Though they have been out of power for several years in both Canada and the U.S., it is only now starting to sink in that perhaps this is no mere fluke, an endearing little show of defiance by an electorate that still knows its natural rulers, but is rather a stiff repudiation. The shock of awareness washes through them in alternating spasms of pain and denial.

The most acute source of discomfort is the emergence of ''liberal'' as a term of abuse, to date chiefly in the U.S. The premier of Ontario, David Peterson, was even moved to visit Harvard last month to exhort Americans not to shun the ''L word.''

The wounded cries of ''foul'' that greeted this usage during the American election testify to the world the liberals have lost. It has always been perfectly acceptable to use ''conservative'' as a pejorative. Ed Broadbent was not simply giving a lecture in comparative political philosophy in our own campaign when he accused John Turner of being ''the most conservative man to enter Canadian politics in our lifetime.''

This habitual equation of ''liberal'' with ''fit to govern'' reflects not only electoral calculation, but the psychological essence of modern liberalism, which is the arrogation of all morality to themselves. Their critics typically ascribe the purest motives to liberal policies, limiting their attack to the reasoning behind them. But liberals lunge straight for the moral jugular: their opponents are not only wrong, but evil, or at best complacent.

LAMENT

In much this temper is J. K. Galbraith's soothing epistle to Canadian liberals, published some days ago in the Toronto Star. It is written as a lament on the death of the left, the real tragedy of which, it becomes clear, is that people like himself are no longer running things. But death be not proud: it turns out this is only thanks to the success of liberalism.

''In consequence of our efforts,'' Galbraith writes, with characteristic modesty, ''a very large proportion of the English-speaking populations became secure, comfortable and happy.'' Thus content, they became uncaring. They became, yes, ''conservative.''

The liberals, in other words, died for our sins. Though rejected and despised, they can be at peace with themselves: in their agony is their ecstasy. The one true faith had not truly been scorned; it simply ''worked itself out of power.'' As a work of retroactive self-deification, Galbraith's piece is unparalleled.

But if claiming spiritual victory, Galbraith at least has the virtue of recognizing temporal defeat. But Canadian liberals cannot bring themselves even to that. Canada, Peterson insists, remains ''intuitively small-l liberal.''

As always, this is buttressed by an appeal to historical continuity, and geographical distinction. Canadians, it seems, have always believed in collectivism - indeed, the country was founded on it - as opposed to the ''rampant individualism'' of Americans.

This is a perversion of our past, and a caricature of our neighbors. The British North America Act is not a philosophical document: the driving force behind Confederation was not some especially elevated sense of community, but the agitation of the railway entrepreneurs, with an assist from Upper Canada's resentment of the power of Lower Canada under the pre-Confederation order.

The best expression of our famous ''compassion'' was put, unwittingly, by Desmond Morton: ''We're embarrassed to think of poor people in our midst.'' So we ignore them. Canadians give one third as much to charity as those uncaring individualists to the south; the only reason we spend more through the state is that our medicare is universal, while theirs is for the needy.

A sense of community, of obligation to others, of public duty, runs throughout the history of the Great Republic. This is the true source of the decline of modern liberalism. It no longer stands, as once it did, for the downtrodden. It stands for privilege: for the systematic distortion of economic activity to benefit well- organized pressure groups.

It is not about summoning the strong to the aid of the weak. It has become a squalid auction of state favors to the highest political bidder. John Kennedy challenged Americans to ''ask what you can do for your country.'' Liberalism, in Canada as in the U.S., invited the powerful to ask what their country could do for them. Eventually, the spectacle simply became too revolting, even for Canadians.