Travelling the Two‐Way Street: Disrupting Colonial History

Oksana Dudko shares her experience of teaching Ukrainian history in Canadian universities during Russia's aggression. She notes the fundamental difference between students in Ukraine and students in Canada, many of whom take a class in Ukrainian history having little prior knowledge about the country. So, whereas in Ukraine, critically thinking university lecturers concentrate on deconstructing the simplified national historical narrative that has been interiorized by students in secondary school, in Canadian classrooms professors have to offer a coherent historical narrative that includes advanced methodological considerations. Another challenge is the dearth of reading materials. The available collections of primary sources translated into English are Russo-centric both in terms of document selection and the translation of key terms and concepts. Dudko stresses the importance of contemporary artistic sources, including visual ones, for expanding students' understanding of Ukraine. She also emphasizes the advantage of Ukraine's stateless status throughout much of its history and its fluctuating territorial boundaries for teaching modern postnational and post-state history, unconstrained by the traditional narrative of the nation-state.

Although Alan Taylor and Andres Resendez write about different places at different times, their major theme is the same-a radical reconfiguration of local worlds precipitated by the expansion of the United States. Together, their papers offer us an opportunity to think continentally, to understand the history of the United States as part of the history of North America. As important, they provoke us to contemplate narratives of continental history that move beyond our customary stories of conquest and resistance. Borderlands, understood notjust as zones of cultural interaction but as fluid regions in which American Indians and Europeans renegotiated authority as well as alliances, were pivotal places in the making of North America as a whole.1 To think continentally is to understand that nationalism like class, to invoke E. P. Thompson's famous characterization of the latter, is cultural as well as political and that it exists in the endlessly fluctuating realm of human relationships and human constructions of their relationships, an insight exploited by Benedict Anderson.2 Diplomatic and military historians may legitimately quarrel with the novelty of thinking continentally, for the list of scholars who have profitably studied treaties, wars, and various exchanges among the nations and peoples of North America is long and impressive. Yet it is also true, as critics point out, that these historians tend to operate within the parameters of larger national or tribal narratives.3 Their questions and conclusions reflect the concerns of United States, Mexican, Canadian, Iroquois, or Apache history, not the history of the whole. The same is true of scholars who have compared various developments in Canada and the United States or Mexico and the United States usually to highlight something about the American experience by contrasting it with something else. To be sure, the nation-states that appeared in North America between 1776 and 1867 had much in common. They all emerged from colonial encounters; they all found national definition in rejection of European empires; they all expanded at the expense of American Indians; they all contended with slavery and colonial economies; they all dealt with regional rivalries that threatened to undermine their experiments in federalism. More and more historians, however, are interested in considering these issues less as aspects of national stories than as variations on themes, as local versions of a larger process.4 The proliferation of borderlands studies, whether under the rubric of frontier, Western, or colonial history, has pointed us in this direction. Informed by the work of scholars who specialize in other parts of the world, much of this literature is critical of white Americans, particularly the ways in which they employed race and gender to subordinate and exploit Africans and European immigrants as well as exterminate Native Americans.5 Continental history also builds on the idea of an Atlantic world developed by many recent scholars of colonial encounters from the sixteenth through the nineteenth century. As critics lament, the emphasis on transnational history among American historians largely evaporates with the creation of nation-states. Post-colonial history is not nearly as cosmopolitan in method or as expansive in scale as colonial history.6 The most logical explanation of this sudden funneling of Atlantic history into American history or Mexican history or Canadian history lies in the very nature of nation-making, which requires the invisibility of other sources of identity and authority. To a considerable degree, nations were created by colonists who defined themselves against Europeans as well as Indians and Africans. Many fine scholars have attempted to demonstrate the existence of Atlantic connections in the nineteenth century. We no longer think of the United States as turning its back on Europe and progressing in some kind of exceptional isolation; its history is one especially important variation on developments affecting people throughout the world. …

Reviewed by: The Tupac Amaru Rebellion by Charles F. Walker, and: Revolution in the Andes: The age of Tupac Amaru by Sergio Serulnikov Mark Thurner The Tupac Amaru Rebellion By Charles F. Walker. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2014. Revolution in the Andes: The age of Tupac Amaru By Sergio Serulnikov. Durham, N. C.: Duke University Press, 2013. Since I am writing this review in Argentina and it is the Christmas season, which in our barrio of Buenos Aires at least is celebrated with fireworks, grilled meat, malbec, and books, it seems appropriate to begin with this quote from Roger Chartier's interview of Pierre Bourdieu, recently translated to the English: "It is likely that, if I were a historian, I too would take part in the production of Christmas presents."1 This quote came to mind when an Argentine historian friend posted on Facebook an image of the second Spanish edition of Charles F. Walker's thick book inserted in a red Christmas stocking. My friend was sharing a post that in turn had shared the Christmas reading list of a noted Peruvian journalist who writes for a left-leaning Lima newspaper. (Notably, his list includes several "sociology" titles: evidently, and in this regard at least, Peru is not France.) Here in Buenos Aires, which is rarely accused of not being France, I imagine that, in recent Christmases past, Serulnikov's thin book (published first here in Spanish in 2010 followed by a digital edition in 2012) posed something of a dilemma for the porteño gift-hunter. With the usual exceptions for the thrifty backpacker and the Kindle-maniac, wasn't Revolution a bit demure for those languid afternoons on Uruguay's beaches? In this regard, at least, Walker's Rebellion seems like the better companion. Happily, I have experienced no such dilemma. My red stocking was stuffed with Rebellion and Revolution, compliments of Harvard and Duke University Presses and the kind book review editor of this Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History. And yet, such a shopper's dilemma may not be so far from the heart of the matter at hand, for each of these books has been lauded by just about everyone (including one of our authors) as "the best account" or "the best narrative history" available on the subject.2 The only reason that I hesitate to chime in with the chorus here is that, in our age of superlatives, to declare that a book is "the best" or "definitive" account is to say the obvious. Nowadays, every new book published by "the best" press is "the best available" until of course the next "best" account becomes available, which is normally the next critical work on the subject. More to the point is the question of what kind of histories make good Christmas presents. In entertaining this question I heed Robert Berkhofer's plea that book reviews engage not just the content but the form and grammar of a history. In this case such an approach seems particularly apt, since both of these books claim to be "narrative histories."3 To begin with the titles. Serulnikov's thin Revolution and Walker's thick Rebellion would undoubtedly have stirred more controversy three decades ago, when the titular terms they (or their editors) have chosen for their books were the object of heated and sometimes violent debates among Leftist intellectuals in Peru and elsewhere, then eternally preoccupied with the pressing question of "what is to be done?" Was it just an "antifiscal" peasant rebellion or was it a real social revolution? Around that time a third term gained favor that is not given titular status here, although it appears frequently in both books: insurrection or uprising (insurrección, levantamiento). This term was once linked to other pressing questions. Was Tupac Amaru an Inca messianic movement of return to the precolonial order or an "anticolonial" conflagration whose ashes fertilized the Andean earth for the "revolution of independence" that sprouted decades later? Although both of our authors shy away from either the messianic or "precursor to independence" arguments and teleologies of past generations, it is not a coincidence that both of these books appear in the midst of...

Professor Carly Adams of the University of Lethbridge is the editor of an interesting and highly relevant textbook on the history of sport in what is now Canada. This textbook is intended primarily for undergraduate students and, as such, can be handily used as a basis for structuring a course on sports and sports practice in Canada. However, it should not be assumed that only undergraduate students will benefit from this textbook. The various chapters offer a decolonial perspective, and both sport researchers and graduate students will benefit from consulting the work of the contributors. In addition, in the preface, Adams emphasizes that sport and recreation practices are contextualized and, therefore, act as a locus of socialization that either reproduces or challenges systems of oppression based on gender, race, or class. In other words, sports, as well as the historical narratives that recount their evolution and transformation, are shaped by broad sociopolitical issues.The first two of the fifteen chapters of the book are methodological in nature. The first one, by Adams, reaffirms the importance of sport as a tool to understand societies better, as well as an agent of sociopolitical, cultural, and economic change. The next chapter, “Method and Theories in Historical Research,” introduces students to the ABCs of historical research and the importance of taking into account the context in which historical sources are produced, as well as the narratives that have been made from these sources. Chapters 3 to 14 are essentially case studies dealing with the place and representation of Indigenous peoples in the development of sport in Canada (Chapters 3 to 5), the impact of industrialization and environmental concerns (Chapter 6); the influence of colonial, nationalist, and imperialist ideologies in the evolution of sport (Chapters 7 to 9 and 13), and the “Sports-Media Complex” as a means of producing and disseminating a Canadian culture of “settler colonialism” (Chapter 12).Chapters 10 and 11 offer a more inclusive reading of history with respect to race issues, while Chapter 14 looks at Canadian nongovernmental organizations involved in the promotion of sport both at home and abroad. Finally, Adams takes up the pen again, this time accompanied by Braden Te Hiwi, to offer a fifteenth and final chapter by way of conclusion. This chapter offers a general reflection on the need to set aside the colonial perspective of historical narratives to bring all the necessary nuances to a complex history.While the approach taken by Adams and the seasoned contributors assembled here is not new in itself, one of the hallmarks of this book is a strong interest in all sports and recreational practices, not just hockey, which remains the subject of much work by Canadian sport historians. In addition, there is a strong focus on Aboriginal activities, practices, and athletes, who are still the most neglected in Canadian history despite significant efforts over the past two decades to include their past in the historical narrative. Sport and Recreation in Canadian History, thus, tries to establish a historical dialogue among the various ethnocultural communities that populate the Canadian territory around the issue of sport, which continues to create a very powerful social and community link. To do so, Adams and her collaborators undertake a rereading of the dominant narrative and propose a history of sport that is emancipatory and inclusive while being attentive to the mechanisms of power and exclusion inherited from a Canadian culture that has—and sometimes still does—defined itself, in large part, on the basis of colonial relationships.

When criminalized Aboriginal peoples serving time in Canadian prisons wrote in penal presses, they often used genocide as a framework to discuss both their personal life histories and the colonial history that led to overrepresentation of Aboriginal peoples in prisons. Genocide, though, is not a straightforward idea, and the ways that Aboriginal prisoners wrote about genocide differed significantly from how scholars or politicians used the term. By interpreting these writings within Aboriginal storytelling traditions, this article illuminates the lived experience of genocide, how those experiencing incarceration viewed genocide within their belief structures, the ways that genocide became a critique against the Canadian government, and the spiritual basis for discussion of genocide. By reading Aboriginal prison writings as valuable intellectual pursuits, we can begin to interpret genocide within frameworks that differed from the insights from academia. First, genocide was experienced as part of both colonial and personal processes, meaning it was experienced at the community level and in personal violence in pre-carceral lives. Second, by telling stories of genocide, prisoners asserted their own survival, which reflected the goals of their organizations and functioned as a political critique against the Canadian government. Third, genocide became an identity-shaping force in the lives of criminalized Aboriginal peoples, which in turn shaped their experience of incarceration. Finally, genocide was not uniformly experienced, as it had important gendered differences. This article shows the nuance in prisoners' discussions of genocide by proposing a new way of interpreting genocide within Aboriginal history in Canada by analysing penal publications as part of Aboriginal storytelling traditions, what the author refers to as ‘genocide-as-story’.

During a 2009 speech to the G20 meeting in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper made the now-famous statement that Canada has ‘no history of colonialism’. In the days following the G20 meeting, Harper’s representatives retracted his statement, claiming the use of ‘colonialism’ was taken out of context (Wherry 2009). The statement still infuriated Indigenous communities in Canada and illuminated a growing trend in Canada’s national memory. The Prime Minister’s remarks reminded Canadians that publicly or privately, national memories have blind spots when it comes to the real costs of building a nation. Ultimately, the First Nations, Metis and Inuit people in Canada1 are still paying an enormous price. Settler colonial crimes committed in the pursuit of ‘civilizing’ the ‘Canadian wilderness’ and establishing a powerful, economically viable nation are often erased or ignored, and Indigenous peoples are often instructed to ‘just get over it’ (Mahoney 2013). This chapter argues that revisions to national memory in Canada are not only long overdue, but could potentially aid in altering colonial mindsets. Misunderstood or misconceived definitions of settler colonial genocide inCanada and settler colonial genocide overall contribute to the lack of engagement by the non-Indigenous Canadian public. Settler colonial genocide is best known as a phenomenon that occurred in the United States or Australia (see Levene 2005: 69; Bloxham 2009: 283; Docker 2008: 94-96; Stannard 1993), and Canada is rarely mentioned. In Canada, Canadian historiography is critically flawed when it discusses genocide. Non-Indigenous Canadian historians regrettably use narrow definitions based on the 1948 United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (UNGC). Narrow definitions of genocide as a singular event (rather than asmultiple events occurring over centuries) or based purely on ‘killing’ (rather than, for example, on the forcible removal of children) limit examination of Indigenous histories (McDonnell and Moses 2005). Settler colonial genocide is not addressed in Canadian museums, and it israrely addressed in Canadian mainstream historical narratives. Canada has created a mythology of nation-building and a national narrative that does not correspond to the realities of Indigenous peoples’ experiences. The obtrusive omission of settler colonial genocide in Canadian museums speaks to the wider omissions of genocide in Canadian history. Public histories in Canada and institutions like museums have a considerable distance to bridge in order for an agreement between Indigenous peoples’ accounts of history and public accounts of history to be reached. In museums like the Canadian Museum for Human Rights (CMHR), dueto open in Winnipeg in 2014, there exists a dominant narrative on genocide and human rights that features genocides perpetrated outside of Canada and the Americas. As the curator of Indigenous content at the CMHR, I was asked in July 2013 to remove the term genocide from the small exhibit on settler colonial genocide in Canada. While the museum itself relies heavily on a genocide narrative to build ‘encounters with human rights’, the dominant examples are the Holocaust and the Holodomor (the Ukrainian Famine 1932-1933). Atrocities against Indigenous peoples would remain in the museum, but I was no longer permitted to name them as genocide. Later in the chapter, I will draw on my own experience as the curator for Indigenous content at the CMHR to consider the way in which the experiences of Indigenous peoples are remembered in museums in Canada. I will first consider the question of settler colonial genocide.

Ten years ago, Walsh-Bowers (1998) described in Canadian Psychology the marginalized status of community psychology in Canada. The purpose of this research was to investigate the current status of community psychology training in Canadian universities. The online calendars for undergraduate and graduate programs in departments of psychology in Canadian universities were reviewed for course offerings in community psychology. Subsequently, an e-mail survey of program directors was conducted to confirm and extend the findings of the online search. Results were compared with those of similar previous surveys conducted in 1980-1981 (Nelson & Tefft, 1982) and 1992-1994 (Walsh-Bowers, 1998). Findings show a small amount of growth in community psychology training at the undergraduate level since the last survey in 1992-1994, with more courses available in more Canadian psychology departments. There are also marginally more graduate courses in community psychology offered now than 15 years ago, but these are located in fewer psychology departments. Findings are discussed in the context of contemporary professional psychology and future directions for growing community psychology. Keywords: Canadian psychology, community psychology, training Community psychology occupies a rather unique place in the field of psychology. It adopts many of the methods, practises, and concerns of other areas of psychology, such as clinical and social psychology, and seeks greater institutional recognition and security within the psychology family. Nonetheless, community psychology was born of disaffection with mainstream experimental and clinical psychology, and while developing its own theory and research base, it has also advanced an explicit critique of mainstream psychology. Always marginal within the field of psychology, there has been ongoing concern for its ability to gain a secure foothold in the psychological establishment, particularly in terms of its ability to grow through the education and training of future generations of scholars and practitioners. In the two previous decades, national surveys were conducted describing the status of education and training in Canadian universities (Nelson & Tefft, 1982; Walsh-Bowers, 1998). This article updates these surveys by examining the current status of education and training of community psychology in Canada. We begin by first defining community psychology and providing a brief overview of its history in Canada. Then, we examine community psychology's status in the context of Canadian psychology. Following a presentation of findings from our survey, we discuss their implications for further strengthening training in community psychology in Canada. The article reflects multiple perspectives that include those of a midcareer academic (Aubry) trained in clinical and community psychology, an early career academic (Sylvestre) trained in applied social and community psychology, and a doctoral student (Ecker) specialising in community mental health and community psychology. All of us share an interest in developing training in community psychology in our home department and elsewhere across Canada. Definition of Community Psychology Although numerous definitions of community psychology exist, most touch on one or more of these three themes: values, research, and action or intervention (Nelson & Prilleltensky, 2005). Nelson and Prilleltensky (2005) have included these themes in their definition of community psychology as the subdiscipline of psychology that is concerned with understanding people in the context of their communities, the prevention of problems of living, the celebration of human diversity, and the pursuit of social justice through social action, (p. 22) In terms of values, community psychology involves research and intervention that are focused on improving the living conditions of marginalized people. In this vein, Nelson and Prilleltensky (2005) have advocated an explicit focus on community psychology values in the pursuit of liberation by addressing oppression and promoting well-being. …

A comparison of doctoral theses in progress in 1967 and 1985 reveals a number of trends in historical studies in Canadian universities during the past two decades. In 1967, 58 per cent of all doctoral candidates chose topics in Canadian history and the largest number ― fully 36 per cent of all candidates ― were writing theses at the University of Toronto, which offered the broadest range of fields of any Canadian university. Much smaller programmes existed at McGill and the University of Western Ontario; aside from these three institutions, no other university in English-speaking Canada enrolled more than four students. Two-thirds of all francophone candidates were enrolled at Université Laval, where only five candidates were writing on topics other than Canadian history. The political process led the field of interest in all fields of study, while social history of the Annales school held little interest for either linguistic group. More than half the dissertations in Canadian fields were supervised by only eight senior scholars. By 1985, marked changes in this pattern were evident. The number of active doctoral candidates had increased from 236 in 1967 to 294, and Canadian history was the field of choice for 72 per cent. Doctoral programmes and hence supervision had decentralized in anglophone Canada, however, and the University of Toronto's dominance had been challenged by Queen's and York; specialized programmes of some size existed at a much larger number of institutions. Among francophone schools, enrollment had doubled and Laval had achieved a situation rivalling Toronto's in 1967. Laval and the Université de Montréal now had the largest doctoral programmes in the country. In terms of topic, policy and administration had replaced the political process as the subject of choice for both language groups; economic history experienced a modest degree of growth, while the history of ideas retained its traditional level of interest. Social history had become much more popular in both linguistic groups, while less European history was being studied. These developments pose both problems and possibilities for the profession as a whole. Doctoral studies have been enriched by the diversity of interests, but the potential for academic sectarian strife is troubling. The need now is for syntheses and paradigms which will permit the findings of subdisciplines to be integrated into a broader and more sensitive understanding of the past.

Bloodsucking Colonizers and the Undead Anishinabe: History, Cultural Continuity, and Identity in Drew Hayden Taylor’s The Night Wanderer Kristin Burnett (bio) and Judith Leggatt (bio) IN THE NIGHT WANDERER: A NATIVE GOTHIC NOVEL, Drew Hayden Taylor uses the genre of young adult vampire novel to explore the ways in which different practices and understandings of history shape both national and personal identities. The novel has two intersecting protagonists: Pierre L’Errant and Tiffany Hunter. L’Errant is a centuries-old vampire who was born as Owl, an Anishinabe (Ojibwa). He is taken from his home by Europeans at a moment of first contact and transformed into a vampire in France just before he dies from measles. Centuries later Pierre returns to his home community to finally end his life, and meets Tiffany, an adolescent Anishinabekwe who is attempting to come to terms with her identity and her culture in the twenty-first century. Pierre/Owl simultaneously represents a link to the precolonial past—as the only living Anishinabe person to remember life before Europeans—and the ways in which colonial history has ossified Indigenous cultures, since he is an undead and unchanging vampire. Whereas Pierre illustrates the complexities of competing historical narratives, Tiffany is a reluctant consumer of history, a young person whose present is shaped not only by the past but also by how settler society constructs that past. Through an investigation of Pierre and Tiffany we will demonstrate not only that a colonial project lies at the heart of the writing and teaching of Canadian history, but also that history can be reclaimed by transforming its practice to include Indigenous voices and Indigenous understandings of the content and purpose of history.1 Through The Night Wanderer, Taylor acknowledges academic history’s colonial legacies, but draws on Anishinabe historical practice as an act of decolonization. Using a novel to explore history is appropriate from an Anishinabe perspective, in which story is “a kind of methodology or center point” that provides “theoretical frameworks guiding questions in law, history, anthropology, environmental studies, and other fields.”2 Indeed, much Indigenous history is presented in the form of story. For example, Anishinabe historian Basil Johnston argues against an understanding of Indigenous people based [End Page 96] on physical artifacts, saying that “unless scholars and writers know the literature of the peoples that they are studying or writing about they cannot provide what their students and readers are seeking,” which he sees as a relevant understanding of Indigenous people.3 Similarly, Mohawk writer Beth Brant argues that “as a poet, rather than a historian,” she has “a freedom of sorts to explore and imagine” the truths about the historical figures of Pocahontas and Nancy Ward.4 More recently, Our Story: Aboriginal Voices on Canada’s Past attempts “to step out of preconceived notions of not only what constitutes our history but how our history is constituted” by having Indigenous authors—including Taylor—tell fictional stories about historical events in Canada’s history; the collection thus provides “a new vantage point not just on how First Nations perceive their place in Canadian history but a different approach to recounting the past and making it come alive in the present.”5 As an Anishinabe creative writer, Drew Hayden Taylor has the freedom to question history in ways that are difficult for insiders to the historical discipline but appropriate to his own cultural context. Using the young adult novel as his genre is doubly appropriate, not only because the current popularity of young adult vampire novels enables him to reach an audience that might other wise be as disinclined as Tiffany to pick up a history book, but more important because adolescence is traditionally a time of identity formation and exploration. Taylor’s implied audience is, like Tiffany, developing the ideas and perceptions that will shape their understanding of themselves and the nation(s) they inhabit. Reading history through a young adult novel allows us to suggest ways of transforming how historians and teachers convey Canadian history, so that it foregrounds Indigenous histories, knowledges, world-views, and methodologies, and provides new possibilities of doing and knowing history for the next generation. First, we (Judith and Kristin...

Reviewed by: Raymond B. Blake, University of ReginaA former professor and colleague at Mount Allison University in New Brunswick regularly asked students in his diplomatic history course to trace the smell of fish through the history of Canada's foreign relations. His was a historical approach to Canada's diplomatic history, and I suspect that in many Canadian universities where the history of Canada's foreign relations is still taught, fish get very little attention. However, as the authors of Fishing for a Solution ably demonstrate, fisheries still matter in Canada's foreign relations. The authors, all well versed in fisheries policy from their academic and government roles, bring both a historical understanding and first-hand experience to the subject. From 1977, when Canada extended its jurisdiction over much of the continental shelf, to 2013, when there were few fish left to catch off Canada's east coast, two of the authors were engaged in making fisheries policy in Canada's relations with the European Union (EU). The third is a leading academic who has written widely on Canada's fishery policy.This is a remarkably detailed and insightful account of Canada's relations with the EU over the catching of fish in the North Atlantic. The authors convincingly argue that international relations stand at the intersection of domestic and external policies. In this case study, they contend that factors at several different levels impact the Canada-EU relationship. Canada and the EU interact with each other as members of the international community, of course, but their fisheries policies are influenced by subnational units--provinces in Canada and member states in the EU. Canada's east coast provinces, particularly Newfoundland and Labrador and Nova Scotia, have usually demanded (without much success) a voice in the articulation of fisheries policy. In the EU, Spain and Portugal have exerted considerable pressure on fisheries policy within the EU councils. Although the book recognizes that, in Canada's case, domestic matters have frequently influenced fisheries policy, the focus here is more on the internal dynamics and politics within the EU.The book begins with Canada's decision in 1977 to extend its jurisdiction over fisheries and mineral wealth 200 miles offshore. It was a buoyant period for Canada's fishery, when many thought that the new policy would usher in a period of expansion and prosperity for Canada's fishers. So confident was Canada that it was willing to share it bounty within the 200-mile exclusive zone and subsequently negotiated agreements with European nations that had historically fished off the east coast. Canada believed that the new agreements realized effective conservation measures while achieving access to European markets for Canadian fish exports. It gave the Europeans access to species Canada did not value and fish that were surplus to domestic needs. However, Canadian exporters soon discovered that EU countries were reluctant to open their markets to Canadian fish imports and within a short period, the rush to harvest fish both within and outside the 200-mile zone resulted in dwindling catches from overfishing.The focus in this book, however, is not so much the events leading to the destruction of the fish stocks off Canada's east coast but Canada's attempts to establish long-term agreements on fishing on the continental shelf with the EU. The situation became much more complicated in 1985 when Spain and Portugal joined the EU. Both nations have large fishing industries and their powerful fishing regions exerted a strong influence on state policies. Spain and Portugal forced the EU to challenge what they considered Canada's restrictive management approach to conservation even though that approach was gaining momentum in Canada and indeed throughout the EU. Spain and Portugal quickly took advantage of the dreadful procedure within the North Atlantic Fisheries Organization (NAFO), an international organization to monitor and control fishing in the North Atlantic that allowed member states that disagreed with the quotas set for each member simply to dismiss them and set their own autonomous quotas. …

As museums serve as major tourist destinations, ensuring the sustainable presentation of exhibits addressing social justice issues, such as colonial legacies, is increasingly critical. This study examines how one destination museum engaged with its colonial past through a temporary exhibit designed to challenge traditional narratives and amplify marginalized perspectives. The primary objective is to assess whether such temporary interventions foster lasting engagement with colonial histories or risk becoming fleeting gestures that ultimately reinforce hegemonic narratives. Using Gramsci’s theory of hegemony and the concept of moral licensing as analytical frameworks, this research systematically analyzes the content of both original and supplementary exhibit labels to evaluate their impact on visitor engagement with colonial histories. Specifically, this study addresses two key research questions: (RQ1) What new historical narratives and perspectives on colonialism did visitors encounter through the inclusion of supplementary museum labels addressing colonial legacies? (RQ2) What insights can be drawn from the addition and subsequent removal of these labels to inform future strategies for fostering sustained critical engagement with social justice issues, particularly colonial histories, in museum settings? Findings indicate that the addition of supplementary labels provided tourists with a deeper, more critical understanding of the museum’s colonial history and helped disrupt hegemonic narratives. However, as the exhibit was temporary, the removal of these labels revealed the risks of moral licensing, where short-term efforts may justify a return to dominant perspectives. This research contributes to the literature by demonstrating that to effectively and sustainably engage visitors with social justice issues, destination museums must integrate marginalized narratives into permanent or recurring exhibits. While even modest interventions, such as additional museum labels, can challenge established narratives, sustained efforts are essential to ensure that tourists continue engaging with critical social justice issues.

Race-based discrimination in Canada exists at the institutional and structural level. While acknowledging its existence is a crucial first step in eradicating this particular form of discrimination, an essential second step includes implementing structural changes at the institutional level in Canadian universities. In an effort to disrupt the Eurocentricity of knowledge production this commentary argues that the Canadian government’s official historical narrative that depicts Canada as being born of the pioneering spirit of British and French white settlers fails to capture the actual history of the country. Rather, it fosters the continuation of the supremacy of whiteness thereby causing significant harm through the perpetuation of racial bias. We argue that the history and contributions of Indigenous, Black, and Chinese Canadians, all of whom were in this country prior to confederation, should be told in a mandatory university course. Our findings indicate that while a number of universities have individual courses, usually electives and some graduate degrees on Indigenous, Black, and Chinese history, there is little offered from the Canadian context and certainly nothing that is a mandatory course requirement. In addition, we suggest compulsory university staff-wide anti-racism training; the ongoing hiring of professors and sessional instructors who are racially representative of the population of Canada; and community outreach, mentorship, and counselling programs that are designed to help students who are underrepresented in Canadian universities. In our opinion, we believe that these changes have the potential to provide a lens to disrupt settler colonial spaces, mobilize race in academic curricula, and encourage social justice actions that can offer a more inclusive learning environment.

ECONOMICS IN CANADA came of age in the •93os. • A discipline that had only recently become an established part of the university curriculum in Canada began, under the stimulus of the worst depression in Canadian history, to challenge traditional descriptions of the way in which the economy worked. As it did so it increasingly undermined the theories on which those descriptions were based and began in a serious fashion to search for a new approach to economics. By the time that English economist John Maynard Keynes published his famous General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money in •936, Canadian economists were more than ready to abandon an obsolete view of the economic universe in favour of a structure that offered greater hope for comprehension of the world around them. A change in theory was accompanied and its impact accelerated by a changing role for professional economists. To an unprecedented degree the Depression caused the public to look to economists for advice on public policy. This change was the result of a conjuncture of circumstances including the relatively improved state of economics departments in Canadian universities in the years after World War •, theoretical developments at the national and international evels, and, most importantly, the quest for a solution to the worst economic risis in Canadian history. Together these factors catapulted the 'dismal science' into a prominent role in Canadian governmental planning and reform. Thus, for example, in •93 the Canadian civil service had only one civil servant with graduate training in economics, O.D. Skelton,

If the claim that the Bible is in some way America's book is, as one Canadian scholar puts it, extravagant, the idea should come as no surprise to (Gunn 1; Jeffrey People of the Book 319). Prominent Americans call thankfully upon God for sundry blessings and assistance in times of distress and White House occupants of whichever political party fling biblical texts to the media and Rotary Clubs across the land. Former president and perennial Sunday school teacher Jimmy Carter, for example, recently published his spiritual autobiography, complete with longish revelations of his appreciation for the Bible. As numerous scholars have made clear, the Bible has exerted a great influence on public life in the United States (see, e.g., Gunn; Hatch and Noll). Scholarly attention to the influence of the Hebrew and Christian scriptures in Canadian history has been informative but slight. Tom Sinclair-Faulkner and Michael Gauvreau have discussed the impact of scholarly biblical criticism on nineteenth-century Canadian universities and Christian academics and John Moir has authored a history of biblical studies in the Canadian university. E.C. Woodley and Paul-Aime Martin have written brief, general accounts of organizations devoted to the study and propagation of the Bible in Canada while Neil Semple, with other historians of religion, has noted the importance of Bible-based Sunday schools. John G. Stackhouse, Jr. and Robert K. Burkinshaw have written on Bible colleges and institutes; S.F. Wise and Richard Allen have shown the important role general biblical themes played in nineteenth-century Canadian intellectual history; Norman F. Cornett and Thomas Flanagan have pointed to the centrality of biblical themes in the thought of, respectively, Lionel Groulx and Louis Riel. Canadian professors of English - most notably the late Northrop Frye and the University of Ottawa's David Lyle Jeffrey - have expended a considerable amount of energy writing on the Bible and English literature in general and, in Jeffrey's case, on biblical themes in Canadian fiction. Significantly, over one quarter of the scholars who contributed to the monumental and widely praised Dictionary of Biblical Tradition in English Literature - edited by Jeffrey - teach at Canadian institutions. In 1996 Dave Little, a teacher of English in Saskatchewan, produced a work on the vision of Robertson Davies in which 40 pages are devoted to the use of biblical texts. Canadian historians, however, have not yet produced a study of the Bible's place in Canada's public life, though even a casual perusal of many historical sources suggests that the Bible has figured prominently in Canadian history. Consider several of the texts provided in Ramsay Cook's anthology of French Canadian nationalist thought. It has long been observed that prominent nineteenth-century French Canadian clerics Monsignor L.ER. Lafleche interpreted Quebec's history in explicitly biblical terms. While Lafleche's biographer has noted his close familiarity with the Bible (see Voisin 507) there is no focussed study of what biblical texts Lafleche most frequently employed, and how. When Lafleche declared in his series of articles collectively titled The Providential Mission of the French Canadians (in Cook) that Jacques Cartier's voyage to the New World was providentially ordered in a way similar to Abraham's journey into Canaan (Genesis 12:1-9) was he expressing something he deeply believed to be true or merely employing a familiar and authoritative text for the sake of rhetorical flourish? Even the rouge Gonzalve Doutre claimed that in the modem era progressive peoples of all languages were engaged in a new crossing of the Red Sea (Exodus 14) and were building a of Granite, which, unlike the failed ancient Tower of Babel (Genesis 11:1-9), would reach to a humanly perfected metaphorical heaven. (Cook 117) Henri Bourassa maintained in The French Language and the Future of Our Race that French should not content themselves with linguistic and religious secondclass citizenship like the Hebrews in the land of Egypt (Exodus chaps. …

Exterminate All the Brutes directed by Raoul Peck