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A Tribunal Born of Fear and Hope

How a Canadian judge forced Slobodan Milosevic to face his accusers

The Grey Plateau

When the world stopped five years ago

Survey Says

Nationalism in so many words

Catherine Khordoc

Les mots de la nation: États-Unis, France, Angleterre, Écosse, Canada, Québec

Jocelyn Létourneau with Raphaël Gani

Presses de l’Université de Montréal

192 pages, softcover and ebook

Nationalism is having a moment — at least in Canada. As I write this from my home in Ottawa, a reinvigorated pride in this country is palpable. People who were not feeling especially celebratory in recent years are eager to make it clear that we are a sovereign, independent country. There’s no talk of a fifty-first state in these parts, unless it is to mock the mere thought of it. In Vancouver, where I was travelling recently, people seemed unusually enthusiastic about Canada and were asking, “What’s it like to live in Mark Carney’s Ottawa?” A special issue of Maclean’s is themed “The New Nationalism: Portrait of Canada at Its Crossroads” and features articles on how we can and must resist American encroachment on our territory, resources, politics, and culture. Similarly, The Conversation has been publishing articles on how our symbols of nationalism are evolving, including Canadian flags, the sales of which have “skyrocketed.” Indeed, as Norman Hillmer has put it in these pages, Canadian nationalism is seeing an “explosion.”

This wave of heightened nationalism makes it a particularly good time to read Les mots de la nation (The words of the nation), which the historian Jocelyn Létourneau has written with the help of his Université Laval colleague Raphaël Gani. Létourneau’s research is based on surveys conducted in the United States, France, England, Scotland, Canada, and Quebec in the fall of 2011. Adult respondents were asked to summarize, in a few phrases, the history of their nation up to the present day. Létourneau analyzes the significant words that were used frequently for each country, then discusses them using a comparative approach. The many lists, tables, and word clouds throughout this book identify the number of distinct terms in the survey responses, those mentioned at least nine times, the proportion of respondents using the most common lingo, and so on.

It may not sound rigorous, let alone gripping, to write about the expressions that come to mind when individuals in various places are asked to talk about their history. It is, however, quite fascinating to consider and reflect on the words that are mentioned by “ordinary people,” as Létourneau calls them. Two of the middle chapters are particularly thought-provoking. In them, Létourneau identifies and discusses some of the words common to all six nations, as well as those that seem more specific to one or another. For example, “war,” “great,” “fighting,” “world,” “freedom,” and “religion” were mentioned by a large number of people regardless of country. This suggests that national pride continues to exist, even if respondents were also critical, illustrated through words such as “decline,” “crisis,” and “weakening.” The chapter on the “lexical differences,” the longest in this relatively short book, is also compelling. This is where Létourneau’s expertise and knowledge of historical contexts shine light on the data. In some cases, the same word appears in different survey results, but an understanding of relative context allows it to be interpreted in very nuanced ways.

Illustration by Matthew Daley for Catherine Khordoc October 2025 review of “Les mots de la nation” by Jocelyn Létourneau, with Raphaël Gani.

Certain phrases come to mind.

Matthew Daley

Consider “freedom,” which is, perhaps not surprisingly, most often seen in the U.S. results and laden with significance, given the libertarian views held by so many Americans. In contrast, “freedom” is far from the top in the French data — landing in the thirteenth position — despite the national motto of “Liberté, égalité, fraternité.” Perhaps confirming the stereotype of France as a nation of complainers, among the common terms are “war,” “misfortune,” and “decline,” leading Létourneau to cite a 2016 study by Marcel Gauchet about the French being the “champions of pessimism and disgruntlement.”

Words related to colonialism and imperialism also come up, particularly among English and Scottish respondents. In England, such terminology suggests that there is both a sense of nostalgia for and condemnation of the former empire. Létourneau sees support here for one of his hypotheses: that vocabulary that characterizes a nation does not erase diverse and opposing ideological positions.

Létourneau’s analysis of Canadian data excludes Quebec, which he discusses separately. Language most commonly used to describe Canada’s history appears to emphasize agreement and harmony, with “peaceful,” “welcoming,” “together,” and “compromise” being high on the list, alongside terms pertaining to diversity. Those relating to First Nations and to French are also statistically significant. In Quebec, the most frequently mentioned word is “Canada,” which, as Létourneau explains, is not surprising, given the province’s status within Confederation and how its history is inextricably intertwined with Canada’s, regardless of one’s views on sovereignty. “Victims” is also up there.

Les mots de la nation is both enjoyable and stimulating, though a few thoughts did niggle at me as I pondered whether the way various terms were grouped and analyzed may have served to confirm preconceived notions about a nation, rather than, as Létourneau suggests, serving to define it. Put another way, can words give shape to what the political scientist Benedict Anderson called “imagined communities”?

Létourneau also provides a somewhat limited discussion on the demographics of respondents, justifying his approach in part by stating that some words are used so commonly that they define a nation across ages, genders, and incomes, even if there are subtle variations in meaning. It is nonetheless surprising that “slavery” does not rank very high on the American list, and “racism” doesn’t appear at all. Létourneau concedes that there were far more white than non-white respondents, and it is difficult to accept that this imbalance has not influenced the words that define the United States according to this methodology. Furthermore, we do not know if Canadian respondents included francophones, if anglophones were in the Quebec data, or, for that matter, if the respondents were all citizens or permanent residents. Finally, the surveys were conducted fourteen years ago. Would the results have differed if they’d been conducted five years ago, to say nothing of earlier this year? The question is particularly relevant given the changes in the world in recent months, but even at a more general level, some deeper reflections on how the very notion of nationhood changes over time would have helped to contextualize the stakes involved.

Catherine Khordoc teaches Québécois literature at Carleton University. Her translation of Mélikah Abdelmoumen’s Baldwin, Styron, and Me was a finalist for the 2025 Governor General’s Literary Awards.

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