The New Barbarians and light of the future

Some weeks are just richer than others, in experience and revelation. My week started Friday when I turned on early morning CBC to find that whatever had been at work in the relationship of its hosts had been set aside in the interests of the quality of the show.

Alas, the promise of the weekend, one I had been anticipating for weeks, was tarnished early by the apparent insistence of farmers on old Acadian dykeland that any celebration in Wolfville that draws the attention of the country to what’s good here be met with a healthy dose of manure. If this is what the right to farm means, count me out.

To make matters worse, later I had a chance to glimpse the lives of some of the New Barbarians, those young men from wealthy and caring families who are now living in Wolfville and insist on acting out their sense of self-importance with “in your face” challenges to the rights, dignity and community of others.

In case you don’t know them, the New Barbarians draw their courage and their sense of justice from what to them passes as brotherhood and from lots of drink; they seemingly have very little respect for women, except for those who take Britney Spears as their model, and they aren’t slow to expose their low regard of others.

They appear keen on their own bodies and some of them have an unusual desire to display what they take to be their most important parts publicly. They seem to favour sports that have none of the subtly of baseball, the finesse of hockey or the style and discipline of football, and some appear to enjoy the support of brewers. (I have the old-fashioned idea that brewers wouldn’t wish to be associated with binge drinking).

These guys are often bright, but many take their anti-intellectualism as a matter of identity and for what passes as their honour. They’re housed typically in the conditions offered by absentee landlords, who can cash their cheques without seeing the havoc they create in the lives of others.

Thankfully some of them, and the women who follow them, get sorted out and underneath the culture they choose to wear are potentially fine grown-up men and women. But unlike those troubled young people in the streets of our cities, some of the New Barbarians end up in major roles in our society, with only, one imagines, a thin layer of civility and an empty kind of charm as cover.

Thankfully, my spirit was recovered by the Deep Roots Music Festival. I’m astounded at how Lisa Hammett Vaughn and the remarkable community of other volunteers do it, but again this year’s event was spellbinding and transcendental.

It revealed young talent, some of whom restore our faith in the capacity of men to act well. And it featured a very strong singer/songwriter, Mary Gautier, a true angel, whose suffering and passion for the truth makes some professors of faith appear as grey corporate suits. The festival crossed generations in a way that only virtue and virtuosity can. It showed some of the best of Acadia, Wolfville and the broader Valley, refreshing us when so much is discouraging.

One of the more poignant moments of the weekend was the appearance at the Farmers’ Market — where there were probably more pacifists than there are progressive conservatives who find pleasure in the company of Steven Harper — of Peter Mackay. For many in attendance, Peter is the Minister of War and his appearance there with his mom - one of our many fine local peace advocates - carried more irony than anything short of a novel could capture.

I also read through an issue of a new journal from Bridgetown, the Nova Scotia Policy Review, a promising effort from Rachel Brighton, graced by the skill of Gaspereau Press.

Monday saw the election of a New Democrat in Quebec. The victory would’ve been sweeter had the victor not been a Liberal a few months ago, and were it not for the fact that his election makes more likely a Conservative majority down the road. (Apparently one of the people happiest with the NDP’s victory is Tom Flanagan, the mind behind the new Conservative Party). But hats off to Jack Layton anyway!

Quite a week and Monday was only day four.