Active History

Climate Resilience, Past and Present: Rural Communities and Food Systems

October 7, 2021 No Comments

Formerly farmed land, overlooking Penobscot Bay. Photo by author.

This is the eighth post in the series Historians Confront the Climate Emergency, hosted by ActiveHistory.ca, NiCHE (Network in Canadian History & Environment), Historical Climatology, and Climate History Network.

By Emma Moesswilde

This summer, the raspberry crop at Daisy Chain Farm was much smaller than usual. The variable winter weather meant that abnormal freeze-thaw cycles caused the raspberry canes to lose their resistance to cold in periods of thaw, making them more susceptible to damage when the weather turned icy again. In comparison to last year’s bumper crop, whose flavor and color filled my family’s freezer and lifted our spirits through a pandemic winter, this year’s raspberries were nowhere near as abundant.

Thanks to the observations of farmers and other food-producing folks, and to the work of climate scientists, we know that such variable weather and its impacts on agriculture and food production are consequences of human-created, or anthropogenic, climate change. For decades, despite insidious efforts to suppress the overwhelming scientific consensus on human-caused greenhouse gas emissions and their impacts on the earth’s systems, it has been clear that changing ecological realities due to climate change have the potential to severely disrupt the systems that provide humanity with sustenance, from industrial-scale grain cultivation to small family farms to fisheries to my local raspberry crop.

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Indexed Shifting: Past and Present from the Bike Saddle

October 6, 2021 No Comments

By Steven Schwinghamer

This is the fifth in a series, “History En Vêlo,” about cycling and thinking historically, shared with NiCHE.

Biking happens at the right combination of speed, effort, and scope for me to do some interesting thinking about places. Being raised in a Canadian historiographical canon, I suppose it’s a cousin to Harold Innis’ “dirt research,” although as Josh Howe mentioned, there are still steep climbs ahead for us in integrating the knowledge of “doing there” as disciplinary practice. In terms of memory and place, I am not sure about relating this construction of place to Pierre Nora, because while the process contends with discontinuous or disrupted pasts, it is equally indebted to vibrant continuities and a critical relationship with the public commemorative landscape. I do know that I can’t get to this relationship with a place by walking (usually too slow for the scope) or driving (too fast and superficial).

Biking is perfect.

(And fun!)

*George’s Island from Halifax, near the northern edge of the Ocean Terminals development (2021).* Photograph by Steven Schwinghamer.

There are lots of points along my bike commute where we can locate significant events in the history and present of Halifax. My route includes Beechville, a historic African Nova Scotian community; the old rail and streetcar connections for the city (with their associated car-centric modern forgetting); and some of the water, salt and fresh, that has defined human relationships with Kjipuktuk, the Great Harbour, for time immemorial. As a public historian, I enjoy saying hello to the city’s landmarks current, lost, and debatable. I ride by the Public Gardens and the Commons, the Citadel, the prior site of the “Morris” house that didn’t quite belong to the right Morris, and Peace and Friendship Park where stood the statue that was supposed to be Cornwallis, but wasn’t. I often indulge in a detour to ride directly alongside the harbour, where vast container ships lumber along under the guns of Fort Charlotte. Fishing boats set out from Eastern Passage, not far from the graves of a pair of Nova Scotian seamen who succumbed to smallpox at the quarantine station on Lawlor’s Island in 1901.

*Only a handful of the people who perished at the Lawlor’s Island Quarantine Station have marked graves. This one recalls the passing of a Nova Scotian, reflecting the domestic work of the site.* Credit: Sara Beanlands (2011).

My commute finishes at the heart of much of my historical research: Pier 21 and the Ocean Terminals. I work in the latest incarnation of the waterfront sheds, exploring immigration history for the Canadian Museum of Immigration. Although the whole ride, and the many connections above, could unfold a much longer story, I’m going to pick a few things directly connected to the Ocean Terminals construction to illustrate how experiencing the remaking of the place from my bike has altered how I think about history. Continue reading →

Climate at the Speed of Weather

October 5, 2021 No Comments

Environment Canada meteorological observation, Charlottetown, PEI, December 1873.

This is the seventh post in the series, “Historians Confront the Climate Emergency,” hosted by ActiveHistory.ca, NiCHE (Network in Canadian History & Environment), Historical Climatology and Climate History Network.

By Alan MacEachern

They say that climate is what you expect but weather is what you get. Or they used to say that. Now, the climate seems to be changing as quickly and unexpectedly as weather. When New York’s Central Park receives a record 48 millimetres of rain in one hour and then, just ten days later, a different storm system dumps 79 millimetres in one hour, it feels as though more than just weather is at work.[1] And why wouldn’t climate be changing rapidly? It used to take millennia for atmospheric carbon dioxide levels to fluctuate just ten parts per million. Now it takes five years. That cannot be good news for anyone.

I taught environmental history for twenty-plus years before developing a course in climate and weather history. It had taken me a while to recognize the centrality of climate change to environmental affairs, longer to become well-informed on the topic, longer still to feel competent enough to teach it, and longer still to determine how to structure such a course and what I might contribute. But in 2014, having helped bring Environment and Climate Change Canada’s extant historical weather observations to my university’s archive on long-term loan, I knew it was time to take the plunge.[2] I developed a course around the meteorological collection, used its material in lectures and seminar activities, and devoted full assignments to it.[3]

And the course was a bust.

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As Long As The Rivers Flow 30 years on : An epic collaboration in documentary filmmaking

October 4, 2021 No Comments

By James Cullingham

This autumn marks a significant milestone in the history of filmmaking about Indigenous – settler relations in Canada. As Long As The Rivers Flow, the documentary series about Indigenous resilience that launched Tamarack Productions, was released in September 1991.

As Long As The Rivers Flow was among the first national collaborations of Indigenous and non-Indigenous documentarians in Canadian television history. It is a series of five one-hour documentary films. The films recount an epic story. The struggle of Indigenous peoples to assert control of their destiny in the place that came to be called Canada.

In September 1991 two documentaries in the series, one by the late Métis director Gil Cardinal and the other – her first film – by Métis filmmaker Loretta Sarah Todd, director of 2020’s wonderful Monkey Beach drama, premiered at TIFF (then The Festival of Festivals.)

Following the world premieres of Tikinagan and The Learning Path, As Long as the Rivers Flow debuted on a consortium of provincial educational broadcasters led by TVO. The films were introduced by Cree and Métis actor and activist Tantoo Cardinal for the English broadcast premiere. The series was first broadcast en français in Canada and abroad that same year on TV5 as Tant que coulent les rivières. Eventually the series was versioned in Cree for broadcast and educational use in northern Ontario and Québec.

To celebrate the 30th anniversary of the series, and in the spirit of intercultural cooperation, respect and truth that the series represents, Tamarack Productions is proud to offer the films free of charge for the remainder of 2021 on its website in the interest of fostering reconciliation and collaboration among storytellers.

You can watch the films here.

The films from the series have screened on five continents and won over twenty international awards. Continue reading →

Land Back, Indigenous Futurisms, and the Climate Crisis: An Interview with Molly Swain

September 30, 2021 No Comments

This is the sixth post in the series Historians Confront the Climate Emergency, hosted by ActiveHistory.ca, NiCHE (Network in Canadian History & Environment), Historical Climatology, and Climate History Network.

Molly Swain is a Métis woman, or otipêmsiw-iskwêw, from Calgary, Alberta (otôskwanihk), in Treaty 7 territory, Métis Nation of Alberta (MNA) Region 3, currently living in amiskwaciwâskahikan (Edmonton), MNA Region 4, Treaty 6 and Nehiyaw-Pwat (Iron Confederacy) territory. A PhD student in the Faculty of Native Studies at the University of Alberta, Molly also co-hosts otipêyimisiw-iskwêwak kihci-kîsikohk (Métis in Space), an Indigenous feminist science fiction podcast, along with Chelsea Vowel. She is part of the directorship of the Métis in Space Land Trust and a member of Free Lands Free Peoples, an anti-colonial penal abolition group.

Politically, Molly describes herself as an Indigenous, specifically Métis, anarcha-feminist, with the goal of “total anti-colonial liberation,” including “the destruction of white cis-hetero-patriarchal supremacy, colonialism, capitalism, ableism, and states, as well as the regeneration of both new and remembered ways of living together with the land and with one another,” humans and other-than-humans alike.

Series co-editor Edward Dunsworth spoke with Molly over Zoom on 14 July 2021. Transcript edited for clarity and length.

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Hiding in Plain Sight: Newspaper Coverage of Dr. Peter Bryce’s 1907 Report on Residential Schools

September 29, 2021 No Comments

Article from the front page of Victoria’s Daily Colonist, 16 November 1907.

Kathleen McKenzie and Sean Carleton

As the result of the news of unmarked graves being located at former residential schools across Canada, many people are finally reckoning with the history of the Indian Residential School (IRS) system. While school survivors and Indigenous communities are not surprised by the recent revelations, some Canadians have been shocked to learn of the high rates of death and disease at the schools. They shouldn’t be, though. The horrors of the system were always hiding in plain sight.

As was recently reported in the Globe and Mail by Crystal Fraser, Tricia Logan, and Neil Orford, the Department of Indian Affairs’ own medical officer, Dr. Peter Henderson Bryce, blew the whistle on the IRS system in the early 1900s. In a 1907 report on the inadequate care that Indigenous children were receiving in some schools, Bryce outlined the ills of the system – including death and disease – that many Canadians are only learning of now. The Department of Indian Affairs, however, chose to ignore Bryce’s findings, burying his report and thwarting his subsequent calls for reform.

Yet, it is too easy for Canadians to say that the public was not made aware of Bryce’s report and apply blame solely to church and state officials who downplayed and ignored his warnings. The report was leaked to the public, and an examination of newspaper articles from the early 1900s reveals that readers across the country were presented with the findings.

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Embodied Learning – By Way of a Bicycle

September 29, 2021 No Comments

By Margot Higgins

This is the fourth in a series, “History En Vêlo,” about cycling and thinking historically, shared with NiCHE.

In an empty parking lot with patches of silty snow and grey ice, Kaisy wobbled, skidded a bit, and struggled to maintain her balance. She had barely bicycled previously and hailed from Brownsville, Texas, and yet she had signed up for my winter bicycling class. As an informal pre-requisite to that class, students agreed to spend the winter semester pedaling for their education around the Twin Cities; she was well aware of this. Home to the International Winter Bicycling Summit that year, Minneapolis is well known for a vibrant winter bicycling culture. I wanted to offer my students a different take on what is widely perceived as a lethal activity, and to learn about the politics of bicycle mobility in the area. We were admittedly off to a bumpy beginning.

Kaisy had e-mailed me to ask for some “tips on how to stop and start.” Adhering to my promise that I had designed the course “for all bicycle abilities,” we met for a practice ride in the lot behind our classroom as the late January sun set.

Bam! Within less than 30 seconds, Kaisy collided into my bicycle, dented and bent the fender – years later, I still haven’t been able to straighten it out entirely. Nevertheless, she saved herself from toppling over, and me from doing the same. Failing at lesson number one, I gulped and thought to myself, maybe I should start requiring students to sign a waiver? But when Kaisy also mentioned that she had recently started playing ice hockey, I knew this young woman from southern Texas was determined. She was not the only student with little previous experience.

Cycling near the Capitol in St. Paul..Photo by Margot Higgins.

By semester’s end, Kaisy bicycled smoothly and confidently throughout the Twin Cities – she never had another crash. Empowering my students to be comfortable in a variety of bicycling conditions is just one of the small things that I love about the bicycle curriculum I teach. Entitled “Bicycling the Urban Landscape: A History and Politics of Bicycling,” designing the Twin Cities-based course had also introduced me to the array of bicycle players in my new community. Continue reading →

Alarming! The Rhetoric of Warning

September 28, 2021 No Comments

Cameron Strandberg from Rocky Mountain House, Alberta, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

This is the fifth post in the series Historians Confront the Climate Emergency, hosted by ActiveHistory.ca, NiCHE (Network in Canadian History & Environment), Historical Climatology, and Climate History Network.

By Barbara Leckie

The rhetoric of warning, emergency, and alarm is everywhere in climate change coverage. Headlines flag the recent release of the IPCC-1 as our “starkest warning yet,”[1] cities and institutions around the world announce climate emergencies, and academic studies draw on the metaphor of the fire alarm in an effort to convey the urgency of the crisis.[2] As different as each of these registers are, they all invest in the view that warnings are not idle but activating: that they will do something. Greta Thunberg is perhaps the best-known public commentator to combine all three of these rhetorical terms—warning, emergency, and alarm—in her many calls for climate action. Consider her speech to the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland on 25 January 2019 in which she focuses on the latter, the fire alarm. “Our house is on fire. I am here to say, our house is on fire.” In the conclusion to her speech, she returns to the metaphor of the house on fire: “I want you to act as if our house is on fire. Because it is.”

I agree that the climate crisis is an emergency. I agree with the warnings and alarms. But I also wonder if there is a saturation point on climate warnings and alarms? And, worse, I wonder if they might thwart the very action for which they advocate. To be sure, immediate and sustained climate action is necessary and it has never been more urgent than now. News media have translated the science into terms that gain the attention of a general reading public. And Thunberg’s mobilization of phrases like “our house is on fire” have catalyzed action, contributed to a worldwide youth movement focused on climate action, and inspired global movements like Extinction Rebellion. They’ve also given ballast to the Green New Deal and related proposals for a green economy less wedded to sustainability discourses. One would be hard-pressed to say that her rhetoric of warning, emergency, alarm, and warning has had no impact. But has this rhetoric had other, less inspiring, impacts as well?

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Environmental Racism and the Climate Emergency: An Interview with Ingrid Waldron

September 23, 2021 No Comments

This is the fourth post in the series Historians Confront the Climate Emergency, hosted by ActiveHistory.ca, NiCHE (Network in Canadian History & Environment), Historical Climatology, and Climate History Network.

Ingrid Waldron is the HOPE Chair in Peace and Health in the Global Peace and Social Justice Program in the Faculty of Humanities at McMaster University and the author of There’s Something In The Water: Environmental Racism in Indigenous & Black Communities (Fernwood, 2018). Dr. Waldron spoke with series co-editor Edward Dunsworth over Zoom on 30 June 2021. Transcript edited for clarity and length.

Edward Dunsworth: Thank you, Dr. Waldron, for speaking with ActiveHistory.ca today. Your 2018 book, There’s Something in The Water, about environmental racism against Black and Indigenous communities in Nova Scotia, has done exceptionally well. Currently in its third reprint, it also was the inspiration for the documentary film of the same name, co-directed and -produced by movie star Elliot Page, that premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2019 and is now streaming on Netflix. Could you tell us a bit about how the book came about?

Ingrid Waldon: I had planned on writing a book, but perhaps not so soon. Since starting the Environmental Noxiousness, Racial Inequities & Community Health Project (ENRICH) project in 2012, I’ve been keeping detailed notes. [Editor’s note: ENRICH is “a collaborative community-based research and engagement project on environmental racism in Mi’kmaq and African Nova Scotian communities.”] So I knew that I would use that at some point, but I was planning on a different type of book that would look at the challenges of doing community based research, in general. I was approached by the publisher of Fernwood about writing a book on environmental racism in Nova Scotia. And I thought about it and said yes.

The book talks about the ENRICH project, the challenges of community-based research, and the health impacts of environmental racism, all within the context of settler colonialism, heteropatriarchy, and neoliberalism.

An important goal of mine with the book was to give voice to the Black and Indigenous communities I engaged. I wanted their voices to be at the forefront. Many of the chapters include direct quotes from them that articulate their experiences and their thoughts on the issues.

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Doing There? A Cycling-Inspired Riff on Embodied History

September 22, 2021 No Comments

Josh Howe

This is the third in a series, “History En Vêlo,” about cycling and thinking historically, shared with NiCHE.

In the west hills outside of Portland, there is a climb popular with road cyclists called Old Germantown Road. It’s the sort of climb cyclists often describe as “punchy” — that is, it is not particularly long, but peppered with the whimsical steep pitches that characterize the back roads of regions that rarely see snow. I make it a regular feature of my Portland rides. It never feels good — in fact it usually feels like taking knives to the legs — but I like the aesthetic and the lack of traffic, and I am a sucker for difficult things.

Recently, toward the bottom of the most sustained section of the climb, someone has stenciled the name MAJOR TAYLOR in white paint on the gray pavement. It got me thinking. About cycling. About bodies. And about history.

Marshall “Major” Taylor, photographed by Jules Beau (Photographs Sportifs, 1906-07), Gallica Digital Library (Wikimedia)

Marshall “Major” Taylor was an African-American professional cyclist who raced in an otherwise all-white world cycling tour in the late 1890s and early 1900s. Over his career, he racked up a pile of world records and a world sprint championship. He also faced rampant racism and discrimination across three continents during his time on the bike, only to be all but “forgotten” for almost a century by sports historians focused on other, whiter things. His story is fascinating, and has rightly resurfaced in a variety of media after nearly a century of neglect.¹ Continue reading →

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