Monthly Archives: February 2015

2] For this blog assignment, I would like you to research and summarize one of the state or governing activities, such as The Royal Proclamation 1763, the Indian Act 1876, Immigration Act 1910, or the Multiculturalism Act 1989 – you choose the legislation or policy or commission you find most interesting. Write a blog about your findings and in your conclusion comment on whether or not your findings support Coleman’s argument about the project of white civility.

The statement “state or governing activities” does not scream freedom and liberation to me, what about you? It’s one of those phrases that I hear and go “yuck, government stuff”. This question has promoted me to think a little beyond that, perhaps from a different perspective, perhaps through a lens of state versus nation, and power relations. I chose to examine the Indian Act of 1876 and in my research; I was drawn to certain ideas worth connected back to Daniel Coleman’s White Civility: The literary Project of English Canada.

Daniel Coleman makes it clear in the introduction to his work that early nation builders were looking to “formulate and elaborate a specific form of [Canadian] whiteness based on the British model of civility” (Coleman 5). ‘Whiteness’ you may ask? In an annual report by the Canadian Department of the Interior in 1876, it is quoted in saying “Our Indian legislation generally rests on the principle, that the aborigines are to be kept in a condition of tutelage and treated as wards or children of the State” (Makarenko). This so-called ‘State’ was conveniently a group of seemingly elite Europeans. As opposed to nation-building, the State seemed concerned with titles given, borders created and groups segregated from others, and the Indian Act of 1876 is a prime example of this. Automatically, there seems to be a connection in the instilling of whiteness and the extreme power of the State. The phrase ‘white power’ rings a bell? As far as I’m concerned, the State seemed adamant to have power lie in the hands of the ‘white’, for the white sake. Coleman argues that readings such as the Indian Act 1876 invoke a sense of a solely white Canadian nation building project, and “mediated and gradually reified the privileged, normative status of British whiteness in English Canada” (Coleman 6-7).

Reading some of the actual parts of the Indian Act 1876, I got an understanding of Coleman’s standpoint regarding this issue of ‘whiteness’. There seems to be a deep concern with defining the term “Indians”, what it means, who applies and who does not. Instead of instilling nation-building and unity, there is a concern with dictating who people were, who they were considered to be, and what they had the right to be and own. You may argue that this kind of segregation could be for the sake of organization and smoother logistic operation of a state and nation, but for literary sake, the language does not seem to support unity and fairness among the ‘white’ and the ‘Indian’. The Indian Act 1876 goes to extensive lengths in defining different ‘kinds’ of Indian, and what each identity entails, creating a sense of ‘us’ and ‘them’. I’ll be the first to say I did not get the feeling the Indian Act was racist by any means, but rather worthy of study in relation to a sense of power hierarchy between the ‘White’ and the ‘Indian’, instilling of ‘whiteness’, or I argue, perhaps between the ‘State’ and the ‘Nation’. With those in power drafting this Indian Act, this power is already enacted and performed. More importantly, the power of the State begins to dictate how the nation is constructed and maintained. Perhaps this power of white civility is the kind of “brutal histories” that Coleman claims is now inherent in Canadian history (Coleman 9). Sad, but true?

I see the Indian Act of 1876 as what Coleman would describe as a “project that began with colonialism and continues in the present” (Coleman 45). There is a sense that this project is fueled by efforts and intentions to rule, govern and dictate power. I could not quite juggle myself, but perhaps you could help:

What is the difference between the building of the ‘State’, and ‘Nation’ building?

Does the increasing power of the ‘State’ overshadow and overthrow the power of the ‘Nation’?

Is there something inherently ‘white’ about ‘State’ building and not ‘Nation’ building in how we understand and process these terms?

Cheers.

Works Cited

Coleman, Daniel. White Civility: The Literary Project of English Canada. Toronto: U of Toronto, 2006. Print.

“Indian Act 1876.” N.p., n.d. Web. 26 Feb. 2015 <http://www.tidridge.com/uploads/3/8/4/1/3841927/1876indianact.pdf>.

Johnson, Eric M. “On the Origin of White Power | The Primate Diaries, Scientific American Blog Network.” Scientific American Global RSS. Scientific American, 21 May 2014. Web. 26 Feb. 2015. <http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/primate-diaries/2014/05/21/on-the-origin-of-white-power/>.

Makarenko, Jay. “The Indian Act: Historical Overview | Mapleleafweb.com.”The Indian Act: Historical Overview. Mapleleafweb, 2 June 2008. Web. 26 Feb. 2015. <http://mapleleafweb.com/features/the-indian-act-historical-overview#civilizations>.

“Understanding Whiteness.” Understanding Whiteness. Calgary Anti-Racism Education, n.d. Web. 26 Feb. 2015. <http://www.ucalgary.ca/cared/whiteness>.

In order to address this question you will need to refer to Sparke’s article, “A Map that Roared and an Original Atlas: Canada, Cartography, and the Narration of Nation.” You can easily find this article online. Read the section titled: “Contrapuntal Cartographies” (468 – 470). Write a blog that explains Sparke’s analysis of what Judge McEachern might have meant by this statement: “We’ll call this the map that roared.”

I recall the last time I used my GPS and map. Specifically, I was driving to visit a friend in Burnaby, and made sure to type in ‘Burnaby’ for when my GPS asked me for the city of my destination. Interestingly when I got there, the line that separated Richmond and Burnaby wasn’t a gigantic strip of paint on a guarded road that I had expected from reading the map, labeled ‘From here, it is the land of Burnaby’. So how do maps actually…work? What do they actually…do and mean?

A map can actually speak to us. Arguably, a map can actually have an effect on how our society is run, operated and thought of. Think about it. Maps are representations of our land, and lines that separate ‘your’ land and ‘mine’. The words ‘You’re on my land’ wouldn’t exist without the performance and application of mapping techniques and traditions. A map can come to define what is what, and where is where. A map for example is visual proof of where Canada as a nation starts and stops, purely structurally. These maps can speak to us in the way it tells us what is Canadian and what is not, in the most simplistic way of paper and pen, with lines and borders. But is what makes us Canadians purely what fits into these lines and what doesn’t? In Sparke’s words, the map, the “more radical and creative aspect of the Atlas has been to provide a cartographic “musical score” which, once given contrapuntal voicing, can enable its national Canadian audience to rethink the colonial frontiers of national knowledge itself” (Sparke 468). In other words, a map sings to us in the way that it attempts to define what ‘us’ even means. But how can this be dangerous and detrimental to identity restoration of ‘what used to be’? How can maps then become a way of segregating not only the land, but the past and the present?

Judge McEachern makes the statement “We’ll call this the map that roared”. I can see why the map can be a highly distrusted article used to define a nation, or a nation’s identity. Maps have the ability to literally break up, fragment and divide kingdoms and land with, arguably, arbitrary lines of separation and ownership. I am drawn to the lectures of a previous English professor of mine in regards to his research on maps and its effects in William Shakespeare’s King Lear. Simplistically, his research and analysis was focused on how maps can come to represent a form of blindness in its ability to simplistically abstract a nation’s meaning down to mere lines of separation and definition.  Land, its meaning and culture, is reduced to pure markings on a page. A map is dangerous (Page 423 of book) in this way, and can be thought of as threatening to a nation’s identity and history. I believe the roaring of the map in Sparke’s article refers to the “simultaneously [evoking of] the resistance in the First Nations’ remapping of the land: the cartography’s roaring refusal of the orientation systems, the trap lines, the property lines…” (Sparke 468). The roaring is the oral and auditory cry of distrust and anger towards the dangerous nature of maps and its ability to literally break apart nations and it’s identities.

I don’t believe the ‘roaring’ starts and stops with a map. I believe the creation, retrieval and maintaining of national identities innately carry a sense of battle, and a need for a roar, for one’s own history and meaning. A roar for identity, a roar for pride and a roar for patriotism. Maps attempt to silence these powerful and meaningful roars with its own loud roars of separation, fragmentation, and a need for selfish ownership. Maps mute the cries for identity.

What would Canada be like without borders?

What would all our nations be like without borders?

What would our World be like without borders?

Words Cited

Carlson, Kathryn B. “Year in Ideas: How Canadian Identity Has Changed and What It Means for Our Future.” National Post Year in Ideas How Canadian Identity Has Changed and What It Means for Ourfuture Comments. National Post, 28 Dec. 2012. Web. 11 Feb. 2015. <http://news.nationalpost.com/2012/12/28/year-in-ideas-how-canadian-identity-has-changed-and-what-it-means-for-our-future/>.

Outhwaite, William. “Nationalism.” The Blackwell Dictionary of Modern Social Thought. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2003. 423. Print. <https://books.google.ca/books id=JJmdpqJwkwwC&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false>

Sparke, Mathew. “A Map that Roared and an Original Atlas: Canada, Cartography, and the Narration of Nation.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 88.3 (1998): 463- 495. Web. 11 February 2015.

Coyote’s twin brother stole the “written document” and when he denied stealing the paper, he was “banished to a distant land across a large body of water” (9). We are going to return to this story, but for now – what is your first response to this story? In context with our course theme of investigating intersections where story and literature meet, what do you make of this stolen piece of paper?

Think back to the time your parents told you a story. Perhaps one about your history, your origin and your ancestry. Do you question this story, or do you take it as your truth in defining your past? I asked myself upon finishing this week’s readings whether I’d be accepting of being told my past was a stolen one. Does it even matter if it was one that lacked authenticity? The “alternative explanations” of the origins of ‘Europeans’ can be like the many versions of your past, history and ancestry. Where your family is from, who they were and what defined them. A stolen piece of paper becoming a part of your identity can be troublesome but, my first thought was…does it even matter that it was stolen? Can this “stolen piece of paper” make way for the sharing of truths among people of all origins? Perhaps more importantly, has this “stolen piece of paper” come to shape the way we tell and pass on these respective ‘truths’ of origin in both written and oral form? I made a natural connection between story, literature and history with this in mind.

The stolen piece of paper implies a sense of certain original ownership, and I think this idea of ownership is interesting in our quest of looking at origin stories. The naming of places, land and people creates a natural “link of ownership between people and the places” Yours, and mine. However, even something as valuable as an identity or origin story, can grow to not have one meaning, or one truth, but rather distinct and co-existing truths. Yours, mine and ours. The stolen piece of paper implies a certainty about the form of written history. Something written in stone, hard evidence and worthy of stealing. However, I do not believe the victims of this theft are at a loss, especially with the power of oral histories, where co-existing truths can exist, your story and mine. Thinking back to my own personal experience, the story telling process in my family was always an oral one. By the dinner table or by the living room couch. Just because our childhood stories aren’t written on a piece of paper, doesn’t make it less true to you or me. Does writing (written or print culture) differ from oral culture in this way? Brian Thom and his writing on ‘adaawk’ as oral histories that had “equal evidentiary weight as written history” proved the notion of a valid oral truth to me (Thom 7). There’s a part of me that doesn’t feel so bad about a stolen piece of paper potentially altering history and the history of literature, with its counterpart of oral story-telling having the same if not more gravitas as written. Grenier in her article made it clear that these oral traditions served as more important than it would have been on a piece of paper, with the ability of the ‘adaawk‘ in transcending time and generations:

“These are our titles, the names we hold that are derived from these stories and therefore connect us directly to our history. We received them from our Elders and we will pass them on to our children’s children”

(Margaret Gildewt Grenier, In the Space of Song and Story: Exploring the Adaawk of Hagbegwatku Simgeeget Sigydmhana nah Deth when sim Simgeeget)

Boas summed it up nicely for me when he wrote that “each community owns a distinct myth of origin” (Thom 7). I would like to believe that there is a way in which even a stolen piece of paper can be authentic and true to all, coexisting. Whether it is the European ‘thief’ (I choose to use that word carefully), or the victims of a sense of ‘origin/identity theft’, stories live on and carry on.

I challenge you to not be scared of your past or origins, however dark they may be. Instead, do as Lutz would: “step outside and see one’s own culture as alien and to discern the mythic in the performances of one’s own histories” (Lutz 32).

Works Cited

Grenier, Margaret G. “In the Space of Song and Story: Exploring the Adaawk of Hagbegwatku Simgeeget Sigydmhana Nah Deth When Sim Simgeeget.” Thesis. McGill University, 1997. In the Space of Song and Story: Exploring the Adaawk of Hagbegwatku Simgeeget Sigydmhana Nah Deth When Sim Simgeeget. Simon Fraser University, 2006. Web. 4 Feb. 2015. <http://summit.sfu.ca/item/6185>.

Thom, Brian. The Anthropology of Northwest Coast Oral Tradition. Department of Anthropology – McGill University, Mar. 2000. Web. 4 Feb. 2015. <http://www.web.uvic.ca/~bthom1/Media/pdfs/ethnography/nwc-myth.htm>.

Lutz, John. “First Contact as a Spiritual Performance: Aboriginal — Non-Aboriginal Encounters on the North American West Coast.” Myth and Memory: Rethinking Stories of Indigenous-European Contact. Ed. Lutz. Vancouver: U of British Columbia P, 2007. 30-45. Print.

Stories – Reading all my fellow classmates’ blogs got me thinking, most of our ideas of home stemmed from a story or a form of storytelling. I think this is a telltale (pun fully intended) sign of the kind of power story-telling has. The ability to bring us back to a place where perhaps distant can become vivid and close again. Stories carry the notion that there is a lesson to be learnt, a moral to be understood and an experience to be felt, although of course, not always the case. However, in the way we remember home, we often gravitate towards stories of our past. Stories seem to have the ability to bring us back.

Laughter – When you walk into a room, one of the first things we can be pulled to is laughter. In our ideas of what home means to us, a lot of us, myself included, related it to a sense of happiness and joy, and laughter is a product of that. It isn’t always the belt out laughing until your cheeks hurt, but sometimes a gentle soft laugh to perfectly capture a moment. Home is a place of comfort, and the kind of transformative positive energy laughter can bring to a house is exactly what can capture a perfect moment at home.

 Family – “I hate you mom and dad!”, used oh too commonly and oh so untrue. I think even as children, when asked to draw our home or whatnot in crayon, we would be inclined to draw stick figures of our family holding our mutual stick hands. The sense of belonging, love and care that our family gives us is crucial in our construction of home. Even with disputes and arguments, family can have a positive effect in how we feel in wherever we are. The other thing is family can be a mobile sense of home for many people; a hotel room in some exotic land becoming a “home” just because you are all there together.

Strength – We all have our difficulties, but everything is made easier with a support system. Home is a place that can often give this to people; a strength at time of weakness. Whether it’s feeling comfortable in your room, or in the embrace of your family at home, home seems to be a geographical place that people can return to seek support, guidance and strength. And even when you’re not physically present in your home, it seems to me there’s a way that people can mentally return to a sense of home, a place of refuge, to gather the kind of strength to carry on with our life’s tribulations.

In closing…

Things change, and people change. One of the most interesting things to me is how a home can change, transform, mutate, come in countless forms, and of course, evolve. What was once your home could be the home to a new loving family? What was once your home could be the home to your very own loving family? In whatever form home may be to you, car house tent or whatever, more so than not, can make you you.

Works Cited

Funk, Caitlin. “Home Is Where the Laughter Is.” Web log post. Timbits and Ketchup Chips: Discussing Canada. N.p., 30 Jan. 2015. Web. 2 Feb. 2015. <https://blogs.ubc.ca/funkythoughtsengl470a/2015/01/30/home-is-where-the-laughter-is/>.

Hodgson, Charlotte. “This Is My Home, Piece by Piece.” Weblog post. From Far and Wide. N.p., 29 Jan. 2015. Web. 2 Feb. 2015. <https://blogs.ubc.ca/charlottehodgson/2015/01/29/2-1-this-is-my-home-piece-by-piece/>.

Ng, Florence. “Home Is a Pie Chart and a Couple of Memories.” Web log post. Maple Trees and Beaver Tails. N.p., 31 Jan. 2015. Web. 2 Feb. 2015. <https://blogs.ubc.ca/florenceng/2015/01/31/45/>.