Runnymede Branch Public Library ca. 1930 (City of Toronto Archives)

On Tuesday, September 14^th the Toronto Public Library (TPL) will kick off its 6 part History Matters lecture series.  As you might have guessed from the title, the idea for the series was inspired by what’s been going on over the past couple years with the folks at Active History – both at the blog and the 2008 conference.  My goal for organizing the series with the library was to encourage the development of community and exchange between active Toronto historians and the broader Toronto community.

The idea to use a public history lecture series for building these connections came from my own experiences as a first time university lecturer.  After spending 6 years working towards my doctorate, in my relatively tiny little field of nuclear history and my even tinier corner of that particular history, I felt a little disconnected from why it is that history matters.  My dissertation was about the role of activist-oriented physicians and scientists in the American anti-nuclear movement, but while writing it I always had this nagging feeling that maybe my life would have more meaning if I was doing what these activists were doing, rather than writing about them – at what felt like a turtle’s pace.  When I started regularly lecturing to undergraduate students – about the history of medicine and the history of science – I was energized.  It was immediately clear to me why it is that history matters – not only the finessed (and sometimes inaccessible) historical arguments that academic historians love to make, but stories about the past.  For me, active history has come to mean using what happened in the past to inspire people to look outside themselves and their small corner of the world, to develop empathy for their fellow human beings, and to learn from both the good and the bad that has been done in the past.  Since my students over the years seemed to get a lot out of learning about history and because lots of the people in the public places where I wrote most of my thesis seemed interested in the history I was studying, I figured the patrons of the TPL might also enjoy learning more about history from some really cool Toronto historians.  It also helped that the TPL has the largest public library system in Canada and a staff that is totally committed to developing interesting and engaging programming for library patrons across the city!

The theme of the series is Toronto history and will begin with a talk by Stuart Henderson at the Yorkville Branch, where he’ll discuss the history of hippies in the surrounding neighbourhood.  Subsequent talks will be given by the eminent Canadian labour historian, Craig Heron, Active History.ca’s own Jay Young, Susanna Miranda, Jennifer Bonnell, Megan Davies, and David Reville.  The talks cover a wide range of historical subjects, including the history of booze, the Toronto Transit Commission, Portuguese cleaning women, homelessness in the Don Valley, and the impact of deinstitutionalization on Toronto’s Parkdale neighbourhood.  The TPL did its best to have the location of each talk correspond with the topic.

See the full speakers list, with titles, dates, and times below.  If you’re in the Toronto area, I hope you’ll consider coming out to some of the talks.  With the exception of Henderson’s talk, which will take place at 2pm, all of them are scheduled in the evening.  ActiveHistory.ca plans to record and post these lectures on the website so those not able to attend the talks will still be able to hear them later on.  I would also appreciate people posting the program listing far and wide to help with marketing efforts.

Editor’s note: ActiveHistory.ca is happy to provide web support to anyone who wishes to start a History Matters lecture series in their own locale.  Please contact us at info@activehistory.ca if you are interested.

The Toronto Public Library Presents: Programs for the constantly curious…

History Matters

Connect with Toronto historians at these lively lectures showcasing current research on Toronto’s past and discover some of the surprising ways history matters to everyone in our city today.

Making the Scene in 1960s Yorkville
Stuart Henderson
Tues. Sept. 14, 2 pm
Yorkville Branch
22 Yorkville Ave. 416-393-7660

I’ll Drink to That: Booze in Hogtown
Craig Heron
Tues. Sept. 28, 7 pm
Annette Street Branch
145 Annette St. 416-393-7692

A Public Technology: The Building of Toronto’s Yonge Street Subway
Jay Young
Thurs. Oct. 14, 7 pm
Beaches Branch
2161 Queen St. E. 416-393-7703

Isolating Undesirables: Prisons, Pollution and Homelessness in Toronto’s Don River Valley, 1860-1932
Jennifer Bonnell
Thurs. Oct. 14, 7 pm
Bendale Branch
1515 Danforth Rd. 416-396-8910

Keeping the City Clean: Portuguese Women in Toronto’s Cleaning Industry, 1970-1990
Susana Miranda
Thurs. Oct. 21, 7 pm
Bloor/Gladstone Branch
1101 Bloor St. W. 416-393-7674

Locating Parkdale’s Mad History: Back Wards to Back Streets, 1980-2010
Megan Davies and David Reville
Thurs. Nov. 4, 7 pm
Parkdale Branch
1303 Queen St. W. 416-393-7686

Organized by the Toronto Public Library, with the assistance of Dr. Lisa Rumiel, SSHRC Postdoctoral Fellow, McMaster University

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As I reflected on these two news items I was struck by their differences in tone.  In New York City, the discovery of this ship seems to have sparked significant interest (especially given the global significance of the site).  The New York Times followed up on this with an interactive summary of other archaeological finds in the city.  In Toronto, the tone was quite different.  First, there was debate about the merits of historical designation of private property.  But more concerning was Adam Vaughan’s critical point that only four people work in the City’s Heritage Preservation Services department. [editors note (July 27 2010): there are actually 14 people currently employed at Historical Preservation Services see the comments section below for more information]

Without getting into the important differences between New York City and Toronto (and there are many), these two stories challenged me to take a look at the government departments overseeing historical preservation in each city.  The differences in how each city handles heritage preservation is striking and perhaps reflects why Toronto frequently suffers from a mythical reputation of being without history and culture while New York City thrives in both.

Toronto’s lack of history, heritage and culture is, of course, a myth; but the question that these stories raise for me is whether that myth thrives in the city’s municipal structure.

Take a quick peek at New York’s Landmarks Preservation Commission.  What you will find is a separate government commission overseen by 11 commissioners.  The commission must consist of 3 architects, 1 historian, a city planner or landscape architect, a realtor and 1 representative from each of the city’s five boroughs.  The commission has four departments, runs a grant program and co-ordinates environmental review.  It has a relatively balanced number of designated historic districts in each of the five boroughs.

Now let’s look at Toronto’s Heritage Preservation Services.  Instead of having four departments, the service only has four employees.  The service is overseen by the Heritage Preservation Board which is comprised of 7 city-council appointed members, 3 city-councillors, and the chairs of Toronto’s four Community Preservation Panels.  The presence of professionals working in history, architecture or city-planning is not mandated.  For the most part research and archaeology are contracted out rather than dealt with internally.   Finally, although Toronto is half the physical size of New York and has one less district, its designated historic districts are clustered around the downtown core; only five historical areas (of 30) fall outside of Toronto/East York.

The minimal support for Heritage Preservation Services in Toronto (4 staff members for 8,000 properties [editors note: there are 14 employees.  See the comments section below]) relative to New York City is not just a function of New York being much older.  It is more a symptom of the type of history that the city has chosen to remember.  Historic preservation in Toronto is centred on the 19^th and early-20^th centuries.  Toronto’s history is significantly broader than this.  The city has a deep history of Aboriginal migration and settlement, the 18th-century French fur trade, as well as important mid-to-late-twentieth century developments – all of which are important and inscribed on the urban landscape.

This somewhat narrow focus has had some serious consequences for how the past is remembered.   Take the Parsons Site, for example.  This pre-contact Iroquoian village neighbouring Jane/Finch, Black Creek Pioneer Village, York University and (now) the Archives of Ontario has been the subject of numerous archaeological studies since the 1950s.  Since the 1960s efforts have been made to commemorate the site.  These efforts ultimately failed and today the site is occupied by a hydro-corridor, an apartment building, and a gas pipeline.  Along with Black Creek Pioneer Village, the community at Jane/Finch, and York University, the landscape and built heritage tells more than 500 years of human history in the region.  None of this is apparent to local residents or visitors and the area is seldom seen as a place of cultural and historical value.

Imagine how Northwest Toronto might have developed if heritage preservation were to have had a more developed structure – perhaps something similar to New York’s Landmarks Preservation Commission – which included the input of professionals and citizens.  With greater professional involvement and more human resources Toronto might have a deeper sense of its history.  Instead of having been more-or-less destroyed, a site like the Parons site could have been a public park, a focal point for future urban planning, or even a museum representing pre-contact Aboriginal history and culture.  Demonstrating the way that Aboriginal peoples, immigrants and urban and suburban development have shaped our physical space can help to encourage Torontonians in thinking about their past and the way Toronto has developed.

The fact of the matter is that Toronto, and many other cities, has hidden treasures like the ship that was found underneath the World Trade Centre.  They are scattered beneath our feet, behind our walls, and sometimes immediately apparent without our knowing it.  Many people, groups, other municipal agencies and corporations (such as Heritage Toronto and Archaeological Services Inc) do a great job at revealing these places and their importance to us.

The municipal government, however, should be leading the way.  A strong well-developed and supported municipal heritage preservation program not only preserves the city’s historical and cultural heritage, but also creates greater pride and engagement with civic issues, builds a desire to explore a broader range of neighbourhoods and urban spaces, and helps to foster a deeper sense of the dynamics of a city’s history.

***Two important side notes should be made here:

First, in 1997 Toronto found a boat of its own underneath the city floor during the construction of the Air Canada Centre.  The discovery of the Commodore Jarvis became the subject of Michael Redhill’s novel Consolation.  More information (with pictures and maps) can be found on pages 44-47 of “The Archaeological Master Plan of the Central Waterfront.”

Second, Heritage Toronto was created by the city and has a role in heritage preservation in Toronto.  Its structure bears closer resemblance to New York’s Landmarks Preservation Board.  It is, however, more of an advisory body.  Its mission is to celebrate, interpret, and advocate “for our cultural, architectural, archaeological and natural heritage.”  Although mandated through they city, much of its work is supported by donation.

In reading about her death and listening to the kind words said about her at the funeral, it occurred to me that Dr. Feldberg’s work provides a model for active history. She wrote an award winning monograph about the social history of tuberculosis and a number of important articles on gender and health, but she also argued for the importance of engagement with current health policy development.  A York article published after Feldberg, Kathryn McPherson, Molly Ladd-Taylor and Alison Li completed a major Wellcome Institute Grant, included her thoughts on the value of history in shaping current policy:

‘Medical history is a really important contributor to current health policy,’ says Feldberg. ‘If we want policy to be effective we need to know why it looks the way that it looks and how we can change it.’

For instance, if the federal government had looked to the past before it drafted its new reproductive legislation, it might not be proposing to make it a crime to pay egg donors and surrogate child bearers. ‘We know from the history of abortion that the Criminal Code has never served women well,’ says Feldberg. ‘It doesn’t stop practices, it only drives them underground and makes them unsafe.’

A few years earlier Feldberg wrote an op-ed for the York Gazette on the reemergence of infectious disease in the late twentieth century and the used her knowledge of the history of TB to contextualize the social response to AIDS and the return of TB.  Here is the concluding paragraph:

The history of efforts to control TB and of attitudes toward the disease help to explain its resurgence and that of other infections. The historical parallels between TB and AIDS also challenge us to recognize the consequences of the interplay between disease, class, social policy and health policy. In the cases of both AIDS and TB, responses to patterns of infection must be examined from both scientific and social perspectives, and the socio-political determinants and consequences of health policies should be considered.

Feldberg also weighed into the Canadian health care debate in the 1990s and wrote an article in the Canadian Journal of Women and the Law on the use of medical evidence in rape trials.  Together these few examples demonstrate Feldberg’s work to link historical research with current issues during her tragically short academic career.  I hope her efforts to understand the past and contribute to the present will live on as people continue to read her book and articles.

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These images were captured on 26 June 2010 at the G8 & G20 public rally and march. My thanks are due to Ed Dwyer of the Retirees' Chapter of CAW Local 222 and Ian Milligan for sharing photos with me.

Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, a group of historians sought to rescue terms like “crowd,” “mob” and “riot” from the “condescension of posterity,” illustrating that crowd actions of the past were often more than the thoughtless acts of thugs and criminals.

The late British historian E.P. Thompson has undoubtedly made the greatest contribution here.  His 1971 “The Moral Economy of the English Crowd in the Eighteenth Century” explores food riots in eighteenth-century England, suggesting there was indeed a well-thought purpose inspiring rioting English crowds.  Agitating against the free market ideology propagated in Adam Smith’s 1776 Wealth of Nations, rioting crowds sought to protect their “moral economy,” rooted in a tradition of paternalism, protection of the poor, and a just price, from the turn to a profit-driven economic system underway in England at the time.

Some readers may wonder what eighteenth-century food riots have to do with twenty-first-century Toronto and the G20?  Very much, I would suggest.  Having attended the public rally and march that took place before the G20 Summit on 26 June 2010 in Toronto, I had great difficulty reconciling the media coverage of this event with what I witnessed from my position in the crowd.

The mainstream media largely focused on the ‘violence’ of the day, often through images of attacks against corporate and police symbols perpetrated by a very small few of the thousands who turned out.  Terms like “mob,” “riot,” and “thugs” were deployed frequently, often associated with protesters, brimming with negative connotations linked to vandalism and violence.

Silenced in all of this has been the peaceful message that an overwhelming majority of people who turned out sought to convey.  What I found most incredible about this event was the way in which such a large group of people – estimates range between 10,000 and 25,000 – representing a wide array of diverse, and sometimes contradictory interests,  joined together in an enormous display of solidarity.  Among this broad coalition of interests were people from the Canadian Labour Congress, Ontario Federation of Labour, Council of Canadians, Canadian Federation of Students, Greenpeace, Oxfam, No One is Illegal, Make Poverty History, socialist, communist and anarchist groups, to name just a few, along with concerned citizens unaffiliated with any single group.  Carrying messages of peace, social justice, environmental responsibility, human and animal rights, agitating against gross profit and exploitation, it would be difficult to reduce this crowd to a single ‘moral economy.’

One activist, speaking with Steven D’Souza of the CBC, nonetheless tried.  While allowing that the crowd gathered expressed a number of diverse messages, he suggested that they were perhaps united in their belief that the G8 and G20 are undemocratic or illegitimate organizations, that decisions affecting the world ought to be made in a global forum, where more than the wealthiest few nations are welcome to participate – democracy, after all, should be about more than allowing voice from the richest few.  This forum already exists in the United Nations, or what some have termed the G192. 

The UN is often limited by budgetary constrictions, but as some critics point out, estimates of the security costs alone incurred by hosting the G8 and G20 for a few days in Ontario are less than half of the entire UN’s annual budget.  Despite this, the oft-posed question by many in the media was not whether these meetings should take place, but rather whether they should take place outside of urban centres, with ‘world leaders’ isolated from citizens.

Images of smashed windows and burning cars no doubt feed fears of the need for protection from “thugs” who perpetrate violence.  And violence has certainly been a prevalent theme in the coverage of this G20 Summit, whether it was used to describe acts against property or people – yet surely it is important to distinguish between violence against people versus acts of vandalism.

Leading up to the G20 protests, I was told many times that I was crazy to go, that there would be riots, that the army would be there, and people were going to be hurt or killed.  Hadn’t I heard how many cops would be on site, and the weapons they might deploy against the crowd?  Police were certainly showcasing a range of weapons for crowd control leading up to the Summits, and telling people to stay away.

But idealist that I am, I believed that I could trust in this crowd of protesters.  I believed that, like Thompson’s English crowds of the eighteenth century, they would not commit thoughtless acts of violence against their fellow people in a worthy tradition of popular protest.  And as it turned out, there were no serious injuries, although accusations of police brutality have certainly abounded in the aftermath of protests.

But my purpose here is not to focus on the violence of this event – there has been enough of that.  Instead, I’d like to share the main images I’ll take away from my G20 experience, those of thousands upon thousands of people gathered in peaceful protest, walking side-by-side in an incredible display of unity, harmony and festivity, calling for a fairer world.  And police pointing weapons at me, as early as when the peaceful protest passed the American consulate within minutes of leaving Queen’s Park.

But these weren’t the dominant images beamed across the world; only a few lines of many featured stories of the day were devoted to the large peaceful protest, setting up the ‘main’ story of riots, vandalism and violence.  Those who advocate more drastic measures say that peaceful protest doesn’t work, that something more sensational or extreme is required to carry a message – “propaganda of the deed,” so to speak.  Events as they were covered in the media during and after the G20 protests certainly seem to confirm that peaceful protest doesn’t work in this respect.

Meanwhile, the overwhelming focus on images of vandalism reinforce the collapsing of terms like “thug,” “riot,” and “protester,” associated with senseless acts on the part of a mindless “mob,” even though these images represent the actions of a very small minority.  The real “mob,” the great crowd of protesters, was indeed moved by thoughtful purposes – apparently just not those sensational enough to make headlines.

E.P. Thompson’s attempt to free the term “riot” from its negative connotations, to illustrate some of the positive aspects and purposes of popular protest, not only held resonance in eighteenth-century England; Thompson was also speaking to the political currents of twentieth-century England, believing that knowledge of the past could effect positive change in the present.  It seems we still have much to learn from him in twenty-first-century Canada.

Stay tuned for the next instalment in this series, where Ian Milligan will explore Toronto’s police presence.

Suggestions for further reading:

Adrian Randall and Andrew Charlesworth, eds.  Moral Economy and Popular Protest: Crowds, Conflict and Authority

Bryan D. Palmer, E.P. Thompson: Objections and Oppositions

Bryan D. Palmer, The Making of E.P. Thompson: Marxism, Humanism, and History

E.P. Thompson, The Making of the English Working Class.

Harvey J. Kaye and Keith McClelland, eds.  E.P. Thompson: Critical Perspectives

Nicholas Rogers, Crowds, Culture, and Politics in Georgian Britain

After a year of unsuccessful attempts at reaching resolution through the courts, the Mohawk set up barricades and occupied the burial grounds.  The conflict that arose resulted in a 78 day stand-off between the Mohawk, the Sûreté du Québec and the Canadian military.  On July 11^th riot police stormed the occupation, resulting in the death of police officer Marcel Lemay.

Remembering this event provides an important opportunity to reflect on how Canada, Canadians and Aboriginal people engage with each other and each other’s past.

CBC Radio’s C’est La Vie, which focuses on life in French-speaking Canada, ran a powerful documentary on the Oka Crisis three weeks ago.  The short twenty minute piece focuses of Francine Lemay, sister of the slain officer, and her efforts over the past two decades to learn, understand and reconcile the issues that led to her brother’s death.

In addition to Lemay’s story, the documentary also emphasizes the important role community history plays in helping to balance the silences in more official narratives of the past.  Her story highlights the need for understanding the historical context of Aboriginal land claims and the tensions that can develop when the desires of the present are taken into account without due consideration to past relationships and context.

History and historians have an important role during these conflicts.  Few land claims are new and, much to my surprise when I started researching the eighteenth-century history of another Aboriginal community along the St. Lawrence, many of these claims have been made more-or-less consistently for over a century (in many cases two or three!).

Alanis Obomsawim’s Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance (embedded below) tells some of the broader stories of the Oka Crisis.  Her documentary helps to contextualize the tensions of the conflict and illustrate the long and complicated history of the Kanesatake Mohawk.

The history in Obomsawim’s film shares many similarities with the history of other First Nation communities along the St. Lawrence River.  Kahnawaké began to complain of settler encroachment on its land in the 1750s, during the French Regime.  They had their claims acknowledged by the British in the 1760s, but continued to be challenged by illegal settlement on their land.  Similar issues developed in Odenak (also known as Saint-Francois) and Wendaké (formerly known as Jeune-Lorette or Nouvelle-Lorette) in the late-1760s and 1770s; they continued throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.  Many of these early claims resonate with the issues that sparked Oka (and continue to be an issue there).

Although discussing another province, Christopher Moore’s recent essay on the Six Nation’s land claim in Caledonia, Ontario serves as an important model for how historians can contribute to this discussion.  Moore’s argument draws together the local situation in Caledonia, the history of Six Nation land claims in Ontario, and the more recent history of land claims in British Columbia to suggest that following B.C.’s lead could be beneficial for all of the parties involved in Ontario.

J.R. Miller’s recent Compact, Contract, Covenant: Aboriginal Treaty-Making in Canada also makes a significant contribution.  This book helps to situate events like the Oka Crisis in the national context of Canadian-Aboriginal relations.  Miller distinguishes between the differing ways in which Europeans and Aboriginal people engaged with each other across Canada.  Most importantly, he demonstrates how the treaties and agreements negotiated over the past three centuries form a critical foundation for the development of the Canadian state.  His discussion of Kanesatake (pp. 241-244) also shows how particular conceptions of the Canadian state shaped Canada’s approach to First Nations people.

The tensions that sparked the Oka Crisis in 1990, and how it has been interpreted, were deeply rooted in the past.  July 11 provides an opportunity for reflection.  It is not only an appropriate time to think about the events that transpired during the summer of 1990, but also why it happened.  Recent events have demonstrated that there are important lessons to be learned from this dark chapter in Canadian history.

Last week, the first event by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission on residential schools was held in Winnipeg. In the same week, British Prime Minister David Cameron issued an apology on behalf of the British government for the “unjustified and unjustifiable” killings of thirteen people in Londonderry, Northern Ireland in 1972 – an event now famously known as Bloody Sunday. It was a monumental week as far as intended healing and reconciliation goes.

The announcements in London and Manitoba were worlds apart, geographically and politically, but they both follow on three decades worth of government apologies for everything from the Irish potato famine to the 18^th century slave trade. In Canada, the official apology in 1988 to the 22,000 Japanese Canadians who were forcibly relocated during the Second World War and whose property was confiscated and sold by the government marked the beginning of a period of requests from other groups, such as the Chinese, Ukranian and Italian communities, for official acknowledgment of state wrongdoing.

Successive federal governments dismissed these claims however in 2006, the Conservative government made an official apology and provided redress to Chinese Canadians, or their surviving spouses, who paid a head tax to come to Canada between 1885 and 1947 while establishing Community Historical Recognition Program and National Historical Program “to commemorate and educate Canadians about the historical experiences and contributions of ethno-cultural communities affected by wartime measures and immigration restrictions that were applied in Canada.”

There is significant debate about the value of state apologies and state-sponsored efforts at reconciliation. Works such as The Politics of Truth and Reconciliation in South Africa that discuss the post-Apartheid experience critique such efforts where they feed into government attempts to gain legitimacy.

I confess to being of two minds about the politics of apology. As a historian, I question the politicized nature of government apologies and the authenticity and integrity of their intentions. Did Brian Mulroney apologize to Japanese Canadians because he really felt that what happened was wrong? Or did he just want people to vote for him (and for Free Trade)? On a personal level, I also struggle with the impact of government apologies on the community involved. My grandfather was a fisherman in Tofino (on the west coast of Vancouver Island) when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbour. His boat was taken by the Canadian government. My father, who was 2 years old at the time, and his parents were interned. One of my uncles was born in a camp. Another uncle later became very active in the campaign for redress. And yet growing up, my father never spoke to me of the experience.

I vividly recall being at a friend’s cottage and having her dad say to me, “is your family affected by redress?” I had no idea what he was talking about. It turns out we were and that, ironically, my parents used the compensation to fix our house, literally putting a new roof over our heads, and then taking my brothers and I on our first trip to Vancouver Island. For years, however, I remained ambivalent about the value of political apologies. I did not feel that the government was honestly apologetic in its intents and I resented the suggestion that because an apology had been issued, a wrong was corrected. In 2007, the Canadian author and poet, Roy Miki, wrote a book called Redress: Inside the Japanese Call for Justice (2007). In the introduction he gave voice to some of my reservations: “In a strange twist, and one that haunted me in subsequent years…Art (his brother and a leader in the redress campaign) could see himself as a “Canadian” because he had become the “Japanese Canadian” named in the redress settlement.” Until reading Miki’s book, I had been reluctant to see any benefits to the apology. As I read on however, it dawned on me that the value of the apology was not in the words themselves but in having a forum in which history could be made known, debated, and incorporated into the national conscience. If there is a lesson to be learned from the Japanese Canadian experience, it is that open forums are necessary so that people can speak. Apologies and money are insufficient. That is happening in Winnipeg. It is not clear whether it will happen in the case of Londonderry, Northern Ireland.

As the undertakings in London and Winnipeg reveal, more than ever the global media is providing an important forum for raising awareness so that what happens in one part of the world reverberates in others. When an apology is issued in England or when reconciliation begins in Canada, news of such undertakings now have the potential to reach an international audience and to effect international change. Governor General Michaëlle Jean’s declaration that it is necessary to talk about history to “break the wall of indifference” can reverberate with meaning far beyond Canada.

Laura Madokoro is a PhD candidate in history at the University of British Columbia.  She studies twentieth century global migration with a special focus on political refugees in Asia and the Commonwealth in the post-1945 period.

For another post on government apologies on ActiveHistory.ca see Teresa Iacobelli‘s Acts of Contrition: Rethinking the Purpose and Effect of Government Apologies, posted in February 2010.

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New England forests are at a turning point. Following a 200-year resurgence, forest cover has begun to decline in every New England state. What will we do with this challenge and opportunity?

The Wildlands and Woodlands vision calls for a 50-year conservation effort to retain at least 70 percent of New England in forestland, permanently free from development.

-90% of forests would be “Woodlands,” conserved by willing landowners and sustainably managed for multiple uses, from recreation to wood products.
-10% of forests would be “Wildland” reserves, identified by local communities and shaped only by the natural environment.

The project is the initiative of a mix of ‘active’ academics including foresters, ecologists, and environmental historians that use their combined expertise to argue a plan to maintain a sustainable future for New England’s forests. The majority of these academics are scientists and they contributed a great deal on the ecological value of maintaining forests in this region and the many threats to its future. However, David R. Foster, an ecologist and the director of the Harvard Forest, explained during the conference presentation, that a simple graph created by the team’s historian, Brian Donahue, demonstrating the changing forests cover throughout history proved to be the most powerful rhetorical device when they meet with policy makers and politicians.

New England Forest Cover and Human Population

The graph showing a dramatic decline in the forest between 1600 and the mid-nineteenth century, the remarkable recovery in the century that followed and the more recent trend towards another steep decline encapsulated the problem in a clear and concise way.  This graph gets people to think with history and it begins to tell the story of the New England forests since the colonists arrived.  The Wildlands & Woodlands report contains a section on environmental history near the beginning along with the  substantial contributions from ecologist and foresters.  The historical section provides some context to explain the dramatic change in forest cover since the colonial period.  The growth of farms, villages and cities led to the steep decline in the forests in the south of New England through to the early nineteenth century. Donahue then references his own research to explain how during the mid-nineteenth century, New England farmers shifted to high value crops on the best land and raised animals using cheap imported grain from the Midwest, leaving marginal pastures to return to forests.  In the twentieth century transportation networks improved further and made it more difficult for New England farmer to compete in the national and global food markets.  As a result a large amount of  farmland transitioned back to forest.  This section goes on to provide an overview of the history of forest conservation in New England and demonstrates the long tradition of local stewardship upon which the Wildlands & Woodlands project hopes to build a region wide plan.  After this historical context the report discuss the current threats against the forests and proposes a future with a sustainable balance between urban/suburban space, farms, managed forests and protected wildlands.

New England Land Cover: Past, Present, and Future

Again this graph encourages the viewer to think historically, by noticing the growing trend of development replacing forest and then presenting alternative versions of the future.  I know historians, with good reason, are very weary of using history to predict the future.  However, I think we can more safely demonstrate historical trends and provide a range of possibilities for the future to help provide context for policy debates.  It is also worthwhile noting that Donahue is a well respected historian (his book the Great Meadow won the George Perkins March Prize for the best book in environmental history in 2005) and his research is not soly focused on present issues.  He is a good example of historians ability to research and write academic history and to work to influence the present and the future.

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By Mike Green

To be persuasive we must be believable; to be believable we must be credible; credible we must be truthful. – Edward R. Murrow

The recent changes to the ‘standards’ for history textbooks in Texas go right to the heart of academics and their legitimacy as historians.  The matter first came to my attention when the New York Times ran a story about the issue in mid-March.

These changes call into question the integrity of historians who write textbooks for publishers.  As the New York Times illustrates, these proposed changes, which will be voted on later this month, are not just about the inclusion of additional historical facts.  If that were the case, there would not be so much outrage on the part of the academic community.

Instead, the conservative majority on the State Board of Education (SBOE) is selectively excluding important bits of historical fact in an attempt to shape history to fit their own ideologies. David Bradley, the chair of the SBOE’s School Finance/Permanent School Fund committee, told the New York Times that he rejects “the notion by the left of a constitutional separation of church and state” and that he would give $1,000 to charity in anyone could find this in the American Constitution.

Apparently Mr. Bradley was absent the day the Bill of Rights was discussed when he was in school.  Both the 6th article and the 1st Amendment of the US Constitution specifically address the role of religion in the operation of government. At least since Gitlow v. New York, the 1st Amendment has been applied to the states through the 14th Amendment.

These components of the Constitution prevent the government from establishing a dominant religion.   In 1962 Engle v. Vitale firmly illustrated that their was a wall of separation between church and state.   Referring to the decision, Justice Black stated, “In 1785-1786, those opposed to the established Church, led by James Madison and Thomas Jefferson…opposed all religious establishments by law on grounds of principle… [and believed that]… all religious groups were placed on an equal footing so far as the State was concerned.”

Don McLeroy, a former chair of the SBOE, took another stance in an interview with PBS.  He told the public broadcaster: “I would like to see the importance of religion to make sure that the role it played in the founding of our country and the acknowledgment of the founders’ dependence upon God that they wrote into the documents to make sure that that’s clearly presented.” In this spirit, the SBOE has sought to eliminate references to Jefferson, the separation of church and state, and the role of Mexican-Americans in the Civil Rights Movement.

The acts by the SBOE call into question the integrity of historians.  If historians in both Canada and the United States do not begin to address this issue we are in danger of losing our legitimacy.

The issue arising out of this revision of the SBOE curriculum is the relationship between school boards and the publishing world.  Since Texas is the second largest textbook buyer in the United States, publishers fall all over themselves to obtain the contract to publish approved textbooks.  Furthermore, because the publisher publishes so many of these books they discount the price for other schools who may be using them unaware of the changes imposed by the SBOE.

The SBOE is on track to accept these new standards by the end of this week.  However, outrage continues to grow in several sectors.  First, the California Senate has introduced a bill that will not allow schools to use textbooks published according to SBOE standards. Second, academics are beginning to prepare for a possible boycott of publishers who agree to publish according to these standards.  The Thomas Jefferson Movement has emerged as a coalition of teachers and academics who are proposing to counter these changes.  I have also proposed boycotting publishers who abide by the “standards” of the SBOE on my own blog.

Texas’s market share means that many other states also use Texas textbooks.  This is the real heart of the problem.  Considering the fact that of the almost 70% of high school graduates who go to college, only 25% will actually finish. This means that for many this will be the only history that they will receive.

In my role as an adviser on policy for a university Vice-Chancellor, the UK equivalent of President, perhaps my most important job is to ask our leader to ‘tell me the story’ when he’s consulting me on some issue or another.  It seems to me that universities, along with many public sector institutions, are not always able, or inclined, to ‘think with history’ when they’re making the major policy decisions that shape their future.  That’s not to say that universities don’t have a powerful sense of history; they do.  But so often it seems a burden.  History weighs heavy on the shoulders of university leaders, who feel their capacity for action limited by the accumulation of previous decisions that have kept their institutions on a steady course to the present time.  Even at a new university like mine, which gained its status as a result of 1992 Further and Higher Education Act, history can be problematic for leaders.  As a former Polytechnic, my institution had a history to overcome – or at least to integrate into a new future  – as it strived to find its place in an expanded HE sector.

I was interested to discover a literature about thinking with history in political decision-making in the US, which seems to be largely absent in the UK.  I was particularly struck by Neustadt and May’s’ Thinking in Time: the uses of history for decision-makers, which focuses on critical moments where administrations did, and did not, conform to ‘usual practice’  – plunging towards action, depending on fuzzy analogies, paying insufficient attention to the issue’s own past, failing to think a second time about key presumptions, adopting stereotyped suppositions about other parties and putting too little effort into seeing choices as part of any historical sequence.   Asking ‘tell me the story’ – rather than ‘what’s the problem’ – is one of their most important principles.  They call it the Goldberg Rule, after Avram Goldberg, the CEO of Stop and Shop, a chain of grocery and discount department stores. It was Goldberg’s way of getting to the heart of the real issue when one of his managers came to see him.

I’d like to see university leaders – and Ministers of Government Departments – invoke the Goldberg rule with their advisory teams.  As a historian working in a policy role, it can be difficult to have your case heard for the importance of history in decision-making.  I’ve seen in politics the power of the present, and the need to deal, and be seen to deal, with its apparently pressing problems.  Academic leaders are not so driven by the imperative for action that modern politics seems to demand, but that doesn’t mean they are any less focused on the future and how they will shape it for their institution.  Our Vice-Chancellor, preparing for a successor later this year, has found himself writing the stories behind his decisions, recognising now the value of ‘thinking with history’.  We now have our first peacetime coalition Government in the UK since the 1920s, which will face a number of significant decisions, not least on the economy and engagement in Afghanistan.  Let’s hope Cameron, Clegg and Co don’t need too much convincing to adopt the Goldberg Rule.

Alix Green is Head of Policy at the University of Hertfordshire, providing strategic advice to the Vice-Chancellor and helping to influence HE policy development. She holds a B.A. and M.Phil. in History from Clare College, Cambridge and is currently engaged in doctoral research on ‘thinking with history’ in university and HE policy futures.

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Overy argues against the idea that history must have an ‘impact’ to be valid.  Academic history (real history), in his mind, should be independent of the need to be immediately relevant.  Although it can (and should) inform popular history and public policy, in his view, this should not be an end in itself.

I agree that the historical research conducted at universities should be conducted in an environment of relatively free inquiry where popular and policy concerns are not brought directly to bear on researchers and that the overall target of historical research should be centred on developing the field rather than furthering specific commercial or political perspectives.

The practice of history, however, is not a zero sum game in which historians can isolate themselves from outside influences.  The research, writing and teaching of academic, policy-oriented, and popular history are deeply political, social and ideological pursuits.    Whether historical research is intended to ‘add value’ or ‘make an impact’ is only one component of many that shape historical perspective.  In the Canadian context, the two areas identified by Overy as particularly problematic – popular history (heritage) and policy – do not appear to pose as significant of a threat as he suggests.

Rather than believing that “there is no higher intellectual purpose to be served by popular narration other than to describe and entertain,” as Overy suggests.  The intersection between popular and academic history has provided fruitful new directions and scholarly debate.  Craig Heron’s Booze: A Distilled History (recently reviewed for ActiveHistory.ca), John Demos’s Unredeemed Captive and Christopher Moore’s Louisbourg Portraits have all intentionally made both popular and academic impacts.  Heron’s and Moore’s books also partially developed out of their work for the Workers Arts and Heritage Centre and Louisbourg National Historic Site – demonstrating how academic history and the heritage sector are often fruitfully combined.

From the policy perspective, academic research that has been commissioned for policy purposes is drawn on regularly by academic historians, both as primary and secondary source material.  In my own doctoral research, I draw regularly from reports written for the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples and for Parks Canada.  This work was conducted specifically to have an impact on public policy (in the latter case on heritage policy) and it has made a significant positive difference developing our understanding of Aboriginal history in Canada.

The arguments that worry Overy are used most frequently in discussions related to teaching history.  Here, more than anywhere else, the emphasis seems to be increasingly placed on ‘transferrable skills’ and the value of history outside of the historical profession.  But is the classroom not exactly where we should be focused on transferrable skills?

Universities have undergone a profound transformation since the baby boom and students are coming into history departments with a variety of backgrounds and experiences.  More importantly, they are leaving history departments to pursue a variety of occupations and vocations in fields as different from history as science and business.  These are fields where historical perspective is important, if not essential.  Do we not want to demonstrate to students that history is transferable, adds value, and is important to their futures?

The fact of the matter is that good popular history, good policy research and good teaching contribute to broader historical debates and further the development of independent academic history even when they are commissioned for a specific purpose or intended to add value to further other social, political or economic goals.  This is exactly the same as in other fields, such as physics and biochemistry, where government, corporate and academic research work together, while sometimes at cross-purposes, to further the strength of their respective fields.

The pressures that Overy observes are real, however.  Placing heavy emphasis on public, popular and governmental uses of history can distort how the historical discipline is conceived.  He is right that too much emphasis could pose a real problem in the future for the historical profession.  Where he is wrong is in suggesting a bolstering of academic history and professional independence as the primary solution.

The real challenge for historians of all persuasions is to acknowledge that popular, policy-oriented, genealogical, and academic histories do not exist independently of one another.  Serious and important contributions have been made through each of these avenues – some with more-partisan beginnings than others.  Not all have been equal, and many have been contradictory and some even destructive.  It is the role of the historian, particularly more independent academic historians, to critically engage with how the past is used in each of these areas.

Academic historians will need to leave the ‘ivory tower’ just as their colleagues in popular and policy-oriented histories will need to leave their own comfort zones.  The value of history is found in the conversations, contradictions, and conflicts that occur when these groups meet.