According to Starbucks, Autumn has arrived. While I might dispute their decision on meteorological grounds, I'm actually delighted because I am a fiend for all things Pumpkin. Pumpkin Pie, Pumpkin Spice Lattés, Roasted Pumpkin Seeds...Ahhh... Glorious.
The other thing I like about Autumn is that sober reflection seems seasonally appropriate. I can wistfully consider my loves lost or quietly watch the waves roll down the fleuve St-Laurent without seeming hideously out of place. Today I will kick off the season of sober reflection with a (probably windy) reflection on how our society deals with grief and its accoutrements.
Rather conveniently, current affairs have provided an interesting case study. The Honourable Jack Layton passed away recently, to an effusive outpouring of public grief. He is the first person in Canada to receive a state funeral when none of the criteria for such were met. Probably a canny move on the part of Mr. Harper to do so, what with the public reaction. Smiling Jack was consistently voted the Politician With Whom Voters Would Most Like to Share a Beer. He had integrity, and generally played the game without excessive nastiness. He was also perennially unsuccessful. As many pundits noted, our society has run towards mass grief since the death of Princess Diana.
Christie Blatchford was characteristically blunt in her assessment. I particularly like her use of the word "mawkish". It seems to me that a more honest, and more respectful, way to honour a man like Jack Layton would be for everyone to share a pint and tell stories about what a character he was. Dippers could rejoice in his indefatigable pugnacity on behalf of union members, conservatives and liberals could laugh about how he just wouldn't go away. We'd all enjoy stories about a particular bon mot during a debate (like when he eviscerated Michael Ignatieff on his attendance record), wish his ghost a peaceful rest, and carry on with our lives. Alas, in modern discourse this is not enough. No, I must put on sackcloth and ashes, and wail manifestly untrue pieties lest his wrathful shade...put a bicycle lane on my street? I don't know. Something terrible. Obviously I'm some kind of soulless wretch, as my grief isn't profound enough over the death of a man "who united the country" (according to the Globe and Mail, and Stephen Lewis). Except that, as Michael Coren points out, Smiling Jack was never more than a pleasant Also-Ran when it came to the ultimate goal of becoming Prime Minister. As I used to say; you'd share a pint with him, but not your chequing account.
I also like how Mr. Coren pointed out that the same people who were diffident and reverential when Shawn Atleo enacted some kind of native funeral rite mock the Catholic church for mysticism and mummery. It's an excellent point: why do the bien-pensants mock Yahweh but revere Manitou? One would think a Flying Spaghetti Monster is a Flying Spaghetti Monster, regardless of cultural origin. Of course, Coren and Blatchford both noted the excessive and hostile response they got from the public. Blatchford even had enough to write a second column about the hazards of stepping outside of acceptable discourse in Canada.
So I guess my question is this- which is more rude: insufficiently public grieving or the mob hostility against those insufficiently prostrate before the altar of public emotion?
The other thing I like about Autumn is that sober reflection seems seasonally appropriate. I can wistfully consider my loves lost or quietly watch the waves roll down the fleuve St-Laurent without seeming hideously out of place. Today I will kick off the season of sober reflection with a (probably windy) reflection on how our society deals with grief and its accoutrements.
Rather conveniently, current affairs have provided an interesting case study. The Honourable Jack Layton passed away recently, to an effusive outpouring of public grief. He is the first person in Canada to receive a state funeral when none of the criteria for such were met. Probably a canny move on the part of Mr. Harper to do so, what with the public reaction. Smiling Jack was consistently voted the Politician With Whom Voters Would Most Like to Share a Beer. He had integrity, and generally played the game without excessive nastiness. He was also perennially unsuccessful. As many pundits noted, our society has run towards mass grief since the death of Princess Diana.
Christie Blatchford was characteristically blunt in her assessment. I particularly like her use of the word "mawkish". It seems to me that a more honest, and more respectful, way to honour a man like Jack Layton would be for everyone to share a pint and tell stories about what a character he was. Dippers could rejoice in his indefatigable pugnacity on behalf of union members, conservatives and liberals could laugh about how he just wouldn't go away. We'd all enjoy stories about a particular bon mot during a debate (like when he eviscerated Michael Ignatieff on his attendance record), wish his ghost a peaceful rest, and carry on with our lives. Alas, in modern discourse this is not enough. No, I must put on sackcloth and ashes, and wail manifestly untrue pieties lest his wrathful shade...put a bicycle lane on my street? I don't know. Something terrible. Obviously I'm some kind of soulless wretch, as my grief isn't profound enough over the death of a man "who united the country" (according to the Globe and Mail, and Stephen Lewis). Except that, as Michael Coren points out, Smiling Jack was never more than a pleasant Also-Ran when it came to the ultimate goal of becoming Prime Minister. As I used to say; you'd share a pint with him, but not your chequing account.
I also like how Mr. Coren pointed out that the same people who were diffident and reverential when Shawn Atleo enacted some kind of native funeral rite mock the Catholic church for mysticism and mummery. It's an excellent point: why do the bien-pensants mock Yahweh but revere Manitou? One would think a Flying Spaghetti Monster is a Flying Spaghetti Monster, regardless of cultural origin. Of course, Coren and Blatchford both noted the excessive and hostile response they got from the public. Blatchford even had enough to write a second column about the hazards of stepping outside of acceptable discourse in Canada.
So I guess my question is this- which is more rude: insufficiently public grieving or the mob hostility against those insufficiently prostrate before the altar of public emotion?
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