Commentary
The Vinyl Cafe was one of Canada’s most beloved radio programs. Created by Montreal-born broadcaster, humorist, and author Stuart McLean, it celebrated ordinary people through the fictional adventures of Dave, Morley, their family, and friends. Through gentle humour and keen observation, McLean reminded listeners that Canada’s strength is found in the character of its people.
The slogan of Dave and Morley’s small-town record store—“We’re not big, but we’re small”—captured something many Canadians recognize in themselves. As July 1 celebrations and another D-Day anniversary fade into the final month of summer, I couldn’t help thinking that McLean’s insight captured something essential about ordinary people.
Unlike Canada’s celebrity politicians and Laurentian elites, Stuart McLean’s small-town characters knew they didn’t need to perform on a world stage to make important contributions. Whether in families, communities, local businesses, or civic institutions, they came to value usefulness over fame, service over self-indulgence, and dependability over spectacle.
Living beside the enormously more powerful USA reinforced the notion that Canada’s survival depends more on resilience, competence, and cooperation than aggressive commercial dominance or military might. Almost by necessity, modesty and civility became engrained in the Canadian psyche.
But such virtues also have a downside. Canadians have become so accustomed to accepting second-class status that they frequently overlook their nation’s real accomplishments.
Canada’s establishment was notably less dramatic than the tumultuous founding of many modern nations. The Dominion of Canada was founded with relatively little violent conflict. It is a nation born in compromise—not revolution. In 1867, Confederation represented a negotiated agreement among diverse colonies rather than an explosive break from the past. This reality shaped a country that, despite its imperfections, built stable democratic institutions, expanded from sea to sea, integrated generations of immigrants, and earned a reputation as a trustworthy ally and reliable partner.
The problem is: Excessive modesty can lead to indifference. In many ways it has left Canadians more inclined to catalogue their shortcomings than celebrate their achievements.
Early this summer, I was prompted to reflect on this by an old friend from Montreal. In post-World War II Canada, Christy McCormick started a long career in journalism with a high school diploma. Over more than half a century, he worked for small newspapers and shipping news publications in Canada, the UK, Wuhan, and Hong Kong. He still contributes a Substack from Mabu, Philippines.
Although a lifetime admirer of the United States, McCormick was not indifferent to the nation of his birth. Reflecting recently on Canada’s military history, he observed that our national record is characterized by “innovation, perseverance, careful preparation, and a stubborn refusal to yield.”
History offers considerable evidence for this assessment. During the War of 1812, the inhabitants of British North America successfully resisted repeated American invasions despite being heavily outnumbered. The conflict demonstrated that determination, loyalty, and cooperation could offset considerable material disadvantages.
Those same qualities became more evident during the twentieth century. At Ypres in 1915, Canadian troops endured the first large-scale chlorine gas attack in history and held their positions when others were forced to withdraw. Two years later, at Vimy Ridge, Canadian forces succeeded where previous British and French assaults had failed. Their victory resulted not from overwhelming numbers but from meticulous preparation, disciplined planning, careful rehearsal, and initiative entrusted to junior officers and non-commissioned leaders. Vimy remains one of the defining moments in the emergence of Canadian nationhood.
During World War II, the Royal Canadian Navy expanded from a tiny pre-war force into one of the world’s largest escort fleets, protecting Atlantic convoys that sustained the Allied war effort. Canadian soldiers absorbed painful lessons at Dieppe, demonstrated remarkable tactical innovation during the street fighting at Ortona, and landed on Juno Beach on D-Day amid fierce German resistance. By the end of June 6, 1944, they had penetrated farther inland than any other Allied contingent and accomplished every assigned objective.
Canadian forces later played a decisive role in opening the Scheldt Estuary, allowing the vital port of Antwerp to supply Allied armies. They liberated much of the Netherlands—a deed remembered warmly by the Dutch to the present day.
This same spirit was evident in Korea. At Kapyong in April 1951, soldiers of Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry held their ground against overwhelming Chinese assaults, helping prevent a major breakthrough and earning the rare United States Presidential Unit Citation. Decades later, Canadian forces again earned the respect of their allies during difficult operations in Afghanistan, particularly around Kandahar.
McCormick did not recount these episodes to suggest Canadians possess a monopoly on courage or virtue. No nation can honestly make such claims. Nor would he imply that patriotism should blind us to our failures, injustices, or unfinished work. But neither should humility prevent us from acknowledging genuine achievements.
Perhaps the reluctance to celebrate past accomplishments has become an inherent flaw in Canada’s national character. Living beside the world’s most powerful nation has inevitably shaped the way we see ourselves. Americans understandably tell their story with confidence and enthusiasm. Canadians often define themselves by what they are not, rather than by what they are.
There is no easy solution to Canada’s predicament, and it is unlikely to be resolved by elbows-up posturing. The nation faces real challenges. Political divisions have deepened. Economic uncertainty persists. Faith and family formation is in decline. Woke schools are failing children. Entrepreneurship is stifled by excess regulation, and surging immigration is becoming unsustainable. Questions about national unity and the moral costs of the Canadian nanny state continue to trouble hard-working citizens.
Such challenges make it more important than ever to understand that our present circumstances are not unprecedented. Previous generations endured world wars, economic depression, constitutional crises, and profound social change. Canadians have fiercely disagreed among themselves, but somehow found ways to preserve and strengthen the country they share.
The virtues that carried our heroes through the War of 1812, Vimy, Juno, Kapyong, Kandahar and countless other challenges remain relevant today: resilience, courage, collaboration, hard work, neighbourliness, and a refusal to surrender when the going gets tough.
Stuart McLean understood something enduring about Canada. Canadians have rarely sought greatness through power or spectacle. But, in our best moments, we have tried—however imperfectly—to be useful: to our families, our communities, our allies, and one another.
National pride does not require arrogance, nor should patriotism depend on myth-making. Mature citizens are capable of acknowledging both a country’s shortcomings and achievements, and history suggests that Canadians have accomplished more than they give themselves credit for.
At a time when our national confidence seems so uncertain, all of this is worth remembering.
Views expressed in this article are opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.
