Multicultural societies shatter the moment they prioritize tribal identity over shared duty

In 2022, Dr. Gabor Maté and his son Daniel published The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness and Healing in a Toxic Culture. The book challenges us to examine the habits and values modern society rewards and ask whether they are actually making us healthier. It is a question that applies not only to individuals, but to entire societies.

Multicultural societies are far more fragile than many Canadians want to admit. They survive only when people from different backgrounds trust one another and resist the temptation to retreat into fear and tribalism.

History offers warnings about what happens when multicultural societies fail.

At the start of the Age of Discovery, Europe was consumed by xenophobic and antisemitic fervour. The Spanish Inquisition forced countless Jewish families to flee for their lives. Many found refuge in the Ottoman Empire, including in Aleppo, Syria, one of the great trading and cultural centres of the Middle East, and the city my grandparents came from.

These refugees did not remain outsiders for long. They became merchants, neighbours and citizens. They contributed to the life of the city, and the city prospered with them. To this day, Jewish communities with ties to Aleppo light an extra candle during Hanukkah to express gratitude for the safety and tolerance they received there.

For centuries, the Ottoman Empire managed something that much of the modern world now struggles to achieve: diverse religious communities living together without tearing society apart. My ancestors, with ties to the first Christians, lived alongside Muslim and Jewish neighbours for generations. The Empire was far from perfect, but it understood something many societies now seem to forget: coexistence requires mutual obligation.

Aleppo itself eventually experienced terrible violence, including a massacre of Christians in 1850. My relatives left the city in the early 1900s, shortly before neighbouring Armenian Christians experienced genocide. The social trust that had once allowed different communities to live together began to break down, and the consequences were catastrophic.

That is why I find it troubling to see how often modern public debate is driven by resentment, suspicion and fear. One regularly sees political and cultural movements encouraging people to fear neighbours who think, worship or vote differently from themselves. Increasingly, people are encouraged to see themselves as members of competing tribes rather than citizens of the same country.

My family eventually found refuge and safety in Paterson, New Jersey, where they practiced the family craft of silk weaving. Like the Jewish refugees who came to Aleppo generations earlier, we became part of the broader society around us. We worked, built businesses, raised families and pursued education. Today, most of us hold advanced university degrees, and we are scattered across the continent.

That history left me with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Healthy societies depend on people understanding that freedom, safety and opportunity are not entitlements. They are the result of the sacrifices and contributions of countless others.

Like the Jewish immigrants to Aleppo, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.  Healthy members of a healthy society understand the importance of expressing this sentiment.  As they light an extra candle during Hanukkah, I make a land acknowledgement here in Canada, not out of obligation, but out of gratitude.

Multicultural societies remain healthy only when people choose gratitude over entitlement, contribution over resentment and shared responsibility over division.

My ancestors in Aleppo understood this when they welcomed strangers fleeing persecution. My own family experienced it when we later found refuge and opportunity ourselves.

Today I live in Prince George, B.C., and I do not take for granted the opportunity to live in this part of Canada. The history of places like Aleppo reminds us that societies are strongest when different communities learn to live together, contribute and build trust across generations.

The survival of multicultural societies, however, is not guaranteed. Every generation must choose whether to strengthen it or tear it apart.

Gerry Chidiac specializes in languages and genocide studies and works with at-risk students. He received an award from the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre for excellence in teaching about the Holocaust.