeg Free Press (6) for the first half of the twentieth century, in the title he gave his history of Canada: Canada: An American Nation. (7)
The Liberal version of Canada’s history, as its foremost critic Donald Creighton observed years ago, is in complete conflict with the facts – far from standing in the way of Canadian nationhood, Great Britain had supported the Confederation project from the beginning. The opposition to the project, and the only real threat to Canadian nationhood came from the United States – the country to which the Liberals wanted to bring Canada closer. Nevertheless, as the Liberal Party grew more successful in the polls and gained more and more control over Canada’s national agenda, their new interpretation – or, perhaps inversion would be the better word – of Canada’s story, was accepted as Gospel in the schools, the editorial pages, and everywhere else Liberal opinion predominated, so that it soon deserved the sobriquet with which Creighton mocked it “The Authorized Version.”
In this version Confederation, its Fathers, and especially Sir John A. MacDonald were reduced to footnotes and the place of honour that ought to go to the founders of our country, was given instead to Liberal leaders such as William Lyon Mackenzie King and in later, revised, editions of the Authorized Version, to Lester Pearson and Pierre Trudeau – the men most responsible for distancing Canada from her British roots. Mackenzie King is portrayed as the champion of Canada’s domestic sovereignty – despite the fact that his 1926 general election claim of imperial interference from London was a complete fabrication. (8)
During the premierships of Pearson and Trudeau, much of Canada’s traditional national symbolism was revised to eliminate reference to our British heritage – the Red Ensign with the Union Jack in the canton which had served as Canada’s flag informally since Confederation and was awarded official status at the end of World War II, was replaced with the present flag, the designation “Royal” was dropped from the Post Office and several branches of the Armed Forces, and Dominion Day was renamed Canada Day. At the end of his premiership, Pierre Trudeau succeeded in having the power to amend the British North America Act – renamed “The Constitution Act, 1867” – from the British Parliament to Canada’s, and in the eyes of many Liberals this has superseded Confederation as the moment of our country’s birth. It ought to be noted that these men and events, the ones most celebrated in the Liberal account of our country’s story, are the ones who undermined our parliamentary government, concentrated near-dictatorial powers into the Prime Minister’s office, and greatly weakened our heritage of freedom. (9)
It was during and part of these changes that “O Canada” was declared to be our official national anthem in 1980. The English lyrics, written by Robert Stanley Weir in 1908, speak not of Canada’s traditions, history, and heritage but only of her land and her location in the north. Which is fitting, perhaps, because in the Liberal perspective, which has dominated our country for so long, this is all that Canada is. Yet, as with everything else in the Liberal point of view, there is a contradiction here for apart from those aspects of Canadian history that they wish to forget, the land that we call Canada today, would never have been Canada. Apart from the Confederation project, of uniting the provinces of British North America, English Protestant and French Catholic, into a new nation under the Crown, and calling that country Canada, that name would never have been applied to anything but the stretch of land between the St. Lawrence River and the Great Lakes. This tells us that Canada must be something more than a large, northern, chunk of land and to discover what that is, we must look beyond the Liberal Party’s revisions, back to Confederation, and the history leading up to it, and recover the vision of the Fathers.
(1) John Farthing, Judith Robinson ed., Freedom Wears a Crown (Toronto: Kingswood House, 1957) pp. 111-112. The chapter in which this is found is entitled “The Agronomic Anthem”
(2) This wording is not intended to express uncertainty as to the number but rather the fact that the provinces in question, known as Ontario and Quebec since Confederation, prior to 1867 had at times been united in a single province of Canada, at other times separated into Upper and Lower Canada.
(3) Psalm 72:8
(4) Now Thorold, Ontario.
(5) Goldwin Smith, Canada and the Canadian Question (Toronto: Hunter, Rose & Co., 1891)
(6) Then, as now, the newspaper was a mouthpiece for the Liberal party line.
(7) John Wesley Dafoe, Canada: An American Nation (New York: Columbia University Press, 1935)
(8) In his election campaign in 1926, Mackenzie King told the Canadian electorate that the refusal of Lord Byng, the Governor General, to grant him a requested dissolution of Parliament earlier that year was a case of imperial interference in Canadian domestic affairs. This was a lie, as a simple perusal of the correspondence between the two during supposed crisis demonstrates. In his letter of resignation, Mackenzie King reminded the Governor General that he, Mackenzie King, had himself asked Byng to consult London and that he, Byng, had refused to do so. That Byng had acted properly, refusing to grant a dissolution to a government that faced a vote of censure in Parliament, was the argument of Eugene Forsey’s doctoral dissertation “The Royal Power of Dissolution of Parliament in the British Commonwealth” submitted to McGill University in 1941. When an abridged version of this was published as a book by Oxford University Press in 1943, it was denounced by J. W. Dafoe in the Winnipeg Free Press, leading to a war in print between Forsey and Dafoe in which the Liberal historian was soundly trounced. Accounts of this can be found in both Forsey’s memoirs A Life on the Fringe (Toronto: Oxford University Press,1990) pp. 106-108 and Charles Taylor’s Radical Tories: The Conservative Tradition in Canada (Toronto: Anansi, 1982) pp. 107-108.
(9) That Mackenzie King’s victory in 1926, which more or less made it the rule that vice-regal authority must never be exercised except as the Prime Minister advises, essentially turned Crown and Parliament into rubber stamps of the Prime Minister’s office, was the thesis of Farthing’s book which drew upon Forsey’s arguments. John Diefenbaker, in the speeches collected into his book Those Things We Treasure, (Toronto: Macmillan, 1972) observed how the changes Pearson and Trudeau were making were moving Canada towards a republicanism foreign to her heritage which would jeopardize the rights and freedoms grounded in our own tradition of parliamentary monarchy. When Trudeau repatriated the British North America Act, he added the Charter of Rights and Freedoms which, despite its name, actually undermines our traditional Common Law rights and freedoms. See Kenneth McDonald Alexis in Charterland (Belleville: Epic Press: 2004) It also enhanced the powers of the Supreme Court of Canada, basically empowering it to act like the American
Having examined Dr. Andrew Fraser’s analysis of the English ethnoculture, we now turn across the Atlantic. The Anglosphere we know today – the bastion of the liberal world order – is not an island nation, but a global force. To make this leap in history, we must land on American shores. The last two sections of Fraser’s work reflect on the theological withering and current state of the Anglo psyche.
Fraser begins by contrasting the current “de-sacralized” nature of the Anglo world with the religious underpinnings of the English colonization of the New World. As we saw in part I, Fraser traces the English psyche as moving from a magico-religious “enchanted” worldview, to a tradition-directed hierarchical one with clear distinctions between the religious and political worlds, and finally to an inner-directed model based on individual conscience and participation. The social equivalent to this was the development of a proto-scientific worldview that saw the religious and worldly realities as minimal in their interaction, rather than infused with one another.
At the time of English expansion into the Americas, the tradition-directed order had firmly taken hold. However, the religious impulse continued to inform worldly affairs. Fraser emphasis the militant nature of the English perception of their mission. At one end, the Puritan culture took an attitude which Fraser compares with mission-oriented warfare, a system defined by a clear goal with freedom of action by those on the ground. The literature of the period sees the will of God and the establishment of His Kingdom as fundamental. The nature of this varies across the populations of the New World, although they share a common radical Protestantism. The pilgrims are suspicious not only of Rome but also the Church of England. This religious order is mirrored in the nature of the economic ventures, with the Virginia Company rapidly moving from a centralized to a decentralized model for reasons of profit.
Fraser notes that this Protestant diversity was communal and not individual: the colonial town shared a covenant of a particular Protestant faith, within which all took part in the great mission. The free man was granted his rights not as citizen, but as father of a household. Fraser puts forward that the fact of covenant is problematic for the narrative that America was proto-liberal and individualist from the start. To find oneself outside a defined covenant to family, community, and God was to be outcast and alien to the social order.
The development of the proto-Southern (Fraser calls it “Anglo-Virginian”) culture differed in its attitude to work and the emphasis on religious covenant as the source of community. Apart from maintaining a more aristocratic attitude to work as a necessary evil, the Virginia community saw the household displace the role of the church in many social rituals.
Despite these variations, settlers would find their differences minimized by their contrast with the realities of colonial existence. Slavery was a phenomenon seen across the Americas, not just practiced by the various European colonial powers but also by the indigenous peoples themselves. Moreover, the material condition of many European indentured workers would have hardly differed from the experience of slaves: facets of such a life could include wearing a collar with the employer’s name, being sold together with a mine, and being forbidden to marry without permission. However, the racial dynamic of black slavery would bring the biological element of racial and ethnocultural identity to the fore. This impetus continued the stripping down of the English as a cohesive religious, cultural, and ethnic people, to the benefit of the racial element. The realities of black and native interaction forced cohesion between differing religious covenants and regional cultures.
This process is, in fact, more or less complete when we come to the American rebellion. By this time, the only criterion for citizenship laid out is the extension to “free white persons of good character”. Rather than an English covenant community, the political order is a white republic. The republic itself would ultimately create the social and religious infrastructure of these free white persons. Ultimately, the philosophy of freedom would triumph over the remnants of ethnocultural covenant still present in the republican founding. First, whiteness itself would find itself expanded as a concept, and then ultimately done away with. Homo Americanus would be a bloodless citizen. Fraser cites the words of the Union’s staunchest representative, President Lincoln, in the year 1838:
Let reverence for the laws…become the political religion of the nation; and let the old and young, the rich and poor, the grave and the gay, of all sexes and tongues, and colors and conditions, sacrifice unceasingly upon its altars.
At this point, Fraser takes pause from his broad study of American development. The above is a sweeping account of the American story, and benefits from a more precise analysis. To do so, Fraser examines a particular social technology of the American landscape: the corporation. In this structure, Fraser sees a history and theology at play, changing with each generation and altering the nature of the corporation in political life.
First, we must take note of American religious life around the 1740’s. At this time, the phenomenon later known as the First Great Awakening began to sweep the American landscape. While previously the official clergy had maintained the dominance of the established parish churches, a new generation emphasized individual religious experience. This demand for individual agency in their tie to the greater community would see its political reflection in the rhetoric of the colonial rebellions a generation later, culminating in the democratic and populist character of Jeffersonian democracy. The classes from which many of the founders themselves came would accurately perceive a growing threat to ordered stability.
In response, men of these classes saw a need for institutions of business and political enterprise which could guard their work and resources from democratic usurpation. Fraser recounts the US Supreme Court decision of the Dartmouth College case; the court upheld that the private nature of the resources involved in corporate endeavours granted them autonomy and constitutional protection. It is important to emphasize that the conception of these bodies was not purely one of profit, but of the public good. The corporation was defined by a specific end. The notion of a corporation changing its mission and work at will was alien to the understanding of the time. Fraser recounts the infusion of republican political philosophy into these ventures, with corporations becoming little republics within the body of the great American republic. Many such corporations found themselves in religious endeavours, upholding the legally backed commitment to public Protestant religious worship. For Fraser, this reveals the theology of the early corporation:
In clothing their religious, charitable, educational, and business activities in the corporate form, propertied and professional elites were adapting the federal theology of covenanted communities to a secular crisis of authority in a modern republican polity…The deep-rooted and contining contest between “evangelical” and “legal” Christianity had its exact parallel in the struggle between radical advocates of free and general incorporation and conservative proponents of incorporation by special act of the state legislature.
This theology would find opposition in a more explicitly religious response: the Second Great Awakening. Fraser notes that the general anti-institutional attitude towards the corrupt “worldly” order especially took issue with the linking of the corporation to public virtue. Fraser cites an 1853 piece from the Presbyterian Quarterly Review. The modern reader may note how eerily familiar it would read in any modern progressive activist publication:
…revolutions will occur as light increases marked with more or less violence, in proportion to the resistance offered, or the wisdom employed till human rights are properly guaranteed and wrong principles and institutions are swept away.
And yet, the result was not the end of the corporation. Rather, Fraser outlines the decoupling of economic endeavours from public virtue. First economic ventures could function as a sign of God’s favour on an individual level; later, the economic and the spiritual were severed entirely. He further cites Marx as one of the first to see this decoupling of property owner and investment. Property and the capitalist morphed into capital and shareholder. In Marx’s words: “he is a function of his own capital, and direct expression of his private property.” While Fraser criticizes Marx’s failure to understand the connection between this development and the culture from which it came, the emptying out of religious content from the corporation reflects the disenchantment of the broader English world, and the final cementing of the inner-directed paradigm.
The corporation would go on to be a microcosm of the most recent shift in the English world as well: the rise of the culture of critique, and the cult of the other. Fraser recounts the spread of the corporate mentality across the institutions. Scholars became researchers, governors became technocrats, and virtue was displaced by “expertise”. This was the rise of the managerial class. Fraser furthermore sees disembodied speech as fundamental to this new mode of governance (or better: management). Rather than reflecting the authority of the speaker, speech had to become disembodied, reflecting expertise and the voice of the corporate reality. In addition to the religious and cultural disembodiment, this mode of social order required an ethnic disembodiment and the embracing of a universalist mentality, reflecting the international nature of the U.S. population and the American world order. Fraser details how this ethnic disembodiment required an active embracing of the “other” in intellectual life and broader culture. This was enthusiastically forwarded both by WASP intellectuals and an ascendant Jewish intellectual class.
The history of the corporation reflects the history of the republic itself. Fraser draws parallels with each stage of the corporate theology to the surrounding American culture. He sees the political theology of the country as moving from a republic of liberty, to one of equality, and finally to one of fraternity. After the revolution, republican liberty is seen as the result of Providence itself. Thus, as we have seen, the republic replaces the covenant church as the institution of American destiny. For many of the founders themselves, this is already stripped of English particularity. The republic was championed most strongly by the federalists. However, its unifying character still acted through a variety of institutions: courts, parties, and churches. In particular, Fraser discerns that the churches were a force of “conversion” to revolutionary values.
With the end of the war between the states, the republic establishes itself as the source of sovereignty. This is most evident in the fourteenth amendment, which saw the source of citizenship as lying in the republic, and not in the states. These United States, became the United States. This was the age of individualist liberalism and the overthrow of institution. However, this pretence ignored what was clear to both the historic black populace and new entrants to the country: the dominance of the Anglo-Saxon Protestant ethnicity and culture. Thus, the republic of fraternity sought the purposeful and final overthrow of this culture and the final universalization of American revolutionary values. Today, the historic American population – one might even say the ethnic American population – retains little if any memory of this history. And yet, it feels the alienation of the liberal order as clearly as anyone. The language of universalism disguises a powerful and increasingly global elite class devoid of history or duty.
Fraser turns at this stage to a man we met in Part I of this review: Bolingbroke, speaking from the 18th century to a country where a new class was in its turn increasingly usurping the place and duties of the old order. In particular, he draws on Bolingbroke’s invocation of a Patriot King as necessary to restoring the English world. Surveying various critical and literary studies which have been made of Bolingbroke by later scholars, Fraser encourages a reading of his ideas which seek their application in our context – one radically alien to Bolingbroke himself, and knowingly so. While Bolingbroke admired Queen Elizabeth I, Fraser instead looks to King Alfred the Great, who played a pivotal role in creating the Christian Anglo-Saxon commonwealth.
Fraser invokes the image:
Church and crown would work hand-in-hand to lead a people grown corrupt back onto the path of righteousness blazed by the King of Kings.
The triumph of republicanism is Anglosphere countries need not be reason to despair; these events cannot erase the ties of faith and blood which bind the descendants of English Christendom to one another, and to a future monarch who may choose to invoke such ties.
There is an obvious charge against choosing such an archetype: larping. Not only is it unclear how such a figure would carry out their project, but there is in fact no claimant at hand to rally around. In fact, the invoking of such archetypal figures does two things. First, it creates a mantle which a future flesh-and-blood patriot king may one day take up. Second – and more immediately – it begins the process of palingenesis: the rebirth. In a sense, Fraser is not concerned with every blood descendent of England living today; he is writing for that number which will take part in the beginning of a new cycle. Discussing palingenesis in the final section of the book, Fraser makes clear that the full recovery of the faith which birthed the English people will be fundamental.
Fraser notes several theological strains of interest: kinism (which sees ethnic boundaries as Divinely ordained), preterism, and covenant creationism (which have nothing to do with questions of evolution, but rather see Genesis and the Apocalypse as addressing the Old and New Covenants). These particular examples will not be satisfactory to may readers, as they emerge from particular strains of American (often Calvinist) Protestantism. However, the broader point that a spiritual and not merely reductionist view of kin must be recovered is something familiar to those not only in reformed, but in the historic Catholic and Orthodox traditions. The question of patriotism has been recently addressed, for example, by the Russian Orthodox patriarchate. More immediate to the question of English Christendom is the state of the English Christian patrimony. In addition to the efforts of many Anglicans to preserve the English patrimony, some have sought a path of communion with the broader Catholic world.
Of course, these events are only of immediate interest to those who are still retaining the faith. For much of the English world, it has been generations since Christendom collapsed as a reality. This brings an element of strangeness into play. Though Fraser does not reference them, the literary mission of the Inklings – Lewis, Tolkein, and others – delved into the mythos of old England precisely for its alien nature in the era they were now in. The archetype of the patriot king seizes on this strangeness. It takes the essence of English kingship found in the historical great monarchs and prepares it to be taken up once again. Many who are rootless seek out alien heritages. One can consider the leftist love of foreign traditions such as yoga or Islam, but also the affinity of many Anglosphere rightists for continental Germanic, Nordic, or Slavic traditions.
Though the patrimony of England shares much with its European brethren, it is also unique. If the toxic extreme of its individualism leads to ethnic amnesia, its positive end created some of the most durable, independent, high-trust, and cooperative societies known to man. Its roots in seafaring island races led it to forge a global empire. Its common association with pragmatism lives beside a deep religious cosmology and an ancient ethos of myth and holy rite. Though it finds orientation in its great monarchs, it is the common man – be he in farm or city, on the isles or in the New World, under the first Elizabeth or the second – who upholds the law and the faith. That law and faith must be recovered in the hearts of men before it can be reforged in the world.
Only then does the palingenesis become possible. Let us take up the endeavour, lest the king Bolingbroke hoped for should come forward and find himself alone.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
The reason for prefacing this essay with the first stanza of Yeats’ famous poem “The Second Coming” is because at its core the secular experience of the world is a decentered one. The Western World was oriented and unified under Christ’s banner for millennia before fragmenting into the anarchical smorgasbord of ideology that it is today. We are the falcon and our Lord and falconer is indeed very far away. Speaking on this lack of conviction shared by “the best” (which I’d like to identify here with the traditional-minded and hence redeemable individual) the Canadian philosopher and political theorist Charles Taylor has this to say:
“…the modern world lack[s] depth, and the modern self, wholeness. We tend to live on the surface, and are therefore cut off from the greater currents of meaning which could transform our lives.” (Taylor 380)
Etymologically speaking the very word “secular” derives from the latin saeculāris which at it’s root means “generation; century” and in the Christian context has undertones of connoting the “worldly, temporal, profane” (OED). I bring this up because the perception of time as linear rather than cyclical (read: whole) is a significant attribute of a secular state of being. Renewal and rebirth are now experiences wholly alien to the secular man. Whereas once Christ was seen as the anchor, initiator and finisher of time, now “Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world” and a perpetual forward-looking directionlessness runs rampant. The very driving force of modernity and its culmination in post-modernism is a state of continuous decomposition. The decomposition of the self, nation and sex, along with every other unity we find given to us by God.
Taylor goes on to note that without center “faith, even for the staunchest believer, is one human possibility among others” (Taylor 3). Society has split so that the transcendent is “out there” rather than an immersive part of everyday life. The scientific has been neatly demarcated to be only commented on by the scientists while the religious is wholly the domain of the priest (God forbid he says anything about the scientific!). At its core, the experience of the secular man is one where “things fall apart”, including his very self. Everywhere he goes he must fit and mold himself to be someone else at the expense of his private personhood. This is the biggest difference between the modern and the traditional state of being. For when the West was unified in wholeness “religion was “everywhere”” (Taylor 2). And in Canada more than any other place is religion experienced as one option among many.
If we take the position that “secularity is a matter of the whole context of understanding in which our moral, spiritual, or religious experience and search takes place” (Taylor 3) then can we even begin to understand what we have lost? In a Secular Age, Taylor ties the dawn of secularity to the regression of Christianity in the public space and a decomposition within the faith itself. While the Enlightenment was a blossoming of secularizing energies, the ontological split from a world in which the presence of the divine was really felt predates even the Reformation.
Earlier, rationalizing developments within the Catholic faith, like a shift towards a predominantly Thomist theology, can be observed as a shearing in what Regent College’s professor of theology Hans Boersma calls the “sacramental tapestry”. To begin to understand the pre-secular perception of the world, one has to tangle with the purpose of worship and sacrament and “the widening gap between sacrament and reality, between nature and the supernatural” (Boersma 58). Boersma’s book “Heavenly Participation” is a thorough investigation into what exactly happened within Western theology which might have issued such a divide and a lighter introduction into Taylor’s eventual hypothesis.
Once God was conceived to be separate or “supra-natural” then his totalizing presence also fled from reality. For Boersma a true understanding of sacramentality is one in which the very world is taken for a sacrament. Having this conception in mind, it is easy to see why “religion was everywhere” as Taylor points out. If God is in everything then our very relationship to nature, ourselves and the material is a very different one than if he is nowhere to be seen. With a sacramental perception of being, one’s relation to his world becomes one of worship.
The Orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann makes an interesting point in his work “For the Life of the World” when he says: “Secularism, I submit, is above all a negation of worship” (Schmemann 118). And more specifically, a negation of worship from the public space. As faith became a private matter, something to be kept out of communion with all, then it is easy to see why an eventual decomposition of social wholes would take place. By switching our sources of meaning to this world (remember… now a reality in it’s own dimension, separate from the defining boundaries of a divine order) then a frantic proliferation of artificial and rational unities is the result. Since in its own right, this world is rather fickle in sources of true totalizing meaning.
Despite all of this, what is the answer to our current predicament? Can we even hope to return to a state of being where the presence of the divine is a felt and real one? Or, are those gates of perception forever closed to us? There now seems to be very clear signs of what some have called a “religious turn” in the Western intellectual tradition. And we are well into seeing the very misguided nature of the secularization hypothesis, which now seems to be just a product of leftist wishful thinking. Even the left, or “the worst…full of passionate intensity” are enraptured by the inevitable human drive to worship, but theirs is a seeking that is ultimately misplaced in a center of void and perpetual shift.
As Canadians we can be proud to produce such thinkers as Taylor, and Boersma, and should also look towards proliferating and making this tradition our own. There are many ways we can hope to reconnect ourselves, but the first must be a clear understanding of the historical and intellectual tradition which serves as a link to a state of being lost to us. Perhaps the answer is in hermeneuticist Paul Ricoeur’s call for a “second naiveté”, or a state in which we make ourselves open to the reality of Christ. Because the numerous divides which now sequester our life can only be breached by opening ourselves up and opening the public and social realms, so they may be places of worship again, both inward and outward.
Taylor, Charles. A Secular Age. Cambridge, MA: Belknap of Harvard UP, 2007. Print.
Boersma, Hans. Heavenly Participation: The Weaving of a Sacramental Tapestry. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 2011. Print.
Shmeman, Aleksandr. For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary, 2004. Print.
The formula for what creates a people is complex. To an extent, unfathomable. The ethnic genetic stock, the land on which it lives, the earlier groups which join together, the religion, the requirements for survival…all this and more creates a unique fingerprint. The Anglosphere is no different; its foundation stock is the global diaspora of settlement and migration which set out at various times from the British Isles. Its culture is uniquely individualist and based on personal trust and drive. Its ancestral religion is the ancient Christian faith as it manifested in the furthest outposts of the post-Roman West.
In The WASP Question, Dr. Andrew Fraser presents a history of this Anglo-British ethnoculture from the migration across the English channel all the way to the modern period. This history makes up the first part of the book, with a focus on the religious aspect of this identity. The Anglo-Saxons were formed and birthed as a Christian people from early on in their history in the Isles, and as such their “baptized” Germanic cultural and political forms play a truly foundational role in the later history of the English. The second and third parts of the book examine the decline of the English people and their world, particularly with the rise of the novus ordo seclorum. Due to the depth of detail, parts II and III will be looked at in a second piece. By way of background, Fraser is a Canadian-born academic who currently resides and works in Australia. After studying constitutional law at Harvard and an MA from the University of North Carolina, he went on to teach American constitutional history in Sydney.
Human biodiversity is important in Fraser’s work: the biological stock of the population is just as fundamental a part of ethnoculture as religion, family structure, the land, and so on. As with all systems, the population both influences and is influenced by these other elements. Therefore, the tendencies exhibited by individuals and the early Anglo-Saxon population becomes expressed over time as cultural norms as a people becomes an increasingly coherent nation. Among the traits of the Anglo-Saxons can be counted a strong individualism; a more nuclear family structure rather than an extended clan; a morality based on individual guilt rather than collective shame. The concept of law is central to Fraser’s conception of English civilization:
Medieval Europe created a legal civilization, nowhere more obviously or successfully than its Anglo-Saxon province. The English, like other Christian peoples, [in the words of Walter Ullmann] “were given their religion, their faith, their dogma, in the shape of a law”.
However, this presence of the law existed side by side with a magical-transcendent underpinning of the old Anglo-Saxon culture in which England finds its roots. Here is where Fraser’s thesis starts to unfold:
My thesis is the social psychology of the Anglo-Saxons evolved in three stages, in a process of “punctuated equilibrium”. The primitive, magicoreligious influences on the social character of the early Anglo-Saxons were suppressed, first, by formal institutions (embryonic states and the Church) that fostered the dominant “tradition-directed character type of medieval England; second, by the development of an “inner-directed” character adapted to the early modern bourgeois market economy; and third, by the emergence of the “other-directed” character type among WASPs in the service of the modern corporate welfare state.
The prelude to this process is the migration of Germanic tribes across the channel. On the continent, they existed in much more collective societies. Collective kin structures played a major role in interaction, particularly in the fued system of justice. If a member of a clan was killed, the clan was involved in a feud with the other man’s kin. The comites (to use Tacitus’ phrase for the “great men” who played leading roles) would elevate one of their number as an overlord amongst themselves. However this role was relatively weak, and depended on the integrity of the kinship structures.
Migration changed this, as those who went across the channel were separated from their larger and established kinship networks. Fraser recounts data that the large contribution of the Anglo-Saxons to the modern English ancestry comes from a small source of only 10-200,000 people, whereas the indigenous population numbered around two million. This implies a breeding advantage for the invaders: logically, powerful Anglo-Saxon leaders would have greater access to both Anglo-Saxon and indigenous British women, while British men would be disadvantaged with British women (and have little chance of mating with Anglo-Saxons). Therefore, many may have chosen to migrate away from the Anglo-Saxon centers. This genetic evidence correlates with the institutional growth of the Anglo-Saxon kingship as a power structure. Where the kinship structures shrank in importance, the kingship took over as a source of order in a necessarily smaller and more individualistic population.
This is the founding era in Fraser’s cycle of English history. Kings and aristocrats dominated national government in Anglo-Saxon England, but the system saw extensive decentralization of the country into shires and tithings, and of the church into parishes. This allowed local British elites to find new places in the system and become integrated into the new order of the Anglo-Saxon polities. Still, the power of the lords grew to the extent that the common site of free peasants or towns seen on the continent became a rarity in England. Yet Fraser also recounts the collective and super-individual nature of law. The law was received and pronounced by kings and lords, but it was received by them as part of an inheritance of the kin. Here we already see the structures that later periods would codify into the idea of “the rule of law”.
However, the law existed alongside a sacral and mythic conception of Kingship. Descended from a god and “heilerfüllt” or hallowed, he allowed godly participation in earthly affairs. Therefore he had a special wisdom when interpreting the received law. However, early in their history the Anglo-Saxons received the Christian faith. British and Irish churches had long existed, but it was the missions of Pope Gregory the Great which in particular were intended to convert these peoples. With much of the English ethnogenesis occurring after their conversion, the English were a people conceived in the womb of Christendom. Their spiritual center was at Canterbury, where the disciples of St. Augustine the missionary established themselves. While the idols were smashed, the sacred altars and groves of the land were sanctified and incorporated into the Christian Anglo-Saxon ritual life.
Anglo-Saxon Christendom lived under a baptized sacral Kingship, where the King was filled with the grace of God and carried responsibility for the spiritual state of his people under Heaven. Fraser details the promotion by the Church of an overlord who could unite the gens Anglorum into a political unity which could manifest their spiritual unity. It should be noted that Her Majesty Elizabeth II still carries as her official Canadian title “Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, Queen of Canada” – a phrase shared by her titles across most of her realms. We can see a spiritual unity carried down from the earliest days of the English ethnogenesis. This sacral conception reached its apex in the reign of King Alfred the Great. King Alfred was first to hold the title of King of the Anglo-Saxons and translated the Venerable Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People. While he never ruled all England, in him all Anglo-Saxons finally had a unified sacred royalty.
In addition to this top-level religious and political history, Fraser spends many sections of the book detailing the legal and constitutional norms of the Anglo-Saxon people at this time. For the reader’s interest, we will touch on the interesting practice of oath-taking. In Fraser’s thesis, oath-taking becomes an important sign of the growing individualism of the Anglo-Saxons compared with their kin-based continental forebears. Oaths existed in the Germanic cultures as bond between kinsman and lords, and men without oath-based relationships to such structures were not only rootless but a social threat. In the Anglo-Saxon social order, we have seen that the power of the kin structure decreased and the power of the lords grew. Thus, an individual’s commitment to his lord grew ever more important as the blood-bonds with kin would not protect him as they had his ancestors. Giving an oath was a spiritual act witnessed by priests and performed over relics or sacred objects (witness our own continued use of Bibles). Breaking an oath threatened the immortal soul, and were taken so seriously that the mere swearing of an oat could sometimes be evidence of innocence of a crime. In a world where action and ritual were often one, King Alfred’s requirement of oaths from his men and advisors gave a spiritual basis to the very administration of the Anglo-Saxon state.
The next stage of Fraser’s thesis sees the ritualization and institutionalization of the magical and religious worldview. This occurs both due to the increased kingly requirements of the Overlord, and the tension between throne and altar. Fraser notes at first that the assent of the William the Conqueror did not immediately replace Anglo-Saxon norms with Norman ones. Upon his ascension, the Conqueror took part in the “charismatic” Kingship which he had usurped. Fraser emphasizes that it was not simply enough for a King to uphold past norms or rule in an administrative way. Rather, the King had to prove his God-given power of rule by his deeds, creating new obligations or precedents. This charism could be lost or successfully challenged (the Conqueror himself being one such successful challenger). From the time of the Conqueror onward, this personal authority gave way to an institutional entity of the Crown distinct from the person of the King. This trend occurred for a number of reasons and would reach its culmination in the Tudor centralization.
Starting in 1075, Pope Gregory VII (the Great) introduced sweeping reforms to the Church intended to solidify the accountability of bishops to the Roman See, which held traditional primacy among the Apostolic sees and was the Patriarchal See of the West. However, this was accompanied by a high view of Papal authority, which Pope Gregory saw as extending into the life of the realm beyond matters of faith or morality. A world which before knew little distinction between spirit and daily life began to encounter the tensions of authority which would ultimately become the familiar concepts of “secular” vs “religious” authority. The 12th century martyrdom of Thomas Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury, by rogue knights of King Henry II, saw the King forced to formalize a separate domain of powers for the Church. Conversely, the Kings therefore promoted a Divinely-sanctioned political authority distinct from the Church. Yet, as Fraser points out, this was the first step toward an “eventual disenchantment of political authority”.
In addition to this pressure for a distinct authority and existence from the Church, Kings also faced the problem of the “double majesty” which existed in English political life. On the level of the realm, the Kingship – even if assented to by the nobility – was not held to be founded on them, but ultimately on the grace of God. Likewise, the nobility considered their authority to rest upon their own dignity; this same dignity was what his loyalty to his King rested on. However, this meant that the King’s responsibilities to the realm often relied on the personal loyalties of a nobility which did not often act in unison or full agreement. Fraser explains that the King’s duty to uphold a law received but not made by him, and to rule in unison with the “community of the realm”, was a conception that extended back to the pre-Norman cult of St. Edward the Confessor. These norms formed the tradition which directed the character of Kingship in this second period. Yet, they also guaranteed a Royal incentive to increase centralization in order to effectively rule.
The Tudor monarchy was the major force of centralization during this second period. In establishing himself as Supreme Head of the Church of England, King Henry VIII established a sacral as well as a political supremacy for himself. However, Fraser points out an important distinction between the Tudors and their Anglo-Saxon forebears. As we saw, the Anglo-Saxon Kings depended on a sacral power that was bound up in their persons. The Tudors, on the other hand, normalized the concepts of an “institutional” Crown distinct from the person of the King. Thus, a growing administration could act in the name of the Crown without the King’s personal involvement.
Fraser presents Richard Hooker as the best expounder of the tradition-directed character of England at this time. Hooker understood the realm as an organic body politic, where King and commonwealth worked in unison to preserve the customs and laws handed down. Hooker saw himself as defending the ancient English constitution where law and realm were one entity. And yet, Fraser attacks this idea, pointing out that the conception of an institutional inheritance of custom judicially interpreted by King and people was already a far cry from the magical-religious conception of the grace-filled Anglo-Saxon kings who received and interpreted the law under a charism from God. And indeed, this tension between the inviolability of the received customs of the ancient constitution with the royal will of the Crown would open up for the next era of Fraser’s thesis: the inner-directed era.
The mission of an increasing prerogative for the Royal will brought together two names which are not often associated with each other, and indeed would often be assumed to be opposed to one another. The first is the philosopher Thomas Hobbes, and the second is the House of Stuart. Hobbes believed that the royal administration must be centralized in order to rationalize its governance, providing it the opportunity to create a great society guided by reason and empirical inquiry. Hobbes rejected the notion that monarchy could have any Divine basis, and saw its legitimacy as stemming from its ability to bring man out of the brutal “state of nature”. He mocked the sacral conception of authority and those who believed “that there walketh (as some think invisibly) another Kingdome, as it were a Kingdom of Fayries, in the dark.” Likewise, the House of Stuart existed at a time when a classically-influenced tendency to speak of an English commonwealth made up of King, lords, and commons was in ascendancy. Fraser recounts that in 1642, shortly before the civil war, King Charles I was convinced to essentially formalize this philosophy in answers to Parliament. This meant that the Crown’s institutional legitimacy would ever more be based on outcomes rather than either personal charism of rule or reception of the ancient tradition. The break with tradition toward an inner-directed administrative will had begun.
Fraser emphasizes a seemingly contradictory fact of this political struggle: both sides could coherently be described as “traditionalist”. Fraser lays out the crisis:
…the clash was a symptom of a schizophrenic split within English society that set “traditionalist modernizers” against “modernizing traditionalists”. Both royalists and common lawyers were, by definition, traditionalists. James I himself appealed to long standing traditions of biblical authority and Christian theology in suport of the divine right of kings; he also readily acknowledged that he was bound to rule in accordance with the fundamental laws of the realm. But he was also committed to transforming the royal prerogative into an effective instrument of both executive and legislative power. On the other side, the parliamentary opposition routinely invoked the hoary traditions of the common law to defend the property interests that were fuelling the anarchic disorder of an early-modern market economy.
However, for Fraser it is the rise of the Puritan ethos which encapsulates the entry of inner-directed thought into daily and religious life. This occurs during and after the civil war. The inner life of the Puritan was bound up in the relationship between God and the conscience. Having rejected “papist” sacramental theology, the Puritan was in no way assured of God’s grace. This demanded of the believer a continual examination of conscience in accordance with Scripture. The pious man was expected to demonstrate this discipline also through a steadfast devotion to work. Otherwise mundane, work became sanctified because the taking up of it made it a vehicle for the Kingdom of God. In addition to providing personal discipline, it became an outward sign of Godly favour. Yet the Puritan conception was even further removed from the magical-religious worldview than the tradition-directed worldview had been. Concepts like sacraments or charisms were scandalous to the Puritan mind, which lionized reason. Fraser quotes, for example, Milton’s rebuke of the erotic elements of marriage as “the prescribed satisfaction of an irrational heat.”
Ultimately, this third stage allows us to see that the story of the English ethnoculture from the days of Anglo-Saxon establishment up to the era of the Reformation was an increasing disenchantment of the world. Fraser traces this process from the Stuarts through the Puritan and Cromwellian era, through the Glorious Revolution. The Crown moved ever more to an inner-directed, results based legitimacy. By the 18th century and the rise of Robert Walpole as the first Prime Minister, the conservation of the ancient constitution was left to those Tories and a number of Whigs associated with the Country Party. This party of Tories and conservative Whigs, led by the one-time Jacobite Viscount Bolingbroke, saw in Walpole’s centralization the rise of party interests which eroded the unifying force of the ancient constitution. In opposition to this, it defended the powers of local gentry against centralizing administrators, and claimed to speak for the whole country – living and ancestral – against the factions of their day.
However, this moment in history saw a turning point in the history of the English: their expansion to the New World. America would become a land where the remnants of the tradition-directed and magical-religious eras were minimal. The inner-directed nature of the Puritan religion and the market economy would become fundamental to Homo Americanus. The second part of Fraser’s work details its growth. It also posits what a restoration of the English ethnoculture may entail. This will be further examined in the second part of this review.
The WASP Question is available for purchase at Arktos.
This year, our Dominion turns 150. As is expected, the majority of celebrations will be focused on cementing the image of Canada as the land without roots. The post-national state. The multicultural society with no culture its own.
If we stay on this path, there will not be another 150 years. Even now, the official stance is that Canada’s pride is its position in the global liberal order. No reference made to the Loyalist migration, proud and Catholic Quebec, or the mission of Confederation to create an alternative to the republican experiment. Now more than ever, we need to imagine an alternative. We require strong thought and creative re-imagining for the future. We also need to forge a mentality of loyalty to what our forefathers handed down and the courage to rebuild it. Northern Dawn is part of the intellectual aspect of this work.
Therefore, we are pleased to announce that we are accepting submissions for the 1st Northern Dawn Symposium. The theme of this symposium is: Canada: Who Are We?
Background: Northern Dawn has begun to detail a radical rethinking of what Canada represents in the 21st century. Unlike the liberal conception, this vision of Canada is tied into what it represented in 1867, and in 1776. Despite decades of rewritten history, Canada retains an institutional and historical memory of its true mission. At the decisive moment when liberalism usurped the future of American civilization, the Loyalists fled northward to maintain their allegiance. In the person of the King, their loyalty was not only to a government, but to a vision of a monarchic Anglo-American civilization born of Western Christendom. In the decades that followed, the English and French destinies became entwined, culminating their joint membership in the Dominion of Canada.
Purpose: The common theme of this symposium is the recovery of the true Canadian tradition and elaborating how it can inform our future. Themes we are interested in include: pre- and non-liberal political traditions in colonial America, their survival in Canada and preservation in the United States, nationalism and identity, the end of secularism and what comes after, High Tory culture and thought, analysis of the Laurentian elite, and more. Names which inform our approach include George Grant, Charles Taylor, Stephen Leacock, Alasdair MacIntyre, Mencius Moldbug, Peter Hitchens, Sam Francis, and Ron Dart.
- A wide variety of themes are acceptable (history, philosophy, culture, religion, aesthetics, etc). However, essays must have in mind the common theme of Northern Dawn: the traditions inherited by North America as a part of Western European Christendom, and Canada as the rightful bearer of these traditions after the liberal door opened by 1776.
- Politically-focused essays must take a historical or future-oriented view. We are not looking for commentary on the current 48-hour cycle of news.
- We are more interested in quality of content than a word count, but we would suggest 1500-3000 words as a minimum and maximum.
- Northern Dawn reserves the right to request edits or reject submissions.
Current works in progress include reflections on Charles Taylor, media power as a legitimate state concern, and a reflection High Tory influence in Canadian fiction.
We look forward to more. Please submit essays to: email@example.com
University of Toronto professor Jordan Peterson recently made some interesting comments on the Alt Right. On the one hand, he refused to condemn its thrust to re-establish identity and roots, identifying this with the Father archetype. However, he also made several criticisms which bear some examination. Some aspects of the response here have been elaborated further elsewhere.
The core of Peterson’s criticism lay in the charge that the Alt Right is incomplete. “The purpose of identification with the Father is to become the Son…and the problem with Nationalism is that it forgets that, it forgets that the purpose of the nation is to give rise to the individual.”
Peterson believes that the Alt Right misses that the state is a “pathological monster”. He also believes that a contradiction exists in the Alt Right: on the one hand, it has criticized the Left for expanding and using the power of the state to achieve its ends; on the other hand, it sees the answer in nationalism.
Both of these criticisms which reveal the extent to which the assumptions and frame of liberalism (in the historic sense of the word from 1776 and 1789 onward) influences not only Peterson, but also many critics of the social justice Left who continue to identify as libertarians, “classical liberals”, or even “conservatives”. This is the grouping often called the “Alt Lite” by nationalist opponents, because it bases its opposition on libertarian arguments about individualism and free speech rather than civilizational or racial vision.
First, we must address the quite teleological claim that the nation exists to create the individual. Now in a certain sense, this is true. A nation exists in its individuals, the same way a body exists in its cells. However, Peterson’s comments imply a certain moral individualism: the nation’s moral foundation is in the individuals it creates. In other words, we can identify a sort of moral foundation built on the individual from which the state derives legitimacy.
It is difficult to go further than this without questioning what sort of individual is desired by the person using this definition, and Peterson is certainly no orthodox liberal in how he sees individuals. However, we can speak more toward the general view of individuals championed by the libertarian and “classical liberal”, categories with which many of Peterson’s followers identify. This tradition envisions the individual as a sovereign, rights-bearing entity which by its own reason and will chooses how it interacts with others, what its moral vision is, and what truth is. Therefore, any entry into collective identity or action is only morally permissible by the consent of the individual.
Once admitted, much theorizing is done as to why therefore concepts like the state and law are valid, often entering into Lockean, Hobbesian, or similar ideas about social contract. The most consistent application of this principle leads one inescapably to anarchism. In the words of the American anarchist Lysander Spooner, “[the secessionist] had the same natural right to take up arms alone to defend his own property against a single tax-gatherer, that he had to take up arms in company with three millions of others, to defend the property of all against an army of tax-gatherers.”
However, this attempt at creating a moral axiom inescapably finds itself at war with the telos of Man’s social nature, which not only tends to but relies on hierarchy. Universally, any human who takes part in even the human society of a family has been brought into the world by parents and has his beliefs and concepts shaped by his family. His raising is dependent on the authority his parents hold over him, which they hold because he is dependent on them, and they are older and wiser than he. This is the principle of protego ergo obligo: I protect, therefore I obligate. This protection, and the resulting obedience, is the principle which creates the authoritative structures of the family and the state alike. Sovereign authority precedes the individual, be it in the family or in the state.
Unlike the Hobbesian and Lockean thought experiments about the state of nature which characterize Enlightenment thought, the truth is that such authority is inherent to all human society. The “state of nature” never existed. As Sir Robert Filmer demonstrates in Patriarcha, this same principle of the family expands without obstacle to the extended family, the clan, and ultimately to that Power on which is built the sovereign corporative structure we call the state. As the German political and legal philosopher Carl Schmitt states in his foundational work The Concept of the Political: “protego ergo obligo is the cogito ergo sum of the state”. Liberalism historically rejected this idea; of course, as it gained ascendency it took a more realistic view, to the extent that modern “liberals” approve of social engineering programs which go far beyond anything the “tyrants” of old ever dreamed.
This conception preserves the notion and place of the individual, but does not accept that the morality of the individual exists as separate from the collectives which form him. It restores to the individual a political nature, in Schmitt’s meaning of that word. Schmitt saw liberalism as not so much a political theory, but an anti-politics. It is a pure critique, which attempts to sever any claim of state, church, or nation to the individual. While this sounds desirable in some ways (after all, claims imply possible limitations), it is also what ultimately leads to the collapses of meaning which the Alt Right has arisen in response to. Liberalism, to use Peterson’s language, seeks to end the claims of the Father.
Is there a contradiction in the Alt Right on this topic? It would be more accurate to say that this topic is a dividing line between factions. The “Alt Lite” certainly does hold that the state is pathological and makes arguments based on free speech or individualist grounds. Although they may often signal nationalist, this is often framed as a nationalism which is needed to protect classical liberal norms. The identitarian faction rejects the libertarian frame and does not make arguments based on those grounds, but rather in terms of group dynamics and collective security.
The identitarian arguments implicitly have a better understanding of the nature of political conflict. The fatal error of the liberal “anti-SJW” frame is that its logical conclusion offers rights which depend on good faith behaviour to groups which will not act in good faith. In the heyday of the 60’s and 70’s, the New Left advocated free speech in campuses in order to get their voices heard and take control of the institutions. Once this was achieved, they burned the free speech bridge. Those who defended the New Left based on free speech failed both in their own political agenda and in the protection of campus free speech.
Today, the political forces which act to eliminate any chance of restoring our civilization have moved on from free speech. Trump proves an interesting case study. While the libertarian wastes money and resources on merely winning the possibility of argument, the Trump campaign ignored this and went right to the issues at hand: immigration, family, work, and security. The President reaped the results. While the Left must of course be endlessly hammered on its hypocrisy on the speech issue, the Right must focus on those battles which will actually decide the course of history. The family must be made secure and re-normalized. Migration policy must restore demographic integrity. The power of media and academia must be harnessed. The state – which is a necessary and emergent phenomenon in all large human societies – will either act for these ends, or against them. There is no “neutral” option. If it is to work for them, it will be because those who hold sovereign power decide to work for them.
To conclude, Peterson is absolutely correct that we must restore the Father and become sons. However, achieving this on a cultural and civilizational level is inseparable from achieving this as a vision of the state. If the state is pathological, it is because the people who make it up are pathological.
In that case, the only option is for the state to sort itself out. But then, it will also have to deal with the errors of liberalism, rather than basing its response on those same deceptions.
Like many, we at Northern Dawn continue to follow the career of Prof. Jordan Peterson. As many of our readers will know, his refusal to allow the progressive apparatchiks the linguistic control their project demands has earned him vehement opposition and staunch support. Interestingly, his rising popularity has also lead many observers to become interested in the topics of religious psychology and creative thought.
Recently, the following piece was published attempting to attack Prof. Peterson from a Communist perspective. The piece is useful to read since it provides a strong example of several kinds of rhetoric and framing used by leftists to subvert healthy thinking and social structures. For the benefit of our readers, we will outline several of these instances.
This is not, however, an engagement with Communism. Let us be clear: Communism is an evil, retrograde, and abominable ideology which caused more mass death and suffering than any other ideological system in the 20th century. It remains today for only two reasons: the chameleon tactic, by which the Communist is allowed to disown such evil by claiming that they were “not real Communism”, and the active collaboration and promotion by those in academia and media who promote Communist icons as romantic idealists rather than mass murderers. We approach this as propaganda analysis, useful insofar as it allows people to spot and deconstruct common tactics of ideological subversion.
Frame #1: Defining Fascism
As is to be expected, the piece accuses Peterson of being motivated by Fascism. It holds to a typical Communist definition of Fascism as the open exercise of state power by oppressive structures (in this case, patriarchy and capitalism). While common, this definition is peculiar to the Communist lens – which historically dominated historical studies of Fascism – and not to broader historical perspectives.
A. James Gregor’s work Mussolini’s Intellectuals is a less ideologically driven account of Fascism. Gregor recounts the steps of Fascist development, and reveals it to be a philosophical synthesis of Italian nationalism, post-Marxist syndicalism, and Gentilian Idealist philosophy. Its prime motivation was the establishment of an industrial and geopolitically sovereign Italian state. Armed with this historically accurate view of Fascism, the common use of the term as a leftist slur becomes not only empty but patently ridiculous.
Frame #2: Cultural Marxism as Myth
As the concept of cultural marxism has moved beyond the circles of paleoconservative history and philosophy (Gottfried et al), the Left has begun a campaign of delegitimization against the concept. This rests on a purposeful strawman of what Cultural Marxism is. Cultural Marxism describes the transition of Marxist categories of thought from economic categories of identity (class) to a variety of other categories (gender, race, orientation, religion, culture, etc). Scholars like Paul Gottfried (a former student of Marcuse) saw the left wing of the Frankfurt School as playing a central role in this process. It may be useful to quote Gottfried at length:
The roots of this force, these critics argue, go back to the Frankfurt Institute for Social Research, which was organized in interwar Germany, and to the influence its adherents exercised, especially in exile in the US after 1935.
Exponents of what the Frankfurt School called “critical theory”— like Herbert Marcuse, Theodor Adorno, and Erich Fromm—were considered by orthodox Marxists to be fake or ersatz Marxists.
But the self-proclaimed radicals of Frankfurt School did adopt orthodox Marxist-Leninist theory in depicting the bourgeoisie as a counterrevolutionary class. Like orthodox Marxists, they viewed the world, arguably simplistically, in terms of interest groups and power relationships. Like orthodox Marxists—whose break from Victorian classical liberalism in this respect was shocking in a way that is easily overlooked after the totalitarian experience of the twentieth century—they explicitly eschewed debate in favor of reviling and if possible repressing their opponents.[…]
Still and all, the Frankfurt School, and especially its second generation as represented by the fervent “anti-fascist” Jürgen Habermas, has been far more interested in social engineering than in government ownership of the means of production distribution and exchange—the classic definition of socialism. From The Authoritarian Personality, edited by Adorno and his collaborator Max Horkheimer and brought out in 1950 by the American Jewish Committee (then and now funders of Commentary), to the repeated attempts by Habermas and his fervent followers to make German education politically useful to the anti-national Left, the Frankfurt School has focused on “anti-fascist” attitudes and behavioral patterns. Whether this can be extracted from Communist practice, or from Marx’s materialist view of class and history, are open questions.
But whatever the case, Frankfurt School-intellectuals rallied to Lenin’s Russia and later sympathized variously with the Communist DDR , were close to, if not always members of, the German Communist Party, and traced their work back to Marxist concepts. In short, they were social reformers in a hurry who also claimed to be Marxists.
Now this theory about the role of a certain academic clique in the transformation of the Left has little to do with the popular Leftist strawmanning of the term. Commonly, it will be described at once as a “conspiracy theory” (notice that the Left, which has numerous historical conspiracies of rebellion, is the quickest to try and deride the concept of conspiracy altogether) that attributes every aspect of the modern Left (feminism, environmentalism, etc) to a grand design of the Frankfurt School.
Contrasting this to Gottfried’s definition, this is an obvious caricature. The Communist piece has an even more absurd take, claiming that “Fascists have blamed the chimera “Cultural Marxism” for the phenomenon of gender variance”.
Frame #3: Narrative Subversion
A third tactic which becomes evident in the piece is the attempt to erase competing narratives which would undermine the ability of leftist narratives to gain legitimacy.
The fascist offensive to erase the colonized peoples, the gender nonconforming, and a militant, partisan, and independent labour movement is an offensive against the living bearers of a history, the latter of which is an affront to the former’s mythological conception of history….The bitter and brutal history of primitive accumulation, the enclosures, the Peasant War in Germany, the working class uprisings of the Springtime of Nations in 1848, and the Paris Commune in 1871 are the ultimate affront and repudiation of their idyllic and flatly ignorant vision of Western Civilization as harmonious.
Immediately, we see the frame that those groups seen as within the Leftist coalition have “true history” whereas those outside it have only “mythological conception[s] of history”. This is incoherent within the Leftist approach itself, which sees narratives as stemming fundamentally from the interests of power structures. Given this, it is not at all obvious why the “oppressed” narratives should be regarded as any less or more mythological than “oppressor” narratives, since neither has truth as its goal.
In this case, the writer even tries to impose communist lenses on struggles that had no conception of leftist or even merely liberal norms. The peasants who participated in the Peasant War in Germany in the 16th century certainly had grievances and even a concern for their personal liberties, but saw themselves as belonging to a cohesive Christendom (even if one needing Reformation). Attempts to coopt them into the grand narrative of revolution constitutes a historical appropriation.
This same tactic is used regarding nations, religions, and cultures. We are used to seeing the Left militantly oppose Christian priests or pastors who refuse to morally approve of homosexual relations, for example, while coming out in droves to defend Islamic groups which demand harsh punishments for the same relationships. Another example is the idealization common on the Left of “indigenous cultures” and the consequent demand that they maintain land sovereignty and particularity, while advocating globalism and open borders for the rest of the world. Certain kinds of liberals will attack what they call the “regressive left” for hypocrisy or inconsistent principles; their mistake, of course, is assuming that they are witnessing applications of principles. In fact, this is an entirely consistent application of the ethics of tribal warfare: defend your own, attack the enemy.
The only guard against this tactic is a moral boundary: no one, especially no ideological opponent, can be granted the legitimacy to undermine one’s historical identity. While this should be obvious, the phenomenon occurs all too often in academic and other circles, where parties assume that these narratives are being promoted in good faith and not as part of a political power struggle.
Some Further Points
It is a common byline of not only Communists, but much of the modern Left, that ideas cannot be separated from the culture which they come from and contribute to. The piece cites Magnus Hirschfeld as a researcher who helped to prove gender variance. It may be of interest to readers to examine the cultural backdrop which Hirschfeld and his fellow-travellers operated in.
Born into a Jewish family established in the German medical industry, Hirschfeld would become among the most infamous experimenters in “sexual science” of his day. His most well-known project, the Institute for Sexual Research, opened in 1919 in Berlin.
Now what sort of culture was this project immersed in? Despite the implication that Hirschfeld was surrounded by brave fellow-travellers casting off the chains of oppression, the truth about Weimar Berlin is far uglier. A thriving underground sex-trafficking scene which prided itself on embracing decadence exploited not only men and women driven to poverty by war and depression, but even children. Prof. Mel Gordon of UC Berkeley details, in stomach-churning terms, a prevalence of child prostitution in his work Voluptuous Panic: The Erotic World of Weimar Berlin.
Gordon quotes a memoir by Italian journalist Luigi Barzini:
“I saw pimps offering anything to anybody, little boys, little girls, robust young men, libidinous women, animals. The story went around that a male goose of which one cut the neck at the ecstatic moment would give you the most delicious, economical, and time-saving frisson of all, as it allowed you to enjoy sodomy, bestiality, homosexuality, necrophilia and sadism at one stroke. Gastronomy too, as one could eat the goose afterwards.”
“One French journalist, Jean Galtier-Boissière, described, in sickly pornographic detail, the creeping horror of feeling a nine-year-old girl’s tiny, but proficient, fingers stroking his upper thigh while the broken-toothed mother covered his face with hot sucking kisses.”
It is important to understand that this was the culture which Hirschfeld’s work appealed to. By the standards of cultural context, Hirschfeld cannot be considered as anything other than the product of a horrifically exploitative culture dressed up in the language of sexual liberation. If Weimar Berlin is indeed the culture which such people wish to return to, then many will find “liberation” a good deal harsher and more dehumanizing than they could have ever imagined.