Recently, Canadians read about the federal government's introduction of a new guide to citizenship, to be distributed to the roughly 250,000 immigrants who arrive in Canada each year. As reported in The Globe and Mail, the guide constitutes “a rare and significant attempt to reshape our national image.”

The government is to be applauded on its effort to deepen the public's understanding and appreciation of what it means to be a Canadian. It is important to know where we came from, what we have stood for, and what we are striving to achieve in our common future.

It is also important, however, that Canadians appreciate that the answer to the question “what is Canada?” is not static. In part, this is because, with the arrival of each one of the aforementioned 250,000 yearly immigrants, the human face of Canada – and, with it, our collective history – changes. When a new Canadian arrives on our shores, they bring with them their memories and knowledge of their countries of origin. The Canada that we know today is not just a product of the collective memories we have created together, but also a product of the combined personal histories of the immigrants who have come, and are still coming, to this land.

In theory, the citizenship of someone who has just sworn the ceremonial oath of allegiance has exactly the same value as that of a citizen whose ancestral roots here pre-date Confederation. In practice, however, the more recently-arrived Canadians who come from cultures with fewer common points of reference to our English-French traditions are less likely to participate fully in Canadian public institutions and decision-making than those whose families have been here for generations. There are commendable civic efforts now afoot – such as Toronto's “DiverseCity Initiative” – to redress the traditional under-representation of newer and visible-minority Canadians in the boardrooms, legislatures, and corner offices where so many of the decisions that affect Canadians are made.

Similar efforts are being made in the area of foreign policy by organizations such as The Mosaic Institute. Canada's proactive, pro-immigration policies of the past several decades have succeeded in producing what is arguably the most diverse citizenry on the planet. Yet the full potential of that diversity – and the global knowledge, connections and influence it represents – has yet to be fully leveraged as a means of enhancing Canada's relationship with the rest of the world.

Through our personal, familial, or community-based connections to those countries and regions most desperately in need of development assistance, the resolution of intractable conflicts, or the protection of human rights, Canada is in a unique position to help. Many of those originally from conflict zones and other trouble spots around the world who now call Canada home are eager to provide advice to Canadian decision-makers on our collective response to such needs and opportunities. Providing help to those in need around the world is part of being Canadian.

One challenge, of course, is how to differentiate between good and bad advice. One way is to ensure that these “citizen experts,” like all Canadians, have a deep appreciation for immutable, pan-Canadian values such as the rule of law, the protection of fundamental human rights for all, “peace, order, and good government,” and so on. Any advice should be tested against these non-negotiable principles. In fact, this same standard should be applied to all policy inputs, regardless of their source.

Because we know what Canada stands for, we have nothing to fear and much to gain from expanding the involvement of all Canadians, and particularly those closely connected to some of the world's most troubled regions, in the formulation of Canadian responses to such situations. To do so is to recognize that the best Canadian citizens are also committed global citizens, and that the best global citizens are often Canadian.