Our new book review section launches today with the publication of our first review. John Horn, Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Gumboot, a community blog out of Vancouver, has reviewed Craig Heron’s Booze: A Distilled History. Please check out his fun review.
Our book reviews will have community members and involved citizens reviewing academic works. We hope this will provide a new perspective on history books not regularly found in academic journals. If you’re interested in being added to our database of reviewers (and aren’t a current graduate student or faculty member), please contact info (at) activehistory.ca.
Please check back frequently, either on the page or via Facebook/Twitter, as we plan on putting up more reviews over the next few weeks and months.
by Jane Whalen
The 2010 Quality of Life Index boasted that Canada’s “health care and living standards are among the highest in the world.” Ask your average Canadian and they would probably agree. Ask an Aboriginal person and you would be in for quite a shock.
1930s TB Association Billboard in the Maritimes
Third world conditions exist in Canada – what an outrageous claim to make about the country ranked 9th best place to live in the entire world. When you consider the unacceptably high tuberculosis (TB) rates among the country’s Aboriginal populations, this claim is not outrageous, but instead, the cold hard truth. Recent headlines from The Globe and Mail (here and here) warn of the epidemic rates of TB in Native communities (31 times higher) and Inuit communities (186 times higher). What is most deplorable about this reality, however, is the fact that the government has been aware of this crisis for more than a century.
Why, you might ask, is this a government problem? Firstly, the government’s legislative responsibility to its ‘Indian wards’ was clearly outlined in the 1867 BNA Act (which placed Indians and Indian land under federal jurisdiction), the 1869 Gradual Enfranchisement Act (which contained a provision for government aid to sick and destitute Indians), the 1876 Indian Act and subsequent amendments (which defined who an ‘Indian’ was and their relationship with the government), and finally, the ‘medicine chest clause’ in Treaty No. 6 (which promised aid should the Indians be overtaken by any pestilence or general famine).
Secondly, and most importantly, the history of colonialism in this country has relegated Aboriginal peoples to a position as ‘citizens minus’; a position where systemic poverty, poor sanitation, and a lack of adequate medical care have allowed a 19th century disease to wreak havoc in 21st century Aboriginal communities.
Working in church, provincial, national, and international archives over the last 3 years, I can attest to the wealth of documentation that connects policymakers to the spread of tuberculosis in Aboriginal communities. The criminal disregard of government officials over the last century is undeniable: Continue reading
Have you ever wondered what your local intersection might have looked like in 1900? What about 1920? 1950? What has changed? What has stayed the same? A wonderful new site that we learned about at the Great Lake’s THAT Camp at Michigan State University was lookbackmaps, which makes historical imagery accessible to enthusiasts through a fascinating and accessible website.
Using google maps, lookbackmaps allows users to not only click on a location and see a current photograph juxtaposed against a historical one, but also to upload their own entries into the system. Right now there is a marked focus on San Francisco, where founder Jon Voss is situated, but it is spreading across the United States and hopefully soon even into Canada! It also has an iPhone application that allows you to phase the historical imagery into your screencapture – augmented reality for historians! Check out a video demo here. What a remarkable way to engage in a historical manner with your surroundings!
By Teresa Iacobelli
Chad Furrow Photo
Relocating to a new city can be exciting, but it can also be overwhelming. Recently I have made the move from Ottawa, Ontario to Brooklyn, New York, and in the short time that I have been here I have felt a slew of emotions ranging from awe to frustration. Living in a city of this size can be challenging, however thus far the best coping mechanism that I have found is getting to know my own small neighborhood (yes, I’m quickly adapting) one block at a time, and one of the best ways of knowing a neighbourhood is to know its history.
Chad Furrow Photo
I live in an area of Brooklyn called Fort Greene, and one of the first things that one notices about this community is the architecture – brownstone walk-ups on tree lined streets and grand old homes, once mansions, now divided into offices and apartments. It is the kind of architecture that makes one wonder what life used to be like here. Luckily, due to a wonderful local historical society that offers exhibits, as well as an archives and workshops for residents to research their own homes, it is easy to find out the answers to these questions. Fort Greene dates its settled origins back to its time as a military fort during the American Revolutionary War. It has been the home to many notable Americans, including literary greats Walt Whitman and Richard Wright. Fort Greene has been a center of African-American arts and culture, and it has also experienced its share of economic downturns and subsequent revivals. The neighbourhood is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places, singling it out for preservation. But this isn’t an article about the storied history of Fort Greene, Brooklyn, rather it is an article about the history of any community, and the innovative ways that historians and residents are finding to share local stories. Continue reading
Taken on April 15, 1937, this image shows approximately 500 veterans and clergymen protesting the recruitment of 200 war veterans as strike police during a General Motors strike in Oshawa. This and other images can be found online through the Walter P. Reuther Library, Wayne State University.
I had the pleasure of attending a public forum on pensions in Oshawa a few weeks ago. Organized by the retirees’ chapter of the Canadian Auto Workers’ (CAW) Local 222, over 200 bodies were in attendance.
While the theme of the evening was universal public pensions, speakers had experienced a number of social ills: a single mother who lost her home and car after being laid off from GM, now enrolled in a government re-training program as a care provider and struggling to make ends meet as a student and mother; a woman whose father had lost his workplace pension, reduced to poverty in his final years on the paltry public pensions currently paid in Canada; a former Nortel worker who recounted what it was like to lose his income security on the brink of retirement. Following these testimonials, Sylvain Schetagne, an economist with the Canadian Labour Congress (CLC), gave a brief presentation on how a more generous public pension plan and ‘retirement security for everyone’ could be turned into policy.
The remaining time was then given to questions and comments from the audience, and a large line quickly formed. I heard many positive reviews of this afterwards – to paraphrase one woman in the audience I overheard: it’s about time they gave us equal time to speak. Again and again, people said that they just wanted to be heard. Unfortunately, only a couple of politicians attended. The many who were invited were represented only by a name card and an empty seat at the head table.
By Karen Dearlove
It’s a story that has grown far bigger than Brantford. Articles in the Globe and Mail, the Toronto Star, the Hamilton Spectator, and the KW Record have drawn attention to what’s happening in downtown Brantford.
It’s a story about heritage buildings, those trying to save them, a city council, a university, and academics caught in the middle. It’s a story that raises questions about academics’ responsibilities in the community, academic freedom and activism, and the universities they work for.
At risk are 41 buildings located along three blocks of Colborne Street, the main street of Brantford’s downtown. More than half of these buildings were constructed prior to 1867, and some claim this to be the largest stretch of pre-Confederation buildings left in Ontario. It’s true these buildings have seen better days, as with much of Brantford which has suffered hard since the closing of major industries in the 1980s. But Brantford has experience a significant resurgence in the past decades, due in large part to the growing Laurier Brantford campus downtown.
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 20th 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 20th 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
by Steven Maynard
“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.
by Jeremy Nathan Marks
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.
What if my supervisor disagrees with what I write? What if someone in the community sends me a nasty email? What if the editor ignores my article?
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? Continue reading