Consider the pattern in Britain. Following World War II, the United Kingdom granted “unlimited right of entry” to former colonial subjects. Its Nationality Act allowed over 300,000 West Indians to enter Britain between 1948 and 1962, with similarly large numbers coming from India and Pakistan. While the policy was generally assimilationist, visible inequality and violent outbreaks in “coloured communities” fed concerns that the complexion of British society was changing too rapidly. This led to the passage of the Commonwealth Immigrants Act in 1962, which severely restricted the flow of new arrivals from former British colonies. But numerous ethnic communities had already put down roots, expanded, and, as the years went by, attempted to establish themselves in British society. In 1981, riots in the Brixton area of south London (followed by more racebased riots in Birmingham and other English cities) contributed to more restrictive immigration.

Clearly, the integration of visible minority groups was posing special challenges, but Britain remained reliant on immigrant labour and could not simply close the doors. In the early 1990s, it addressed the issue by shifting toward Canadian-style multiculturalism, and by promoting the virtues of ethnic identity and diversity to mainstream society. More and more, mosques, temples, and other icons of ethnicity began sprouting up in British cities as visible minorities were encouraged to retain their customs and traditions. Grumblings about ethnic neighbourhoods continued but, as international markets soared and people spoke openly of the advantages of a new cosmopolitanism, criticism was muted — until last summer. Since the London bombings, British politicians across party lines have suggested that the traditional explanations for unrest and violence — poverty, inequality, etc. — cannot explain the suicidal rage of the bombers. Many argue that, within the context of a wholesale re-evaluation of citizenship and loyalty to state, the answer must lie in the very policies designed to encourage multiculturalism and celebrate diversity.

But the French situation undermines this interpretation. France has remained staunchly assimilationist. While it has opened its doors to immigrants (and former colonials) from North Africa and the Middle East — again, largely in response to shortages of unskilled labour — the emphasis on speaking French has been resolute, and little truck has been given to the construction of ethnic shrines or the wearing of foreign cultural iconography. Often criticized for being rigidly chauvinistic, France nonetheless established a relatively firm contract with new arrivals and refused to accept notions of hyphenated citizenship. One would therefore expect that if outbreaks of violence did occur, they would not be so clearly rooted in ethnicity. And yet France — like Germany, Holland, and other European countries — is now riven by colour-line politics, and the engrained sense of alienation among ethnic groups is profound.

In England and France, it appears that the recent violence is rooted in second-generation visible-minority groups with little fealty to their adopted state (and in Australia, in what immigration policy is doing to the nation). And there is growing concern that a similar sense of alienation is developing among the same class of people in Canada.

From the beginning, and for generations, immigration to this country was based on our most fundamental need — to populate and settle the unwieldy geographic mass that was to become Canada. The nation was not born of a revolution or forced to recreate itself after an empire’s passing. Rather, it was perceived as a blank slate where, owing to a harsh climate and endless land, nation-building itself became the founding mythology. Formed after the US Civil War, or the “war between the states,” Canada was organized around weak provinces and a strong federal government — a source of benevolence at the centre that would knit the regions together through massive projects such as the national railway. Immigration was one of Ottawa’s chief responsibilities; its policies were openly integrationist and designed for those eager to assume Canada’s monumental challenge. So, early in the twentieth century, Wilfrid Laurier’s Liberal government set out to populate vast territories by importing “men in sheepskin coats.” Ukrainians, Norwegians, Germans, and other almost exclusively European immigrants responded to the call and began descending on Canada’s ports, eager for the long trek to the West. This flood reached its peak in 1913, when 400,810 immigrants — the equivalent of 1.5 million today — arrived on our shores.

Growth through immigration continued until the combined impact of the Depression, racism, and World War II caused Canada to effectively shut its doors to outsiders. But, as was the case with Britain, the war had depleted our store of labour. With millions across Europe seeking safe haven from poverty and starvation, and Can- ada overdue to restart its nation-building project, by the mid-1940s the immigration taps were turned on once again. Bolstered by its reputation as a liberator, Canada attracted Italians, Portuguese, Greeks, and other Europeans to its flourishing urban centres. As is reflected in the 1952 Immigration Act, entry into Canada was deemed a privilege and individuals could be barred based on ethnic affiliation. Immigration was now clearly controlled through country- of-origin quotas, which actively restricted non-white immigrants and implicitly validated the notion that nation-building requires assimilation. While still diverse, Canada grew as a white, European, and Christian nation of immigrants grateful for the opportunity to start over in a new land. And, most crucially, the federal government retained its role as central provider, thereby encouraging immigrants to develop a strong sense of civic nationalism.

By 1961, 97 percent of all immigrants came from Europe, but Canada’s openly assimilationist approach began to shift in 1967, when country-of-origin quotas were replaced by a more meritocratic points system. The impetus for this change came from many quarters, including Prime Minister John Diefenbaker’s early 1960s criticism of South Africa’s apartheid regime, Lester Pearson’s peacekeeping initiatives, and Canada’s increasing involvement in the Commonwealth. Within a few short years, the impact was dramatic. West Indian immigration to Canada, for instance, ballooned from 46,000 and 3 percent of the total (many of whom were white) in the 1960s to nearly 160,000 and 11 percent in the 1970s (almost all of whom were black). But, despite its growing diversity, to a large extent Canadian-style multiculturalism emerged less out of a sense of global citizenship than from a need to deal with a pressing domestic issue: Quebec.

Alarmed at the rise of nationalist sentiment during Quebec’s Quiet Revolution, in 1963 the federal government launched the Royal Commission on Bilingualism and Biculturalism. Its thinly veiled objective was to dissipate Quebecers’ sense of being a conquered nation and replace the notion of “English Canada” with a bold new pact between two founding peoples. Canada would be defined by two languages and two cultures, co-existing within a federalist framework. This approach might have tempered the flames of separatism had the process not been hijacked by swelling numbers of non- British and non-French immigrants, who failed to see themselves reflected in the new vision. As Will Kymlicka wrote in 2004, “[New Canadians] worried that government funds and civil service positions would be parcelled out between British and French, leaving [white] immmigrant/ethnic groups on the margins.”

Confronted by an organized ethnic lobby, the government changed the terms of reference of the commission and, in the end, declared that Canada would be a multicultural society within a bilingual framework. The commission promoted the view that immigrant groups would overcome the obstacles posed by a new home and, over time, integrate, just as they had always done. Indeed, the entire genesis of the 1971 official Multiculturalism Policy suggests some ambivalence or confusion about embarking on a new national concept and a certain naïveté in the assumption that settlement would proceed largely as it had historically.

Our Centennial celebration, Expo 67, drew the world’s attention to Canada, a progressive, modern state that promised universal health care, low university tuition fees, and jobs. This, combined with suggestions of a cultural mosaic, attracted large numbers of immigrants throughout the 1970s. The recession of the early 1980s stemmed the tide, but the notion of Canada as a cosmopolitan, caring, and multicultural society became even more concrete in 1988, when Brian Mulroney’s Conservative government passed the Canadian Multiculturalism Act. Aggressive immigration targets and multiculturalism gained non-partisan support and became politically unassailable.