By Fareed Khan
A version of this article can be found on Substack.
In two
days—July 1st—millions of Canadians will celebrate Canada Day. Yet few pause to
ask what, exactly, is being celebrated. The familiar rituals—fireworks,
barbecues, flags, and patriotic speeches—invite a comforting narrative of national
unity and progress. But beneath this spectacle lies a reality that cannot be
reconciled with easy patriotism—Canada was built on Indigenous genocide, white
supremacy, and systemic racism. To celebrate Canada Day without acknowledging
these foundations is to participate in a collective act of denial and an
erasure of history.
Canada is
a settler‑colonial state. Its creation required the dispossession of Indigenous
lands, the destruction of Indigenous governance systems and societies, and the
attempted erasure of Indigenous cultures and identities. Scholars of genocide
and settler colonialism have long argued that colonization
is not merely about land theft—it is about the destruction of peoples,
laws, and ways of life. Residential
schools, the Indian Act, forced relocations, the reserve
system, and the criminalization
of Indigenous ceremonies were not unfortunate mistakes. They were
deliberate tools of a project aimed at eliminating Indigenous nations as self‑determining
peoples, and as a result are today seen as acts of genocide.
In recent
years, Canada has been forced to confront this history more directly. The National
Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls concluded in
2019 that the violence inflicted on Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQ+
people amounts to “deliberate race, identity, and gender‑based genocide.”
Parliament has acknowledged genocide in relation to residential schools, and
political leaders have used the term publicly. Yet recognition without
transformation is hollow. The structures that enabled genocide—policing,
courts, resource extraction, child welfare systems—continue to produce what
scholars call “multisided violence,” where state action and inaction normalize
conditions in which Indigenous people can be harmed or killed with impunity.
Canada
Day, in this context, becomes a ritual of denying this nation’s ugly history.
It invites Canadians to celebrate this country without reckoning with the fact
that its very existence depended on the destruction of Indigenous societies.
Even when Canada Day events include acknowledgements of Indigenous peoples, the
underlying narrative often remains one of progress and benevolence: that Canada
has “learned from its past” and is now on a path of reconciliation. Yet the
rise of residential
school denialism and anti‑Indigenous
politics on the far right shows that even the limited gains of truth‑telling
are under attack.
Some
communities have attempted to reshape Canada Day to reflect this reality. In
Winnipeg, organizers renamed the main July 1st event “A New Day,” cancelled
fireworks, and centred reflection on colonialism and residential schools rather
than uncritical patriotism. Such efforts are important, but they remain
exceptions. Across the country, the dominant message is still one of pride, promoting
unity, and celebrating with a nationalistic fervour—often with only a brief,
symbolic nod to Indigenous history and suffering.
The
problem is not simply that Canada has a violent past. It is that this violence
continues in the present. Indigenous communities still face disproportionate
rates of poverty, incarceration, child apprehension, and police violence.
Encampments of unhoused people—many of them Indigenous—are destroyed in the
name of “public safety,” while solidarity encampments protesting genocide and
colonialism are violently
dismantled by police. The criminalization of poverty and dissent is not a
deviation from Canadian values, it is a continuation of the logic that has
always governed this country, one where some lives are expendable in the
service of order and property.
Contemporary
commentary has drawn connections between Canada’s colonial foundations and its
foreign policy. One writer argues that Canada’s
complicity in the Gaza genocide reflects a continuity between domestic
colonial violence and international support for state violence abroad. The
argument suggests that a nation built on genocide at home is predisposed to
enable or excuse genocide elsewhere. This perspective reframes Canada Day not
as a celebration of national virtue but as a reminder of unresolved injustice.
Canada’s
self‑image as a human‑rights champion is fundamentally at odds with its record.
A country that still struggles to provide clean drinking water to Indigenous
communities, that has failed to implement the Calls
to Action of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and that remains
complicit in ongoing violence against Indigenous women and girls cannot
credibly claim to embody justice and equality. When Canadians gather on July
1st to celebrate “our values,” they are often celebrating an illusion.
This does
not mean there is nothing worth preserving in Canada. There is beauty in its
landscapes, richness in its diversity, and potential in its institutions. But
potential is not achievement, and celebration is not owed—it is earned. A
nation that has yet to fully acknowledge, let alone repair, the harms it has
inflicted on Indigenous peoples has not earned the right to uncritical
celebration.
Canada
Day, then, should not be a day of simple celebration. It should be a day of
reckoning. A day to ask, what does it mean to celebrate a country whose birth
was a catastrophe for the peoples who already lived here? What does it mean to
wave a flag that has flown over residential schools, police raids, and
courtrooms where Indigenous rights are denied? What does it mean to celebrate a
society that erased the original nations of this land?
On
Wednesday, millions of Canadians will celebrate Canada Day. But if they do so
without confronting the genocidal and white supremacist foundations of this
country, they are not celebrating a mature democracy—they are participating in
a collective act of denial. The question is not whether Canada can be
celebrated. The question is whether it has done the work necessary to deserve
celebration.
Until
Canada fully acknowledges its genocidal past and present, and commits to
dismantling the structures that sustain colonial violence, Canada Day should be
less about fireworks and more about reflection. Less about pride and more about
responsibility. Less about what Canada imagines itself to be and more about
what it has actually done.
Only
then—if ever—will Canada Day be something more than a ritual that papers over
injustice with celebration of the red and white maple leaf.
Part 2 will follow tomorrow.
© 2026 The View From Here. © 2026 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment