By Kathleen Villeneuve
Translated by Robert Twiss from an original publication in HistoireEngagée.ca
On November 25 to 26, 2021 the Université de Montréal hosted the workshop “Settler Colonialism in Quebec: a blind spot of academic research?” Organized by professors Catherine Larochelle and Ollivier Hubert, the aim of the workshop was to survey the state of research in settler colonial studies, a field which, while it is more developed outside the province, is still in its infancy in Quebec. The workshop was therefore conceived as a first step in the development of the study of Quebecois colonialism, in a context in which “colonial agnosia” still limits debate, in this province perhaps more than elsewhere. The presentations were grouped into thematic panels representing the physical and symbolic spaces through which settler colonialism carves a path.
Today we post the third installment in this five part series reporting on this event. In this post David Bernard and Aude Maltais-Landry make interventions about research and education. Any authentic thinking about colonialism done primarily by Settler-descendants must ask itself the question of its own conditions of possibility.
David Bernard addressed this subject by reflecting on his work with the research coordination committee at the Ndakina office, which represents the Grand Council of the Wabanaki Nation. Continue reading
On a cold February night in 1968, Bernie Langille drove his friends to play darts and have a drink at CFB Gagetown. The next morning, his wife found him bloody and bruised in bed without knowing what happened. He was taken to the base’s hospital where it was recommended he be flown to Halifax for immediate treatment. After a 4-hour delay in ordering the flight, an assault by one of the doctors, and his ambulance being in a collision with a train, he finally made it to the hospital in Halifax, but it was too late. The rather unusual circumstances of Langille’s death led to many questions for his family and speculation by the community. Over 50 years later, the deep pain remains for the Langille family and has led Bernie Langille’s grandson – also named Bernie – to revisit his grandfather’s death in a search for truth and healing.
Elizabeth Mancke
In 2022, mime is probably not what you think of when discussing popular culture. The image of an individual with their face painted white, probably acting like they are trapped in a box, doesn’t demand attention within the ever-so-crowded cultural landscape. At the same time, however, the idea of 
I always thought that I was alone in connecting my personal surroundings to those I was researching. From the First World War soldier who wrote about loving and missing going to the theatre to the CBC producer who hated the number of memos they got, relating to people from the past and connecting them to our current world was a fun thought experiment as I waded through seemingly endless archival files. Over time, though, I have learned that a lot of people do this, whether in an effort to contextualize a person’s experiences, gain greater appreciation for those from the past, or just discover interesting anecdotes. Whatever the reason, making connections between past and present is a much more common practice than I once thought.
In 1968, American architect 