By Peter Copeland, November 11, 2024
Remembrance Day is a time to honour the courage and sacrifice of past generations, showing gratitude for the freedoms we have today and remembering those who secured them. It is a day to recall that those who fought in the world wars exhibited virtue and self-sacrifice in ways increasingly foreign to the contemporary person. It is also a time to reflect on the civic virtues, sense of nationhood, and world presence Canada once had (and further developed during the first half of the twentieth century).
Remembrance Day holds real lessons for our hyper-individualistic culture, and for our country that appears increasingly uncertain of its place in the world.
Over 650,000 Canadians served in the First World War and over a million in the Second. They set aside personal lives, careers, and families to serve a higher purpose. It’s difficult to imagine people doing the same for their country today. While the strong causes of the wars and short periods of conscription played a role, part of this commitment also reflects lost virtues: duty, patriotism, reverence, and the belief that what is good and worth pursuing is found not within ourselves but in our social bonds and the objective reality beyond us.
Reverence, Respect, and self-sacrifice for a higher calling
My grandfathers both served in the Airforce during the second world war. Julian Donaldson Mears enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air force (RCAF) in 1942. After graduating as a navigator from Air observer school in Newfoundland and receiving further training at an Operational Training Unit in the UK, he was posted to 420 squadron, Bomber Command. For Bomber Command air crew, there was a low probability of surviving: over 60% of air crew who began a tour of 30 missions would be lost before completing their tour. My grandfather was fortunate and beat the odds, having flown 34 dangerous bombing missions, for which he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC).
Jack Cameron Copeland joined the war effort in North Bay in 1941 as a volunteer. Soon after, he was transferred to the RCAF and selected for pilot training. He flew the now-famous “Spitfire” fighter plane in 441 squadron, participating in efforts to repel German attempts to push the allies back into the channel following the 1944 “D-Day” invasion, and in the allies’ airborne assault around Arnhem, later that year. Most interesting of all was his November 10th, 1944, mission, where his logbook reads: “Escort Dakotas. VIPs to Paris – PM Churchill and Eden. Engine rough, returned.” He flew 99 sorties, which included 49 patrols, 30 armed reconnaissance’s, 15 escorts, 4 sweeps, 2 dive bombing attacks, 2 air/sea rescues, and 1 scramble. He also earned a Distinguished Flying Cross for his service.
My grandfathers never spoke of their exploits (I learned these details later in life). Certainly, the horrors of war and the mark it leaves on a person explained part of their reticence, but their moral compass played a larger part.
My grandfathers instilled in me a sense of valour, respect, and reverence that I cherish. I remember their dignified presence, a quality that seems rare in people today. They spoke little of their time in the war, never boastful, guided instead by humility and an aversion to ostentation.
In contrast, today we see people seek attention for what they had for breakfast (posting it online), awarding participation medals to be inclusive, and celebrating mere attendance at events as an accomplishment. My grandfathers’ generation valued respect, courtesy, and self-control. They believed that opinions and emotional impulses should be restrained, trained, and directed toward higher ideals. They never complained about the difficulties they faced or spoke of the suffering they endured. The contemporary person would sooner demand their every feeling and choice be ‘affirmed’ as one of their many “rights”.
A key cultural change in post-war generations is the emphasis placed on individualism and subjectivity. We place immense value on affirming each person’s raw feelings and preferences as if they are definitive of a person’s identity and the source of their worth. We shy away from encouraging skill development, character refinement, or the pursuit of excellence measured against external standards. In this world of self-enclosed, self-referential subjectivity, unrefined desires dominate, leaving little room for virtues like self-sacrifice, valour, loyalty, integrity, or patriotism.
C.S, Lewis, English author and professor of literature, wrote of this great inward turn:
“[W]e continue to clamour for those very qualities we are rendering impossible. You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more ‘drive’, or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or ‘creativity’. In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst.”
Certainly, society has progressed in some areas since the time of the great wars. Social advancements are real and worth celebrating. We’ve become more tolerant, inclusive, and emotionally self-aware but less patriotic, dutiful, reverential, and humble. My grandfathers’ generation exemplified the latter but unlike today, they often suppressed their suffering due to fear of social stigma, and this is an area where we’ve made positive strides in emotional self-awareness, and the ability to openly seek compassion and understanding.
A balanced, historically-informed perspective avoids romanticizing the past or uncritically celebrating the present. Each generation must re-learn virtue, acquire knowledge, and gather wisdom afresh. While culture is a repository from which each generation can draw, these qualities aren’t passively inherited but actively pursued. Remembering the accomplishments and virtues of those who came before us—as well as their failings—is essential for society’s health.
When autonomy, personal choice, and the pursuit of “self-actualization” become our highest values, we struggle to nurture civic-mindedness or rally around shared ideals. We live in an “age of entitlement,” where individuals and groups often compete for their “rights” without corresponding responsibilities. Decades of state provision of goods and positive rights have eroded our sense of agency, encouraging the belief that rewards are owed rather than earned—a drain on moral character.
If we aim to rise above self-interest, and pursue higher ideals and civicmindedness, we should cultivate what C.S. Lewis called “the chest”: the harmony between reason and emotion that directs our instincts toward noble ends. We ought to do so in a way that draws on the virtue and character of the generations that fought in the great wars, and in ways that build upon and incorporate the emotional self-awareness, tolerance and broadmindedness we have gained since then.
A sense of nationhood through the pursuit of high ideals
When it comes to the social and political dimension of these two great conflicts, we have just as much to learn. During the First and Second World Wars, Canada forged a national identity, earning international respect and a place among the world’s advanced democracies.
Today, however, our sense of nationhood is scarcely alive. Representative of much elite sentiment, our current Prime Minister has described Canada as having “no core identity”, and our most celebrated authors have likened the country to a “hotel” that simply welcomes people from everywhere, expecting little of them in return. How can we rally around an identity so undefined?
We cannot hope to be a beacon to the world if we do not meet even basic obligations to our allies, such as our commitment to NATO to spend 2% of GDP on defence. Though we may not face a crisis as viscerally acute as the second world war, we live in an era full of causes worthy of our united effort. From China’s push for global economic dominance to Russia’s aggression in Ukraine and the coalition of authoritarian regimes led by Iran that seek Israel’s destruction, we face a world in which oppressive powers feel increasingly emboldened by western countries like Canada that appear content to rely on America’s security guarantee.
This is not a call for jingoism or militarism, but a recognition that respect for and investment in our military can bring unity to Canada, especially when it is not mere lip service and is in service of genuine ideals. We have an opportunity to regain the respect of our allies, support the United States, and stand with friends like Ukraine and Israel on the front lines of democracy against authoritarianism, but only if we go beyond empty words. Canada has much to offer the world; it’s time we put our money where our mouth is.
A society consumed by trivial social causes would do well to remember the values and worldview that contributed to the heroic self-sacrifice and valour of those who secured our freedoms.
If Canada is to avoid the path to irrelevance, we must be inspired by the courage and virtue of those who came before us. The words of the war poet Dylan Thomas speak of the depth of commitment to higher ideals that my grandfathers, and those who fought for our country exhibited: “Do not go gentle into that good night… rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Peter Copeland is deputy director of Domestic Policy at the Macdonald-Laurier institute.
