The Superpower of Difference: Canada's Cultural Identity
Being "not like them" isn't our limitation—it's our superpower. This truth becomes increasingly evident as we witness the American cultural landscape shifting under political influence.
The New York Times recently reported on President Trump's first visit to the Kennedy Center since appointing himself chairman of its board. During a private meeting, Trump shared anecdotes about his supposed musical aptitude, claiming to have "a high aptitude for music" and declaring, "That's why I love music." His communications director reinforced this narrative, stating the president "is a virtuoso" whose "musical choices represent a brilliant palette of vibrant colors when others often paint in pale pastels...there is nobody more uniquely qualified to bring this country, and its rich history of the arts, back to prominence.'"
Um...okay.
This is a far cry from JFK's belief that "Art is the great democrat, calling forth creative genius from every sector of society, disregarding race or religion or wealth or color." When a nation's premier cultural institution shifts from celebrating diverse artistic voices to amplifying a single political figure's tastes, the foundation of cultural freedom—and by extension, democracy itself—begins to erode.
It was harder—perhaps—to be proud of being "not American" during the 1960s with such a dreamer as JFK charting a course. Then again, under a prairie sky in Saskatchewan, a firestarter of a man not only brought forward the first medical care insurance act for all people of that province, but Tommy Douglas also fathered and grandfathered some of our country's greatest performing artists (Shirley Douglas, Kiefer Sutherland). Health and Culture, hand in glove. A powerful connection that makes us not like them.
Some artists are withdrawing in protest from The Kennedy Center, others are not. Yet this building used to represent the height of democratic possibility of a complex nation dreaming at the feet of lady liberty. Inscribed at her base are words written by a woman called Emma Lazarus: "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
It is so beautiful, and yet, it positions everything at the feet of one person, one statue, one symbol—reflecting America's tendency toward singular, centralized cultural narratives.
We—in Canada—are fewer in number, but we are massive in our differences. We are like fibre. Each of us acts as a psyllium that bulks us up and keeps us moving.
Our approach to arts and culture emerges from diverse communities rather than descending from individual authority. We understand that cultural expression belongs to the people, not to leaders seeking to shape it in their image. We aspire to cultural democracy—allowing communities themselves to define what art and culture mean rather than imposing definitions from above—which enables us to learn who we are from every direction rather than being told "how to be" through the top-down democratization of culture.
The famous World War Two "Cree Code Talkers" exemplify this Canadian advantage—our diversity isn't mere representation but a strategic resource. While America's cultural institutions face increasing political influence, Canada's multicultural fabric remains a source of strength and resilience.
Despite any perceived shortcomings, our National Arts Centre stands in stark contrast to the Kennedy Center. The NAC represents the plurality that best defines us. Our differences are our strength. Our unwieldiness is our superpower. Our disparateness is our solution. It is our code talk.
As the American cultural landscape increasingly reflects individual political preferences—which appear to include a love of Andrew Lloyd Weber's Cats and Canada as a 51st state in equal measure …I hear him saying: "I am good at liking that musical "Cats", which would make me a great leader of Canada".
We have an opportunity to lean in hard to our Canadian cultural plurality, to our community-driven expression, and through our diversity and differences we can confuse the heck out of our neighbours. Because unlike them we won't forget that they are our neighbours.
Our superpower isn't just being different—it's being deliberately, intentionally, and proudly not like them.
Sarah Garton Stanley (SGS)
