Marco Navarro-Genie is vice president of research at the Frontier Centre for Public PolicyIn an era when hyperbolic progressives declare an “existential crisis” every other sunrise, usually blaming America, its politics and culture, it was oddly refreshing — indeed, rebellious — to sit among thousands of Albertans celebrating that quintessential American musical legacy: The Beach Boys.This was no mere concert. It was a counter-cultural moment — an act of cheerful defiance.Calgary’s Canada Olympic Park, typically draped in maple leaves and frost, played host to the sun-soaked sound of California. There we were, in the heart of southern Alberta, bopping our heads to tales of bikini girls, surf waves, and T-Birds. The irony wasn’t lost: in the age of anxiety, a band that sings of surfboards and suntans offered a balm. .The Beach Boys don’t just sing about America; they sound like America — they are America, at least the one that built highways and dreamed of space travel (not the one the Biden-Harris crowd dragged into apologizing for its own existence.) Their lyrics aren’t political, yet their mere existence today feels political. Because what they represent — joy, America’s dreams, female beauty, and fun— has become, for some, unforgivable sins..Inside the venue, though, none of that angst could penetrate. Boomers and some of their children turned out in droves, unsurprisingly — the same demographic, we’re told, that polls most favourably for the Canadian ruling party, which currently leads the anti-American virtue parade. And yet, when the big screen flashed a stylized Star-Spangled Banner, no one booed. Not a soul. They stood, swayed, and sang along. So many elderly couples clutched each other and gently swayed to “God Only Knows.”It was not a protest. It was a memory. A tribute. An embrace.It all stood in stark contrast to the philistinism we’ve grown used to. Remember the moral panic of 2022? Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, Dostoevsky and Gogol were exiled from university campuses and concert halls — all to feign righteousness in opposing Russia. Canceling centuries of culture with the thumbing of a hashtag. Because nothing says irony and “nuanced foreign policy” like banning that famous vegetarian, Leon Tolstoy, in full exercise of a Leninist disposition..The nonsense wasn’t limited to the far reaches of academe. News outlets demanded cultural bans. Symphony directors scrambled to remove “problematic” composers. It was a performance of virtue by people who wouldn’t recognize War and Peace if it hit them in the nose. And now, the same intellectual amateurs want to repeat the act with American culture, …because they hate Trump.As if loving Kokomo is a betrayal of Canadian dairy farmers. As if dancing to Fun, Fun, Fun puts you on Tesla’s payroll.The calls to boycott American products, denounce American vacations, and “buy Canadian” are endless.Are we now to pretend Florida oranges will be replaced by oranges grown in Flin Flon? It’s unserious.And yet, there they are: Trudeau, Carney, Ford, Singh, Eby and Nenshi (to name only a few,) feeding this adolescent narrative, all the while America continues to dance, dream, and yes — listen to Blue Rodeo, Paul Anka, The Band, and Michael Bublé, often oblivious to silly Canadian scorn. Most Americans are unlikely to know who Carolyn Parrish is and thank God for that. Lest they discover she once openly declared, “I hate those bastards” when referring to Americans, while she now offers understanding nods toward Hamas.And here lies the apex of hypocrisy. The same crowd that preaches tolerance for everyone and everything can’t muster a shred of grace for the nation that gave them jazz, baseball, blue jeans, the Mustang, and the Moon landing. Their idea of diplomacy? “Hate the Yankees, but make sure to tweet it on your iPhone.”Premier Danielle Smith, meanwhile, is condemned for the sin of meeting with American governors and businesses, as if promoting trade and investment were an act of betrayal. The Laurentian media class goes berserk, issuing lectures about sovereignty and independence, which is rich coming from people who think grocery stores should be publicly regulated. The message is clear: talk to tyrants, but not to Texans.Albertans, thankfully, don’t share the pathological Laurentian revulsion toward America. Non-progressive Albertans understand that America’s flaws don’t erase its virtues. We know the difference between cultural appreciation and ideological subservience. And we know that Alberta has more in common with Montana than with Ottawa. And we thank the Lord for that one, too!Meanwhile, at the concert, reality reigned. It was all “Good Vibrations.”No hatred. No self-flagellation. No hint of bitterness. Just good music and good company. Mike Love may be older, and the harmonies a bit more digitally supported, but the spirit remains unbroken. “Barbara Ann” brought the house down. “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” became a hymn. “Help Me, Rhonda” got hands in the air. And “Fun, Fun, Fun” reminded everyone why the Beach Boys still matter: because joy, unlike ideology, doesn’t age.St. Augustine warned us long ago that hatred is the poison people drink, hoping the object of their hatred will die. Hate always does far more damage to the hater than the hated. It is a vain self-indulgence. .Much more unites Canadians and Americans than divides us. That truth may be inconvenient for progressive politicians profiting off division, but it’s a truth, nonetheless. No amount of fearmongering can extinguish the affection people feel for the simple things that make life beautiful — surf, sun, song, and, yes, love and friendship, which transcend borders.So, here’s to the Wilson clan, to the harmonies that still echo across six decades, and to the memories created in Calgary on a chilly March night. Long after the division-peddlers have faded into irrelevance, the music — and the people it brought together — will remain.And that’s part of the quiet power of it all. The Beach Boys also gave us songs like In My Room — a reflection of someone stepping back from the noise, not joining it. That, too, was a mild form of resistance. And, in a time when cultural gatekeepers seem eager to tell us what’s acceptable to enjoy, showing up to celebrate something joyful, American, and uncynical felt like a very Alberta kind of refusal to conform.Marco Navarro-Genie is vice president of research at the Frontier Centre for Public Policy. With Barry Cooper he is co-author of Canada’s COVID: The Story of a Pandemic Moral Panic (2023.)
