I have just spent nearly two years studying and working in Estonia, albeit with some breaks interspersed within that time for vacations, conferences, and all too brief visits with my family. Prior to that, I had spent some time in 2008-2009 as a diplomatic aide in Austria. I certainly represent a relevant case study, a Canadian who has lived, studied and worked abroad.

But do I feel any less Canadian as a result of my travels? To be as clear and direct as possible, here is my answer in summary. No, I do not feel any less Canadian than a compatriot who has never left her or his hometown. Canadian ideals, Canadian values, are too strong, too compelling to be boxed within a set of borders or boundaries.

Such a direct and uncompromising response on my part is not to say that I did not find the question a difficult one to answer. It certainly took some careful thought and consideration in formulating my response. Clearly, one of the concerns that have arisen in Canadian society regarding expatriates revolves around the issue of participation. The world, so this line of thought goes, is an awfully big place. If Canada is a civic nation (where identity is extrinsic, expressed through values and participation in society) and not an ethnic nation (where identity is intrinsic, guaranteed by blood and language), how can one be Canadian despite living in some far flung place?

This may have once been a viable concern. Imagine, for example, if I had embarked on a trek eastward to Estonia from Canada in the 1920’s. My contact with Canada would have been limited by the technology of that time. The world was truly a big place then. My capacity to participate in Canadian society would have been negligible. However, human innovation has seen these circumstances change radically in less than a century.

For me, the most illustrative example of this was the gold medal game for men’s ice hockey at the 2010 Winter Olympics. I was living in a dormitory in Tallinn, Estonia at the time. Estonia is ten hours ahead of British Columbia, which meant that the game would be played very late at night. Nonetheless, I was desperate to watch it. Like any other Canadian, at home or abroad, this was an important national moment and there could be no missing it. I hunted for ages online to find a website that would allow me to legally stream the game. No dice. Even my Turkish flatmate, who I had infected with my enthusiasm, could come up with nothing.

In the end, however, a good friend back in Calgary helped me out. He switched on his webcam on his laptop, directed it at the television set, and for the next while I was riveted by what had to be the grainiest, shakiest footage of the gold medal game seen in the world. But what mattered was that I saw it. I saw Canada win gold. I saw Sidney Crosby score that final goal. I witnessed all this from faraway Estonia, but I could have never felt closer to my friend in Calgary or to my homeland of Canada. Even as millions of Canadians went out onto the streets of their cities and caused a ruckus, I remained in my dormitory (it was frigid that night in Tallinn) and caused a ruckus there.

Technology has made the world a much smaller place. Never before in human history has air travel been so cheap or practical. Never before has information been so readily available. While in Estonia, I was able to stay perhaps more up-to-date on developments in Canada than I was on developments in Estonia – and I was working as an Estonian journalist! With the degree to which the Internet allows us to monitor goings-on around the world and to interact with family and friends elsewhere, it seems strange that some would still consider geographic distance to be an insurmountable obstacle to participation.

After all, hours after my flight landed in Calgary, I addressed a Board of Trustees meeting at the Calgary Board of Education. The provincial government was in the process of introducing a new piece of legislation regarding the public education system and I had questions about the degree to which the public school boards had been consulted in drafting the provisions. There I found myself, still somewhat jetlagged, sufficiently informed on the issue to debate and discuss with the Trustees.

But all of this discussion might very well be founded on an incorrect assumption. The convention in politics and academia is, as was previously mentioned, that Canada is a civic nation, and that active participation and engaged citizenship are the markers of our “Canadianness”. I voted in the elections this past May. I was one of only 61.4%. If we say that active and sustained participation in society is necessary to maintain ones Canadian identity, would it be reasonable to say that the 38.6% who did not go out to the polls in May are no longer Canadian? Voting takes minutes at most and is something we are called on to do once in only a few years, though lately it has seemed as though we are in the midst of an election or a near-election every month. But if we are to hinge so much on so little, should we perhaps then ‘up the ante’ and require that Canadians volunteer on election campaigns in order to maintain their citizenship?

Naturally, such draconian measures would be untenable. There is something else to being Canadian that is beyond mere participation. Being a part of events and contributing to the future of my country give me an enhanced sense of belonging as a Canadian. It does not make me any more or any less of a Canadian than someone who never votes, never volunteers, and didn’t watch Canada score an historic win in hockey last year. But it does make me proud to be Canadian; it does make me feel Canadian. And perhaps, above all else, that is the most important thing in determining who is Canadian and who is not. If you feel Canadian, you’re Canadian. If you don’t feel Canadian, you’re not Canadian.

To reach that understanding, perhaps what we need right now is a national conversation. As we celebrate 144 years of independence, perhaps what we need to do is ask ourselves once again what we want Canada to be and what it means to ourselves to be Canadian. I have always been of the belief that nations are like phoenixes: they expire with each generation, but are reborn with the next. Some traits remain. A phoenix, after all, is always a phoenix. But where should our future lie? The building of a railway sent one generation on a journey from coast to coast. Perhaps the many Canadians, like myself, who have gone abroad to work and to study are building our own railway, a Canada that cannot be contained even within the vast territory of our country.

It will be incumbent upon those who now hold power in Canada to enhance and aid in this process of national rebirth and self-discovery, not hinder it. After all, it is not only Liberals who have gone abroad to seek new experiences. Rona Ambrose, a Conservative MP in Edmonton, spent many years in Brazil. She is not alone; many Canadian leaders from both sides of the House have lived, worked or studied abroad. They are no less Canadian as a result. Rather, they set the example for a new generation of pioneers, expanding our frontiers.

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Paul Pryce holds a Master of Arts in International Relations from Tallinn University (Estonia) and Bachelor of Arts degrees in Political Science and Philosophy from the University of Calgary (Canada). He frequently writes on political affairs with the Estonian Free Press, the Balkan Press Agency, and various other publications."

(Photo source)

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