Yes, it is that deep: the Canadian International Air Show does not celebrate Canadian pride—it brazenly glorifies violence and the military industrial complex 
Amidst U.S-Canada tensions, global war profiteering, and Toronto’s diversity, it’s worth asking whose pride the Air Show supposedly celebrates.

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Now in its 77th year, the Canadian International Air Show takes over the Toronto Harbourfront. What does the pushback against the Air Show reveal about how we should celebrate Canada?

Each year, to mark the end of the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE)—as well as the bittersweet dimming of Toronto summers—the Canadian International Air show hits our skies in a loud, honestly unremarkable, and increasingly insensitive performance of military planes and jets soaring up above. I would have almost forgotten about this year’s Air Show if it wasn’t for the fact that I happened to have been at Trinity Bellwoods Park on the mild afternoon of September 5th. 

My conversation with a friend was suddenly interrupted by the most screeching, metallic whistle of jets flying overhead, as they swerved and snaked through the clouds to make formations with the aircrafts’ exhausts. Anticlimactically and in poor taste—as so often is our displays of national pride—the Air Show was aeroplane acrobatics.

But it was also more than that. According to the Air Show’s website, the annual aviation performance is dedicated to “educating future generations on the exciting opportunities within the aerospace industry which are inclusive for all.” Perhaps there is a distinct place and time to celebrate the vintage and modern technological hunk of metal and machine that is an aeroplane or jet, but I seriously question the appropriateness of this Air Show—especially in all its spectacle and loudness—in an urban metropolis like Toronto, where many of the City’s residents are individuals and families who have fled violence and military aggression abroad; who have come from countries pillaged by Western military aggression in the form of wars, proxy wars, occupations, land thefts, and genocides. 

Toronto already has a huge foreign-born and immigrant population—which is part of what makes the city I called home for nearly 15 years so diverse and dynamic. On top of that, refugees and asylum seekers make up roughly 15 percent of those who have been admitted under the humanitarian category. While we don’t know the specific stories of all those who make up that 15 percent, I believe that the insistence behind the Air Show each year is jarringly tone deaf and insensitive to how loud noises and the supposedly innocent acrobatics of military jets—which bear an uncanny acoustic and visual resemblance to aerial war weaponry—can potentially retraumatize those in Toronto who have painful and unimaginable memories of bombs, drone strikes, and other military violence.

But this consensus is not original or new. Several advocacy groups, journalists, and everyday people have spoken up about the disruption the Air Show so brazenly takes pride in. Our communities are concerned about how the spectacle can harm sensitive populations, including babies, small children, the elderly, and increasingly, those with traumatic experiences of military aggression. It also doesn’t help that these fucking planes come out of nowhere, with little to no warning. 

In 2023, Toronto’s mayor Olivia Chow wrote to the Air Show’s organizers, commenting that: “Millions of Torontonians chose to take root in this City as a place of hope. A place of refuge. For many residents, the tremendous noise generated by high-powered jets flying overhead brings back unwanted memories of the violence and war they fled to call Toronto home.” To add another layer of painful irony, many of those who fled from overseas did so in order to spare themselves violence and death from wars that countries like Canada (and the U.S.) have played a significant role in either initiating, arming, funding, or profiting from. Or all four. Likely all four. 

These criticisms have been communicated to the organizers behind the Air Show, and the replies have been… well, ironically, tone deaf. As writer Sadaf Ahsan reports in YahooNews, when asked about the criticism, manager of public affairs Colleen McCourt said that “while we sympathize with the sensitivity that some members of the public might feel, our goal has always been to inspire the public to follow their dreams and have an appreciation for the field of aerospace for generations to come.” 

I find this response obviously problematic, not only because it attempts to whitewash and sanitize the violent role that military aircraft plays in facilitating war and Western aggression, but because McCourt’s statement is also the equivalent of a white guy who shrugs his shoulders and says “but it’s not that deep!” when the valid concern at hand doesn’t affect him. 

While additional criticism has been raised regarding the carbon footprint of these acrobatics, I believe that we need to talk more about what the growing shift in attitude towards the Air Show represents for how Canadians — especially millennials and Gen Z—are choosing to express their national pride (or maybe, lack thereof?). In recent years, and because of political disenchantment among the younger generations, more people are empowered to question the shadows behind the innocent, welcoming, and submissive narrative of Canadian pride. Our growing pushback to the Air Show marks an important step towards balancing pride with necessary political criticism—or at least, I hope so.

Some might argue that because of the trade war it’s more important than ever to display Canadian pride as our sovereignty is threatened by Trump’s buffoonery. However, many young Canadians are choosing to wake up to the lies of our nation’s pride as we too participate in the historical and current aggressions that we so easily point the finger at the U.S. for.

For much of our country’s history, public displays of national pride have involved collective celebrations and spectacle—and that is, for the most part, fine—even if I as an individual still choose not to participate in that. But, there comes a point where we need to ask ourselves who and what these normalized celebratory spectacles are meant for. For me, I’m just someone who doesn’t like loud noises and finds military spectacle as a show of celebration, frankly, out-of-touch and a tad bit desperate. 

In fact, opposing the Canadian International Air Show might be the bigger and better show of pride—precisely because it acknowledges how our country’s national mythmaking often erases the immigrants and refugees—disproportionately black, brown, and non-Christian—who make up the economic, social, and cultural fabric of the land we claim to love so much. I would argue that if there’s no place for political and social criticism in how we participate in patriotism then can we even call it patriotism in the first place? If we can’t be honest about our country, then whose left to bear the noisy and indignifying brunt of our pride?

In that sense, the call to cancel the Air Show becomes much bigger than noise complaints. It becomes about honouring the voices and experiences of those who shatter the falsehoods and festivities unchecked patriotism often relies on year after year. 

By continuing the Air Show, not only are we failing to belittling the stories of the families and individuals rebuilding their lives after having fled realities most of us cannot imagine, we are also making a ritualized mockery of their trauma as a lousy excuse for supposedly celebrating national pride and honouring the aerospace industry for their triumphs and innovation–which has its own place and time, but not like this.

How can the Air Show call itself “inclusive” while participating in the theatrics of manufacturing appeal and consent for the military industrial complex—which is responsible for the murder of millions? If Toronto wants to live up to its label as a diverse and inclusive city, if Canada wants to truly celebrate national pride in a way that feels grounded and politically mature, we must dignify the experiences and sensibilities of all the vulnerable yet strong people that call our country home, especially the ones who reveal our nation’s ugliness and contradictions.

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