Act of memory

We need to talk. Thundering online may feel good in the moment, and it may even earn us a few digital high fives from our like-minded friends or followers, but it doesn’t advance an argument. Shouting down those calling for more conversation seems an irony we ought not to allow to slip by unchallenged amid the online noise.

The online chorus contends, almost uniformly, there has been more than enough consultation about the fate of the sculpture of Sir John A. Macdonald on Picton’s Main Street. And with their digital pitchforks and torches held high, they aren’t going to be deterred from their project to eliminate it from public view. There is no rational debate to be had. No middle ground. No conversation. Just shouting.

Again, I sense that this is the result of a process that managed, simultaneously, to inflame the online cohort while leaving the average resident out of the conversation. But it is also due, in part, to social media shouting where it much easier to marginalize or erase conflicting views rather than to engage them in a discussion.

But increasingly, the online cohort is feeling empowered. Enraged. They are frustrated by process. By bureaucracy. By conversation. They want action. Or else. As one online voice observed rather menacingly, either the sculpture goes, or it will be destroyed. This isn’t a conversation—it is an ultimatum. These are the terms of discourse. In our grievance-binding silos, we seem to be losing the knack for, or interest in, talking. In making an argument. The sugar high of dunking on the other is too irresistible. The withering attacks on Peter Lockyer over the past few months have gone beyond grotesque. Few, if any, of the assaults were offered to counter an argument—but sought instead to extinguish his participation in the discussion.

For that is what we do in this brave new world—we seek to de-platform voices with whom we disagree, rather than challenge their opinions. Much easier to assemble an online posse and silence challenging views than it is to articulate a persuasive argument.

I understand that some may be impatient for a consensus to bend to a particular way of thinking. But that is how democracy works. And it is important.

Today is Remembrance Day. A day we set aside each year to consider a specific part of our history. It is about the conscious act of memory. The great and glorious, as well as the painful and horrifying. It is about coming face to face with the horror humans can inflict on one another. It is also about ideals and values—for whom so many sacrificed so much. Freedom. Democracy. Valour. Decency. Civility.

If not for the pandemic, we would be coming together today across Prince Edward County to remember. We would do so, in part so that we might learn to avoid such disaster, such calamity, such pain. That we might remember the cost to restore the values we share.

The monuments at which we gather on this day are not celebratory. They are painful reminders of human fragility and cruelty. Yet we gather anyway. We gather to remember the past. We gather in hopes of learning from it. We gather so that we might never forget.

Holding Court can serve the same purpose. It can be a tangible symbol of both the achievement of this nation and the pain and cruelty in its formation. It can be used to enrich our understanding of this history— to shine a light on the complexity. In doing so, it might give a truer picture of this nation.

Hiding it away ends the conversation. Memories calcify. And we retreat to our silos.

To be crystal clear, I am not looking for agreement with my views. Regular readers understand I often colour well outside some mainstream opinions. I need not, nor do I seek, broad affirmation or popular approval. I want, only, a conversation. And to participate in the conversation.

It need not be polite. The cut and thrust of debate occasionally calls upon the passion of conviction. Passion sometimes means high elbows in the corner and the willingness to fight mightily for a point of view. But we must insist upon some baseline level of civility. That means talking to each other. And listening.

President-elect Joe Biden asked his citizens to lower the temperature this week “to put away the harsh rhetoric. To give each other a chance.” He called for an end to a “grim era of demonization.”

We like to believe Canadians are better versions of our American neighbours, yet this seems like good advice.

rick@wellingtontimes.ca