The content of history textbooks and curriculum is an important factor in the political socialization of succeeding generations of students. This study of representative classroom textbooks authorized for use in Ontario at three distinct eras of the 20^th century shows how the main lines of interpretation have shifted over time. During the pre-World War II era, the persistent underlying tone was one of reverence for Canada’s connection to Britain. By mid-century, the main theme was Canada’s bilingual dualism within North America. As the end of the 20^th century loomed, the textbook authors were focusing much more on previously marginalised groups within the Canadian multicultural mosaic. Each era produces its own historical narrative, but within the school context, an authorized interpretation impacts the beliefs of the generation to follow. The ultimate goal must be to nurture democratic citizens of the global future with a sure understanding of their own national identity.

Link to full paper

“What does a queer, sadomasochistic philosopher have to do with the study of Canada’s past?” This is the question I ask students at the beginning of my first-year survey course on Canadian history. Over the years, colleagues have suggested that first-year undergrads aren’t ready for Foucault. But experience tells me that not only are many of Foucault’s ideas readily translatable in the classroom, but that many first-year students, not always convinced that the study of Canadian history might have some connection to their present, eagerly grasp onto them. This past week was a case in point.

My lecture was on the First World War, and we used Foucault’s ideas about memory and counter-memory. We began by looking at dominant or officials meanings – the familiar story of the war as the moment of Canada’s maturation into nationhood, a narrative constructed by military officers and not a few Canadian historians. We then looked at different groups – ordinary soldiers, women, First Nations, disaffected veterans, black Canadians, leftists – whose memories of the War most often ran counter to official meanings. We then moved on to trace the historical process – through poetry, school textbooks, the Vimy Ridge memorial, local monuments – by which the First World War took on its nationalist meanings. We were also able to use Foucault, always attuned to questions of power, to look at how dominant and counter-memories exist in unequal relation.

I concluded the lecture with the recent death of Jack Babcock, Canada’s last First World War veteran, and the struggle over his wartime memory. The federal government wanted to give Babcock a state funeral, something he refused. For Babcock, the lesson of the war that failed to end all wars, one he explained in an interview with Veterans Affairs Canada, is not easily assimilated with the heroic myth of Canada as a nation born of fire: “I hope countries think long and hard before engaging in war, as many people get killed … What a waste.”

I also use Foucault’s notion of “the historical present” in the course, and the lecture on the First World War provided an unexpected opportunity to put it into action. Several weeks before the lecture, the Globe and Mail reported that Library and Archives Canada (LAC) plans to cut its popular program, “Lest We Forget,” a series of on-site workshops in which students do primary historical research on the First World War. Several students in the course had participated in the “Lest We Forget” program, and many others were quick to detect the hypocrisy of a federal government wishing to bask in the reflected glory of a state funeral at the same time that its archives is cutting an award-winning program designed precisely to foster the vital link between young people and Canadian history. Students agreed, something should be done. But what?

Foucault’s first impulse would likely have been to organize a street-level demonstration. With LAC in Ottawa and our class in Kingston, Ontario, a physical protest wasn’t a possibility. Foucault’s next move would likely have been to draft a petition. (Petitions have more cultural significance and political import in France than we are perhaps accustomed to here; in Paris one can take an entire university course on Foucault and the art of the petition.) And so last week we started our own save the “Lest We Forget” program petition. Students are also writing letters to MPs, their hometown newspapers, starting up a Facebook page, and much else.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it odd to be participating in a campaign about the First World War. I also teach a course on the history of sexuality in Canada, and it feels mighty strange not to be responding to Jason Kenney’s attempts to impose his personal morality on the rest of us by excising references to queer history in the Canadian citizenship study guide. But, for now, I’ll go where students take me. In my lecture on the First World War, I offered my interpretation, one that deconstructs nationalist myth-making and accentuates counter-memories. Do all the students in the course accept or agree with my take on it? No, and neither should they. But where we find common ground is knowing that in order to have differences of interpretation, we must first have access to the historical documents.

The text of the petition avoids appeals to nationalism or patriotism, focussing instead on preserving public access to archival programs and on the uniqueness of hands-on primary historical research. That many of the comments left by people signing the petition emphasize patriotism and national sacrifice is neither surprising nor something I can control. I can hear my students now: “Sir, that’s why they call it democracy.” Perhaps so, but it also furnishes me with another “teachable moment” about how some historical memories and meanings have more cultural sway than others.

In the end, I invoke Foucault and the historical present to offer students an approach to history that is ultimately about more than whatever specific moment in the past we happen to be considering. It’s a vision of history not as dead and done, but as an active process of conflicting interpretation and political contestation in which students can intervene. As I watch students get excited over having their very first letter to the editor published or being interviewed by the local newspaper, I, too, see new possibilities in harnessing the power of the historical present.

Steven Maynard is a social historian who teaches in the Department of History at Queen’s University.

Historical writing has long suffered from the problem of auto-referentiality. Auto-referentiality, as I define it, simply means historians are writing only in reference to human subjects and human problems. I don’t mean to say that historiography is populated only by human beings but we do not currently possess an extensive literature where humans are not the protagonists.

Fortunately, in recent decades, environmental historians have set themselves to telling a more complex story about human and non-human interactions. Interestingly, what environmental history as a field has not been able to do is reflect a non-utilitarian understanding of nature and this, I argue, is a problem.

I use the word utilitarian because the natural world is still principally understood as a resource for bringing the greatest good to the largest number of people. Scientific innovations in agriculture, mining, and energy, for instance, are designed to bring higher standards of living to larger numbers of people and a humanitarian case can be made for this. Still, there is something disquieting about utilitarianism.

In the hands of a philosopher like Peter Singer, utilitarianism can seem quite humane and his 1976 book Animal Liberation makes a principled plea for vegetarianism and for ending industrial slaughter houses, high density feed lots, and scientific testing on animals because of the pain and suffering it causes them. On the other hand, utilitarianism often leads to an instrumental logic that treats animals as public goods, an abstract entity that is radically de-contextualized. In his work The End of History and the Last Man the American political scientist Francis Fukuyama illustrated this darker side. He observed that claims for animal rights would lead to the dismissal of a superior human dignity which, in turn, could cause moral anarchy. If humans are no longer situated at the apex of creation human beings will no longer be able to pursue development projects designed to curb famine or end suffering because the concerns of other animals will be paramount. Worse yet, he assumes that environmental disaster will be seen as retribution for humanity having tampered with the ecological balance (see pp. 296-298 in his book).

These are startling assumptions and Fukuyama appears unwilling to consider that animals can be treated as anything other than public goods. Modern economic development and “progress” rest upon an ever increasing control and management of the natural world. Still, this is not without its problematical aspects. He admits that modern science has undercut the traditional assumption that dominion over nature is based upon the moral superiority of human beings or what was once understood as the metaphysical separation between man and nature. Even reason, which was supposed to prove human selection from the rest of nature, is a product of biological evolution. This upsets the traditional notion of humankind’s moral superiority and leaves little more than technology as the basis for dominion over nature. Technology has no innate moral purpose but is an instrument of power. In the absence of morals technological power is simply another manifestation of what Friedrich Nietzsche called “the will to power.” The Canadian philosopher George Grant once observed that technology without morals leaves human beings confused about the difference between what is necessary and what is good.

History might help us begin to rethink this problem by leading us to reconceptualize the historical basis of human achievement. For instance, in 1972 Alfred W. Crosby published The Columbia Exchange which illustrated how the introduction of foreign plant and animal species was instrumental in the European colonization of the New World. Thanks to Crosby’s work we are now able to argue that the dominion of one civilization over another (the Spanish over the Amerindians for instance) is about far more than the technological or reasoning capacities of a colonizing people. Human history is both far less rational and far less anthropocentric than previously admitted.

The Czech novelist Milan Kundera beautifully illustrates this point in The Book of Laughter and Forgetting by asking why history has to be interpreted primarily as the story of human civilization. He argues that perhaps it is the invasion of the modern city by blackbirds, who have forsaken their traditional habitat, which is the most startling development of the past two hundred years: “A change in the relationship of one species to another (fish, birds, people, plants) is a change of a higher order than a change in the relationship of one or another group within the species.”  The most powerful force militating against this unconventional approach to historical writing is precedent and even professionalization and Kundera argues that while we focus upon what we believe to be most important “what we suppose to be unimportant wages guerilla warfare behind our backs, transforming the world without our knowledge and eventually mounting a surprise attack on us.” (See pp. 196-197 in his book)

If science has taught us that human beings have a biological kinship with the animals and if social science cannot prove the superiority of mankind without relying upon technological achievement as its metric, are we as scientists and social scientists not then left with the disquieting recognition that what is considered good is really only synonymous with what we deem necessary? And if we accept this in principle, are we not acknowledging that what is good for human beings is not universally good?

We cannot begin to give these questions serious consideration until we start addressing the problem of auto-referentiality. The historical narrative of human civilization is incomplete if we as historians cannot or will not discuss the relationship between people and non-human nature beyond the bounds of utilitarianism. If social science lacks the tools for such a discussion then historians might choose to turn towards other literatures to tell a more complete and humane story of human development. Historians have the luxury of eschewing abstract models of human behaviour which means we are also free to tell a story that crosses the bounds of anthropocentrism.

Jeremy Marks is a PhD student at the University of Western Ontario.  He studies the relationship between intellectual and political conservatism and environmentalism.

There are plenty of excuses young historians turn to when they convince themselves not to write opinion pieces for the newspaper. But, there are even more good reasons why they should: what if it makes government reconsider policy related to my research? What if I can convince Canadians to think differently about a topic for which I am passionate? What if my research makes a tangible difference because I put it where people would read it?

An opinion piece – sometimes called an “Op-Ed,” is a great way for a young Canadian historian to engage the general public. I’m not talking about a letter to the editor; instead, an op-ed is generally a 500-1000 word essay that addresses a timely and newsworthy issue, which appears in the editorial section – frequently “Op”posite the “Ed”itorial. Any Joe Schmoe can write a letter to the editor; when selecting an op-ed, editors generally seek someone with expert knowledge. And that’s just what academics are.

Historians certainly do contribute to our nation’s editorial pages; perhaps Jack Granatstein is most famous for his contentious essays about Canadian history. But it’s good to see that there are plenty of young historians finding their way into the papers as well. Recent UWO history PhD student Mark Humphries had an op-ed in the Globe and Mail last summer about the lessons Canada could learn from the 1918 pandemic when dealing with the Swine Flu outbreak. When Mark chose his dissertation topic – the response to the Spanish flu of 1918 – he surely could not have predicted the oubreak of H1N1, but he did recognize the opportunity to apply his research to a contemporary problem and for that was rewarded with a large national audience.

• Mark Humphries, “Lessons from the 1918 pandemic: Focus on treatment, not prevention“, The Globe and Mail. July 24, 2009.

More recently, another UWO PhD student, Ryan O’Connor, has been tearing up the editorial pages. Ryan researches the birth of the environmental movement in Toronto and has published three articles since November, twice the Charlottetown Guardian – his home province, and once in the London Free Press in a joint editorial with fellow student, Jeremy Marks. The three essays address issues relevant to his research and Canadian history and are a good example of how others can turn what they do into something the Canadian public can benefit from.

• Ryan O’Connor, “Cornelius Howatt at 200“, the Charlottetown Guardian. February 6, 2010.
• Ryan O’Connor & Jeremy Marks, “Copenhagen is PM’s Big Chance“, London Free Press. December 13, 2009.
• Ryan O’Connor, “Bring Prince Edward Island back to the land”, the Charlottetown Guardian, November, 25, 2009.

If there are other good examples of history graduate students writing op-eds, let me know. And if you’re interested in learning more, check out the Network in Canadian History & Environment’s Popular Writing for young historians workshops, with which I and other members of the Active History team have been involved. There, you’ll find some good readings to get you started in writing for a popular audience.

• ‘Reaching a Popular Audience – Vancouver: March 26, 2010.

Photo credit: “Newspaper and Tea” by Matt Callow.

Appropriately these changes were met with outcry from the academic community.  The Telegraph received a letter signed by 17 historians who called the program’s restricted emphasis short-sighted and risked skewing the public’s understanding of the past.

All of this got me thinking about the state of early-Canadian history and its relationship to Active History.  As the only member of our editorial board who does not study twentieth-century history, I must admit that I reflect on this often.  How important is early-Canadian history to current issues facing Canadian society?  And how does research on early-Canadian history compare with the study of later periods?

The answer to the first question is easy.  The legacy of Canada’s sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries continues to shape many of the critical issues facing Canadians.  There are lessons from Canada’s distant past that contribute to understanding issues as broad as First Nations’ land claims, inter-provincial relationships, and even urban development.

Ronald Rudin’s website, Remembering Acadie, serves as a great illustration of the importance of Canada’s early history in shaping present-day issues.  Built around the commemoration of the 400^th anniversary of French settlement in North America and the 250^th anniversary of the Acadian deportation in 2004/05, Rudin introduces visitors to how participants in his project understand the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and how these understandings have shaped their identities.  The videos from Passamaquoddy and Mi’kmaq leaders are particularly powerful in this regard.

The Canadian and French states have also put considerable resources into promoting the public memory of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Canada.  The New France-New Horizons project integrates interpretation of the French Regime of Canada’s history with access to over 40,000 primary documents.  The interpretive part of the site is quite extensive and encourages visitors to engage with the primary source material used in its development.  The digitized archive available on this site has made research in this field significantly easier to conduct.

Recent trends toward collaborative research and a greater sensitivity to culture have also brought important changes to early-Canadian research and how it is conducted.  The Great Lakes Research Alliance for the Study of Aboriginal Arts and Culture draws together Aboriginal community researchers, museum curators, archivists, and university researchers in an effort “to digitally reunite Great Lakes heritage that is currently scattered across museums and archives in North America and Europe with Aboriginal community knowledge, memory and perspectives.”  Although GRASAC’s work is not publically accessible, the project serves as an important demonstration of the new ways that early-Canadian research is being conducted and how it can contribute to current and future understandings of Canada.

Despite its relevancy and accessibility, university-based research on early-Canadian history seems to be less healthy.  A brief survey of titles winning SSHRC Standard Research Grants and paper topics at the annual meeting of the Canadian Historical Association provide a window onto research being conducted in Canadian history.  Last year 21 standard research grants were awarded to studies of the twentieth century, 14 to the nineteenth century, and 6 to earlier periods.  A survey of presentations at the CHA paints an even starker picture.  Only 13 presentations covered a topic before the 19^th century; 32 were on the 19^th century; while 125 presentations were given on 20^th century topics.  Although far from a reliable study, these numbers suggest a significant gap between research on recent subjects and that on the more distant past.

The research potential for studying early-Canadian history has never been healthier or easier.  Digital archiving projects and community-based research has made the past more accessible and more broadly reflective of the variety of ways historical actors experienced the past.  It is highly unlikely that a Canadian-based university would make a decision similar to the one made a few weeks ago by the University of Sussex.  Nonetheless, the field seems to be under-studied relative to more recent events despite the important place that Canada’s early history has in shaping many of the critical issues facing Canadian society.

Working in collaboration with the editors of ActiveHistory.ca and drawing on the discussions that were initiated at the Active History: History for the Future Conference held at Glendon College in September 2008, Left History is looking for original articles, theoretical pieces, document analyses, and reviews that question and challenge the public responsibility of the historian. The issue will include a peer-reviewed article section, as well as a roundtable focusing on less conventional displays, examples, and short thought pieces.

Examples of possible topics for submissions include, but are not limited to, the impact of community history projects, the role of historians in contemporary political debates, and the relationship between academic historians and the broader community. We are also fascinated by other examples of Active History: material objects, historical plaques, teaching, etc.

Submissions, as well as any questions, should be sent to lefthist@yorku.ca.

We are hoping to begin the evaluation of submissions on 15 May 2010, although this can be a flexible deadline with prior consultation with the editors.

Left History publishes articles written from radical, Marxist, feminist, and postmodernist perspectives on issues surrounding race, gender, class, sexuality, culture, the state, the environment, theory, and method.  Founded in 1993, Left History is an interdisciplinary peer-reviewed journal published on a biannual basis out of the History Department at York University, Toronto.  It is indexed in America: History and Life, Historical Abstracts, Sociological Abstracts, and the Alternative Press Index.  For further information, please consult our website, www.yorku.ca/lefthist, or contact the editors at lefthist@yorku.ca.

People naturally forget things over time.  Details become vague, memories cloudy, and events are never recalled exactly as they occurred.  The act of recording history assists in preserving an authentic version of the past.  The way in which the past is remembered and recorded has drastically changed as technology and digital memory have improved.

Technology has created an abundance of new mediums.  Digital information is now cheaper and easier to store than ever before.  The cheapness of digital storage is a huge benefit for those interested in documenting the past.  Digital storage allows heritage institutions to preserve fragile and valuable information at a lower cost, while simultaneously saving space.

However, it has been suggested (here, here, and here) that there are some problems with digital memory.  You probably don’t remember every internet search you have made in the past three months, but Google does.  Digital memory remembers things which humans may have naturally forgotten and is far more comprehensive than human memory. For better or for worse, an offhand comment online has the potential to be remembered indefinitely. The ability of technology to collect information you would never personally remember does have the potential to be historically valuable.  But, digital memory also has the potential to be a reminder of something you would rather forget.

The way in which digital memory is stored is drastically different than the way in which human memory is kept.  Digital memory is often saved in snapshot format.  Photographs, emails, search histories, tweets, etc are often archived separately and are usually saved amongst thousands of similar records. Properly cared for archival records are stored in an organized and methodical way.  Digital memory is often stored by date of creation, broad theme, or in the worst case scenario in no real order.  This difference in organization has the potential to remove digital memory from its proper context.  Born digital items need to be properly organized and sorted in a way which links them to events, people, and other digital records.  Properly created metadata can greatly improve the context of born digital items.  However, a lot of digital information is saved without metadata and without thought toward later use.  This lack of context begs the question, how valuable is information if you cannot piece it together to create a larger picture?  Information is only as valuable as the insight it provides and insight is a lot easier to come by with context.

As Viktor Mayer-Schoenberger argues, technology can “capture the words that have been said, but not the thoughts that were thought.” Technology is a great tool for accessing previously untapped information. However, more traditional forms of collecting history should not be forgotten. Historians and the interpretation of history are still crucial in a world ruled by digital memory.  Recording every action, a la Gordon Bell, can provide a look into the past, but without context this information is not living up to its full potential.

Krista McCracken is a public history consultant and is currently working with Knowledge Ontario as a Digitization Facilitator.

Help us put Words on the Wall

The Psychiatric Survivor Archives of Toronto (PSAT) is giving out bricks to serve as the basis for a work of art.  Artists and groups are welcome to use the medium of their choice. Works will be displayed and sold as part of a silent auction to help raise funds for historic plaques to commemorate the history of the patient-built wall at the Queen Street Site of the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health.

Words on the Wall will be held on April 21, 2010 at the Gladstone Hotel in conjunction with This is Not a Reading  Series. There will be a wall tour led by historian Geoffrey Reaume, followed by a relaunch of the 2 nd  edition of his book, Remembrance of Patients Past (University of Toronto Press). We will end the evening with a silent auction of the bricks donated by artists.

To request a brick or for more information, please email psychsurvivorarchives@gmail.com or phone 416-661-9975 or 416-809-1013.
For more information about PSAT visit www.psychatricsurvivorarchives.com
For more information about This Is Not A Reading Series visit www.tinars.ca

DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSIONS: APRIL 7, 2010

A controversy has erupted over the past week surrounding how Canadians should remember Louis Riel, a 19^th century Métis who not only led the 1869 Red River and 1885 Northwest Rebellions, but also negotiated the terms for Manitoba’s entry into Confederation in 1870 before his execution in 1885 for high treason.

In a pamphlet posted online last December, Edmonton East Conservative MP Peter Goldring argued that Canadians should think of Riel as a “villain” and hold him responsible for the deaths that occurred during the Red River and Northwest uprisings.  Goldring’s statements responded to a recent private members bill, introduced by Winnipeg NDP MP Pat Martin, that seeks to overturn Riel’s treason conviction and officially recognize him as a Father of Confederation.

This week, the Prime Minister’s Office denounced Goldring’s sentiments concerning Riel. Opposition parties had already reputated Goldring.  And the hundreds of comments posted on the websites of Canadian media outlets demonstrate that Goldring’s questioning of a heroic historical memory of Riel has stirred Canadians (see here and here, for examples).   

This most recent dispute over the historical memory of Riel is part of a long trajectory within Canada’s past concerning the ways in which the Métis leader’s life should be remembered by individuals, social groups, organizations, and the state.  Goldring’s pamphlet criticizes “those today who want to change the historical record regarding . . . Riel” for engaging in erroneous “historical revisionism”; however, interpretations of Riel and his importance to Canada has straddled the spectral ends of reputation – villain or hero – since the Métis leader’s own lifetime.  Indeed, during the treason trial that resulted in Riel’s hanging, Canadians were split on the purpose of his actions, his treatment by authorities, and what he represented of Canada’s future.  Whereas many Anglophone (and especially Protestant) Canadians saw Riel as an evil threat to the orderly settlement of the West, French-Canadian Catholics believed his mistreatment at the hands of the federal government was part of a larger problem of inequality towards French Canadians within the recently-established Dominion of Canada.  Even Wilfrid Laurier, future Prime Minister, stated in 1885 that “[h]ad I been born on the banks of the Saskatchewan I would myself have shouldered a musket against the neglect of government and the shameless greed of speculators.”

After Riel’s death, the meaning of his actions continued to divide Canadian society.   Doug Owram’s 1982 article “The Myth of Louis Riel”, published in the Canadian Historical Review, illustrates changing perceptions of Riel, noting that by the 1960s, he had become accepted as a hero by much of English Canada, falling more in line with long-standing French Canadian and Métis understandings.

Shannon Bower, in a 2002 article in Manitoba History analyzed the commemoration of Riel through the prism of two contentious statues of the man that have stood on the lawn of the Manitoba Legislative Building.  A 1971 statue, commissioned to celebrate Manitoba’s centenary, aimed to represent in aesthetic form the tensions within Riel’s life, but his twisted and naked figure faced “mixed reception” from Métis and non-Métis.  The statue, conceived by Marcien LeMay and Étienne Gaboury, was eventually moved from the legislative grounds to the nearby Collège Universitaire de St. Boniface in 1995.  A “less volatile” and certainly more heroic statue took its place in 1996.  Bower argues that “[w]hether hovering as historical phatasm or incarnated as stone statue, the Riel that people recognize is linked less to his actual historical role than to the needs and desires of the various groups and individuals who seek to animate their struggles through the transcendent spirit of Louis Riel.”

Sean Kheraj recently offered an excellent survey of various media representations of Riel, including those contained in North West Mounted Police, which Kheraj describes as a “bizarre and spectacularly racist” motion picture by controversial American filmaker Cecil B. DeMille.  The 1940 film makes for a particularly interesting comparison with a much more recent Historica Minute of Riel’s hanging, also featured on Kheraj’s site.  The CBC Digital Archives also features a number of television and radio clips from 1966 to 2004, entitled “Rethinking Riel”.

It is uncertain whether the PMO’s response to the Goldring pamphlet will ensure an official repeal of Riel’s treason verdict and his recognition as a Father of Confederation – Martin’s bill is not the first such attempt.  Andrew Smith points out that Goldring’s attack suggests a shift within the former Reform wing of the Conservative Party – or at least one of its members – away from an interpretation of Riel as the first of many Western protest leaders.  What is clear, however, is that the historical memory of Riel will continue to reflect wider societal debates about minority rights, the validity of violence against the state, and the future of Canada.

By Teresa Iacobelli

In March 2010 the Qikiqtani Truth Commission (QTC) will draw to a close with the release of a final report and recommendations for the future.  While the QTC has been ongoing since 2007 most Canadians remain unaware of its existence, and of the historical and social issues that it addresses.  The QTC was created with a mandate to research and report on the facts surrounding the alleged dog slaughters, relocations and other government policies that affected Inuit communities in the Eastern Arctic between the period of 1950 and 1980.  As part of completing this mandate archival research has been conducted, witnesses have been interviewed and oral histories have been collected in several northern communities.  In addition to uncovering the facts, the QTC website (http://www.qtcommission.com/) also indicates that the purpose of this commission is to ultimately promote healing and reconciliation between Inuit communities and the Government of Canada.

The work of the QTC brings to light the question of whether or not such commissions actually achieve their intended goals, and whether government apologies serve any real purpose or have any measurable effect.  These questions are particularly relevant in Canada where recent years have seen numerous campaigns that have led to the collision of Canadian history with contemporary Canadian politics. These campaigns have included (but are not limited to) the demand for compensation for the head tax lobbied against Chinese immigrants in the early twentieth century; reparations for the interment of Japanese-Canadians during the Second World War; a call to pardon soldiers that were executed for desertion and cowardice during the Great War; and the demand for an apology and compensation for survivors of the Indian residential schools system. While these campaigns have some clear differences, taken together they do raise some interesting questions.  Foremost is the question of whether it should be up to a current government to apologize for the misdirected policies of their predecessors.  Where is the line drawn between acknowledging mistakes of the past, and attempting to rewrite it?  The campaign to pardon executed soldiers of the Great War dealt with this question head-on.  While today most would agree that to execute a volunteer soldier for the crime of desertion or cowardice is a punishment unbefitting the crime, in the context of the world of 1914-1918 we must not forget that these executions were not only legal, but also consistent with contemporary attitudes regarding crime and punishment in both civilian and military life.

Furthermore how do we deal with the often complicated reality of our history, in other words how do we move beyond the over-simplified roles of victim and perpetrator and recognize the nuances that so often characterize the past. A start may be to acknowledge the full range of experiences that make up our history. For example, the QTC hearings may reveal that the Canadian Government’s northern policies often created cultural loss and dislocation among Inuit communities, but they may also show that some Inuit benefited from increased access to health care and social programs, including government relief during periods of starvation. There is no singular experience, especially in the context of government policies that cover multiple groups in multiple locations over a thirty year period of public policy.  Therefore, is it naïve to assume that we can address the complexity of the situation with one single statement of regret?  Finally, it is worth asking how national apologies actually affect the lives of survivors. While Prime Minister Harper’s 2008 apology for the Indian residential school system was an emotional event for many survivors, how have their lives changed since? While financial compensation exists for former students, it can have no real and lasting impact if both the government and Aboriginal communities continue to fail to address the core issues of systemic poverty, substance abuse, corruption and the lack of opportunities that plague so many Aboriginal communities.

While both the good and the bad of history must be acknowledged and commemorated, both the glorious and inglorious moments, I question whether government apologies have become so common as to become meaningless.  When an apology is issued only to achieve a political pay-off or when it is contrived by a roomful of lawyers so as to avoid the least amount of liability, is the sincerity of the apology stripped away, leaving only a hollow expression of guilt, contrition and compensation?