The “Great” White North: Immigration Trends Problematizing the Canadian Imaginary
Kristy Smith, PhD Candidate
Faculty of Education, York University
Growing up, I remember my mother and grandmother sharing stories with me of my grandparents immigrating to Canada in the 1950s. They were living in Scotland where they were born, and both of them had grown up during the Great Depression and the Second World War. My grandparents had been married for three months, and when they inquired about renting a house, they were told there was a twenty-year waiting list. My grandfather decided that he wanted to leave the country in search of a better life, and asked my grandmother to come with him. She agreed, and they submitted their applications to Canada, the United States, and Australia. Canada was the first country to approve their application, and they set sail for the “Great White North” on a boat — while my grandmother was pregnant with my aunt. My mother shared with me that my grandfather knew his future in Canada was going to be bright when they arrived and took a train to their new home. He was served a glass of milk onboard the train, and the fact that his milk was fresh, not powdered, symbolized great promise in this new country for him. He was able to find work immediately, and jobs were so plentiful that if he didn’t like one, he could find another within the week. My grandparents lived in Ontario for the rest of their lives, and while it became clear that my grandmother missed her friends and parts of the life she had in Glasgow, my grandfather never wanted to go back to Scotland, not even to visit. Both of my grandparents worked and enjoyed a middle class life in the suburbs with two children, a car, and regular trips to Florida. Having been a child during the Great Depression and remembering always being hungry when he was a boy, my grandfather always had a positive outlook on life.
I keep his words in mind when I find myself getting caught up in the daily minutiae of academia, and the stress that a life in the academy brings. “Life is for the living,” he would say.
As I reflect on my family’s history, I am only too aware that my grandparents’ success building a life in Canada reflects a story that is common for many of us. As a country newer than many, all of those who were not the original caretakers of this land are immigrants or the descendants of immigrants. I think there is something unique about Canada; when we’re asked about our backgrounds, we aren’t being asked about our hometown. We’re being asked what countries our families are originally from. In being asked this question, there is a shared understanding — or assumption — that our families came here because Canada had something better to offer than their original homelands. But in 2024, I wonder if that assumption is still true. Based on recent explorations into new immigrants and their lives here, it’s becoming clear that Canada is no longer the country of promise it used to be. While we continue to attract newcomers, Canada is no longer able to retain them the way that our country used to.
A research report published by the Institute for Canadian Citizenship (2023) found that onward migration, defined as immigrants leaving Canada, while consistently increasing since the 1980s, saw a significant surge in 2017 and 2019. Findings revealed that immigrants were more likely to leave within their first 4–7 years in Canada (p. 4). Onward migration is particularly prevalent among younger immigrants between ages 18–34: a 2022 survey indicated that 30% of this demographic are planning to leave Canada within the next two years (p. 5). The research report suggests various reasons for surges in onward migration, and I doubt that these reasons will be a surprise to anyone. Immigrants are experiencing the same challenges that most Canadians are facing right now: inflation, unaffordable housing, lack of infrastructure, and underfunded public services. But they also face the hindrances of credentialism, wherein their academic and professional qualifications and experience aren’t considered equivalent to Canadian standards. When we consider the additional layers of racism, language barriers, xenophobia, and being scapegoated by some Canadians as the reason why their lives are harder than they used to be, it’s no wonder immigrants are leaving Canada for more promising countries.
One interesting element of the current landscape of immigration is how committed Canada is to increasing the population through immigration specifically, even though our infrastructure is lacking. In the foreword of the Institute for Canadian Citizenship report (2023), CEO David Bernhard writes:
While the fairy tale of Canada as a land of opportunity still holds for many newcomers, this study points to burgeoning disillusionment. […] For Canada to prosper, we must make our society as attractive as possible to people from around the world whose skills, perspectives, and contributions make all the difference to our future. (p. 3)
To the research team’s credit, this report does outline recommendations for improving immigrants’ quality of life here, including supporting employers to hire immigrants in alignment with their credentials, investing in infrastructure, and improving settlement services (p. 4). However, the discourse in Bernhard’s statement is interesting in that he frames immigrant retention as a solution to national concerns. His assertion that enabling newcomers’ success benefits everyone seems to be a gentle nudge to Canadians critical of immigration that immigrants are not the problem they may think them to be. While I certainly disagree with the notion that immigrants are responsible for myriad problems that Canadians face, I’m also critical of the notion that we can — or should — look to immigrants to solve our problems for us. We are expecting people to come to Canada, contribute to the economy, and be grateful for the chance to do so, but the current cost of living crisis (Olive, 2024, n.p) shows that we haven’t invested in making this country hospitable to anyone other than the wealthy. I don’t know what the answer is, but it is clear that the Canadian imaginary is just that — imaginary.
While a glass of fresh milk once served as a symbol of prosperity to my grandfather, that same glass of milk is inaccessible to the increasing number of Canadians living below the poverty line. Food Banks Canada (2023) published a study that found the number of Canadians accessing food banks in 2023 increased by 78.5% from 2019. There is something deeply broken in the “Great” White North, and we cannot scapegoat immigrants for the myriad problems our country faces, nor can we expect them to gratefully take on the burden of solving these problems. Authentic solutions require that everyone has a seat at the table to make our country hospitable to those already living here, and folks who will be welcomed here in the future.
References
HungerCount. (2023). HungerCount 2023: When is it enough? Food Banks Canada. https://fbcblobstorage.blob.core.windows.net/wordpress/2023/10/hungercount23-en.pdf
Olive, D. (2024, March 26). Our cost-of-living crisis: In just three years rent and groceries are up nearly 40 percent. But there are solutions. The Toronto Star. https://www.thestar.com/business/opinion/our-cost-of-living-crisis-in-just-three-years-rent-and-groceries-are-up-nearly/article_8ed6a480-e789-11ee-ac88-fbb27d23a241.html#:~:text=Our%20cost%2Dof%2Dliving%20crisis,2024%20at%2010%3A55%20a.m.
The Conference Board of Canada. (2023). The leaky bucket: A study of immigrant retention trends in Canada. Institute for Canadian Citizenship. https://inclusion.ca/wp-content/uploads/2023/10/print_the-leaky-bucket_2023.pdf
