Former National Archives building, Ottawa

By Sean Kheraj

The conversation has been ongoing among Canadian historians for the past few years, especially since the federal government, under the leadership of Prime Minister Stephen Harper, altered the contents of the official citizenship guide for new Canadians to place greater emphasis on military history and the monarchy while ignoring or downplaying the country’s history of progressive social policy, multiculturalism, and social justice movements. Many Canadian historians have been concerned that the Conservative Party of Canada is attempting to reinvent the narrative of the country’s past for its own political purposes.

Professor Ian McKay explicitly outlined this case in his keynote address at the 2011 New Frontiers in Graduate History conference at York University. He has also published a complete articulation of this argument in his forthcoming book (co-authored with Jamie Swift) called, Warrior Nation: Rebranding Canada in an Age of Anxiety. A group of historians recently collaborated to publish the People’s Citizenship Guide: A Response to Conservative Canada in an effort to counterbalance the refashioning of Canadian history to suit the political interests of the governing party in Ottawa.

Finance Minister Jim Flaherty’s recent transformation of the federal budget and his government’s policy of mass layoffs of federal employees has initiated a takeover of the public financing of historical research by the political branch of government. Cuts to the funding of the federal government’s three independent granting councils, including the Canadian Institutes of Health Research (CIHR), the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada (NSERC), and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC), constitute a total budget reduction of more than $40 million dollars. While the funding to SSHRC is set to be reduced, Heritage Canada has increased its direct control over the funding of historical research directly out of the minister’s office through new program-specific funding opportunities, including the War of 1812 Commemoration Fund and the Diamond Jubilee Community Celebration fund.

“So you think this government is interested in Canadian History?” asks Professor Eric Sager from the University of Victoria in a recent Times-Colonist op-ed, “Think again.” These policy changes affirm the recent argument of Jeffrey Simpson in his Globe and Mail column in which he alleged that “[t]he Conservatives display two-facedness in the telling of history, systematically reducing the role of the informed and the neutral in explaining the country to Canadians, while enhancing the capacity of the government to cherry-pick what it chooses to highlight.” The role of the informed will be crippled through budget cuts like the ones to Library and Archives Canada. According to the Canadian Association of University Teachers (CAUT), these cuts “will have devastating effects on our nation’s ability to acquire and preserve its history.”

At first glace this statement may seem like an exaggeration, but the proposed cuts cited by CAUT suggest otherwise:
• the elimination of 21 of the 61 archivists and archival assistants that deal with non-governmental records
• the reduction of digitization and circulation staff by 50%
• a significant reduction in the number of staff that deal with preservation and conservation of documents
• the closure of the interlibrary loans unit

These so-called “austerity” policies have also led to the scheduled closures of several government libraries and archives. And Parks Canada, one the main branches of the federal government that conducts direct historical research, has recently suffered a massive round of job losses.
In short, within the wider Conservative Party of Canada’s ideological agenda to reduce the role of government in the lives of Canadians lies a contradictory policy initiative for direct cabinet control over the financing, research, and production of knowledge about Canadian history. If left unchallenged, this anti-intellectual politicization of history, as Simpson suggests, will result in “a deformed version of the past.”

Sean Kheraj is an assistant professor of Canadian and environmental history at York University. He blogs at http://seankheraj.com

Image by Radha-Prema Pelletier

By Jessica Van Horssen

So the winter semester is over, and for those of us at Quebec universities, what a semester it’s been! Specifically, McGill University has had its share of drama this year, with strikes, occupations, computer hacking, and demonstrations against the Quebec government’s plans for tuition hikes. With all of these things going on, it’s no wonder one of McGill’s dirty little secrets has been quietly pushed aside.

Attached is the talk I gave at McGill in March about the historic connection between the university and the asbestos industry. University ties to massive, ethically-questionable corporations is nothing new, and certainly not McGill-specific. Quebec’s continued support of the asbestos industry, of which it was once a world leader, is also nothing new. Neither is the public’s general outrage when information on these ties emerges, nor is the public’s gradual loss of interest in this topic, which contributes to the perpetuation of the toxic legacy of asbestos in Quebec, Canada, and the world.

This time around, the outrage and loss of interest began with a CBC documentary that aired earlier this winter and exposed McGill’s Dr. John Corbett McDonald’s relationship with the asbestos industry, and questioned his findings on how Canadian asbestos impacted human health. While it shouldn’t be a surprise that someone funded by the asbestos industry produced reports claiming that the carcinogenic mineral wasn’t so bad after all—as long as it came from Quebec’s mines, of course—what is absolutely frustrating is McGill’s reaction.

McDonald was exposed in the 1970s by CBC Radio and the New York Times shortly after his pro-Canadian asbestos reports were published in well-respected medical journals—the public was outraged then too, but again, forgot about it soon afterwards—and McGill received and processed the cheques coming from the Quebec Asbestos Mining Association (QAMA) to aid in his research endeavors. Despite this, McGill apparently had no idea McDonald’s legitimacy and authority were questionable. Closing ranks around one of their own is a tough habit to break.

Despite their immediate defense of McDonald, McGill launched an internal preliminary review into his ties to the industry, and investigator Dr. Rebecca Fuhrer, head of the Department of Epidemiology, Biostatics, and Occupational Health at McGill, attended my talk in March.

Now, the struggle for the legitimacy of historians amongst scientists is, again, nothing new, although it remains unfortunate, and I hoped that Dr. Fuhrer would be inspired by my talk to look deeper into the evidence. I was glad that during the question period, we got into a nice discussion on ethics, and what defending McDonald and his outdated conclusions, (which were outdated even in 1970 when he published them), says about McGill.

McDonald has won awards for his contributions to public health in Quebec. It seems he also had ties to an industry that was notorious for corruption and deceit. The information McDonald published on this greatly contrasted the conclusions respected members of the global medical community had been making on the dangers of asbestos for decades, and the reason they differed so much is not because Quebec asbestos is safe—although it is safe if you believe that jumping from the 16^th floor of a building compared to the 18^th floor will give you a different result.

On April 4^th, Dean of Medicine Dr. David Eidelman, sent an email to the McGill community to inform us that Dr. Fuhrer’s preliminary report had been submitted and stated that there was no evidence of research misconduct, but that more time and research is needed to assess McDonald’s research “integrity.” What is the difference between misconduct and a lack of integrity? A dilution of accountability?

As predictable as the internal review’s non-conclusion conclusion is, it’s also frustrating. Sure, the general public has once again forgotten its outrage, so the heat is off McGill, but what about the long-term and far-reaching effects of researchers like McDonald, and what about McGill’s role as an internationally respected institution? In navigating McGill’s archives, did Dr. Fuhrer take the time to examine McDonald’s published conclusions within the context of what every medical professional not funded by the industry was saying about Canadian asbestos and health?

Quebec’s asbestos workers were usually kept far away from nosey medical professionals the companies didn’t have in their pockets for fear of what they would discover. There’s a reason they allowed McDonald to study them, and there’s a reason QAMA was head over heels happy over his conclusions. What was that reason? While examining these workers, McDonald made choices on who was important enough to study and who wasn’t—the female workers in the industry certainly weren’t, even though the first recorded person to die of asbestos-related disease was a woman, and reports on the specific vulnerability of women to diseases asbestos causes had been widely discussed in the global medical community for decades.

Did McDonald, a revered researcher and now professor emeritus at McGill, not keep up with the literature on the subject he was rapidly becoming the Canadian expert on? Who else did he overlook in his examination of Quebec asbestos workers? What could possibly make him believe Canadian asbestos was safe? And, of course, WHY?!

The asbestos industry has a long, well-documented history of manipulating medical professionals and medical evidence. Asbestos companies began doing this at McGill in the 1930s. I would love McGill investigators to first ask, then answer, this question: based on his published work, was McDonald a pawn of the asbestos industry, making his bizarre, dated conclusions based on evidence manipulated by companies, or a knave, willingly contributing to the legacy of misinformation and disease in Quebec and around the world in return for funding?

Take some time to listen to my talk. McGill is one of the most respected universities in Canada, and for good reason. However, in defending McDonald and deflecting criticism by waiting for a tumultuous semester to end and the public to lose interest, has McGill itself been a pawn or a knave in the past and present Quebec asbestos trade?

To listen to Jessica’s talk, “Quebec’s Asbestos Industry and McGill University: The Historic Relationship,” click here.

Jessica Van Horssen is a postdoctoral fellow in Quebec Environmental History at McGill/UQTR. She is primarily interested in the ways communities understand and internalize environmental contamination and risk, and the wide-reaching effects this can have. For the most part, she keeps her research to asbestos communities, but these are part of a much larger tradition of global resource towns.

Marine Le Pen. Creative Commons photo by NdFrayssinet

By Dr Valerie Deacon

No, this isn’t the beginning of Marx and Engels’ Communist Manifesto, though that spectre (of Communism) has played just as important a role as this one in twentieth century European history. Today’s spectre is the spectre of fascism and it is not only haunting Europe, but has also infected North America. The problem with this spectre, though, is that like many ghostly things, it lacks a clear definition.

The April 25th edition of the Toronto Star features an article with which many liberal North Americans might be inclined to agree. Thomas Walkom’s article “Europe’s restraint agenda rekindling fascism” argues that recent austerity measures in Europe are pushing people too far and he writes that European rulers have “forgotten their own history. People will put up with only so much before they embrace extreme measures”. He cites as evidence of this the recent success of political parties of the far right in Europe, including the stunning electoral success of France’s Front national, led by Marine Le Pen. Walkom concludes his article by noting that only neo-Nazis are offering alternatives to the voting public in Europe and that this is not only obscene, but dangerous.

To be sure, the rise of these parties (though many of them have been around for decades – a fact often ignored by North American journalists) is indeed dangerous. Marine Le Pen’s electoral success should scare us all because her extremist views have clearly become palatable to the general electorate and there is little in the Western world that is more dangerous than a “legitimate” victory of the extreme right. However, it is also dangerous to use this language of ‘fascism’ to discuss what is happening right now in Europe, for several reasons.

First, calling these parties ‘fascist’ blinds us to what is actually happening in Europe. The term ‘fascist’ has, since the early heady days of Italian fascism, been a vague epithet to denounce a political enemy – and it often didn’t matter if that enemy was on the left or the right of the political spectrum. Historians and political scientists have been incapable of finding a useful definition of fascism, in part thanks to its vague usage in political discourse. The most meaningful definition, though it too is not perfect, is found in Robert Paxton’s work – because he recognizes that ‘fascism’ changes depending on the context within which it is found. We need to look at the situation in Europe right now and while we might see some similarities to the 1930s, they are, in fact, two different eras. The consequences of economic destruction in the 1930s will not necessarily be the consequences of economic destruction in 2012.

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly for real-world political affairs, is the fact that by using the language of ‘fascism’ we imply that this is a known enemy. Who hasn’t been taught about Nazi crimes? There is a tendency to think that if we recognize our enemy (i.e. if they are neo-Nazis) then we will also know how to combat them (i.e. using measures that have been used in the past). But part of the real danger even back in the 1920s and 1930s was that fascists and Nazis were underestimated – because their political opponents used dated understandings of political affairs to deal with them. European liberals in the 1920s and ‘30s tended to view, for example, Benito Mussolini as a new variation on old conservatism. Boy, did they regret that later on. And so it is today, that we need to assess – truly and honestly assess – these political parties for what they are, not what they remind us of.

If we want history to provide us with ways of understanding the world, then we would see the success of, say, the Front national as another chapter in an ongoing development of the radical right in France. Though it requires a little more work, it is far more useful to situate these parties where they belong – in geographically, historically, and temporally specific contexts. Do I agree with Walkom’s assertion that these parties are obscene? Yes, without question. But we need to understand why, as obscene as they are, they are attractive to European voters in 2012 and using the language of fascism will not help us achieve that goal.

by Mike Commito

Titanic at the docks (Wikipedia Commons)

This week marks the 100^th anniversary of the sinking of the luxury ocean liner, R.M.S. Titanic. The vessel was on its maiden voyage from Southampton to New York City when it struck an iceberg on the night of 14 April 1912, sinking in the early hours of the morning.

The ship was supposed to make history through its luxury, power, and efficiency. However, after fatally colliding with the iceberg, it still made history but in a much more profound and unintended way. The incident resulted in the deaths of 1,517 people, making it one of the worst maritime disasters on record. Moreover, it was a watershed moment in human history: it highlighted the limitations of technology and the idea of human infallibility. But it also spurred a memory industry that has continued to re-remember the ship and its fateful night in April 1912.

As the centennial anniversary of this event approaches, we will be bombarded by television specials and radio spots that commemorate its history. Most notably, James Cameron’s blockbuster and Academy Award winning film, Titanic (1997), was re-released on the silver screen on 4 April 2012, enhanced and in 3D format. In addition, the M.S. Balmoral recently set sail from Southhampton on 8 April as part of Miles Morgan Travel’s promotional Titanic Memorial Cruises for the month of April. The Balmoral and another ship scheduled to depart on 10 April will both replicate the Titanic’s maiden voyage albeit with a few minor adjustments to compensate for technological improvements. Tempting fate or paying homage in a peculiar way?

As an historian I am curious about the ways in which the Titanic has been remembered by different groups and individuals over time. French philosopher and sociologist Maurice Halbwachs has argued that there is not only individual memory, but also group or collective memory. Furthermore, the collective memory of a group is dependent upon the framework to which that group is exposed and how they are situated in society.  Consequently, there is, as Halbwachs wrote, “no memory without perception.” For many of my generation, it is probable that Cameron’s film was our first exposure to the catastrophe and may have been critical in generating interest in the history of Titanic. However, some have argued that the film is historically inaccurate and thus should not be viewed as a piece of historical media. Perhaps, but the film has engrained itself into our collective memory.  Bad acting aside, it has been significant in shaping our perceptions of the historical event. Besides, numerous Titanic­ inspired books, films, and other artifacts over the years have challenged the notion of historical authenticity.

German artist Willy Stöwer created one of the first visual representations of the event in 1912 with his painting, Titanic Sinking. Although iconic, the work contains a few noteworthy errors, such as the inclusion of numerous large icebergs in the background and smoke billowing from the ship’s fourth funnel.

Willy Stower, Titanic Sinking, 1912 (Wikipedia Commons)

In reality, Titanic only had three operational funnels, with a fourth dummy funnel erected to make it appear that it was on par with the speed and power of rival ships, the R.M.S. Lusitania and Mauretania, both of which had four operational funnels. Yet, it is still one of Stöwer’s most widely circulated and famous works. Since no photographs of the sinking exist, artistic renderings of the ship’s demise were the most powerful way for people to visualize an unfathomable tragedy.

In 1955, Walter Lord published A Night to Remember, a book that is still regarded by many as the definitive source about the ship and the sinking. Three years later, it was adapted for the silver screen, bearing the same title, and is still regarded by some as the most accurate Titanic film – including Cameron’s. Yet, Roy Ward Baker, the film’s director, depicts the ship sinking in one piece.  While we know today this is inaccurate, it was unknown at the time.  Robert Ballard did not discover the wreck of the ship until 1985; before then, it was unclear  if the ship had broken in two. Even so, does it matter that the above-mentioned painting and film are not entirely historically accurate? Do we as historians have to pass judgments on historical representations outside the academy? I do not believe that the historian is the ultimate arbiter of history, and therefore efforts spent policing the commemoration of Titanic or other events would be a futile exercise. After all, these representations are already part of the collective memory of our generation and those before us. The long-term viability of these paintings, books, and films has demonstrated their significance, and are therefore no less important than the works of historians.

People have also commemorated the Titanic in much more bizarre ways in recent years through the production of memorabilia. Some of these representations might be a little less tasteful than others, but it does not necessarily mean they are less important in the construction of how we remember Titanic. More importantly, with the increasing importance of global online commerce, many of these representations have allowed Titanic to transcend books and cinema.

Individuals unsatisfied with Roy Ward Baker’s or James Cameron’s big screen sinkings can actually order a giant inflatable slide that is supposed to recreate the final moments of the disaster, when the ship’s stern broke apart from the main haul before plunging into the Atlantic. Anyone looking to plan a party in April can order from the slide from Party USA. But if you really want to break the ice at your next party you should order the Gin & Titonic ice cube set from Fred & Friend’s.  Rather than chilling your drinks with standard cubes, the moulds give you the option of either sinking ocean liners or icebergs into your drink of choice.

Titanic slide (Party USA)

Gin & Titonic ice cube set (Amazon.com)

Instead of spending your money on Titanic themed party novelties, you could save up with a piggybank from Amazon that comes in the shape of a skull of a former R.M.S. Titanic sailor. A great way to teach your children the value of savings and ensure they develop an aversion to maritime travel.

Titanic skull piggybank (Amazon.com)

The commemoration of Titanic raises some important issues for historians and the public at large. Is there a best way to remember something? And more importantly for historians, do all interpretations of a historical event need to remain absolutely true to history? Even if they do not, there is no stopping or denying the significance they can have on shaping society’s perception of a given event. The year 2012 is far from over, and Titanic is just one episode that will be remembered and debated this year. From now until 2015, the bicentennial of the War of 1812 will be commemorated.  It should prove to be a contentious time for Canadian historians.

The bow of Titanic at its final resting place (Wikipedia Commons)

Mike Commito is a second-year PhD student at McMaster University. His dissertation, tentatively titled ”Orphaned Cubs and Responsible Hunters: Conflicting Values and the Management of Black Bears in Ontario, 1900-2000? focuses on the development of black bear hunting policy and management strategies in Ontario. He is interested in how various groups in the province such as biologists, policy-makers and the lay public viewed bears and how this perspective has changed over time.

The Battle of Vimy Ridge, a painting by Richard Jack. Canadian War Museum.

By: Laura Piticco

The week of April 9-13 is important for marking two major events in history: the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic, and the 95th anniversary of the battle at Vimy Ridge. Both events have as of late been dominating the media coverage, one in particular, the Titanic, more than the other.

Underlying the coverage of both of these events is the actual history that seems to have gotten lost. As historians, we want to see that people are actually thinking critically and being provoked to ask questions; not simply accepting the material that is being presented. The Titanic was more than just an ocean liner sinking. It is a story that encompasses topics about class, race, and gender in a society that is not that far removed from our society today. We should be thinking about and discussing these issues in relation to how it was representative of the society of the time. Equally important, in terms of Vimy Ridge, are the countless other battles fought in World War I that showed the strength and collectiveness of our nation. Are they not as important? Can and should the battle of Vimy Ridge be the most significant representative moment of this war? Should we not honour the other battles with the same respect?

What has become an issue is that these events seem to have gotten coverage based heavily on the fact that they are considered milestone occasions. The one hundredth anniversary of an event seems to always be glorified and promoted in the news, simply because one hundred years has been presented in our society as the accepted date with which something should be remembered. Should the number behind the anniversary of an event automatically make it more important than the significance of the events’ history?

If we examine this idea further, this year marks the 200th anniversary of the War of 1812. Though it is often argued, and has been the main focus of many of the speeches this week, that it was the Battle of Vimy Ridge where Canada finally came together as a nation, did the War of 1812 also not have a significant impact that has shaped our cultures consciousness of who we are as Canadians? News coverage of this has slid significantly in the past few months, with this historian only hoping that the next few months bring a significant turnaround in this matter.

One of the most telling and perhaps frustrating aspects of this is that Canada Post, instead of choosing to commemorate the Battle of Vimy Ridge as a postage stamp, chose to go with the Titanic. Why? The argument lies in the fact that after the ships sinking, two of the first vessels to start the recovery effort of the victims were sent from Halifax, Nova Scotia. There is also a graveyard that is the final resting place of 150 of the ships unclaimed victims. The Halifax branch of Canada Post outfitted mail trucks and created a 100th anniversary collection line of stamps. Does this small role that Halifax played in this event justify the efforts that are being put in place for this commemoration? Does this actually show respect for the event or is it just a way of capitalizing on all of the hype that is surrounding this anniversary? If this is the way in which we choose to commemorate significant historical events, will the Battle of Vimy Ridge receive the same treatment in five years? And if so, will it be to capitalize on the number associated with the anniversary, or will it be to reflect on the true meaning behind the historical importance and implications of the battle?

Yet, there is still hope. Upon reading one of the few articles that focused on the memory of Vimy Ridge, it highlighted the over 5,000 Canadian students who made the journey to Vimy to remember. Perhaps all is not lost. Perhaps there is still a desire out there, by these young people in particular, to keep the memory of important and more importantly the historical significance of events such as this alive in our national narrative. There may be no re-release of a movie in 3D that glorifies this moment in Canadian history and, this may be for the better. Events such as this are not to be glorified, they are to be respectfully remembered. Though they may not get as much coverage as some more ‘popular’ historical events, there are people out there, and in particular young people who are not willing to forget.

There needs to be a shift in the way in which we choose to remember and commemorate. We need to alter our thought process by finding a way to prioritizing our remembrance, not popularize it.

Laura Piticco is completing her MA in Public History at Western University in London, Ontario. Her personal website can be found here. 

By Ian Milligan

Today’s Air Canada wildcat strikes, which led to widespread delays and cancellations at Toronto’s Pearson and Montreal’s Dorval airports, surprised many Canadians. That it could all begin with a seemingly minor issue – the suspension of a number of workers who sarcastically applauded Labour Minister Lisa Raitt as she debarked from a flight last night – is, however, familiar when compared to the “wildcat wave” that was in full swing throughout the summer of 1966.

Indeed, the events of the last 36 hours are reminiscent of several large events that swept the Canadian industrial scene throughout that hot summer of labour unrest. In this post, I’ll take us back to that wild summer of unrest, and help show that the Air Canada wildcat strike is hardly a unique phenomenon.

The “wildcat wave” of 1965-66 was without any statistical precedent. The comparatively quiescent labour movement suddenly exploded with roughly 575 strikes over those two years, with somewhere between 20 and 50 percent of them being illegal wildcat strikes (the statistics are notoriously opaque). I can’t do justice to it all in a short blog post, but I can give two stories that show how two very large case studies started.

SUDBURY – 14 July 1966

The spark was lit 2,200 feet below the surface in the Levack Mine (map), a remote and undesirable outpost of the International Nickel Company near Sudbury, Ontario, when a group of low-seniority young men opened their lunch pails in July 1966. Due to rising tensions between their union, Local 6500 of the United Steelworkers, and their employer over a recently expired collective agreement – languishing in Toronto-based conciliation hearings – they were forbidden to gather on the job. Their foreman stopped them from gathering, told them to close their lunch pails and carry on to work without eating; as the few “old hands” explained to the newer workers, this was a severe provocation. Miners worked “collar to collar,” or surface-to-surface, and work assignments were always to be given underground while they took an initial break. This was violating a twenty-year old tradition.

The miners refused and were sent to the surface. Word spread, the entire shift throughout the mine began returning to the surface, gathering at the cages that would return them to the surface: taunting foremen, banging lunch pails, singing songs and chants. By the next morning, word had spread, picket lines thrown up, and the union had lost control. It would take almost a month of significant union and police efforts to bring these young workers under control, and lead to enduring changes in union discipline within one of Canada’s most important trade unions.

Why did they strike? It was about sandwiches, but that is not all – that was the spark. There had been tense contract negotiations throughout 1966, a union that was seen as perhaps being weak (the United Steelworkers of America had only won the right to represent workers instead of the communist Mine Mill union in 1962 and had faced a re-vote in 1965), work-to-rule was ongoing, and graffiti throughout the facility argued “No contract, no work – - July 10.” Young people were gathered together, several had been brought in from Newfoundland en masse and were living together, growing angrier and angrier at a company that was perceived to be exploiting them, and the situation was ripe on many levels for an explosion. So here, we must understand the wildcat as part of a broader phenomenon: growing anger, structural issues, and ongoing concern.

Thanks to the role of youth, it was a unique event. As one anonymous striker reported to a researcher, “It was like a festival – there were a lot of people around the gates – there were a lot of ‘Newfies’ … around with their guitars and there was drinking and singing and dancing in the streets.” While the strike eventually ended with a mass vote of the workers to return, the contract made Inco workers better paid, although some gains would be lost in their drive to make sure everybody got rehired.

HAMILTON – 3 August 1966

Young workers took a militant lead elsewhere. Indeed, that same month, almost sixteen thousand members of Steelworkers Local 1005 wildcatted at Hamilton’s Steel Company of Canada (Stelco). Young workers had similarly been concentrated in an undesirable low-seniority position, and after being provoked by a foreman, ignored their stewards in walking out.

Stelco was dramatically expanding through the 1960s, growing from 7,258 employees in 1960 to 11,762 on the eve of the wildcat strike in July 1966. Young workers were thus getting hired en masse, and then put into the crappiest, lowest seniority positions en masse – a pressure cooker of tension and resentment. Tensions were growing throughout 1966, a bargaining year. The usual pressure for a settlement was compounded by fears surrounding technological change and automation. Low-seniority men, who would have the most to lose in automation-related job loss, felt this tension acutely. On the warm summer evening of 3 August 1966, negotiators met with the provincial Conciliation Board, a central instrument of postwar labour legislation designed to cool down tensions. It would not work here.

That night, young men gathered in the lunchroom of the Hot Strip Finishing Department, a unit comprised largely of low-seniority men. They were heatedly discussing the negotiating team’s progress, decrying their lack of information. As tensions rose, one young worker burst in. A foreman had told him that “you guys haven’t got the guts to walk out,” he declared, setting the room off. “Let’s show the f——!,” the young men declared, as they began shutting down equipment, and gathering others together. A union steward came over to tell them to “go back and settle it the union way” to no avail, as members streamed out of the plant and quickly set up picket lines. The first picket line was about 200 men strong and grew, especially after the overnight shift arrived and honoured it. Through the night, the line grew to about 3,000 members. Union leaders publicly declared the strike illegal, denouncing it as “irresponsible” and “futile,” and ordered members back to work, but were ignored.

This was, needless to say, an enormous industrial action. Some 10,992 workers were now on strike. Workers continued to honour pickets. The local president, John Morgan, came down to the lines himself to make his stance clear: the men had to return to work, the lines had to dissipate, and that penalties would be severe if they did not listen to him. “We’re fed up with you, we don’t want you,” shouted one picketer, and several physically assaulted Morgan. Hamilton Police placed a tearful Morgan into protective custody, before 300 officers (out of a total police force of 420) broke the picket line to allow management into the plant. Afterwards, picketers even managed to stop a freight train from entering Stelco through the force of their numbers. The street scene was remarkable. About five hundred men now milled around in front of Stelco, moving in and out of nearby restaurants and bars. Cars were burned. Thirty-three mostly young men were arrested for variously obstructing or assaulting police, or causing a disturbance. At one point, picketers sat down en masse, obstructing traffic.

It would take another five days for the wildcat to end, thanks to a majority vote of union members (many of whom decried the role of young workers). Police eventually restored order, the action moved off the streets, and a City Clerk-supervised vote at the Civic Stadium (today’s Ivor Wynne) saw 4,319 members favouring a return to work, 1,142 against, and hundreds more leaving without voting. Wives held the line while the Local held its largest union meeting in recent history.

CONCLUSIONS

Wildcats aren’t new. But in a context of growing pressure on the job, both from management and government (especially acute in the case of Air Canada), small provocations and sparks can unsurprisingly lead to massive eruptions. While today’s Air Canada’s strike was not on the scale of the Hamilton or Sudbury explosions, it does remind us of an earlier period where such labour unrest was relatively common.

“It’s a difficult thing to live in a country that has erased your past.” – Teju Cole, Open City

Amnesty International is concerned about a new French law that would “…[make] it a criminal offense to publicly question events labeled ‘genocide’…”. The bill cleared the upper house of the French Parliament on 23 January 2012 and could be signed into law by President Nicolas Sarkozy as early as the end of this month.

The international human rights group notes that such “…legislation would criminalize the exercise of freedom of expression that is seen as ‘outrageously’ contesting or trivializing historical events or their characterisation.” Such legislation would also be largely redundant in the broader context of France’s current laws pertaining to freedom of expression, which can classify certain forms of historical denial as hate-speech.

The new law appears to be transparently aimed at Turkey, for the would-be European Union entrant’s longstanding refusal to acknowledge the violence directed against Armenians, from 1915-16 and through to the final days of the then Ottoman Empire in 1923, as genocidal. The Armenian Genocide, recognized by at least twenty members of the international community, resulted in significant displacement and approximately one and a half million deaths.

This new French law follows a 2001 declaration by the French Parliament that officially designated the event as meeting the requisite definition of genocide.

If passed, the law would likely affect French citizens (from the native born to the newly arrived) far more than it might entice Turkey to examine and retract its official position. It could also trigger a perilous international race to the bottom, with respective states moving to tighten their own laws out of fear that they are not strict enough.

While it remains to be seen whether or not the would-be law will even survive judicial scrutiny (a group of senators have already petitioned the nation’s top court for a review), it asks us to question whether such legislation is the most appropriate means of protecting such historical events and history in general.

The basic intention of the law appears to be no different than censure, the other central power held by parliamentary bodies, used to denounce unbecoming behaviour exhibited by their own peers, state officials and citizens, and even those on the international stage. While such resolutions are generally non-binding, they can certainly serve memory well by turning any given issue into a minor political scandal at the very least.

Of course, France cannot actually force Turkey to change their official policy but they might better serve the memory of this event with a series of parliamentary resolutions (similar to their 2001 declaration) than with drastic domestic legislation. After all, this is generally the same traditional ‘shout-down’ approach we take with individuals who elect to deny historical events in the face of clear, overwhelming evidence.

A persistent campaign of parliamentary censure would not only serve history by allowing the world to revisit significant events (like this and others) but also provide a space of recognition and consciousness, however conceptual, for those who still reside within the borders of a state that has erased their past. It would also work to establish parliament as not just a place where a nation’s laws are drafted, debated, and passed, but as a welcome environment for historical consciousness.

George Cruikshank, "The Bottle" Plate VI (1848)

Public debate and media coverage of the Shafia family murder trial has obscured and misrepresented patriarchal violence against women in Canada. Following the guilty verdict last month, lead Crown prosecutor Gerard Laarhuis mistakenly proclaimed that, “[t]his verdict sends a very clear message about our Canadian values and the core principles in a free and democratic society that all Canadians enjoy and even visitors to Canada enjoy.” The verdict and public discourse surrounding this horrific case of family abuse and murder misrepresents both the historical and contemporary status of women in Canada and the prevalence of spousal violence against women. The suggestion that the verdict was a “wake-up call” and an “École Polytechnique” moment for Canadian Muslims, as Sheema Khan wrote in the Globe and Mail last month, mistakenly implies that violence against women and misogyny are not endemic throughout all of Canadian society.

Media coverage and discussion of the trial focused on the notion of “honour killings” and the need to instruct Canadian Muslims about liberal democratic values and gender equality. For example, Rosie DiManno and Andrew Chung from the Toronto Star wrote: “In our country, men and women are equal. A female’s life is worth as much as a male’s.” This, of course, is not true. In 2008, Canadian women earned an average annual income of $30,200 while men earned on average of $46,900. Women’s labour in Canada is more likely to be unpaid than that of men, especially in the care of children, the care of the elderly, and volunteer work. And, most significantly to the Shafia murders, Canadian women suffer from disproportionate levels of emotional and physical violence. According to Statistics Canada, in 2008, more than 8 of every 10 victims of spousal violence were female. And in 2007, almost four times as many women were killed by a current or former spouse as men.

Violence against women and spousal violence are not unique to the Canadian Muslim community, they are systemic throughout Canadian society. In a country with a long, brutal history of violence against women, it is absurd to suggest otherwise. The actions of the RCMP alone should suggest that Canadian society does not, in fact, value the lives of women equally to that of men. Current and former female RCMP officers will soon launch a class action lawsuit against Canada’s national police force concerning an entrenched culture of sexual harassment against women. That same police force was also compelled to apologize for its protracted apathy toward the serial murders of dozens of women by Robert Pickton. Are these the “Canadian values” and “core principles” Crown prosecutors hope to teach immigrant communities?

Hypocritical Canadian attitudes toward violence against women among immigrant communities are nothing new. For example, consider the murder of Elizabeth Fallon in Toronto in December 1911. Fallon was murdered by her boyfriend, Rafaelo Dinenni following a jealous argument. Dinenni beat and killed Fallon over allegations that she had been unfaithful. At his trial in May 1912, upon the strong recommendation of the presiding judge, a jury mercifully refused to convict Dinenni of murder and instead found him guilty of manslaughter, sparing him from a death by hanging. The judge told reporters that he believed that Dinenni, though deserving of punishment, was also entitled to some leniency because, “I realize the difficulty of dealing with Italians who do not understand our laws or our ways, but they must understand the way we insist on women being treated.” [1]

The judicial insistence that new immigrants learn about “our laws or our ways” in the Dinenni case were echoed in the remarks of Justice Robert Maranger in the Shafia trial. “The apparent reason behind these cold-blooded, shameful murders” Maranger stated in court, “was that the four completely innocent victims offended your twisted concept of honour, a notion of honour that is founded upon the domination and control of women, a sick notion of honour that has absolutely no place in any civilized society.” Though the Justice’s remarks were true, they failed to recognize that the domination and control of women by men is not restricted to Muslim immigrant communities, but has been a part of Canadian society for a very long time.

[1] Archives of Ontario, Criminal Assize Clerk Criminal Indictment Files, RG 22-392, box 268, file 8964; Toronto World, 14 May 1912, p.1.

Sean Kheraj is an assistant professor of Canadian and environmental history at York University. He blogs at http://seankheraj.com

Brendan Hughes

Northern Ireland experienced three decades of violent conflict until the signing of the Good Friday Agreement in 1998. Many of perpetrators never faced justice and some of these individuals have been brought into the political system as a part of the peace deal. This past creates multiple tensions in the present and leaves significant questions about how the judicial system should approach the numerous unsolved murders. Historians and those interested in truth and reconciliation have their own desires to better understand this past.  Why did so many otherwise normal individuals become involved in mass murder? Can a greater knowledge of the individual motivation of IRA members help us better understand these kinds of conflicts in the future? All this leads to significant tensions between the desires of victims’ families for justice  and the demands of a political settlement and power sharing agreement that might fall apart if too many reformed political leaders are brought up on charges. An academic project to record oral histories with living IRA members, which were then to be locked away at the archives in Boston College until the interviewee passed away, has brought these tensions between the demands of justice and a search for historical understanding into the news. The Belfast Project for Boston College preformed the interviews with republicans for five years beginning in 2001. Last year, after details from the late Brenden Hughes interviews were published, the Police Service of Northern Ireland began court proceedings in the United States requesting access to the remaining interviews.

An appeals court in the United States will now have to decide between the demands for justice and the value of this kind of historical project, which might become impossible in the future if academics cannot find a way to deposit transcripts beyond the reach of a subpoena. The issues are further complicated, as some suggest these interview transcripts might confirm Gerry Adams’ role in some of the violent attacks and potentially could lead to criminal charges for the current President of Sinn Féin (something Adams denies). Beyond the legal implications, this could damage Adam’s political career, as he claims he was never a part of the IRA. This creates a very difficult situation for the American appeals courts, as their decision might lead to a potential political crisis in Norther Ireland. Academics and journalists will now have the opportunity to intervene in the court case and make arguments that the importance of creating this kind of historical archive outweighs the demands of justice for the unsolved crimes from the troubles. Are they right? Does our quest to better understand the past supersede the rights of all of the victims?

"Cleaner sweeping the floor after the Wall Street crash, 1929," The Nationaal Archief in The Hague

Discussing money is generally afforded the same privacy as the balance of one’s bank account. Inviting an open conversation about the subject in public, from basic finance to complex economics, is thought to be rude and even poorer politics.

It is perhaps the most polarizing field of contemporary journalism because it has absolutely no means of circumventing readers’ class ties and can only clash with their compromised socio-economic opinions: what time readers could devote to the possible merits of ‘tax cuts’ or increased ‘government spending’ from one year to the next is usually put in the service of bolstering their own particular side of the trench.

And then there’s the fact that financial reporting was tasked with covering the ascendancy of “Reaganomics” in Western political discourse during the 1980s, and outright drafted to make sense of “globalization” (a vague catch-all for the apparent international prosperity brought about by free trade agreements but also the arrival of budgetary shortfalls, lapsed or eliminated regulatory provisions, and rising unemployment) since the 1990s.

To meet the demand, and keep pace with a burgeoning cottage industry of self-appointed financial experts, we borrowed more and more aloof language and overly-complicated concepts from the notoriously noncommittal (read: variable-rich) social science of economics that is inaccessible to most of us, even if we had the time between our first and now second jobs to look into it.

The result is a version of information that is not exactly propaganda (although media concentration does present clear conflicts of interest) but not strictly informative either. Here’s a fun example from Bloomberg News, with their editorial, “Black Friday 2011 Turns Freaky for Economists, Politicians: View” (24 November):

Black Friday 2011 is especially fraught for several reasons. First, the future is more uncertain than usual. We don’t know whether we’re emerging from the deepest recession since the Great Depression or about to plunge into a ‘double dip.’ Second, the 2012 elections are approaching and both the White House and the Senate, now in Democratic hands, are very much up for grabs. Historically, the state of the economy is the most important factor in determining the winner of the presidency.

Third, it’s not even clear what we should be hoping for in the Black Friday sales figures, when they start pouring out tomorrow. Our every instinct is to hope for brisk sales and record highs, signs of what’s charmingly called ‘consumer confidence.’ The consumer has been the engine of past prosperity, and consumption has always played a large role in America’s particular style of the pursuit of happiness. Economic recovery depends on whether the consumer has got his or her confidence back. Some fear that we are losing our taste for things — that the recession may have taught us that we don’t really need. Others, of course, applaud the same development.

It’s the perfect Rumsfeldian nightmare.

OCCUPY THE EVERYDAY

In short: we don’t talk about money. We talk around it. And when a crisis makes it impossible not to talk about, we discover that we’re not very good at it.

We easily remember “Black Tuesday” 29 October 1929, the original financial catastrophe of our time, but we recall less about the Glass-Steagall Act of 16 June 1932 and its regulatory framework for averting another crash — and we know even less about the Gramm-Leach-Bliley Act of 1999, passed under President Bill Clinton (not President George W. Bush), which nullified its most powerful provisions and started the countdown to the next catastrophe.

Still, there is an emerging pool of general audience material that makes our complex international financial situation more accessible in new ways: Paul Krugman’s The Return of Depression Economics and the Crisis of 2008 (2008), Carmen Reinhart and Kenneth Rogoff’s This Time is Different (2009), David Harvey’s The Enigma of Capital (2010), Nouriel Roubini and Stephen Mihm’s Crisis Economics (2010), Matt Taibbi’s Griftopia (2010), and Dambisa Moyo’s How the West Was Lost (2011) — along with documentaries like Capitalism: A Love Story (2009) and Inside Job (2010).

These and similar works, by both economists and non-economists, cover a wide variety of problems and solutions (not to mention financial crimes) and can ultimately serve as the foundation for a new conversation about money while perhaps even provoking an unprecedented demand for serious and permanent financial literacy.

Which brings me to the current international Occupy Movement. What makes it so interesting is its loose platform and the lack of any formal centralized bureaucratic authority (even that of a ‘big tent’ political party). You don’t have to endorse or even agree with the movement to see it as basically an international confession that we have a problem.

We would do well to recall that mass calls for radical financial upheaval or reform are historically followed by hard right or left turns, as parties attempt to capture the moment and co-opt enthusiasm. Until we simplify and popularize the elements of economic order (that is to say, become more open and willing to discuss money), from domestic policies to regional agreements, we will continue to swing from one extreme to the other.