When Canada celebrated its 100th anniversary in 1967, I was thirty-one years old and had just completed my first year of theology at Regis College (the old Regis College, then called the new Regis, on Bayview Avenue). That was the summer of Expo 67.
In 1958, just before entering the Jesuit Novitiate in Guelph, I had spent part of the summer in Brussels with my aunt Nelly, and I made several visits to Expo 58—at least one of them in the company of Mary-Kay Wilmers, who has since gone on to greater things as Editor of the London Review of Books.
Expo 58 was the first World’s Fair since the end of World War II, and it was there that the USSR’s Sputnik (Russian for satellite) was exhibited (or rather a facsimile of it, since the original had lost power after less than a month in space and burned up in the atmosphere). This was the first man-made satellite to orbit the Earth. Launched in 1957, it inaugurated the space age and also the space race: the race to put a man on the moon.
I thus felt that I had something with which to compare Expo 67. Though my earlier experience was wonderful, I thought that Canada’s Exposition outdid Expo 58 in a number of ways, and not just in the number of participating nations (62) or the number of visitors (over 559,000 on its third day alone). There was an amazing atmosphere of joyful enthusiasm among the crowds who came from near and far—an atmosphere, however, that would shortly be dispelled when Quebec’s separatist movement turned violent in October of 1970, shattering the peace that had been so palpable at Montreal’s Expo.
Enthusiasm for the project was not high in Canada (we are a humble people, we had been told, and we seemed to want to stay that way). It was largely the energy and vision of Montreal’s mayor, Jean Drapeau, who made it happen. Transportation was a key element, and so Montreal constructed a subway, its Metro, boring through the granite on which the city is built, using the excavated rock to enlarge St. Helen’s Island in the St. Lawrence River, across from Montreal, and so create a suitable site for the World’s Fair.
Getting there was half the fun, as we rode the quiet subway trains rolling on rubber tires, and admired the unique architectural beauty of each new station that we passed through. We also marvelled at Habitat, designed by Israeli/Canadian architect Moshe Safdie, which still stands as a landmark as well as an upscale dwelling place.
The most outstanding pavilion was the USA’s, with its giant geodesic dome designed by Buckminster Fuller. France and Britain also had splendid monuments, and so did Czechoslovakia, but as well there were memorable exhibits by the National film Board of Canada at the Canadian pavilion, involving multiple projections on a single screen, and of course the Royal Canadian Mounted Police with its musical ride projected on a diorama.
I spent the whole of June in Montreal that shimmering summer, living with my family (Loyola had no rooms available), and visiting Expo almost every day, and every day discovering something new. While the city could be justly proud of its achievement, it was one that the entire country felt part of, and that the participating nations could also take pride in. It gave us a glimpse of what humanity could achieve, not in cut-throat competition but through glad co-operation.
Where does this leave us fifty years later? We can’t simply repeat the past, but what we can do is celebrate the present. One of the things we can celebrate is a new and growing understanding of the place of First Nations People in Canada.
Expo 67 had a pavilion styled, “The Native Indians of Canada,” an impermanent structure representing a teepee, which was later demolished. It showcased indigenous art and artists, and it shocked visitors with wall placards stating, among other things, “You have stolen our native land, our culture, our soul.”
The federal government had not approved the pavilion, and it opened before any official had a chance to force changes. The Queen visited it but left hurriedly when she realized where the exhibits were leading. Ironically, Canada received accolades from around the world for this pavilion: it marked a new attempt by First Nations People to be heard.
The very name, “First Nations,” is significant. Canada (itself an indigenous name) has moved from being “discovered” by the French, to being conquered by the British; from being a British colony, to being a Dominion, to being a nation with two founding cultures.
Now, at last, we acknowledge the First Nations, who were here thousands of years before being discovered by Basque fishermen or Vikings or any other Europeans. Like all indigenous peoples everywhere, they carry a wisdom acquired from living in harmony with the Earth, with its woods and waters and its many diverse creatures. We are still far from being reconciled with the Earth and with Canada’s indigenous people, but at least we are now willing to learn and open to listening.