Culpability and Canada’s Anthropocene: A Response

      2 Comments on Culpability and Canada’s Anthropocene: A Response

NiCHE ran a series on “Canada’s Anthropocene,” with posts and a roundtable by Pamela BantingAshlee CunsoloAlan MacEachern, and Joshua MacFadyen.

Last week Sean Kheraj’s responded to the series, and specifically MacEachern’s post “The Alanthropocene.” We are reposting Kheraj’s response and MacEachern’s response to the response. We hope this will lead ActiveHistory.ca readers to discover the original series on the NiCHE website.


Alan MacEachern is not responsible for the Anthropocene.

In the first article in NiCHE’s special series on “Canada’s Anthropocene,” MacEachern bravely stepped forward to acknowledge his culpability in contributing to the Anthropocene, the so-called human epoch when humankind took the geological and atmospheric reins from Zeus to become the predominant force shaping Earth ecosystems. MacEachern wanted to address the finger-pointing in global warming literature that so often points outward at others and rarely toward the self. Culpability in Canada’s Anthropocene, he suggests, is shared. The trouble, however, is that culpability is by no means shared equally.

While I was pleased to see NiCHE devote special attention to the concept of the Anthropocene and its applicability in Canadian history, I was surprised by one particular omission in its critical challenge to the concept itself. MacEachern is correct when he writes that the Anthropocene “is the most important new environmental concept in this century.” He is also correct to note that the concept embodies intrinsic temporality because it is historical. The concept is also flawed in how it ascribes agency (or blame). The Anthropocene and anthropogenic global warming (which animates much of the concept itself) invert what we might expect from environmental history, especially climate history. Because it is historical and it situates humanity as a geological and atmospheric agent, it compels environmental historians not to seek out the influence of climate on history but its reverse. As Andreas Malm writes in Fossil Capital: The Rise of Steam Power and the Roots of Global Warming, “it is a matter of searching not for climate in history, but for history in climate.” [1] If humanity is culpable, then we must look at the social and power relationships among people to understand the origins of the Anthropocene. And the human societies most responsible for the emission of the greenhouse gases that have created our present climate crisis can hardly be said to be equitable societies.

Imperial Oil Refinery, Sarnia, Ontario, 1930. Source: Library and Archives Canada, <a href="http://collectionscanada.gc.ca/ourl/res.php?url_ver=Z39.88-2004&amp;url_tim=2018-01-24T16%3A15%3A04Z&amp;url_ctx_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Actx&amp;rft_dat=3376750&amp;rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fcollectionscanada.gc.ca%3Apam&amp;lang=eng">MIKAN 3376750</a>

Imperial Oil Refinery, Sarnia, Ontario, 1930. Source: Library and Archives Canada, MIKAN 3376750

The settler-colonial society that emerged in northern North America to form the Dominion of Canada (the “Anthropocenic nation,” according to MacEachern) was and is deeply inequitable, stratified by class, by ethnicity, and by gender. The burden of culpability is not one shared by a common humanity in Canada because humans in Canada did not equally share the power to affect the environmental transformations that came to characterize the Anthropocene. Uloqsaq, a hunter, shaman, and the first Inuk convicted of murder in Canada does not share the same burden as Robert Dunsmuir, the coal baron of Vancouver Island. Cree farmers who struggled to eke out a living on marginal reserve lands following their dispossession in the nineteenth century do not bear equal responsibility for the Anthropocene as the owners of the Canadian Pacific Railway. The Fehrs, climate and economic refugees who fled north to the Peace River district in the 1930s, did not equally contribute to global warming as the owners of the steel factories or the textile factories or the other manufacturers who tapped into stocks of carbon energy and exploited the atmospheric commons as a sink for carbon dioxide long before Canada made its complete energy transition to fossil fuels. The settler farmers who adopted tractors and the Indigenous hunters who made use of snowmobiles did not contribute to Canada’s Anthropocene on an equal footing with the executive officers of the oil, gas, and pipeline corporations that despoiled their lands in the latter half of the twentieth century. The hundreds of thousands of motorists who were swept up in the emergence of mass automobility and suburbanization in Canada in the second half of the twentieth century bear some responsibility, but not equal to that of the handful of men who owned and invested in the large automobile corporations that relied on fossil fuels to accumulate spectacular wealth at the expense of global climate. Canada’s Anthropocene was driven by an elite few who extracted disproportionate material benefit from the fossil fuel economy while burdening the many with its consequences. It hardly seems fair to blame Alan.


Canada’s Anthropocene was driven by an elite few who extracted disproportionate material benefit from the fossil fuel economy while burdening the many with its consequences. It hardly seems fair to blame Alan.


This critique of the Anthropocene concept is not simply a matter of measuring relative carbon footprints. Culpability for the Anthropocene isn’t solely about the total quantity of emissions each individual contributed to the Earth’s atmosphere. It is also about the systems that created and perpetuated the extraordinary growth of fossil fuel consumption and accumulation of atmospheric carbon dioxide since the adoption of steam engines to further the expansion of the Industrial Revolution. Global carbon emissions during the Anthropocene exceeded the rate of population growth. As Malm shows, “global emissions increased by a factor of 654.8 between 1820 and 2010, while population ‘only’ did so by a factor of 6.6, suggesting the presence of another propulsive force.” [2] Individual consumption of fossil fuels alone cannot explain the staggering growth of carbon emissions that fuel global warming. Environment Canada confirms that “Canada’s emissions growth between 1990 and 2015 was driven primarily by increased emissions from mining and upstream oil and gas production as well as transport.” [3] The accelerated consumption of fossil fuels was not driven by the consumer value of carbon energy, but its accumulated value for capital. Growth in fossil fuel consumption beyond subsistence needs and even luxurious desire could only be sustained by an economic system based upon abstract exchange value with no limits to growth, accumulation, and extreme inequitable distribution of resources. [4]

Coker Towers – Suncor Energy. Source: Flickr

Anthropogenic global warming is too urgent a problem for environmental historians to get distracted chasing debates over narrative form (Declensionist? Hopeful?). If the Anthropocene is intrinsically historical, then the challenge for historians is to find answers that explain its causes, how and why it occurred and persisted. Climate scientists have identified what the anthropogenic agents of global warming were; it’s time for historians to identify who they were.

Culpability matters. To understand the history of Canada’s Anthropocene, we must be able to explain who exactly constitutes the “anthropos.” Assigning equal blame all around to a general “humanity” erases the inequities and systems of power that created and perpetuated the fossil fuel economy and the climate crisis itself. “We” are all at fault? “We” all did this? As Malm cautions, “the trope of the undifferentiated we does violence to the historical record.” [5]

The threat anthropogenic global warming poses to humanity is the product of some humans, not humanity itself. It is not the inevitable result of some intrinsic human nature, but a product of history. It is the outcome of particular choices by particular people at particular moments in time. Only context, contingency, and change over time can account for Canada’s Anthropocene.


[1] Andreas Malm, Fossil Capital: The Rise of Steam Power and the Roots of Global Warming (New York and London: Verson, 2016), 6.

[2] Ibid, 268.

[3] Environment Canada, “Canadian Environmental Sustainability Indicators: Greenhouse Gas Emissions” (2017), 5.

[4] This is a familiar story for environmental historians. William Cronon’s 1983 book, Changes in the Land: Indians, Colonists, and the Ecology of New England makes a similar argument about European colonialism and the ecological degradation of New England.

[5] Malm, Fossil Capital, 392.


A response to Sean’s response, by Alan MacEachern

Thanks for this response, Sean. The other contributors and I hoped our writing about Canada as an Anthropocene nation would get other scholars talking, and I’m glad to see that it has. I fully agree with so much of what you say here, of course. People within and between societies of the past and present have borne unequal responsibility for environmental conditions. If footprints are a proximate cause, systems are the ultimate one. (I do think your idea of the Anthropocene is too fossil fuel- and climate-focused. We should also think in terms of biodiversity loss, land use change, nitrogen and phosphorous use, etc.) And historians need to explore the roots of the Anthropocene.

But you could have made that argument without misrepresenting mine. When you protest against blame being “shared equally,” of “assigning equal blame around to a general ‘humanity,’” of “not the inevitable result of some intrinsic human nature,” a reader might reasonably assume I wrote in terms of equal blame, humanity, inevitability, or human nature. I didn’t. Likewise, rather than critique my analysis of “complicity,” meaning involvement in wrongdoing – introduced expressly because it was the 2017 word of the year – you choose to write about “culpability,” meaning outright blame.

You also scold me for employing what Malm calls “the undifferentiated we.” But my entire post is dedicated to differentiating the “we”s of the past and the present – which, by the way, is practically the definition of the Anthropocene. I get it: you want to focus strictly on differentiating across (and perhaps between) societies. Fair enough. I do think that comparing Uloqsaq to Robert Dunsmuir is rather stacking the deck, like an environmental addendum to Godwin’s Law. (“Do you know who’s really bad? Hitler. And coal barons.”) But it may also be useful to compare the carbon footprint of an Uloqsaq to that of an Inuk today.

I only really take exception when you declare that environmental historians shouldn’t “get distracted chasing debates over narrative form,” claim that our principal if not sole job is to find who caused / is causing the Anthropocene, and then assure the reader that the answer is – spoiler alert – others, not us. I think all of that is wrong. Narrative form, as we wrestled with in the roundtable, can make the difference between “just” telling a truth and having it heard and effect change. Historians can and should study, document, explain, and communicate the Anthropocene in any number of ways. And as for who exactly caused the Anthropocene, you yourself refer to “an elite few who extracted disproportionate material benefit from the fossil fuel economy while burdening the many with its consequences.” Across the wide swath of humanity, that does indeed sound like Dunsmuir, but it also sounds like me. Or you. You know: us.

~Alan

Precedents for Today’s ‘Big Tent’ Liberalism: British Columbia’s First Woman MLA, Mary Ellen Spear Smith (1863-1933)

By Veronica Strong-Boag

In the age of their first avowedly feminist prime minister, Canadians confront another adventure in ‘big tent liberalism.’ His father tried it, for a time, with labour and social democrats,[1] but its history dates to the 19th century with Liberal-Laborism and Liberal-Feminism, or Lib-Lab and Lib-Fem apostles of inclusion. Such experiments have been especially likely when traditional governing parties, as with the Canadian and Ontario Liberals or the American Democratic Party today, face crises of credibility. The suffragist Mary Ellen Smith, who gave her maiden speech as BC’s first and Canada’s third female legislator, a century ago in March 1918, supplies a useful reminder of the limits of such liaisons.[2] Old political elites do not readily surrender privilege.

Ottawa Journal (Dec. 22, 1920)

‘Our Mary Ellen,’ as she was known on the hustings, was an ambitious emigrant from UK mining communities. The subject of my forthcoming biography, she raises provocative questions about political choices. Beginnings in Devon and Cornwall, maturation in Britain’s northeast as a daughter of a Methodist mining family, primary school teaching, marriage to a widowed miner with a new daughter, and further motherhood with three, and then a Canadian-born, sons, did not forecast public fame. Arrival in Nanaimo, a coal mining town on the age of empire, in 1892 to join her coal-hewer father, brother, and mother formed part of a family strategy to restore the health of her husband, Ralph Smith, coal miner and occasional Methodist preacher, and to find opportunities for him and their expanding brood seemingly denied even ‘aristocrats of labour’ in Britain after the disastrous 1892 coal field strike.[3]

Their new home was a vibrant centre of conflict over just whom would control the benefits of staples capitalism. In the 1890s and 1900s, Nanaimo offered a vibrant working-class and women’s culture, which included support for female enfranchisement and hostility to Asians in the creation of a white outpost of empire.The immigrants’ original embrace of Methodism, cooperatives, and the Liberal-Labour politics of Thomas Burt, long-serving British MP (1874-1918) and representative of the Northumberland Miners’ Association immunized them against BC’s emerging socialist politics and fostered faith in big tent politics sometimes promised by Canadian, like British, liberalism.[4] Continue reading

Piecing Together a Pandemic: Unearthing Elusive, Eclectic & Authentic Stories of the Flu

This is the fourth in a four-part theme week focused on the Spanish Flu and the newly launched Defining Moments Canada project.

By Ellen Scheinberg

As I was working on a family archival project for a client this month, I learned about the passing of his great uncle, Alfred Benjamin Geldzaeler, from influenza in late October 2018. Alfred, or “Alfie” as he was affectionately referred to by family and friends, was born in Toronto in 1901. He was the youngest of Mark and Jetty’s six progeny.

Alfred Benjamin Geldzaeler in his cadet uniform at Central Tech High School, ca. 1912. OJA, item #1232.

The couple were Austrian Jewish immigrants who settled in Toronto with their respective families during the late 19th century. Mark was a Hebrew scholar who served as a teacher and caretaker for Holy Blossom Synagogue on Bond Street. For many years, the family resided behind the synagogue.

When Alfred, the darling of the family, perished at the age of 17, the family was devastated. Alfred was buried according to Jewish law and interred in the Pape Avenue Cemetery, the city’s oldest Jewish cemetery.

Pape Cemetery monument for Alfred Geldzaeler. The date on the monument is Oct. 27, 1919. Since monuments are unveiled a year after death, it’s possible they inscribed the unveiling date rather than the date of death by mistake.

Alfred was one of 50,000 Canadians whose lives were prematurely snuffed out by the virulent Spanish flu pandemic of 1918-19. Continue reading

Commemorating the Forgotten Plague through the Classroom

This is the third in a four-part theme week focused on the Spanish Flu and the newly launched Defining Moments Canada project.

By Mike Clare

The Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918-19 had a profound impact on Canadian culture and public policy. But is it worth acknowledging?

As an approach to teaching the Canadian experience, the Spanish Flu Pandemic could be a poster child for historical thinking skills. Yet in provincial curricula, the Flu can seem like our long-lost Uncle Sparky who we avoid talking about. The Spanish Flu is neither addressed as a specific example nor as a big idea. Is this a kind of historical amnesia? Or is it just an awkward subject that no one quite remembers or understands.

Public Health Notice, Glenbow Museum, Reference No. NA-4548-5

Every year, the flu comes back in various forms. It’s back with us once again in 2018, as a kind of annual event that we scarcely give a thought to. But the flu is never quite the same each time it returns. It evolves and mutates. This year’s Flu is known as H3N2. It is related to other strains of the virus that we have heard mentioned in passing: Avian, Hong Kong, Swine. When it swept across the country in 1918, it was known as the H1N1 virus. That evolved into the most devastating plague the world has ever known. H1N1 is directly related to H3N2.

In 1918, H1N1 swept across the country and 50,000 Canadians died in just over 18 months. One in six Canadian households was affected by the Flu. One in ten mothers lost their baby during its first trimester because of the Flu, and families were upended and destroyed. The Spanish Flu killed fifty-million people worldwide (although some recent studies estimate mortality as high as 100 million). This Flu killed more Canadians in 12 months than four years of the Great War. And yet Canadian history textbooks give the Pandemic, at best, a passing mentioned in a paragraph amid multiple chapters concentrating on the war years.  And now H1N1 is back in an annual, albeit shape-shifting, form.

How should we acknowledge and commemorate that pandemic experience of 100 years ago, this paradoxically devastating and all but forgotten seismic event? Continue reading

What is Forgotten? Influenza’s Reverberations in Post-War Canada

This is the second in a four-part theme week focused on the Spanish Flu and the newly launched Defining Moments Canada project.

By Esyllt Jones

For all the times scholars of the 1918-19 influenza pandemic have referred to its “forgotten” aspect, in homage to Alfred Crosby’s 1989 title for the influential book that a decade earlier had been published as Epidemic and Peace (a name change suggestive of the changing tides of historical preoccupation), two or more recent decades of sustained interest in the pandemic have challenged and complicated the narrative of forgetting.

Staff at the main branch of the Canadian Bank of Commerce during the Spanish flu epidemic in Calgary in 1918. (Glenbow Museum. Period photo NA-964-22)

As research on the disease in Canada has demonstrated for some time, influenza’s survivors did not forget the disease. Historians may have for a time. National narratives neglected and elided it. But for so many families and communities, influenza lingered in the life histories and memories of mothers, lovers, grandmothers, brothers, and fathers of flu victims. This was the reality of a disease so widespread and so lethal. Remembrance occurred not through public symbolism or because of fear of further outbreaks, but because influenza was woven into lives. Continue reading

Going Viral: Spreading the 100th Anniversary of the Spanish Flu Pandemic one story at a time

This is the first in a four-part theme week focused on the Spanish Flu and the newly launched Defining Moments Canada project.

By Neil Orford

Over the past few years, anniversaries seem a dime a dozen. In 2017 alone, we’ve marked #Canada150, the centenary of the taking of Vimy Ridge, and the 35th anniversary of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms; in 2018 we look forward to marking one hundred years following the end of the First World War; and, no doubt, in 2019, the signing of the Paris 1919 Treaty of Versailles.

As these anniversaries began to roll along, Blake Heathcote and I became concerned. Although the war and the constitution matter to Canadians, we heard little about marking another significant event that reshaped Canadian lives in the late-1910s: The Spanish Flu. When it was over, influenza had claimed as many as 50,000 Canadians and over 20 million people globally. When framed around the conflict in Europe, it is clear the event had similar implications. And yet, as we enter into 2018, there is relative silence about the subject.

Five women are standing in front of a brick building, possibly a hospital, wearing surgical masks during the Spanish ‘Flu outbreak in Brisbane, 1919. (State Library of Queensland)

Over the past two years, Blake and I began to act on our concern. As we thought about the influence of the Spanish Flu, and began to discuss the subject with friends and colleagues, it became clear that everyone, it seems, has a Flu story.

On the surface, many of these stories are just recitations of how badly one was affected by a case of the Flu last year, or how a good friend was struck down for several months and required time off work. Yet many more stories are contained in the deeper reaches of personal narrative, often stretching back to a great aunt who lost a sister after World War One, or a recollection about seeing an picture in a high school textbook and wondering what it might be like to wear such a mask for days on end.

Challenge yourself, though, what do you really know about the Pandemic?  Continue reading

Wisdom in Place: Learning through Relationships/Bwaakawin tek: ezhi kenjihgaadek pii d’nik kendaagut pii enaan’gonding

Nunda ezhibiigaadegin d’goh biigaadehknown ezhi debaahdedek nungwa manda neebing Mnidoo Mnising Neebing gah Bizh’ezhiwaybuck zhaazhi  gonda behbaandih kenjih’gehjik.

This essay is part of an ongoing series reflecting on this summer’s Manitoulin Island Summer Historical Institute (MISHI).

By Katrina Srigley

The snow is falling on Nbisiing Anishinaabeg territory now. We have just eased into Little Spirit Moon, a time for reflection and storytelling. It has been three months since my visit to Mnidoo Mnising (Manitoulin Island) and I am finally finishing this blog. It is my first.[1]

Outside University of Nipissing

At times like these, Elder John Sawyer often reminds me that things get done when they are supposed to be done — not before and not after— I take some comfort from this direction as the frenetic pace of the semester eases.

Despite the time that has passed and the icy temperatures outside, it is not difficult to imagine the beautiful August day when Nicole L. and I pulled away from North Bay, heading toward Mnidoo Mnising along the northern shore of Lake Nipissing. Craggy outcroppings of granite, stands of pine, spruce and birch, the expanse of Lake Nipissing, framed the first part of our journey. This place is now home for lots of reasons: my family and friends, of course, but also Nbisiing Anishinaabeg, because, as I will explore here, learning through wisdom in place —land, animals, spirit, people, water—makes resurgent relationships possible.[2] Continue reading

The Seven (Trump)ets of the Apocalypse: Hawaii’s Nuclear Blunder and the Continuity of the Cold War

By Andrew Sopko

On the 13th of January residents of Hawaii were provided with a shocking and terrible reminder of the nuclear anxieties that dominated much of the world throughout the Cold War. By error, the State Government sent a push notification that warned of an incoming ballistic missile strike.

Responses varied wildly. One reddit user said that they rapidly resigned themselves to their fate and stayed in bed with their wife. Meanwhile, in a desperate attempt to save his children a man pried open a sewer cover, and lifted them inside. Thirty-eight minutes after the initial notification had gone out, the government finally managed to inform a frightened public that it had all been a mistake. There was no danger.

Conversations that cropped up on social media in the wake of this ‘attack’ often bore an eerily familiar tone, echoing similar discussions about civil defence in its heyday during the Cold War. This historical connection provides a disturbing reminder that the threat posed by the massive nuclear stockpiles that have been amassed by nation states remains ever present. While nuclear anxieties had all but vanished from public discourse following the Soviet Union’s collapse, a nuclear sword of Damocles has remained dangling above our heads. This unfortunate reality, alongside some of the major headlines of the past four years, shows that the Cold War has left the world with a long and powerful hangover. Continue reading

Thirty Years since Morgentaler: A New Frontier?

      2 Comments on Thirty Years since Morgentaler: A New Frontier?

Shannon Stettner and Katrina Ackerman

January 28, 2018 marks the thirtieth anniversary of the Morgentaler decision that declared Canada’s 1969 abortion law unconstitutional. For thirty years, the country has been without a federal law governing abortion. In place of a federal law, provincial regulations and the individual provincial colleges of physicians and surgeons have governed access to abortion. Such regulations have varied dramatically between the provinces and territories, resulting in an uneven patchwork of abortion services across the country.

The 1988 Morgentaler decision was the culmination of twenty years of Dr. Henry Morgentaler’s relentless struggle to provide Canadian women with equitable and safe access to abortion services. Morgentaler built on the energy of women and professional organizations that had been arguing for decades that the criminalization of abortion was ineffective and merely harmed women who put their lives at risk to terminate their pregnancies. Morgentaler, with the support of pan-Canadian abortion rights activists, opened freestanding abortion clinics in Quebec, Ontario, and Manitoba. He opened the Toronto clinic to purposefully contravene the abortion law and launch a legal challenge.

Following a 1983 raid of the clinic by Toronto police, Dr. Morgentaler, Dr. Robert Scott, and Dr. Leslie Frank Smoling were charged with illegally providing abortions. In 1984, a jury acquitted the doctors, but the Ontario government appealed that decision. When the Ontario Court of Appeals ordered a retrial, Morgentaler appealed the decision to the Supreme Court of Canada. Continue reading

The Police Records of a Bath Raid Found-In: Excluded from Bill C-66

Tom Hooper

For more than 25 years, Ron Rosenes* has been an activist on issues related to HIV/AIDS. In 2007, he was given the Canadian AIDS Society Leadership Award. In 2012, Carleton University awarded him an honorary doctorate. He is a member of the Order of Canada.

Despite this impressive resume of advocacy, the Toronto Police Service has a file on him. In the late evening of February 5th, 1981, he was sitting alone in his room at the Romans II Health and Recreation Spa, one of the city’s gay bathhouses. 200 police raided the Romans and three other similar establishments, arresting 306 men, Rosenes included. He fought the charges in court, but was guilty of being found in a common bawdy house.

This is a historical injustice. In 2016, Toronto’s Chief of Police issued a statement of regret for the raids. In November 2017, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau made a formal apology to the LGBTQ2+ community in the House of Commons. He stated that discrimination “was quickly codified in criminal offenses like ‘buggery,’ ‘gross indecency’, and bawdy house provisions. Bathhouses were raided, people were entrapped by police.” On the same day as Trudeau’s apology, the government introduced Bill C-66, which would create a legislative process to expunge the records of certain Criminal Code convictions that have been defined as “historically unjust.” Continue reading