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Cultural Differences: By John MacLachlan Gray From the Globe and Mail www.globeandmail.com |
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You can't scalp me, because I haven't much hair on top of my head. -- Canadian Alliance candidate Brian Fitzpatrick, making a joke. We joke about what we fear. If you don't believe me, follow the evolution of magazine cartoons over the past 50 years: the bomb, the psychiatrist's couch, sexual boredom, a Wall Street broker selling apples on the street. Not to mention the Prime Minister's joke about Alberta. Despite bromides about "equality," many Canadians, like Mr. Fitzpatrick, fear Indians. (Not "First Nations," Indians.) Partly it's the oppressors' fear of the oppressed -- that the oppressed resent them, that their pent-up rage might take some terrible form. But there is another fear, more historical and interesting, reflecting an inherited fear of the land itself. (A recent inheritance out West, less than 150 years old.)The fear hit when it dawned on European explorers that Canada was not the luxurious Indies but a terrifying world of hazardous rivers, frozen nights and impenetrable forests filled with unknown life forms -- moose, skunk, buffalo, mosquito, rattlesnake. Strangest of all were the Indians -- not Asians subsumed by empire, but an alien civilization with an opposing view of how the universe works. For Europeans, goodness and truth were static qualities of an unchanging Supreme Being, like a stone cathedral; change was a symptom of falsehood and evil. For the Indian, the universe was not static but eternally mutating, like a forest, populated by tricksters and transformers who suddenly change everything. Quite a difference. Two world views, so mutually exclusive that neither provided a yardstick with which to measure the other. A Haida described a European ship as "an island with three trees covered with crows; when one crow calls out, the others climb to the tops of the trees." Captain James Cook interpreted a Haida dance of welcome as ". . . . truly frightful. He worked himself into the highest frenzy, uttering something between a howl and a song." Contact remained manageable as long as the trade in furs took precedence over the trade in ideas; but then permanent settlers arrived -- refugees displaced by religious persecution and feudal land grabs. Unlike fur traders and explorers, they faced a life sentence in this exotic terrain with its unfathomable population. The two cultures couldn't see eye to eye on issues as fundamental as time itself. Indians were mystified by the European clock, which harnessed time to human will, in which days didn't grow longer and shorter with the seasons, nor did it supply information about when to plant or fish, or indeed any insight relevant to life in this part of the world. Even so, Europeans regarded being "on time" as a moral imperative in itself -- a legacy of the civilization they came from and were desperate to maintain. To Europeans, Indians seemed tardy and untrustworthy, while Indians found Europeans compulsive and obsessed with machinery. In parts of Canada where the two encounter one another daily, these assumptions continue today. The most pernicious communication gaps appeared in everyday interaction. In a meeting between two people of unequal status, Indians considered it rude for the person of lower status to look his superior in the eye and to speak well of himself; whereas to Europeans, a direct gaze was a sign of forthrightness and a positive attitude essential to success. (So much for the Indian's chances in a job interview.) Thanks to differing views on the value of a pause, in ordinary conversation the European found the Indian maddeningly taciturn, while the Indian couldn't get a word in edgewise. Not to mention religion. To Europeans, the religion of the Indian was nothing but superstition, and the activities of a shaman were those of a witch -- a vassal of the Devil. Indians failed to comprehend the divine logic behind Roman Catholic ritual, even when Jesuits offered such concessions as declaring the beaver a fish so that it could be eaten during Lent. Belief systems beget ethical systems: To the European it was wrong to lie, to steal, to go back on your word; to the Indian it was wrong to name the dead, to harm a guest, to rob a grave. Thus, Europeans regarded Indians as liars and thieves, while Indians regarded Europeans as vampires. Indians reminded European settlers of the lords who had driven them from home. Freed from having to do European-style work, Indians roamed the forest as though they owned it, hunting game at will. Some of their tents bore an uncanny resemblance to summer gentleman's houses. Like scions of the upper classes, Indians grew sexually active in their teens, and sired children outside Hol Matrimony. You can see where the stereotypes come from, which continue in one form or another. Like it or not, when cultures meet they teach one another, and despite the best efforts of Europeans, it was the Indians who did most of the teaching -- after all, they'd occupied the environment for centuries. Tragically, as Europeans learned from the Indians, their fear increased -- the fear of becoming the other, of a steady capitulation and the victory of the Devil. Hence, the reserve system. The Department of Indian Affairs. Golf courses on sacred land. The backlash against "race-based" laws protecting Indian culture. The sudden enthusiasm for "equality" -- now that Indians are in danger of making it their own. The history of incomprehension continues, along with the fear of the Indian. It shows its face every time some white guy makes a joke about getting scalped. |
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