Thursday was Canada Day — a day when Canadians throughout the world celebrate the anniversary of the unification of their nation. But this year it was overshadowed by the recent discovery of hundreds and possibly more than 1,000 unmarked graves believed to contain the remains of indigenous children. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau issued an apology. Many called for Canada Day’s cancellation. Others blamed “cancel culture” for ruining things.
The tragedy has forced our northern neighbor to wrestle with its identity and what it wishes to stand for. To what extent should it revel in its patriotism in the face of such horrifically unpatriotic actions, long ago buried and ignored? What does one lose by parceling out an ounce of pain from a pound of pride?
A nation’s internal strength can be measured by its ability to collectively celebrate and grieve. The first human steps on the moon nearly 52 years ago marked a seminal moment for the United States and the world, fulfilling a seemingly impossible promise made by a deified president, whose assassination nearly six years earlier was inversely seminal. While the lunar landing helped bring our country together, reigniting a belief in our unparalleled excellence on the world stage, John F. Kennedy’s death ignited nationwide sorrow that portended the loss of innocence and optimism, and whose remnants remain in our country’s DNA.
For the sake of unity — of a shared national identity — collective mourning is necessary. We must be able to agree on the horrors of natural disasters and the urgency to apply scientific discovery to help prevent or mitigate future cataclysms. We must be able to agree that some crimes don’t have “two sides.” We must be able to agree that terrorist attacks against our country, regardless of the terrorists’ ideological motives, threaten our social and economic and governmental fabric.
The United States’ schismatic response to COVID-19 these past 18 months is a microcosm of our growing failure to grieve as a unified nation. Americans could not agree on the seriousness of the pandemic, on the importance of wearing masks, or on the pain caused by a president who privately acknowledged the frightening impending death toll, but who publicly vilified those who agreed. Party A is justifiably outraged by reports of COVID-death undercounts in a state led by Party B. But when similar reports emerge in a state led by Party A, they are outraged not by the alleged cover-up and excessive loss of life, but by the reports themselves.
One might claim that this is all normal politics — that our nation’s differences stem from a healthy desire to advance long-evolving narratives about our past, present, and preferred future. But that suggests our common values remain stronger than our variances.
A country cannot thrive when its national tragedies are consistently overshadowed by the politicization of such tragedies.
We have come together often these past 245 years, ranging from begrudging nods of acknowledgement to long, heartfelt embraces. But occasionally we have permitted gaping differences to expand beyond the point of rebounding.
And that’s where we stand as our nation celebrates another Independence Day. Unity requires a game plan. It takes practice. And we are woefully out of shape.
B.J. Rudell is a longtime political strategist, former associate director for Duke University’s Center for Politics, and recent North Carolina Democratic Party operative. In a career encompassing stints on Capitol Hill, on presidential campaigns, in a newsroom, in classrooms, and for a consulting firm, he has authored three books and has shared political insights across all media platforms, including for CNN and Fox News.