Ideas - Modern Patriotism: Loving Your Country in the 21st Century (Step One)

Episode Date: October 10, 2024

Choose your country. It’s the first step towards finding the healthy variety of patriotic love. But what sort of ‘choice’ is it? IDEAS producer Tom Howell speaks with exiles, nationalists, dual citizens, and people whose ‘country’ doesn’t officially exist, in a quest for peace on fraught terrain: modern patriotism. 

Hey there, I'm Kathleen Goltar and I have a confession to make. I am a true crime fanatic. I devour books and films and most of all true crime podcasts. But sometimes I just want to know more. I want to go deeper. And that's where my podcast Crime Story comes in. Every week I go behind the scenes with the creators of the best in true crime. I chat with the host of Scamanda, Teacher's Pet, Bone Valley, the list goes on. For the insider scoop, find Crime Story in your podcast app. This is a CBC Podcast. Welcome to Ideas. I'm Nala Ayed. The National Anthem of Wales, Land of My Fathers.

It's a hymn to a people defeated by a stronger military power. Though conquest once humbled her arms and her pride, her language is living and long will abide. No fury of foes, no treacherous wrongs could silence our harps and our songs. A spirit of protectiveness imbues the song. This is national pride, as a celebration of what could be saved,

the language, the music. It's a very different vibe from, say, Rule Britannia. But even this one, glorying in naval power and hashtag winning, still, the emphatic final message is, final message is... Britain's never, never, never shall be slaves. It's the fear of a dreadful alternative future. Was this really the psychological need driving the British

Empire? What was the love of their country amongst the old Romans? It was, in general, no better than a principle holding together a band of robbers in their attempts to crush all liberty but their own. A Discourse on the Love of Our Country is a sermon on how to develop a healthy patriotism. Its author, the 18th century Welsh intellectual Richard Price. He saw the love of one's country as being a very much a kind of critical thing. He didn't see it as being some kind of patriotic fervor.

He didn't see it as being some kind of patriotic fervor. He didn't see it as being my country first and last to hell with everybody else. He didn't see institutions as being the country, which is where he fell into kind of dispute with Parliament and with his peers. He saw country as being the people of the country. saw country as being the people of the country. In 1789, Richard Price's message sparked one of the greatest debates in Western thought. It prompted Edmund Burke to write a retort, his Reflections on the Revolution in France, now seen as a defining text for political conservatism. Then came the responses to Burke from Price's supporters. These included seminal works of liberal thought, like Thomas Paine's The Rights of Man

and Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. But it's often forgotten how underneath this classic battle of left versus right, kick-starting the whole exchange was someone considering what it means to love their country. You need it as a kid in the Mondial, you know, in the World Cup. You need it in the Olympic Games. You don't just need it in a political sphere. You need it as a person, you know, in order to fulfill your life and live your life as a kid, as a young woman, as a grown-up. And you don't always have it.

Everybody loves their country, their nation. But if we go to the politics and what happened during the century, during the decades, that's something different, and people have their judgment about what was right and what was wrong. Many Canadians find patriotism an awkward topic. But, some argue, national pride is an emotion far too important to abandon.

It becomes more dangerous when left unguarded. Ideas producer Tom Howell recently moved to Quebec, specifically Montreal, To abandon, it becomes more dangerous when left unguarded. Ideas producer Tom Howell recently moved to Quebec, specifically Montreal, and this has caused him to think harder than usual about the country to which he belongs. Sometimes there's a choice involved in what counts as one's country. In my own case, of all the countries I could feel patriotic towards, Wales seemed the least complicated. As I was brought up to understand, Wales is a tiny country characterized by its heroic resistance to hundreds of years of oppression

at the hands of the much more wicked English. Canadian patriotic love never seemed urgent, and arriving in Montreal, it even feels a bit unwise. My neighbors hang a large Quebec fleur-de-lis off their balcony. Trying that with the maple leaf in this neighborhood would be, at best, impolite. But events may soon make Canadian patriotism suddenly seem important, even to those of us who don't express it much, or who feel ambivalent about what it means. I just read an article in Maclean's magazine entitled, Quebec's New French Revolution. Here is its author. My name is Mark Mann. Mark Mann lives in Montreal too. I asked him to meet

me in a park around the corner. I've been reporting on Quebec for Maclean's and for Bloomberg News and for the Walrus in the past. Mark's originally from Prince Edward Island, but he spent 14 years of his adult life here in Quebec. What is this moment that I've walked into? It seems that there's a decent chance that the Parti Québécois will regain power because they were almost obliterated by the current government, the CAC, which is a party that manages to combine nationalism and federalism, which is a word that seems to indicate a cooperative willingness with Canada. Feel free to take a sip of your beer if you're... Yeah, yeah.

So the CAC had this kind of miraculous populist rise where they gained a big majority in the government over the period of two elections and kind of wiped out the Parti QuebecoPierre Plamondon, and he seems to be really outperforming the CAAC. And he's really pitching separatism again, fervently. And the other party, the Quebec Solidaire, also is fervently separatist. They have MPs that talk about that. So it seems likely that there could be another referendum in the next few years. So we'll have to kind of go through that again. Oh, great. Federalists are starting this referendum campaign with a head start. The last time Quebec voted on being part of Canada was 1995. The result? This is going to be incredibly close as the computer punches it up. Look at this. Could it be any closer?

One and a half million plus for the no side. One and a half million plus for the no side, one and a half million plus for the yes side. 50.58% in favor of keeping the country together, 49.42% in favor of separating. You ever think you see a result coming in like this? Well, no, I didn't. That's Peter Mansbridge talking to Saskatchewan Premier Roy Romano. And here's the leader of the party Quebecois at the time, Jacques Parizeau.

C'est vrai qu'on a été battus. Well, it's true we were beaten. Au fond par quoi? But by what? Par l'argent. Money? Puis des votes ethniques. And the ethnic vote.

And now we've got to get on with the task of building this country and putting the issue behind us once and for all. and putting the issue behind us once and for all. My dear friends, it is increasingly obvious that we are witnessing a charge against Quebec. Today's leader of the PQ speaks in terms of an urgent existential crisis from which Quebecers need to rescue themselves while they still have the chance. A charge that takes place on the linguistic level. We're under assault on the linguistic level, the cultural level, every level, says Paul-Saint-Pierre Plamondon. Le Canada est donc passé de l'indifférence envers le Québec

à une action concertée pour nous affaiblir, pour nous effacer même, à tous les points de vue. Canada's no longer being indifferent, it's on an active mission to erase us. For anyone like, say, me, stumbling into this province recently, thinking it just looked like a nice place to go for coffee, this is alarming talk.

I came here in the spirit of love to pursue the Montreal dream, bilingualism, beauty, and bagels. But my love of the city may be exactly what some Quebec patriots don't love. Mark Mann is also pursuing his Montreal dream, and he's about two decades ahead of me. I came in 2002 or 2003, and at that point there had been two referendums in Quebec, but I think defeated twice, it kind of became backgrounded,

and there was a pretty nice housing market here. And that was kind of, I think, really notable about Montreal. I think coming to Quebec, you would only go to Montreal because they all only speak French everywhere else, basically. You know, there are English towns and stuff, but it's a French speaking, you know, province outside of Montreal. So you could come to Montreal. And I'm really just narrating a thing that some people in Quebec don't like, which is English people coming to Montreal and I'm really just narrating a thing that some people in Quebec don't like which is English people coming to Montreal and taking advantage of their great socialized system and you know having cheap apartments and and it was you know truly a fantastic place to go to

university and be young it's a city that I think I'm passionate about and made my home essentially because it was so excellent you know and uh it was affordable interesting bilingual and artistic it's a great place for artists to thrive that was what it was like then. Drill in a bit more to that thing that is like so precious to the Anglos and and treated with such suspicion the other side. What's going on there? Well, I mean, the English students coming to Quebec, that became a very politicized issue here. And so that's kind of why I made that caveat, because politicians have been kind of making a meal out of Anglophone students like myself coming here.

And I think the idea there is that tuition is cheaper in Quebec, and they're able to get high-quality degrees at a really discounted price, and there's some truth in that. But also, it's different for, like, arts students like me, you know? Like, I don't think... And anyway, you know, I still live here. Speaking personally, you know, one of my first favorite experiences about Quebec was I would go to a coffee shop here and everyone would be speaking personally, you know. One of my first favorite experiences about Quebec was I would go to a coffee shop here

and everyone would be speaking French and I wouldn't be annoyed at the conversation like I would be at a coffee shop in Toronto because I wouldn't understand it. I mean, I have a little French, but I couldn't follow all the conversation. So they just became like a sort of a pleasant background noise. I suppose from the point of view of French-speaking Quebec

being seen as a charming and pleasant background noise to one's life, I mean, I can see how that could raise an objection or two. Definitely. I mean, there was this kind of idea then that you could come to Quebec and not learn French, and that would be fine. And I think that people really just did that and probably still do. But I think it's quite a bit less true now. I think it's a lot less acceptable. I don't think you could really tell yourself that as easily anymore. But 20 years ago, I was making an effort because I've always tried to learn French

and it's become a big lifelong project. A bit demoralizing, but I persist. My sense is that among Anglo-Quebeckers, they thought this issue was done, and then now it's not, and now they feel a bit on the defensive more. Definitely. That's definitely true. The people I know who are Anglophone who grew up here, who are universally perfectly bilingual

and, you know, identify as Quebecers. And I think they feel really set upon and essentially scapegoated. That's the core feeling, that it's political opportunism and that it negatively impacts them. And I think that's an understandable way to feel about what the government is doing.

Marx referring here to, among other things, measures introduced by the Coalition Avenir Québec government hugely increasing student fees at Anglophone universities in Montreal and bringing in standards of French-speaking accomplishment required in order to graduate. I also feel at the same time that strong measures to enshrine French in society are not simply political theater, that they're widely supported.

So it becomes a matter of respect, you know, to comply. Mark's article in Maclean's is more than a warning. It does include a warning to the rest of Canada that someone is attacking what is arguably its greatest city. But the dominant tone is that of a spurned lover, because Marc clearly loves Quebec. I want to read you the final paragraph of his article word for word, because it gets quite emotional. Here it is. I feel sorry for all the people who won't come here, who won't learn French, who won't go

apple-picking in the eastern townships or cross-country skiing in La Naudière. They'll study elsewhere, start jobs and families elsewhere. I also feel bad for those who might not make their lives here after graduating, like I did. Their kids won't grow up in North America's most multilingual city, and yes, it is, with more than 20% of Montrealers speaking three languages or more. All these losses are vivid and personal to me because I know that if the policy had been made years ago, my whole life as I know it would never have happened.

I think there is a kind of arrogant way that Canadians can talk about Quebec as if it's sort of being difficult or something, you know, or like acting different or something, without really internalizing that it's really different, you know? It's authentically distinct, and it's a separate, you know, cultural system. And I could probably go into more detail about that, but, you know, I'm still learning it myself. But it's not hard to be here. I mean, Quebec is wonderful, and Montreal is really wonderful.

Quebec culture is essentially very outdoorsy and athletic. There's a lot of extremely high-quality-of-life stuff going on, kind of in that West Coast way. So when you get out of the hyper-politicized stuff, make do with language as best you can, and just make an effort, basically, then I think it's, you know, excellent. make do with language as best you can and just make an effort, basically, then I think it's, you know, excellent.

Mark Mann writes for Maclean's magazine, Bloomberg News, The Walrus, and other publications. he lives in Montreal. If it weren't for my country, my whole life would never have happened. That's a rough paraphrase of the final line of Mark's article. If we stay trapped in this country, we will no longer happen. That's a rough paraphrase of Paul Saint-Pierre Plamondon. The idea in both cases, your country, whether it currently exists as a country or not, is where you get to happen.

There's a spiritual, philosophical sense of that, of course, and then, in some places, a horrifyingly literal one. They feel they're facing an existential threat, and to combat existential threats,

you have to not only project strength, but to be strong. What makes this such a recipe for disaster is that they are not alone in this. The same way that Israel feels it has an existential threat, Iran feels like it's under existential threat. Iran feels the same way. No country that I belong to has been literally under attack during my lifetime. I wanted to know what difference that makes to the meaning of loving your country. With that in mind, I ventured inside this temple. So welcome to temple. And your job here? I'm senior rabbi here. This is Rabbi Elisa Greshko. We're at Montreal's Temple Emmanuel Beth Shalom. Can you lead me back to your office?

Sure, and I'll show you something else on the way. Okay. We have a temple timeline that shows some of our history. And part of what I love about it is, you know, we're the third oldest synagogue in Montreal. We were founded in 1882. We're maybe the second oldest reformed synagogue in all of Canada. And it's always been a place of dialogue and social justice and all of those,

you know, progressive values. And so if you look at the timeline, you'll see Martin Luther King, who came and spoke here. And you'll see, you know, reference to when we sponsored Vietnamese refugees and when we sponsored Syrian refugees and how we were the first congregation to celebrate same-sex marriages and so on. So all of that is part of the story here that you see. Dr. King's over there. He was here in 1962. Queen Elizabeth was here in 1959,

but I always appreciate Dr. King more. What's this bit where you've got the national anthem on the wall? Oh, so this is Rabbi Lerner, who was here before me for 23 years, created a trilingual prayer book in French, English, and Hebrew, which was really unprecedented at the time and is a great resource for the congregation because although it feels like a weighted term, historically Anglophone, as a community,

we have more and more Francophone members, and that's something we've always tried to be open to. For a second, I thought someone had translated O Canada into Hebrew, but that's not what I'm looking at. No, that's not what you're looking at. On the one side of that page, we have O Canada in English and French, and on the other side, we have Hatikvah, which is the Israeli national anthem, which, you know, could lead well into our conversation. We sit down in the rabbi's office on the sofa.

All right, so love of country. Yes, I know that you have the flag of Israel on your desk. Of course, you're living in Montreal, where the love of country is fraught in the sense that, you know, to some people it's Quebec, some people it's Canada, and then, of course, it's indigenous lands. So love of country is not a simple thing. What does it mean to you? It's a good introduction, right?

Because it is complicated and it is fraught. And on the other hand, it's something that speaks to something that's very deep within us. So I'm Canadian, born and raised. I was born in Ottawa, grew up in Toronto, came to McGill when I was 17. And once I got to Montreal, never looked back. I like to see myself as part of the reverse migration east on the 401 instead of west, though I then spent a lot of years away and then came back. And so having lived in England and in Canada and in the United States and for short periods of time in Israel, there really is that understanding of being able to have love for

multiple places and to feel at home in some places in some ways and not others. And to see that multiplicity, and I feel like I've always felt like this as a Canadian, to see that multiplicity as a source of strength, right? Would you hang a maple leaf flag off a balcony in Quebec? Would you hang a maple leaf flag off a balcony in Quebec? Probably not. Because, I mean, I'm not a flag person in general, I will say. And that feels like a very Canadian thing to say. I don't know that it has to be in your face in that way, right?

And in Quebec, it feels like it would be, the phrase in Hebrew is dovkenik. Like there'd be something about it that's kind of, I don't know, trying to make a point that maybe I wouldn't be trying to make. Yes, the things you might be saying and then the things people would hear. Yeah, which of course, where the Israel flag is like extremely current at the moment, people probably are extra cautious using it at the moment. Have you noticed, have you heard that this has caused a lot of hand-wringing and consternation about what to do with that flag? I don't think hand-wringing and consternation so much. I mean, yes, here it's on my desk, but we don't have the Canadian and Israeli flags up in the sanctuary. For instance, some synagogues do. It's just never been our tradition. A lot of American synagogues, you'll see both the U.S. flag and the Israeli flag.

And I think patriotism is much more part of the explicit conversation in some ways. Here, I remember, you know, there were all these protests going on in Israel against the Netanyahu government and against the judicial reforms before October 7th. And we took part in some of those here. And I remember saying at one of the rallies, it must have been like a week or two before October 7th. And we took part in some of those here. And I remember saying at one of the rallies, it must have been like a week or two before October 7th. I said, you know, I feel much more comfortable wrapped in the flag when I'm also holding a protest sign. That there's, you know, and maybe it has to do with a complicated identity or progressive identity. I don't know what. But

part of loving a place means that you're obligated to it and you care about the choices it makes and you want to have a voice in that. Right. And so for me, that felt like, I don't know, it felt like the right balance. Right. Which is always complicated for those of us who are Jews in the diaspora, who are, you know, whether we want to be or not associated with Israel, but for the most part really are in different ways connected through family, through friends, through history, through culture, through, it's not travel really in the same way for us as it would feel like travel somewhere else.

There really is a homecoming aspect to it. There's a lot that's wrapped up. Have you had a sort of personal story with your relationship of love for Israel? Has it been tricky? So when I was a kid, it was pretty uncomplicated. I grew up in a Jewish day school, and part of what we learned was an appreciation of what was really, and I think still can be seen as the miracle of returning to a land that we had longed for and prayed for ever since we were exiled almost 2000 years ago, right? The Jews had always stayed, but we hadn't had sovereignty, we hadn't had independence, we hadn't had autonomy.

And so to be within a lifetime of that having happened was always felt to be and taught as this extraordinary thing. And then, you know, as you get older, I went to high school during the intifadas, and it was a very, very fraught time, not unlike now, but somehow this feels more fraught. And, you know, as I got older and learned more things, my own understanding shifted. I came to understand that part of what was a miracle and an extraordinary thing for the Jewish people in 1948, and a very necessary and vital thing for the Jews who were survivors of the Holocaust, and then those who were expelled from Arab lands and waves of immigration from Russia and Ethiopia and so on and so on, that that was extraordinary and something to celebrate. And then, of course, that there were other stories and other experiences and that

what for us was this miraculous thing for others was a tragedy and a story of displacement and loss. And, you know, we could talk till the cows come home about where the fault lies for that, why we haven't managed to get to a two-state solution. You know, in my mind, it seems very clear that you've got two people who are Indigenous too rooted in that land, and there's got to be a way to find room for both. And that vision is sometimes felt more within reach

and other times, like now, feels further. But I don't think it needs to, at least for me, it doesn't diminish my love of the place to know that there are profound flaws and challenges. Similarly to being Canadian, right? Like to learn about the importance of truth and reconciliation, to learn about the residential schools, which I've spoken about from our BMO, which we've done our best to be a positive force in relation to. You know, when I'm on a canoe in a lake, do I still feel kind of a deep sense of belonging and connection? A hundred percent.

Do I recognize that that land didn't come into European hands in a fair and just way? A hundred percent. And so I think all of us who live places, who love places, we know that it's complicated. We know that they're not perfect. On Ideas, you're listening to a documentary called Loving Your Country in the 21st Century.

We're a podcast and a broadcast heard on CBC Radio 1 in Canada, on US Public Radio, across North America on Sirius XM, in Australia on ABC Radio National, and around the world at cbc.ca slash ideas. Find us on the CBC News app and wherever you get your podcasts. I'm Nala Ayed. My name is Graham Isidore. I have a progressive eye disease called keratoconus. And being I'm losing my vision has been hard, but explaining it to other people has been harder. Lately, I've been trying to talk about it.

Short Sighted is an attempt to explain what vision loss feels like by exploring how it sounds. By sharing my story, we get into all the things you don't see about hidden disabilities. Short Sighted, from CBC's Personally, available now. There's a line from the American philosopher Richard Rorty that national pride is to a country what self-respect is to an individual. In other words, from his point of view, a love of country is a necessary first step to self-improvement. So there's really no choice. If we want progress,

Rorty says, if we want a country that's true and virtuous and free, it's going to require patriotism. But going back to the analogy, watching somebody loudly proclaim their own self-respect, depending on the context, might not look so healthy. We might want to say narcissism is to the individual what national pride is to the country. Ideas producer Tom Howell has been trying to sort out

the healthy from the unhealthy when it comes to loving one's country. I was told patriotism is to a country what self-esteem is to a person. Do you think that's true? What does that mean? He's speaking with Rabbi Lisa Greshko in Montreal. That means you kind of need to have self-esteem.

Whatever you've done, if you don't have the self-esteem, you can't work on yourself. You know, Judaism as a religion is very aspirational. It's not so much about patting ourselves on the back for where we are. It's about knowing our history and telling our stories and figuring out where we can and should be, right? We're coming up to the high holidays right now. And one of the ways I think about these days is it's very much about how can I return to my best self? Who do I want to be in the world? Who do I want to be in my relationships? How can I, and part of this comes from doing a lot of funerals

over the course of a career, you know, how do I live my life in such a way that I leave the world better than I found it, right? And so the notion of just kind of, and maybe that's part of what doesn't sit well with the notion of patriotism as a concept so much. It's very much this kind of stuckness in, you know, rah, rah, here we are, rather than, okay, there's some good, there's some bad.

The ideals are there. The hope, the history is there. So like, let's bend our shoulder to the wheel and figure out how we can leave it better than we found it. For me, that's love of country. Beautiful. Thank you. Thank you. CHOIR SINGS There's a distinction one might make between wanting your country to do better in terms of being less cruel to others and wanting it to do better in terms of being less cruel to you. This is bound to affect what loving your country requires. You know, I always pose the question, can you love that which does not love you, right? Especially when we're talking about nations and states. And no, you can't really love that which does not love you, right? Especially when we're talking about like nations and states.

And no, you can't really love that which does not love you, but you can love a place where you know your sacrifices might yield something meaningful for your children or descendants one day. This is the author of a book called Cross-Border Cosmopolitans. My name is Wendell Ni Lai Ajete. My kinsmen and my kinswomen on the African continent, as well as throughout the African world,

call me Ni Lai Osabu Kenklemont. At McGill University, I am William Dawson Associates Professor of Post-Reconstruction U.S. History and the History of the African Diaspora in the Atlantic World. Professor Ajete makes the case that belonging to a Pan-African identity has historically helped Black North Americans maintain a sense of love of their country, be it the U.S. or Canada, in spite of the culture or policies of the time. Pan-Africanism, in fact, becomes a tool that allows black people to

identify with Canada because Pan-Africanism says you can be local as long as you think global. Do you think it's necessary to find something that you can love that can be country, you know? Like if you're like, okay, country A, the one I'm handed here, that's not going to work for me. And so you essentially create slash choose a different alternative. Yes, and I think African peoples from the 1600s to the present always had this calculus in mind, right?

There are many things we dislike about this place because there are things that the government does to dehumanize us. But how do we think in a constructive way? How do we think in a positive way? So there are Black people here all over Canada in the early 20th century as a result of Marcus Garvey's Universal Negro Improvement Association, which is like the largest Pan-African movement in the world ever in human history. At least 25 to 30 percent of African Canadians are canadians are pan-africanists in the garvey tradition and that's because they understood that it was not contradictory to love

africa and have affinity for one's ancestral lands and it didn't mean that then you would follow the white supremacist logic and say well black people don't belong here. You must return to Africa. No, no, no. They actually understood both things can be true, that you can love Africa and love where you're situated in terms of building institutions for the betterment of your descendants. The U.S.-Canadian border is just brimming with all types of fascinating histories. And arguably, the two most fascinating histories would be how indigenous peoples imagined this borderland and how they negotiated and how African peoples imagined this borderland

and negotiated. In 1927 specifically, Marcus Garvey is deported from the United States to Jamaica around like November 1927. And Garvey, because he's deported, but Garvey because he comes from Jamaica and is technically a British subject, he can visit Canada.

But although he visits Canada multiple times thereafter from like 1928 and throughout the 30s, there are many restrictions that the Canadian government places on him. But Garvey, when he visits in the 1930s and the UNI convenes like its annual global conference, which normally should take place in New York City and Harlem. Three times in the 1930s, it took place in Toronto and like mostly southwestern Ontario and like sort of Niagara Falls near the U.S.-Canadian border. Why? Because Garvey couldn't technically enter U.S. soil.

But all of his followers and he had legions of followers, right? This was a global movement with 6 million people, and the United States was like the crooks of that movement. All of his followers in the United States from Kentucky to Missouri to Mississippi to Louisiana, you name it, New York City, they would converge on the U.S.-Canadian border and cross the border to see this great emancipator. And so we see in very real ways that Canada is absolutely vital to the Pan-African tradition and Black people here in Canada, but also that the border, although borders can divide, Black people became very adept at negotiating the border and using it in ways that would ensure their survival

as opposed to their isolation. Can you talk about why you chose the word cosm using it in ways that would ensure their survival as opposed to their isolation. Can you talk about why you chose the word cosmopolitans in particular? Yes, indeed it is a very multi-layered word, but I think cosmopolitanism more than any other noun that came to mind spoke to a genuine spirit among African peoples. When you're Black, when you're African, you are indeed multilingual. You are multicultural. Our indigenous religious systems borrow from one another. They're syncretic.

There are really and truly no peoples who have practiced that sort of cosmopolitan spirit than Africans since antiquity. And so one of the fathers of black history in the United States, African-American history, George Washington Williams, who wrote like the first monograph of the race, considered to have written the first monograph of the race in the late 1800s. To quote him, he said, Africans since antiquity have been a cosmopolitan people, specifically because Africans borrow from various other African traditions. And there's no such thing as being African and being isolated from other ways of being on the African continent.

And so when I think about my historical actions in the United States and Canada and the Caribbean, even on the African continent, it is that ethos, it is that spirit that they were always, again, engaged locally, very much concerned about what's happening nationally. But they were thinking about the international, the transnational, the global. And to me, it tells you something about, at least they're giving us a very clear blueprint, like survival means you must resist isolation at all times. Thinking globally didn't just mean the Pan-African spirit of connecting with other Black people, but sometimes they're looking at what's happening in Russia. They're thinking about what's happening in the Far East, right? In West Asia, East Asia, they're thinking about human beings and how they're also resisting forms of colonization, oppression, etc. And so it's a very fascinating takeaway. There's a tussle with the word

cosmopolitan, isn't there? Because there's also who claims it, who maybe is connotated most. And then, of course, the negative use or the anti-Semitic use of cosmopolitan as well. It's a word that's almost like the opposite of love of country in a sense, right? Yes. And there are sort of, there can be some anti-Jewish tropes attached to cosmopolitanism in the sense that like one is not being loyal to their nation or their government. I mean, you know, when it comes to African peoples, that sentiment and these tropes also existed, but the empirical evidence is overwhelming. Even when black people were being bombed

out of their neighborhoods because they completely confounded white supremacist logic that all black people can have successful communities, et cetera, even when they were being lynched. Again, going back to the fact that they were actually doing very successful things in their own communities, building their own institutions. Whenever problems faced the United States or Canada,

some of the first peoples within those borders to enlist and to serve in uniform and on battlefront and to even serve in segregated units meaning the racism never dissipates in wartime right or black people and the people who are often scapegoated as as like you know closeted bolsheviks you know the first people not even jewish people black people you you know, African-Americans. This dynamic certainly is there. And so I think part of what I was trying to do is speak to sort of an ancient truth that historians knew, that Africans have this cosmopolitan spirit. But also there's that negative aspect that, you know, the tropes, the negative tropes that, oh, maybe black people are not so loyal to Canada or the United States, when in fact, I don't think there's another group that has been even more loyal

in terms of defending the interests of this society and advocating for rights that would be universally applied than the ways that black people, African peoples, have conducted themselves in Canada. Sometimes you have a choice as a sort of step one to loving your country. If you're lucky enough, you literally choose which country to love,

along with which part of it most appeals to your personal lifestyle and taste, and you move there. Not everyone gets that choice. Even without it, you can still choose what you consider to be your country. Perhaps it's the language and the music, the harps and the songs. He didn't see institutions as being the country.

He saw country as being the people of the country. That's the Welsh playwright Vic Mills. He's talking about Richard Price, a preacher with ideas about loving one's country when it's the British Empire, it's 1789, and the transatlantic slave trade is in full force. There may also be a choice, Wendell Adjete mentioned this, to love your country by identifying with multiple countries. Pan-Africanism in fact becomes a tool that allows Black people to identify with Canada because Pan-Africanism says you can be local as long as you think global.

But that concept that you actually choose the country you belong to, I wondered how far that notion can really go. Do we always have a choice? Okay, I am Raghad Jaraisi. I'm a 36-year-old Palestinian woman, a citizen of Israel, a mother of two, an activist, the co-executive director of Sikui Ofuk for Shared and Equal Society, a joint Jewish-Palestinian organization operating in Israel since 1991, promoting equality and trade society based on equality between Jews and Arabs in Israel. I'm originally from Nazareth, the capital Arab city in the north,

known for years as the political heart of the Palestinian minority in Israel. Today, I live in Nafagalil, a neighboring city to Nazareth, which was established actually in the 50s as a Jewish settlement, as part of the Israel's government's Judizing the North plan. part of the Israel's government's Judizing the North plan. But today, Nofagalil is a mixed city with more than 30% of Arab population residents, around 15,000, I think, in numbers. And I live here with my husband, who's an architect, and our two little boys, who are seven and five. And I was going to speak to you because you were going to be here in Montreal. Can you just explain what the purpose of coming here to speak was? I was invited by the NIF, the New Israel Fund of Canada, to participate in the annual symposium and talk about the challenges of civil society operating today in Israel

in light of the current government, extreme right-wing government, and the developments after October 7th and the war in Gaza and now the war in Lebanon and in the northern areas of Israel. And I really wanted to be there in person and to meet with you and with everybody, but due to the latest developments in the war, I just had to cancel my participation. And I'm really speaking to you in very difficult days following the escalation in the war and the latest attack, Israeli attack on Lebanon and Beirut over the past few days, we've been living under constant threats. Sirens just send us in and out of shelters if we're lucky enough to have ones.

And we hear the sounds of bombing through the day. My children are no longer going to school. They study from home and the fear of what might happen next is always very, very present. So that's why I decided to cancel my flight that was afterward canceled and to stay with my family. Do you know what made you choose to live there? Was there a job? Was it they loved the city? In Nazareth? In Nofagadil? Yeah. In Nazareth? In Nofagadil? Yeah.

Well, I chose to live here because I wanted to be close enough to my hometown, but still enjoy the facilities and advantages of living in a mixed city where there are much more government allocation of government budgets and resources, bigger lands and space, more parks and public facilities, better infrastructure. Because of the long discrimination against the Palestinian townships and cities in Israel, there are huge gaps between the status of mixed and Jewish townships and Palestinian townships. So it's hard to live in a Palestinian city like Nazareth, which is very, very crowded. It lacks open spaces and parks, industrial zones, private incomes, and so on and so. So it's much better to live in Not-a-Galil, but still enjoy being close to Nazareth and the level of the culture, the everyday life, the education, and so on and so on. In the past, did you used to go across into Lebanon, visit Beirut often?

across into Lebanon, visit Beirut often? You know, this is one of my dreams, but I can't, unfortunately, because I have the Israeli citizenship and because there's no peace agreement between Lebanon and Israel. So I can travel to Jordan, to Egypt, but not to Lebanon and other Arab countries where there's no peace agreements between them and Israel. Can you mention a little bit about what your organization specifically does? Well, Sikwi Ofok is a Jewish and Arab organization established in 1991 and operating since then to promote equality and shared society through policy change processes, directly through dialogue and advocacy with the bureaucracy level in the civil service and the different government ministries.

What we do is that we map the barriers that limit the ability to disseminate equal budgets and resources to the Arab and Jewish population in Israel. We're making this episode on love of country, which started out because I moved into a French-speaking province of the country, meaning Canada. Although everyone around here, le pays, le country, is Quebec. And I've been speaking to people whose relationship with country is complicated. is Quebec, and I've been speaking to people whose relationship with country is complicated. I don't know if I've spoken to anyone yet whose relationship with country is quite as complicated as yours. What does the notion of love of country mean for you? That's a good question. I think as a member of a national minority and a nation state of another national majority, you grow to create different circles of love and belongings.

You love your land. You love your city. It becomes kind of a symbol of a country to you. You start really developing love and belonging to your own hometown. And then you belong and love your nation. You belong and love your circles of trust, your friends, your colleagues. of trust, your friends, your colleagues. You know how to build love and belonging,

which is different from the classic loving of a country or a state. And I must say that you don't always succeed. You know, this love of a state is something that in this modern world of nation states you need because you see that it exists but it doesn't exist in your life you know you need the flag you need the national anthem you need it as a kid in the mondial you know in the world cup you need it in the olympic games you don't just need it in a political sphere. You need it as a person, you know, in order to fulfill your life

and live your life as a kid, as a young woman, as a grown-up. And you don't always have it. And sometimes you have alternatives, but in my case, those alternatives are usually in a state of contradiction with my country. You know, I have a flag, it's the Palestinian flag, but today my country is trying to pass legislation that forbids using or raising the Palestinian flag in open spaces. So I can't use my flag in my country. I can't. I think that it's even hard for me to call

it my country. It's not only the love, if I love the country or I don't love the country, it's the sense of belonging. In order to feel that I belong to a country, I really have to feel or need to feel that it's mine. And today, the state of Israel tells me every day that it's not mine. It's the nation state of the Jews. It occupies parts of my land in Gaza, in the West Bank. It's in war with my nation, with my people. And I think that what I do every day in Sikui Ufuk, you know, my work for promoting equality and shared society, part of it sits on this need to feel that I belong. Because I think

the more we can reach equality, full equality, and shared society based on equality, not just working together or being in shared spaces, but respecting each other, knowing each other, knowing the narratives, accepting the narratives, accepting the narratives, accepting the complicated identity that I carry on since I was born, not because I chose, but because this was what I was born into. So I think that my work to promote shared society and equality in Israel really is very, very connected to my need to feel that I belong. And I think, and even more since October 7th and the war on Gaza,

I think that we know today that this could not happen without resolving the greater conflict. Our lives are so much connected in so many different ways. I believe that if we promote equality and trade society, and we succeed, even if partially, then we have a better chance in affecting Israel's policies and moving forward towards a resolution of the conflict and towards peace and towards a future where we are able to

feel that we belong and that we can live together. And the opposite way around. If the conflict ends and the war ends and the occupation ends, if there's a Palestinian state and there's peace, we will have much higher chances of reaching full equality and shared society in Israel. Because it's not a question that the conflict, the occupation, the war affect our ability to affect the government's policies and the public in general and the society in general. So, yeah. If you imagine... That's a very long answer to a short question. I can hardly fault you for having plenty to say on that topic.

If we imagine a Palestinian state and it's functional, it's well-governed, it's not under attack, and an Israeli state also attacks have stopped, we're living in a state of peace. Through that, I suppose we've implied that some of the changes that you're talking about have happened in Israel. In that future, can you see yourself deciding to live in Israel if your current town was in Israel under that system?

Or do you think you would necessarily live in Palestine? I decide to live on my land. So I'm not going anywhere. And I really hope for a future where I can live equally on my land and have the ability as a minority, as a collective, for self-determination. And that doesn't have to come only on the shape of a country. You know, countries can give, and you are Canadian and you know that better than me. Countries can give and fulfill self-determination of different groups of people under the legislation or legal framework of a country in different ways. And I'm not asking for a Palestinian country on the specific

piece of land where I live. I am asking for a peace agreement that will include recognition of the past and of the injustice and inequality against my people all over the land, not only in the state of Israel. I really hope that with the small changes that we're doing, and sometimes it feels disconnected from what's going on around. Yeah, you know, there's war and we are dealing with budgets and living together in mixed cities and preventing escalation. But it's important. It's our daily life. And that's how we change society. You don't change society unless there's, you know, a big peace agreement that we, an opportunity, a great political opportunity. You don't change societies in a day or two.

You change societies with small steps toward your purpose. every day that those small changes, tiny changes that we do to the society, to the policies, will affect eventually not only our relationship to the state or together or inside Israel, but the bigger picture and maybe the resolution of the ongoing war between the people. Thank you so much for speaking with me. Thank you, Tom. Thank you for the people. Thank you so much for speaking with me. Thank you, Tom. Thank you for the invitation. You were listening to Loving Your Country in the 21st Century

by Ideas producer Tom Howell. Thanks to Pascal Brissette at the Centre for Interdisciplinary Research on Montreal at McGill University, to Hugh Williams at Cardiff University, Wales, and to Najib Asil of Free Speech Hub Afghanistan. Our technical producer is Danielle Duval. Our web producer is Lisa Ayuso,

senior producer Nikola Lukšić. The executive producer of Ideas is Greg Kelly. And I'm Nala Ayyad. For more CBC Podcasts, go to cbc.ca slash podcasts.