This week I talk with Aidan Forth, author of Camps: A Global History of Mass Confinement. We talk about the definition of camps, the commonalties among camps, and the ubiquity of mass confinement. We also talk about studying these sites across cultures, how echoes of past camps inform modern confinement, and the continuing legacy of camps.
Jane and Finch, 2021. By Canmenwalker via Wikimedia Commons.
This is the fourth in a series of articles on Toronto public housing in the late 1980s. All entries in the series will be collected here.
In January 1988, long-time housing activist and president of the Jane-Finch Concerned Citizens Organization, Sheila Mascoll, wrote a letter of complaint to the editors of T.O. Magazine. A recent article had advanced the worst sorts of false stereotypes about the Jane-Finch community. The supposed normalization of drug trafficking in the area was cast simply as an alternative economy. “One of the very grave results of the article,” she argued, “is that it serves to paint a picture of a community divided against itself.” The article quoted a South Asian cab driver as having used the term “N” to describe African Canadians. “Such comments are irresponsible,” Mascoll noted, “and serve as fuel for those wishing to fan the flames of intra-community racial discontent.” The article was one in a long line of media pieces that helped reinforce popular notions of Jane-Finch as a place Torontonians would not wish to live, inundated with drug trafficking, violent crime, and “welfare recipients suffering from learned helplessness.” What most troubled Mascoll was that the magazine had been supplied with information on a wide range of events and programs that made Jane-Finch a vibrant community. All of that was ignored. Mascoll wasn’t finished. In correspondence with North York Mayor Mel Lastman about the article, she accused the mayor of the sort of neglect of and insensitivity toward Jane-Finch that had cast an unreasonable racist pall on a neighborhood where thousands lived, worked, and played.
This week, I’m joined by Tonya Davidson, author of Inside the Snow Globe: Ottawa Monuments and National Belonging. We discuss Tonya’s approach to monuments as a primary source, how publics respond to monuments, and how national monuments fit into local communities. We also talk about some of Ottawa’s less known monuments, how memorials change public spaces, and how current events can alter a city’s relationship with monuments and their sites.
For more, you can listen to Sean and Tonya’s previous conversation on the History Slam from 2018.
The cinema in downtown Nogojiwanong – Peterborough, Ontario – was almost packed for a noon screening of A Complete Unknown on the second day of its general release. That Bob Dylan fellow still pulls.
The film is the latest cinematic effort to unravel the enigmatic genius of Bob Dylan. It has been greeted by generally favourable critical response, particularly due to an excellent performance by Timothée Chalamet as Dylan. Edward Norton as Pete Seeger also proffers a performance that has been widely commended.
The script zeroes in on the period between Dylan’s 1961 arrival in New York as a nineteen-year-old from Minnesota – previously known as Bobby Zimmerman – and his controversial appearance at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival where ‘Dylan went electric,” much to the dismay of some folk enthusiasts including Pete Seeger. The film chronicles his encounter with the young singer’s hero, an ailing Woody Guthrie, and Dylan’s rise through the Greenwich Village folk scene into a Columbia Records studio under the production guise of the legendary John Hammond Sr.
The film has many charms and strong points, but it also has weaknesses.
We offer our two cents on the major events of 1924. Let us know what you think in the comments.
When we started this humble tradition back in 2013, it was based on a frustration with seeing year in review think pieces and declarations of things like the word of the year being released in November – which always signalled to us that December didn’t count. So tough luck to all the inventions, birthdays, and monumental events that happen in the 12th month, you get overlooked because editors are impatient.
In the past couple years, however, we are pleased to see that that trend has started to reverse. This year, for instance, Spotify had enough restraint to avoid releasing Wrapped until December. Whether this signals that our frustration has become more widespread or that perhaps the algorithm overlords that now run our lives are getting better, there seems to be a greater recognition that the year isn’t over until it’s actually over.
Despite this move in that positive direction, our original motivation that we need time and historical context to truly understand what was important in any given year still holds true. A lot of things happened in 2024, but we won’t know the true implications of these for years to come, so we will refrain from commenting on them. 1924, on the other hand, has enough historical distance that we are ready to look back and determine the most important event of the year.
As always, we have set up a four brackets – Entertainment, Business, International, and the fan-favourite Potpourri – and selected 16 of the biggest events from 100 years ago. They will square off in head-to-head matchups until only one is left to be crowned the winner. (A full list of past winners and links to previous editions are included at the bottom of the post). As always, events that fall in the same category as winners of past years are not eligible and have not been included.
We hope that you enjoy this year’s version!
First Round
Entertainment Bracket
(1) Metro Pictures and Goldwyn Pictures Merge
v.
(4) First Winter Olympics
Aaron: The motion picture industry was big business in the 1920s and the desire for new movies kept studios busy. American businessmen Marcus Loew had established a studio in Hollywood but wanted to expand his offerings. In 1919 he purchased the Metro Pictures Corporation to enable a steady stream of films in his theatres. Then in 1924, Loew purchased Goldwyn Pictures. On April 17, 1924, the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer company was incorporated. Its logo, the roaring lion, is an instantly recognizable symbol and one that starts numerous famous films, including Ben Hur, Gone with the Wind, and the James Bond series. In 2011, MGM declared bankruptcy protection and was ultimately purchased by Amazon.
Donald Trump’s return to the White House has brought with it a revival of continentalist rhetoric to North American politics.
“It was a pleasure to have dinner the other night with Governor Justin Trudeau of the Great State of Canada. I look forward to seeing the Governor again soon…”
A few days ago, when Finance Minister Chrystia Freeland resigned, the President-Elect observed:
“The Great State of Canada is stunned as the Finance Minister resigns, or was fired, from her position by Governor Justin Trudeau.”
And just yesterday:
“Many Canadians want Canada to become the 51st State. They would save massively on taxes and military protection. I think it is a great idea. 51st State!!!”
The idea Trump is putting forward is not a new one.
Since at least the early-to-mid eighteenth century, continental visions of empire – from Manifest Destiny to Annexation – have permeated North American political culture and haunted Canada’s self-identity. Perhaps not since the Fenian Raids of the 1860s, and the broader nineteenth-century annexation movement, has an American threat to Canadian sovereignty been as visceral.
Contrasting these imperial visions, though, have been other ways of thinking about space, place, and home. Continentalism is not the only way to think about North America’s political geography. If we look to the past, we can see pathways towards a more transformative vision for North America that better reflects regional relationships and identities.
This week I’m joined by Crystal Gail Fraser, author of By Strength, We Are Still Here: Indigenous Peoples and Indian Residential Schooling in Inuvik, Northwest Territories. We discuss the lesser known story of northern residential schools, conducting oral history with survivors, and the Gwich’in concepts of individual and collective strength. We also chat about the significance of the Inuvik’s school construction in 1959, the resistance to the system from students and their communities, and the legacy of residential schooling across the region.
“Petroglyphs 1.” Photo by Kelly Nokes, from Sierra Club Press Release. Images for Media Use. (Public Domain)
Imagine walking through the doors of the last large museum you visited.
What do you see? Colourful artwork hanging off the walls? Marble sculptures along voluminous hallways? Rare cultural artifacts in neatly packed display cases? If any of this sounds familiar, your memory has betrayed you.
You would have seen, first and foremost, the metal detector, the security guards, the plethora of ceiling and wall-mounted cameras, locked doors, and other deterrents like bulletproof glass. It sounds like a prison, but this is what it takes to protect art and objects in 2024. Even then, this security doesn’t do much for cultural items and landscapes located outside the museum. Specifically at risk are Indigenous cultural landscapes that are all too often targets of vandalism.
In Canada, this type of vandalism is somewhat common.
By Sean Carleton, Alan Lester, Adele Perry, and Omeasoo Wahpasiw
Residential school denialism is on the rise in Canada and meaningful reconciliation is at risk.1 After the release of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s Final Report in 2015, and especially since the Tk’emlúps te Secwe?pemc Nation’s 2021 announcement about the location of potential unmarked graves at the former Kamloops Indian Residential School and the confirmation of additional deaths at other schools across the country, many priests, pundits, and politicians across the country have engaged in what is known as residential school denialism.2
Denialists do not usually deny the residential school system’s existence, or even that it did damage. Rather, like in other cases of denialism, they employ a discourse that twists, distorts, and misrepresents basic facts about residential schooling to shake public confidence in truth and reconciliation efforts, defend guilty and culpable parties, and protect Canada’s colonial status quo.
This week I’m joined by Stephen Osborne, author of The Coincidence Problem: Selected Dispatches 1999-2022. We talk about Stephen’s involvement in the launch of Geist magazine, what makes a good dispatch, and why the format is good for storytelling. We also discuss coincidences, how to write about them, and what makes them so entertaining.
