Stalled. Michael Hlinka
We’re a very polite people. We tend to be uneasy with frank discussions about culture. We’re much more comfortable when we trivialize it: “Went to a great Thai restaurant last night. Even used chopsticks instead of a knife and fork! Then to a Brazilian movie (subtitles only, dubbing is just so déclassé!). Capped it off with a cappuccino at an authentic Italian café … no Starbucks for me!”
How cosmopolitan can ya get!
I would agree that the foods we eat and our entertainments possess “cultural” elements. But the ultimate truths around culture address deeper questions and more profound issues. They may be discussed aloud around kitchen tables with families, or they may be with us in our thoughts:
What is most important to us?
What do we expect from ourselves?
What do we expect from our friends and neighbours?
What is the right way to live?
Just off the top of my head, these are some critical cultural questions. I’m sure you’ve got others. That’s the essence of this book. Stalled will be a frank discussion of values and the cultural factors that were responsible for the astonishing economic growth from 1950 to 2000. Because how our values have changed goes a very long way toward explaining why the Canadian economy has stalled in recent years.
A quick aside. To the extent that so-called polite society and the chattering classes discuss culture, it’s with an Animal Farm–like sophistication of “two legs bad, four legs good.” Developed cultures are by their very nature flawed. Primitive ones are inherently pristine. I’ve heard that argument a zillion times and it’s hogwash.
This leads us to Question 12, and I think you know how I’d answer it:
QUESTION 12
Do you think that development is a good thing, that economic growth is desirable, and that progress is something we should embrace?
☐ Yes.
☐ No.
Part Two
The 1950s
When I was sixteen years old, I started a landscaping business. That was what my grandfather did for a living (he ran his own crew), so I had access to the tools and expertise. In mid-March of my second-last year in high school, I went around the neighbourhood, knocking on doors and lining up work for when spring arrived.
One of my first customers was a lovely couple, the Smiths. Mr. Smith was an older gentleman, retired, and didn’t have the energy to cut his own lawn anymore. Mrs. Smith was exceptionally kind, treating me almost like a grandson. There was always a glass of cold lemonade on a hot day. One afternoon she invited me into their home to drink it with them. It gave us time to get to know each other better. Up to then it had been mostly business.
It was a modest home — but very much a home — with family pictures everywhere. One of the photographs that drew my attention was of a group of young soldiers; as it turned out, Mr. Smith was one of them. He had been born in 1899 and was fifteen years old when the First World War started. He lied about his age so he could enlist. His unit was among the first of the Canadian contingents to land in France, and Mr. Smith ended up spending four years in the mud and the blood, until the Armistice was signed in November of 1918.
He returned home and married his high-school sweetheart — that was Mrs. Smith — and they started raising a family. Then war reared its ugly head again, and in 1939 Mr. Smith once more volunteered. He spent six years in different combat zones, finally returning home for good in 1945.
At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate how truly extraordinary this gentleman was. And he was truly a gentle man — you could sense it through and through. Duty compelled him to do what he felt was the right thing, which was to throw himself into the line of fire for his country.
QUESTION 13
In twice volunteering during wartime, Mr. Smith was what?
☐ Noble beyond belief.
☐ A complete sucker.
What Mr. Smith did was extraordinary. But he wasn’t alone. A total of 1.1 million Canadians served during the Second World War. More than 40 percent of males aged eighteen to forty-five wore their country’s uniform. In addition, one million Canadians worked in essential war industries while two million were engaged in “essential civilian employment,” which included agriculture, communications, and food processing. At the time, Canada’s population was just over eleven million. This meant that — once you separated out the very young and very old — more than half of all Canadians participated directly in the war effort.
And even if you didn’t participate “directly,” your life would have been affected. Commencing in 1942, basics like meat, sugar, and gasoline were rationed. Everyone was called upon to sacrifice.
However, those sacrifices were trivial compared to the one made by the 45,000 who gave their lives.1 That represented 0.4 percent of the population. The high school I went to had 1,200 students. Simple probability would suggest that at least five young (most likely) men from Etobicoke Collegiate would have lost their lives. My guess is that most Canadians knew at least one person who never came back. It’s a sobering thought. Yet I believe that there were positive consequences. A world view was forged by the fire of war; a common mission unified Canada and laid the foundation for the spectacular success of the 1950s and 1960s.
I try to put myself in the shoes of Mr. Smith and others like him and think what would have driven them when they returned home. I’m guessing it came down to something like this: the Second World War was so horrific that sensible people wanted to do everything in their power to ensure it never happened again. (This desire was made even stronger by the recognition that with the development of nuclear weapons a Third World War might mean the end of civilization as we knew it.) A very clear line could be drawn between the outbreak of the Second World War and the rise of Hitler. An equally clear line could be drawn between the rise of Hitler and Germany’s economic ruin after the First World War. Rational, peace-loving people saw the connection between prosperity and peace, and so (as of 1950) 13.7 million2 Canadians set themselves to building the country.
I wasn’t around at the time. But my gut tells me that a general consensus emerged around the following:
we can’t afford another world war;
we only made it through and won because everyone who was able-bodied did his or her fair share and just flat-out sucked it up when the going got tough;
after all we’ve been through, we deserve to enjoy some of the good things in life — but you’ll only get those if you work for them. Nothing in this world comes delivered on a silver platter; and
all Canadians are in this together. Bombs don’t differentiate between the rich and the poor.
It was around these principles and the desire for peace and prosperity that the 1950s unfolded.
The desire for peace, the desire not to see another world war led to Canada’s enthusiastic support for the United Nations and peacekeeping missions.
And key to the country’s economic progress was the view that individuals, not the government, were responsible for themselves and their well-being. Government took care of “peace and order.” There was no belief that it was the duty of the government to take care of individuals. That was each person’s responsibility.
However, government did play an important role in economic development. It was called upon to provide essential services; then citizens, acting either as individuals or as part of a group — whatever they preferred — would take care of producing the goods and services that made life worth living.
One of the things that government provided was infrastructure. Two important initiatives from that era were the Trans-Canada Highway Act of 1949, which saw the construction of the Trans-Canada Highway begin in 1950, and the building