“Canada is free and freedom is its nationality”
(Canadian Prime Minister Wilfrid Laurier, in office 1896 - 1911)
I was 12 years old in 1965, when my parents were able to secure exit visas and a handful of dollars for a visit of Israel, where all my mother’s family had been living since 1948. Mother had already visited Israel once, in 1963. Father and I stayed behind as quasi hostages to make sure mom returned to our socialist workers’ paradise. Because she did indeed return and did not try any tricks to get her family out of the country, she greatly improved her “cadre standing”. A “cadre standing” (loose translation) was what we would call “social credit” today. Each workplace had a “cadre department” - the equivalent of today’s “human resources”, whose sole function was to monitor all employees and their adherence to good communist practices. They also kept on file any trip abroad and - in many cases - names of individuals in one’s social circle. With my mother’s cadre standing now in good shape, the powers-that-be decided that it was safe to grant all of us exit permits to visit our Israeli family. Our trip would take us first to Vienna by overnight train (today it’s a 4 hour train ride), then, again by train, to Athens, Greece (two nights and a day on the train) and finally a three day sail to Haifa, Israel.
I have a detailed chapter about the trip in my memoir, which I’m hoping to complete within a year, but for now, I would like to paint a quick picture of our arrival in Vienna. The border crossing took two hours, with Czechoslovak border guards and customs officers with German shepherds and Kalashnikov rifles combed through each and every compartment and inspected every conceivable piece of documentation. When the train started moving again, it passed through a two kilometer long corridor with a 12 foot tall barbed wire fence on each side. Once out of the corridor, we gathered speed and Austrian customs officials breezed through the train with a jaunty “Guten Tag, willkommen in Österreich”. No dogs, no guns, and only a very perfunctory glance at our passport. Any impartial passenger would have thought - “what on earth are those Czechoslovaks guarding so strictly?”
Vienna was fabulous! The train station was spotless. There were escalators everywhere - a thing not seen in Prague until a decade later. The shops were brimming with colorful merchandise, none of which we could afford. Dad did have enough money to buy us hot dogs and fresh crusty rolls that tasted delicious to me. We had to change train stations to get to our Athens-bound train. We took a streetcar to get there. I was fascinated by the various posters and advertising billboards plastered on every surface of the tram. I felt I was drowning in the colors and the joyful hubbub that surrounded everything. The people looked neater, as did the parks we passed, and the broad, marvelously landscaped avenues. My parents were usually circumspect when it came to talking politics in front of me but at the age of 12, they figured I was old enough to absorb the heresy my father was about to speak: “Look around you, son. See the colors, the selection of goods, the way that people dress and, above all, their smiles and high spirits? That is capitalism, that is freedom, my son! Freedom! Your mother and I tasted it after the war for a few years, though never quite like this. I’m going to tell you something now but you must swear not to talk about it to anybody at school. In May of 1945, General Patton’s Army stood about 100 kilometers west of Prague, ready to move in and liberate the city from the last remaining Wehrmacht units. Through machinations that may never be fully revealed, it was decided that Prague was to be liberated by the Red Army. Patton was forced to change direction. Why am I telling you this? Because that one hundred kilometers now accounts for the difference between our city, Prague, the city we all love, and this fantastic, city here, buzzing with life, Vienna, which the Soviets were forced to relinquish.”
We continued on to Athens and then to Haifa and a month later traveled back to Czechoslovakia. I remember nothing of the return trip because I was struck with a nasty bout of influenza and spent the five days on the boat and train in sweaty feverish nightmares brought on by high fever. I was well enough on the last leg from Vienna to Prague and remember the entry back into our “socialist paradise” being even longer and more arduous than the exit. I loved being back in my hometown, despite its grottiness and lack of color, its buildings covered in pealing plaster or draped in tarps to be painted. It did not matter to me. Home was home, though I believe my parents were substantially less enthused.
But that short speech my dad gave me on the Vienna streetcar - that I have never forgotten. Without freedom, we are nothing but unwilling actors in a play someone else has scripted for us. Sometimes we are allowed a bit of room to improvise, but on the whole, we must stick to the script. These past two years, our freedoms have been steadily eroded, in some states and countries outright stolen. But because people brought up in freedom do not know what oppression is, the slow oozing away of our liberties goes unnoticed. “It’s just a mask” “It’s just a sign on the floor” “We’re all in it together”. Most people may not be noticing but I most certainly have. And this time there is no General Patton sixty miles away, with a huge army ready and willing to restore freedom.
In Canada, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, that indefatigable champion of human right, that kneeler to BLM grievances, that bootlicker of President Xi and lover of all things CCP, now considers “freedom” to be some kind of an alt right slogan. It’s an empty phrase to him. It means nothing at all. Only minorities can be oppressed. Only gay people can be oppressed. Only women can be oppressed. Only people of color can be oppressed. Only immigrants can be oppressed (though not if they’re from Scotland or France) We must fight to end their oppression, says Prime Minister Just In. When truckers and farmers and factory workers and supermarket cashiers and nurses - you know, the people that kept the country going when you, Sir, shut everything down - when THOSE people want freedom…that’s not freedom. It’s “homophobia” and “racism”. And that beautiful Canadian red Maple Leaf, surely one of the most gorgeous flags, is no longer permitted by the overlords to be a symbol of unity and pride. Because the words “unity, pride, patriotism and freedom” will soon be banned from polite company. Working class people, see, they don’t deserve freedom. They can *buy* pieces of their freedom back from Just In - but only if they follow all the rules. Trudeau is clearly a man-child, a low IQ individual more concerned with his hairdo than the lives of his serfs. But he is ignoring the serfs at his own peril, as every history book will tell you.
Not only does Canada have one of the most beautiful flags, it also has one of the most stirring anthems. I am now a proud US citizen and resident of the Free State of Florida but let me tell you, when I hear the Canadian national anthem being sung with that most stirring of stanzas “God keep our land - glorious and free - Oh, Canada - we stand on guard for thee”, I get misty-eyed every time. Glorious and free, people. Remember: freedom is glorious and the greatest glory is freedom. Without freedom we are puppets. Even concentration camps inmates sometimes ran into the electrified wire and a hail of bullets: yes, they died, but it was a death of their own choosing and therefore they died free!
Is it unfitting to say I enjoyed that essay?
Is that even the right word to explain being lost in the story, knowing the emotions you describe, drawing conclusion you drew? Thank you, anyway for writing it. I get more than enjoyment from it, I get encouragement, tho' I'm also tempted to anger or despair. Well done.
Thank you again Mr. Grosman. These insights are so valuable.