Imagined Communities: Greater than the sum of their parts?

Benedict Anderson, a Marxist leaning political sociologist famously wrote that nations are "imagined communities" because "members will never know, meet or even hear of the majority their fellow-members, and yet, in the minds of each lives the image of their communion".

This concept describes the reality that all nation-states are modern political constructions that emerged as a tool for mass mobilization and economic organization. And yet, there is something inherently natural about feeling a part of something. Perhaps the potential for imagined communities is greater than the sum of its parts?

I think I have written about Anderson's social constructivist take on identity and nationalism on this blog before, and if I haven't then those of you who know me well, know that this is a concept that I not only am really fascinated by, but generally agree with. Anderson's book, "Imagined Communities" remains to this day, probably the most influential reading of my life.

Where is all this coming from?

The lady and I just finished setting up our apartment today. We've just moved into a large studio in central Bangkok, our third apartment in our third city. As I was putting photos up on the walls, I stopped to examine a beautiful photo of Montreal (taken by our good friend Mica) that we have put up in our kitchen corner.

It's a black and white photo, taken from the top of Mont Royal in the middle of winter. Despite the fact that there's a tropical monsoon showering the pavement outside my window here in Thailand, (I can hear the clap of the drops on the metallic roofs, and smell the muggy, humidity) gazing at that photo from Montreal sparked a feeling of familiarity inside.

Looking at the snow, I can almost feel the sleepy pulse of a city, whose gritty and flamboyant sounds are suddenly muffled under the blankets of snow in the winter. Looking at the lights in the buildings, I can imagine the people inside. I imagine how they feel, dreary and fatigued in the middle of the dark winter. They look forward to the weekend, when they can go skating in the park, or have dinner in the Old Port.

In reality, I probably have just as much in common with the imaginary people in those Montreal buildings in the photo, as I do with the leathery faced security guard at the bottom of my building, who smiles as I walk past him everyday, and loyally keeps his post, sitting on that plastic chair at the entrance.

But it is the potential of that feeling of communion that we should think about, and focus on, rather than the naivete of it.

For example, to this day I continue to feel a strong sense affinity with people in Moscow, Russia, where I lived for 3 years as a young teenager. The tough and cynical feel of the streets and the people have a way about them. I remember playing streetball that more closely resembled tackle football... scrapping with skinhead wannabe's... the biting, bitter wind that cut your face in the winter.. crowds of frustrated and angry young men who (tellingly) gathered to protest with Nazi flags under the statue of Lenin. I have and will always have a strong feeling of harmony with Moscovites and Russians in general, despite the fact that I will ALWAYS despise, from the bottom of my heart, the xenophobia that plagues those very streets.

The potential of that imagined community to create communion where there wouldn't ordinarily be, is an incredible thing. For humanity to advance for the better, we need to figure out harness that communion, without relying on targetting an "other".

For now, I'll enjoy my coffee-induced cozy memories while monsoon season continues to bring unabated tropical rains outside.

Reflections on Canada's passion: Ice Hockey

Harry How/Getty Images

The ultimate release. Fists clenched, screams that painfully stretch ones vocal chords to the max. Furious and desperate hugs with old friends and strangers alike.

This is the description of the utter euphoria of 35-million strong. Yesterday, Canadians across the country and around the world, all held their breath for that single moment, before erupting in the most primal of all frenzies, as the puck, carooming off of Sidney Crosby's stick, made its way through the pads of US goalie Ryan Miller, and into the back of the net.

It's hard to explain to outsiders just what hockey means to Canadians. The passion, the longing, the hopes, the dreams, and worst of all, the EXPECTATION, has become so intrinsic in our identity, that it has moved beyond being simply being a game that we all collectively enjoy. Hockey success has become something that defines us, something that gives our country an identity.

IDENTITY

Like US exceptionalism or French culture, ice hockey success is such a self-proclaimed, intrinsic part of Canada's identity that if denied, the confusion and uncertainty that arise are almost unbearable.

Last year, I was sitting in a sauna in the YMCA in downtown Ottawa. Sweating alongside me were a number of new immigrants, one guy from India, another from China and yet another from Mozambique.

We all started talking about hockey. There was a big game that night between the Ottawa Senators and the Montreal Canadiens. Ottawa-Gatineau, a city with two sides, one French, one English, each one on either side of the Anglo-Franco divide, is split between Ottawa and Montreal fans.

The awkwardness of 4 strangers sweating together in a hot, small, dark, wooden room, quickly dissipated as we all participated in a discussion about something that we all cared about.

All immigrants who come to Canada quickly begin to be wrapped up in the passion and love for the game of ice hockey. It's hard not to. It's everywhere, it's the national obsession.

It may be just a game to others, but it is so much more to us. We consider hockey to be quintessentially Canadian. Anyone who has played the game knows:

-Hockey requires an incredible amount of hard work.
-To be sucessful in this sport you CANNOT go at it alone: you must be willing to buy into the team system, and be willing to sacrifice yourself, even if it means that someone else, a teammate, will get all the glory.
-You have to defend each other, often physically but also skillfully.
-Every team REQUIRES a mix of different styles and skills, in order to be successful.

As far as messages and norms to define a culture it doesn't get much better than this.

In a country of people with very little in common other than a desire to live, safely and prosperously, and a willingness to put up with the vast space, harsh climate and collective mentality that must come with it, ice hockey has become the common denominator. The unifier.

And that is a beautiful thing. Enjoy Canada!

Remember

This poem was written by Poppy, a 15-year-old young adult and family friend of mine. It reveals the optimism, hope, aspiration and focus on the positive of the next generation. Something which we should also keep with us on this day:

Remember

Think golden meadows, specked with red jewels
Poppies, dancing softly in a slight, swaying breeze
Places of peace and joy
Places of remembrance

That time of year is here once more.

So as we gather today, think remembrance.
Remembrance for people here and not
And for those who journey
Across vast oceans

But not the distant remembrance of death and wars past
Think of happy summers, laughing, carefree
Kindness and love
That will always be strong.

We’re all gathered now, present together
Even those not here in body watch over in spirit
Feel their presence
Embrace the memories

Say not “Goodbye”, it’s “See you soon”
That bond of love in our hearts and souls
Connects us forever.
So feel the love between us all

The Importance of Remembering....

On the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month on 1918, Germany signed an Armistice formally ending WWI, until that point the most destructive war the world had ever seen.

We continue the ritual of taking a moment of silence at 11 am every Nov 11, to remember all those who died.

Here in England, those who fought are called the "lost generation", because an entire generation of young men was essentially wiped out.

If World War I demonstrated the absolute destructive capability of humankind, to a degree that we had not previously thought possible, then WWII and the subsequent genocides that have followed demonstrate the full extent to which humans have yet to progress.

This is why remembering is so important.

Remembrance day shouldn't be political.

It should be about giving those who sacrifice and those who continue to put themselves in danger, the respect that they deserve.

It should be about remembering all those who have suffered as a result of human conflict.

It should put human faces on the numbers that we see thrown at us everyday.

It should remind all of us how many people have sacrificed so that others could live, continue to see the sunrise, enjoy a moment of laughter, love, and be loved.

I'm thinking about my great-grandfather, who fought in WWI as a pilot. He was a flying ace.
I'm thinking of his son, my grandfather, who joined the Canadian Air Force and also flew in WWII.

I'm thinking of the men and women that I met during my brief time in the Canadian military who deserve respect and support for the countless tasks that have been asked of them.

I'm thinking of their families in small towns and big cities across the vast country, and of families in all countries, who's loved ones are far away, risking their lives for principles that we aspire to uphold.

I'm thinking of families in the Middle East, East Timor, Haiti, Sudan, the DRC and countless other places, where people cannot live, day-to-day without fear.

Until we learn to live and act responsibly, there will always be those who have to suffer on our behalf. Today, we remember, honor, and respect them.

London Week 1

Since the last post I've had the chance to explore both the LSE campus and my own surrounding area a bit.

If this first week is any indication, it's going to be one heck of a year both socially and academically (at least in inspiration, I've yet to see what challenges scholastically, lie ahead).

The first few days were extremely active socially at my residence. There were tons of organized events and everyone here is extremely friendly as we are all from all over the world and in a new place.

I feel as though I belong here

The first day I went to the LSE campus I ran into 4 people that I knew, 2 whom I didn't even know were here. It helps that the campus is small certainly. But every time I am down there I run into different people that I know.

Today, my friend Mark Kersten whom I worked with during the last federal election in Ottawa just arrived (he's doing his MSc in International Relations), so I showed him around campus and helped him get a cellphone.

Afterwards he convinced me to go to one of the many campus pub's for a drink. (After 5 days in a row of non-stop partying I was, momentarily, hesitant). I would not regret it though.

We took our beers and stood on the street (as is common practice here, to drink and stand on the street outside the bar), and my old roommate from my second year at McGill, Zak Banks was walking by from the library, and joined us for a beer.

Then this blonde guy walked by and we both looked at each other in recognition. I asked him where I knew him and he said "I know you, you're Chris MacLean. You're the ex-bf of Maja, you lived in Moscow right?".

So, Hanes, from Stockholm, as I was to find out his name, attended the Anglo-American School of Moscow just after I left, although a couple grades lower. He's here studying Information Technology. This officially completes the circle of people that I know here. I now have seen people from Ottawa, Montreal, Budapest and Moscow (each of the places that I've lived in the last 12 years) here (I certainly wouldn't be surprised if there was someone from Ecuador and someone from Singapore here (although the latter, I likely wounldn't know them)). There are a particularly high number of people from McGill who have come here, and the representation from Canada is much higher than our size and significance on the international scene might warrant.

There are still plenty of people, particularly from Budapest but also from Moscow, that I've yet to be able to see but apparently reunion planning is in the works.

All in all though, I feel as though this is really where I am meant to be. I feel incredibly comfortable, and it is quite amazing how many of us are here.


The area where I live

I've been given an informal tour of my residence during which I took photos, but I haven't as yet had time to put them up. I've mostly just been in my room to sleep, the rest of the time I've been out. Here's a few interesting tidbits I have learned about the area surrounding my residence/college.

-Charles Dicken's lived across the street from where I am currently living.

-Next to my residence lies a large park, called "Coram's Field" which is only for children to us (they don't let you in unless you have young children with you), and also nearby is an orphanage. A long time ago (before Dicken's), a wealthy person (I'm not sure who, perhaps Coram?), dedicated his large plot of land to helping vulnerable children.

-Dicken's wrote the novel "Oliver Twist" while living across the street, and it's probably (although still speculative) that the countless orphaned children he would have seen in this area would have served as inspiration for the novel.

I'll put up photos soon.

Surprises

1) The city of London, as many old cities, is organized in a sort of chaotic, decentralized, ad-hoc way. The streets are never straight and they always change names after a couple km's.

The reason for this is pretty simple, unlike North American cities, London was around way before urban planning even existed as an enterprise. Secondly, this is really just a series of villages and towns that after a while just grew into each other. For example, I actually live in Bloomsbury.

2) Surprisingly enough however, I've found that the institutional organizations also feel as though they are thoroughly decentralized and ad-hoc as well.

a) For example the gym of the LSE (let's face it, athletics aren't really a priority for them), is located above a cafe and accessible only by weaving through a maze of stairwells. To access the men's locker room is equally tricky as it is located on the otherside of the gym down a narrow hallway and then staircase.

They really just put the gym in the most random room that suddenly was available space for them. Needless to say I think I'll be joining the gym below my residence, which has a pool and decent rates for the residents.

b) Opening a bank account here has been outrageously difficult. Each bank branch, even if they are the same bank, requires different documentation in order to open an account. So I have to be very careful about the location of which branch I pick, because I feel that I will need to be able to get to it fairly regularly.

All in all

My first week here has been pretty non-stop. I certainly need to restore some balance (with exercise, rest and a re-focus on academia) to my day-to-day activities but in the big picture I think that will happen.

A blog entry on an alumni lecture by Lord Saatchi that I attended today will go up soon. Until then, may you live strong and properous!

Thoughts and First Impressions of London...

Well, its 2 am and I'm supposed to go on a tour of the Parliament (Or the Palace of Westminister as they call it here) tommorow at 8 am, but after a night of socializing and drinking (Goodenough College had free welcome drinks tonight), and due to my jetlag I'm still awake. So, I figure that sharing my first impressions with all of you is a productive way to spend my way to alert mind right now.

1) First off, I'm extremely happy with my residence. The people here are really nice and welcoming, theres loads of social activities planned for everyone to get to know each other and my room is decently sized and clean and completely satisfactory for me. Today I went to Soho to the Chinatown here (which is unbelievably SMALL?! I was expecting the Chinatown here in LONDON to be decently sized, I would say it's comparable to the one in Montreal), and learned just how centrally located my residence is. It's a 15 minute walk to the LSE, a 5 minute walk to SOAS, a 10 minute walk to Picadilly Circus, and also a 5 minute walk to Oxford Street.
(For Montrealers, it's pretty much like living on Sherbrooke and St.Urbain or something.)

2) Yesterday when I was walking around in a dazed state, I was almost hit by a car because I was instictively looking the wrong way (here you have to look right immediately when crossing the street, and then left). But outside of that, I realized when jaywalking the small, tiny, tiny streets, and looking at the endless lines of cafe's and pubs, that I'm really pretty comfortable here in Europe. There was a familiarity which returned that I haven't felt in a while. And I was surprised by it because I think I had forgotten just how comfortable I was and used to feel in Europe.
I guess that 6 years in Canada doesn't take that away from you.

The other thing I noticed however was that what was so surprising to me, and it shouldn't be, but is just how COSMOPOLITAN London is. The reason this conflicted in my head was because the Europe that I have experienced in my memories was one of a very homogenous, all-white population in Budapest or Moscow. So the presence of such diversity in a European environment threw my familiarity off. In a way however, this is like a perfect merging of my old and the new. North American diversity, in a European setting. :)

3) I still haven't met too many people from the LSE. Just one girl from Sydney studying Development, and then a couple of LSE alumni's. But thats what is so interesting about my residence, I will get to meet people from outside my classes. Tommorow after the tour of the Parliament, (of which I will attempt to post photos), I will try to post my photos on here.

4) I am now the co-President of the Tennis Club for my residence! We will be organizing tournaments, and possibly do some coaching (his idea, not mine). My partner is Micheal, my neighbor, a Phd student from Normandy, France. And I've seen his 5 Babolat rackets, which attest that his tennis skills are far superior to mine, which is good, because as Tennis Club Presidents, one of us has to be half-decent. :)

More updates to come...

Lessons from the Marathon

I meant to write alot of this immediately following the marathon but lethargy and then a climax of activity just prior to my leaving Canada made me more effectively able to procrastinate it.

Having said that, the marathon was definitely one of the top three most difficult things I’ve ever done in my life (the other two being climbing Kilimanjaro (in particular the final ascent) and specific portions of my phase III training (offensive and defensive operations and patrolling). So I will always remember it. At least, until I run another one.

As a side note, my Dad came into town, flew in from New Zealand so he could be with there when I ran my first Marathon and also to see me off to London and this next phase of my life. It was utterly shocking me, I was walking to my aunts house listening to the marathon playlist I had created for myself, to suddenly see him standing 1 metre from me. It was awesome. I felt tremendously grateful for his support, albeit with a little more pressure to do well.

For the first 21.1 km Juan and I cruised at a fairly solid pace, but by km 25 (we had set it up so that there were people cheering us at the 15km, the 26km, the 38km, and the finish point) right where my Dad was supposed to join us (he ran with us from km 26- 38), I really started to crash.

I had expected that I would crash, as all runners do at some point during the race, but I had anticipated that I would have lasted a little longer, and maybe fallen apart a little more gradually.

Around the 23rd km, I started getting goosebumps and feeling chills and generally feeling very cold, a bizarre feeling considering I was running and sweating. This kinda freaked me out. It was only the beginning of my challenges. Here are the lessons I've learned:


Lesson # 4 Start slow

No matter how many times Juan and I discussed the need to start slow, the excitement of the day, the crowd, the presence of the other runners, and our own innate competitive desire (or dislike for letting others pass us) won over and we ran the first 21.1km in 1 hour and 50 minutes, or on pace for about 3 hours and 40 minutes. Slightly faster than we would have liked. And this contributed to my crash at 26 km as opposed to around 33 km which is what I expected based on my training. If you run just 5 seconds per kilometre faster than what you did during your training, it can really hurt much earlier, later on in the race.


Lesson # 3 Nothing can compensate for running, Do more hill training

During the training I substituted soccer matches and several hours of tennis for some of my runs. The hardest thing about training for a marathon is having to limit your exercising and sporty activities to running. I haven’t lifted weights in 6 months, but I wasn’t able or willing to stop playing tennis and soccer this summer, which, given that I also had a full-time job and had mandatory rest days, sometimes made my running hard to manage. I think that substituting sports for runs as much as I did was a mistake as I don’t feel that I logged the kilometres necessary to get an ideal time. Secondly, the hills on the race day route really hurt me as I wasn’t able to get any hill training in since Ottawa doesn’t have any hills. When I started to crash at km 24, the hill on rue Berri (see below) really knocked me down.


Lesson # 2 Sometimes you have to accept your strength levels on a given day

I was sick for 3 weeks prior to the race and I think that this really hurt me during the race. I just didn’t have the endurance I was expecting (based off of how I felt during my 25 and 30 kilometre runs, I expected to crash at around 33 km’s).

It was really hard and really frustrating once I started to crash and slow down, to see that our pace was slipping away. I felt that I was letting Juan (who was feeling stronger than me) and my father (whom I’ve watched compete in triathlons, marathons and Ironmans) whom I desperately wanted to be proud of me, down by my struggles.

This, in addition to my own frustration really contributed to the degree of pain which I was feeling physically.

Sometimes you have to just accept that you aren’t as strong on that day as you might be on others and just enjoy the process of the struggle, and work to finish the race, seeing it as a learning experience, rather than fighting a losing (and ultimately more painful) battle to go for a time that won’t be achievable.

Lesson # 1 Train your mental endurance.

My mental endurance wavered, which was surprising to me (I’m certain that this was part of the problem), as I figured that my military training (5 days without sleep several times) and past athletic and competition experience would help me.

I knew I would be tired and it would be hard, but I think as a whole I underestimated how tough the marathon would be, mentally.

By kilometre 35 (after almost 3.6 hours) I felt unable to focus on pushing my body through the pain I was feeling. My mind started to feel apathetic, and became easily distracted and started to wander. Old memories would flood in, queued by the sight of buildings or places that I had been during my 5 year carouse in Montreal. Trying to stay in the moment is hard enough day-to-day but trying to do it after running 35km, when you are feeling sick to your stomach, and you’re exhausted of being in pain is a whole other story.



Post Marathon



The first three days after the marathon were unbelievably sore and stiff. On Day 3 walking on flat surfaces or uphill was ok, but down the stairs was still pretty torturous.

I did notice though, that whenever I was active, either riding a bicycle to the store or walking the dog, my legs felt much better. They need to move to get the lactic acid moving.

Conclusion

That afternoon, sitting on my aunt's patio with a post-race beer in my hand, Sergey asked me if I would consider running another marathon soon, with him.

Without initially answering, I stood up to make a toast to my family. The timing of my completion of the marathon was perfect, I thought, because it feel right before my 25th birthday and right before leaving Montreal. I told my family that Sergey had asked me if I wanted to run another one, and my response to him that night was, "well, it took me 25 years to run the first one, MAYBE in the next 25 years I'll run another one". :) I then thanked my family for being there, I have never felt the kind of family and friend support that I felt that weekend. Those who were close to me really came through for me and for that I will be eternally grateful and I will carry that with me here on my own in London, as a reminder that back in Canada, there are people who support me and care for me.

Today, as I conclude all these thoughts sitting at the desk of my new room in London, staring through my window overlooking a rich green park with oak benches and a hard court tennis court, I think, I will run a marathon again, and DEFINITELY within the next 25 years.