Online papers / Journal
Articles
Paul Gough
Peacekeeping, Peace, Memorialization:
Reflections on the shifting status of the
Peacekeeping Memorial in Ottawa Peacekeeping,
Peace, Memory: Reflections on the Peacekeeping Monument in Ottawa,
Canada, Canadian Military History
Winter 2002/2003, 11, 3,. pp. 65-74, 9 b & w illus ISSN 1195-8472
The Announcement Since 1948, under
the auspices of the United Nations, Canada has contributed over
80,000 men and women from all branches of the armed forces to global
peacekeeping. During the 1950s and 1960s Canada was in fact the
greatest contributor of ‘Blue Helmeted’ soldiers to
UN peacekeeping endeavours and became the undisputed leader in global
peacekeeping. Although peacekeeping was never at the heart of Canada’s
foreign policy, Canadian politicians liked to be seen as projecting
an image as ‘helpful fixers’, acting as a voice of moderation
between the extremes of the two superpowers during the Cold War.
It was a Canadian statesman, Lester B. Pearson, who first used the
UN Charter to create the idea of an international peacekeeping force
– a concept that earned him a Nobel Peace prize in 1957. Since
their first use in Suez in 1956, however, the roles of peacekeepers
have become extremely diverse: from supervising elections in Namibia,
monitoring the withdrawal of a foreign army in Afghanistan, to observing
the ceasefire between Iran and Iraq, to standing between two conflicting
communities in Cyprus.
In the late 1970s, global peacekeeping was largely dominated by
a small number of countries that were widely perceived as neutral
or non-aligned. Countries such as Ireland, Fiji, Nepal, and Canada,
despite its status as a member of the western bloc and of NATO,
formed the peacekeeping core, regarded as ‘honest brokers’
without geo-political interests.(1) As one of the
largest contributors to UN peacekeeping Canada gained a reputation
as a genuinely fair minded state.(2)
In 1988, the Canadian Department of National Defence (DND) announced
that a monument would be erected in Ottawa, dedicated to Canadian
forces who had served in peacekeeping duties since the Second World
War. This announcement followed the award of the 1988 Nobel Peace
Prize to the United Nations to mark forty years of international
peacekeeping. In 1990, the so-called “Peacekeepers Monument”
competition was launched. Although proposed and initiated by DND,
the competition was managed by a committee consisting of representatives
from DND, the National Capital Commission, and Public Works Canada.
Recognizing the monument’s dual role as public art and as
an urban design, the committee invited five sculptors and five urban
designers to form design teams drawn from practices and studios
throughout Canada. A five-person jury, selected from the Canadian
military, from the arts, and from architecture, was formed to adjudicate
on the entrants, who had four months in which to register their
interest, attend on-site briefings, and submit their initial maquettes
and design concepts (22 June 1990 – 12 October 1990). The
winning team was to receive a fee of $175,000. Work on site was
intended to commence in September 1991, with the sculpture installed
in August 1992. Dedication of the monument was planned for September
1992.
The Competition Guidelines make clear that the guiding spirit of
the monument was to be a “tribute to the living, not a memorial
to the dead”:
'The intent of the Monument is to recognize
and celebrate through artistic, inspirational and tangible form
Canada’s past and present peacekeeping role in the world.
In that sense it will represent a fundamental Canadian value:
no missionary zeal to impose our way of life on others but an
acceptance of the responsibility to assist them in determining
their own futures by ensuring a non-violent climate in which to
do so. The Monument will appeal to those who seek a literal message
and to those who are receptive to a more symbolic statement.'(3)
In phrasing the designer’s brief, the
authors of the Guidelines recognized the difficulty in reaching
consensus in a pluralistic society and appreciated the ‘low
priority’ usually given to the aesthetic and symbolic dimensions
of public space. This explains the careful wording of the eight
principles that were devised to guide the invited competitors.(4)
Of overriding importance was a requirement that the monument “include
literal images and words” that would clearly explain the activities
it commemorated. Any symbolic language had to be intelligible to
a broad spectrum of the population “so that past and present
members of the peacekeeping forces, as well as the general public,
are able to understand and identify with (its) underlying ideals
and values.” These conditions would have an important influence
on the eventual outcome of the competition.
The monument also had to function as a public and ceremonial place
that would encourage social interaction and accommodate formal events.
In this capacity its proposed location was particularly appropriate.
Sandwiched between two major thoroughfares, Sussex Drive and Mackenzie
Avenue, the site for the proposed monument lay at the heart of a
bold urban development scheme that included the new National Gallery
of Canada, 200 metres to the north-west, and the site of the proposed
US Embassy, 50 metres to the south. Here, then, lay an opportunity
to create a large urban ‘room’ that would relate to
these prestigious buildings and to the open land of Majors Hill
Park, with its important sightlines to Parliament Hill, the Peace
Tower and other state buildings to the immediate west. In detailing
these principal urban markers the commissioners sought to replicate
the symbolic and architectural properties of the National War Memorial,
which is situated some three hundred metres to the south of the
space set aside for the Peacekeeping Monument. Precedents
Most military monuments are intended to commemorate historic victories
and to preserve national ideals; war memorials are designed to
evoke meaningful memory and to act as focal points for national
mourning. But could a war memorial or monument also espouse the
ideals of peace? Throughout the British Empire during the post-Great
War period the idea of peace was invariably conflated with that
of a just and hard-won victory. The allegorical figures of Victory
stood side by side with the female figure of Peace. ‘Peace’
was invariably depicted holding an olive branch, palm frond, or,
very occasionally, a dove. And, while regarded as a partner to
the representation of Victory and Justice, she was invariably
positioned at a lower level. At Colchester, England, for example,
the two attendant figures at ground level are of St George and
Peace, while Victory soars many metres above. In Ottawa, the original
design for the cast bronze allegorical figures at the top of the
National War Memorial was to be “either Peace and Victory
or Liberty and Freedom”, the sculptor Vernon March deciding
eventually on the figure of Peace adorned with a laurel wreath
– the symbolic flowers of victory.
Yet few memorials celebrate peace in its own right. British memorial
sculpture implied that ‘Peace’ was the consequence
of ‘Victory’, not an ideal worth promoting as a separate
or distinct entity. Indeed, in the majority of cases, only an
eye trained in horticultural typologies might be able to tell
the difference between an emblem of peace - the olive - and those
of victory, the laurel. Ottawa’s Peace Tower on Parliament
Hill, opened in 1928, was so-named to commemorate the achievement
of peace in 1919, but nonetheless houses within it the memorialistic
Books of Remembrance containing the names of the dead from Canada’s
wars. In France, Allward’s Vimy Memorial unveiled eight
years later, is also said to be a peace memorial. But so complex
is this vast public sculpture that its many meanings overlap and
multiply rather than become pared down to an overriding principle.
There is of course a distinction to be drawn between monuments
that premise ‘peace’ and those that prioritize ‘peacemaking’
– it is too easy to conflate the two, After the Great War
there were those who tried to appropriate war memorials to promote
wider campaigns for peace and disarmament. In Britain during the
monument-building phase of the inter-war years, remembrance was
soon politicized and the promotion of peace was driven by pacifist
campaigners who focused their actions on war memorials and their
attendant rituals. In 1921, for example, the Armistice Day ceremony
in London was disrupted by groups of unemployed ex-servicemen
with placards stating: “The dead are remembered but we are
forgotten”.(5) In following years white
peace poppies were distributed by the Peace Pledge Union; in 1926
the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom organized
a Peace Pilgrimage throughout Britain which focused less on remembrance
than on campaigns for peace legislation and world disarmament.
During the 1930s pacifist groups in Canada suggested that Armistice
Day should be ended because it perpetuated militarism, though
as Jonathan Vance states, this had the opposite effect of galvanizing
national support for remembrance events.(6)
After the Second World War we find very different public expressions,
many with a declared intention to promote peace, rather than celebrate
its achievement as the consequence of a hard-won war. As I have
argued elsewhere, these were heavily politicized activities, invariably
prompted by an avowed fear of the consequences of nuclear proliferation.(7)
A number of these ‘monuments’ are located in such
heavily bombed cities as Dresden, Coventry, and Nagasaki. Invariably,
these take the form of anti-monuments - designed landscapes, preserved
ruins, and other ephemeral artistic gestures rather than totemic,
plinth-based statements. Such symbolically charged landscapes
convey quite complex ideas: they celebrate the end of war, but
they also advocate pacifist principles. They do not commemorate
peace because peace is regarded as an active process not a closed
idea.
Where today’s ‘peace monuments’ do exist, they
are often presented as fluid, open-ended artworks that require
active co-operation from the public. A peace cairn in County Donegal,
Eire, for example, consists of a mound of hand-sized stones individually
contributed by pilgrims wishing to create a ‘permanent monument
to peace’ which is, in fact, in a constant state of change.(8)
Such a ‘monument’ seems to suggest that if ‘peace’
cannot be represented because it lacks the necessary rhetorical
language, it might be promoted by continuous public involvement.
A peace cairn symbolizes, at one level, the laying down of ‘arms’
but also the need for constant maintenance and persistent effort.
Such ‘monuments’ offer a very different aesthetic
and symbolic experience to those dedicated to the active maintenance
of peace, usually through political and military intervention,
as exemplified in peacekeeping monuments such as that in Ottawa.
Peace is, then, most often represented aesthetically and polemically
as transient, dialectic, and fluid. It is invariably deeply politicized,
rarely state-sponsored and deliberately ignores the plinth and
the plaza. Given these conditions, what should we surmise from
the rhetorical and dramatic scale of the United Nations Peacekeepers’
Monument in Ottawa? Incorporating figurative languages with the
hard geometry of the modern movement, it too borrows from the
iconography of peace, combining the imagery of symbolic ruin with
tree planting and garden design. It also, - interestingly enough,
in keeping with such Canadian monuments to conflict as the Vimy
Menorial, the monument at Green Park, London, and le Mémorial,
at Caen - requires a viewer to enter an architectural space, to
become a player in a theatrical act which is determined by location
and spatial manipulation.
As the monument was to be a pioneering piece of public art, the
first ever dedicated to peacekeeping action, the designers were
convinced that the values it had to commemorate and promote were
those of arbitration, fairness and reconciliation. It was borne
out of a very different brief than most ‘peace’ sculptures,
however. The designers were also fully aware that it would have
to co-exist in a thickening forest of statuary and monuments sprouting
up in the capital city. More significantly, they recognized that
it would have to be noticeably different and distinct from its
immediate sculptural neighbour, the National War Memorial just
down the road in Confederation Square.
National War Memorial and the politics of location
Standing on a slight crest at the junction of three main streets
in central Ottawa, the National War Memorial was created out of
an international competition established in 1925. A winning design
chosen from 127 entries was selected in 1926. The design of Vernon
March, a 31-year old English sculptor, was to include 19 (later
22) figures dressed in the uniforms of the various branches of
the Canadian forces, two horses and an 18-pounder field gun, all
in cast bronze, moving in a column through a granite arch surmounted
by two cast bronze allegorical figures (Figure
1). Following “a host of problems”, including
protracted difficulties in procuring the site, the entire memorial
scheme was not concluded until 1938.(9) It was
unveiled by King George VI in May 1939, just months before the
outbreak of another war.
Originally required to “be expressive of the feelings of
the Canadian people as a whole” (10) the
winning design had to espouse the core values of post-war remembrance:
“the spirit of heroism, the spirit of self-sacrifice, the
spirit of all that is noble and great that was exemplified in
the lives of those sacrificed in the Great War, and the services
rendered by the men and women who went overseas.”(11)
To the artist, however, the sculpture was intended to have a parallel
symbolism, which is not often noted:
The arch in the centre is the gateway to peace,
and through it young people representing branches in the war service
eagerly seek hope and respite from the travails of battle. At
the top, standing on the architrave, are two figures holding up
symbols of peace and freedom.(12)
The location of the monument at the head of Elgin
Street in Confederation Square was due to the influence of the Prime
Minister at the time, William Lyon Mackenzie King.(13)
Many argued that it should be placed in more sedate surroundings,
while others believed it should be closer to the Parliament buildings,
on “national property”.(14)
Cherishing ambitions to reshape the capital,
King argued that by siting the memorial in Confederation Square
(called Connaught Square before 1927) a neutral space would be transformed
into a politicized plaza worthy of Canada’s emergent national
identity. Its position here made it a monumental ‘hinge’
in the urban scheme of mid-twentieth-century central Ottawa. It
continues to play a crucial topographic function as a terminator
for the formal axis of Elgin Street, and as a meeting point for
several districts of the capital. Furthermore it has a distinctive
silhouette, derived from its construction as triumphal arch, cenotaph,
and enlarged sculptural plinth, which is crucial to the spatial
dynamics of the capital and renders it instantly memorable. “Without
it, Confederation Square would simply be a rather formless and dispersed
traffic intersection,” states Roger du Toit, architect and
professional advisor to the Peacekeeping Monument scheme.(15)
Also, as Colette Boisvert suggests in her Carleton
M.A. thesis on the War Memorial, the silhouette affords it a distinctive
and memorable motif which reproduces well in photographs, the only
means, at least until the coming of television, that distant Canadians
had to see the structure.(16)
‘The Reconciliation: an Icon of Peacekeeping
or Peace?
In a report on Ottawa’s urban centre commissioned
by the National Capital Commission in 1988, Roger du Toit drew lessons
from the bold siting of March’s memorial. He examined the
other principal markers and nodal points of the city, identifying
their importance as structural devices which linked nationally significant
institutions and places while lending emphasis, distinction and
a visual coherence to the streets.(17)
proposals for the Peacekeeping Monument would also have to maximize
these topographical criteria.
In many ways, the brief for the Peacekeeping Monument was a re-run
of the War Memorial debate in the 1920s. In 1988, there were similar
aspirations for the key civic routes and loci of the capital. Five
years earlier, a National Capital Commission paper on Ceremonial
Routes had identified the importance of a Ceremonial Ring, to be
known subsequently as Confederation Boulevard, which would link
Ottawa with Hull. As one of the more important nodes in that ring,
the site of the peacekeeping monument was regarded as the critical
urban room in the development scheme. Like March’s Great War
memorial, the monument was intended to be a symbolic pivot in the
elaboration of modern Ottawa. Although
a monument to peacekeeping, the conceptualizing of the monument
was not completely dissociated from the problems inherent in monumentalizing
peace itself. In the perceptions of many pacifists, the concept
of a ‘Peacekeeping Monument’ is a contradiction in terms:
how can one commemorate peace as if it were a defined segment of
historic time? Furthermore, how can the ideals of peace be expressed
figuratively, or as part of an urban scheme that specifies intelligibility
as the leading aesthetic criteria? If the ‘Peacekeeping Monument’
is intended as a monument to the pacifying role of unarmed soldiers,
how could the invited design teams devise an architectural format
and a figurative form that would project the idea of consent, impartiality,
and ‘conflict control’ as a contrast to the precedent
set by March’s sculpture some hundreds of metres away? These
were the challenges facing the design teams: it was a demanding
task, and it produced a range of powerful submissions. The winning
design is widely celebrated as the world’s first monument
to peacekeeping, and as such it merits close and critical scrutiny.
‘The Reconciliation’
was designed by sculptor Jack K. Harman, architect and urban designer
Richard G Henriquez, and landscape arcitect Cornelia Hahn Oberlander.He
argued that the principal markers - obelisks, fountains, arches
- helped punctuate a sequence of streets, or terminated long vistas,
and regarded them as crucial landmarks in the re-shaping of parts
of a capital city. In the revisions to central Ottawa in the 1980s,
any (18) Their
design has a number of elements: a corridor of concrete and steel
debris inside two solid granite walls upon which are mounted a trio
of bronze cast figures (Figure 2).
Set to one side of the monument is a grove of
12 oak trees arranged around an ovoid mound, adjacent to which is
a semi-circular ceremonial space. As a motif, The Reconciliation
makes a simple theatrical statement, which is spelled out in a plaque:
Members of Canada’s Armed Forces, represented
by three figures, stand at the meeting place of two walls of destruction.
Vigilant, impartial, they oversee the reconciliation of those
in conflict. Behind them lies the debris of war. Ahead lies the
promise of peace; a grove, symbol of life.
As dramaturgical space the monument has considerable
impact: the corridor is best viewed from the south-east, where the
eye is drawn into the cleft by a pattern of floor tiles - modelled
on the Green Line bisecting Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus - that
meander around the chunks of sawn and drilled concrete littering
the corridor floor (Figure 3).
Approaching the apex of the two walls that form the sides of the
corridor one becomes aware of the large cast bronze figures dominating
the skyline. Two fissures in the corridor walls open out to reveal
the ceremonial space on the right and glimpses of the oak grove
in the east. In contrast with the pale stonework of the walls, the
three figures form striking silhouettes which, upon close scrutiny,
reveal themselves as three soldiers, one female and two male, unarmed
and attentive but rather exposed as they scan the spaces on either
side of the pointed monument. At the apex of the monument, there
are two inscriptions – Reconciliation and At the Service of
Peace/Au Service de la Paix. One of the side walls is inscribed
with a sequence of 48 locations where Canadians have served in a
peacekeeping role, from United Nations in Korea (1947) to the Kosovo
Verification Mission (1998-99). There is space sufficient for a
further 30 inscriptions (Figure 4).
Although the grove of trees is integral
to the monument, it is easy to overlook (Figure
5). Consisting of twelve trees - oak was
selected for its longevity - the number is meant to represent the
ten provinces and the then two territories of Canada (now, of course,
there are three). Like March’s sculpture with its panoply
of characters drawn from all parts of the country, the grove is
an attempt to recognize the national spectrum from which Canadian
peacekeeping forces are drawn. As a symbolic motif, the grove refers
to the rich memorial tradition of the heroes’ grove that became
a staple icon in nineteenth-century Germanic landscapes of remembrance.(19)
As public art, the monument has two very different profiles. Approached
from the north via the Hull-Ottawa road the three figures and the
reflective surface of the apex dominate the urban room; from the
south, the primary sensation is of two distinctive spaces: an enclosed
corridor and a ceremonial open area. Despite the sense of enclosure,
there is little relief from the noise of passing traffic. As an
emblem the monument is a little overwhelmed by the adjacent post-modern
architectures, the glass tower of the National Gallery to the north
and the unwelcoming glazed exterior of the US Embassy some 50 metres
to the south (Figure 6).
Surrounded by these new buildings the monument does not quite dominate
the urban room for which it was intended.
Aesthetically, there is a strained relationship between Harman’s
cast figures and the angularity of the monument: leaving the impression
that the tonal contrast between the three metre high dark statues
and the expanse of smooth pale stone is too extreme. (Figure
7). Unlike the figures in the National
War Memorial the statues on The Reconciliation arguably do not relate
to the larger architectural whole. In March’s sculpted group
the arrangement of form has been calculated so that light falls
at intervals across the figures, lending momentum to their forward
movement through the arch. By comparison, the Peacekeeping figures,
though bold in silhouette, do not seem to function as an aesthetic
unit, nor relate in their proportions to the greater architectural
whole. As it had to meet the need for ‘figurative intelligibility’
as stipulated in the brief, the effect is one of discordant elements
separately assembled. Nonetheless, the design team may be making
a subtle point here: one connected to the idea that peacekeeping
troops are, by dint of their neutral role, somewhat separated from
their actual surroundings.
Further evidence of a lack of a unifying style, however, is the
‘peace grove’, which remains a visual sideshow. As a
sequence of visual forms, the monument suffers from narrative complexity.
How, for example, are we meant to ‘read’ the smooth
outer walls of the monument? They act as a formal counterpoint to
the ‘ruins’ of the corridor space, but do they represent
the forces of impartiality, reason, and arbitration, or are the
walls merely an architectural plinth for the lead characters, the
three unarmed figures? Could the visual complexity of the monument
echo the ambiguities and complexities of the very act of peace keeping
and of peace itself?
As a monument, The Reconciliation cannot, of course, be appraised
in isolation from the aspirations of the wider society. Like most
western democracies, Canada has not lacked for a significant peace
movement, and across the country its civic landscape is rich in
gardens, parks and other public spaces dedicated to the ideals of
this movement. A number of these resulted from an impetus provided
by the so-called “Canada 125 Project”, which was established
to promote ceremonies marking the 125th year of Confederation. Part
of the Project’s program was to consolidate, and in effect
incorporate the aspirations of the peace movement into its own plans
by dedicating 400 peace parks across the country.(20)
Many of these were extant open spaces created by pacifist and anti-war
groups that were re-inscribed for the purpose. Others were designed
with a ‘Peace Grove’ consisting of twelve trees as a
symbolic link to one another and as an obvious reference to the
monument in Ottawa. Working in conjunction with the National Capital
Commission, Canada 125 arranged to have the inauguration of these
parks linked with the opening of The Reconcilation in Ottawa on
8 September 1992.
In the end, the intervention of the Canada 125 Project introduced
an element of confusion into the monument’s message. Through
the links with the peace parks, The Reconciliation came to be seen
in some quarters as a symbol of both of peace and peacekeeping.
As a result, the monument became freighted with a complex amalgam
of themes – world peace, disarmament, reconciliation, intervention,
arbitration, unarmed heroism – many of which it was never
intended to serve. By locating The Reconcilation as a partner with
existing peace spaces and as a precursor of future such spaces,
the Canada 125 Project served to inadvertently associate The Reconciliation
with the ideals of the peace movement, which was to misunderstand
its original remit. And doubtless from the the point of view of
the peace movement, the state could be seen to be laying its imprint
and controlling measure on the rhetoric of peace.
Given these complex ideas, The Reconciliation falls between many
different stools: it is certainly not a polemic against war, nor
is it a monument that can be cited in any campaign for peace. As
monumental sculpture it does not evoke shared memory nor does it
pose many awkward questions. Unlike most ‘war’ memorials
it makes no attempt at closure or the resolution of private or public
suffering. It does, however, record the historic involvement of
Canadian troops in peacekeeping. And, with sufficient space for
thirty future campaigns, it predicts a future peacekeeping role
for Canadian troops. In this sense it projects a future role with
some certainty, suggesting that the Canadian values of impartiality
and fairness will be constants worthy of continuous memorialization.
This, of course, did not anticipate the impact such recent developments
as Canadian participation in the bombing campaign over Kosovo and,
in the wake of the terrorist attacks on New York on 11 September,
the intervention in Afghanistan. This raises the question of whether
the monument’s preoccupations with peacekeeping could come
commemorate only a certain phase in Canadian military and foreign
policy.
The monument does appear to have gathered considerable status amongst
former Canadian military personnel who have served on peacekeeping
missions. For them it seems to constitute a physical (and virtual)
focal point for this community of ex-servicemen. For many, the monument
acts as a bold visual logo that regularly adorns internet sites
dedicated to the topic. In this way it replicates the visual impact
of the striking silhouette of March’s memorial. However, a
number of former Canadian soldiers who have served in peacekeeping
roles have recently raised objections to the factual and symbolic
purpose of the monument, suggesting that the list of missions carved
on its northern face are “gross inaccuracies”, which
render the monument a “National embarrassment.”(21)
But more pointedly, peacekeeping veterans argue that the monument
serves no memorial function. Although it honours a national ideal
and an international principle, it does not remember those that
died on peacekeeping service. In their vociferous campaign, veterans
draw on the heightened rhetorical language of the Great War –
using phrases such as ‘the fallen’ and ‘ultimate
sacrifice’ - to articulate their grievance. Their campaign
is an important one: it marks the point where monumental form is
re-invigorated and re-inscribed as a motif of collective remembrance,
and also where an emblem of state-sponsored peacekeeping –
and even, latterly, of peace itself - is transformed into a memorial
to those who died in martial conflict. In other words these veterans
see the memorial as symbolizing these traditional military values
rather than independent arbitration as conceived of by its makers.
In his 1993 book, The Texture of Memory: Holocaust Memorials and
Meaning, published in 1993, historian James E. Young cites the French
writer, Pierre Nora, who introduced the concept of an inert memorial
whose meaning is continually reconstructed by ever-changing social
and cultural contexts. This leads Young to conclude that “monuments
have little value in themselves”. Instead, as “parts
of a nation’s rites or the objects of a peoples national pilgrimage,
they are invested with national soul and memory” and “once
created, memorials take on a life of their own, often stubbornly
resistant to the state’s original intentions.” Something
along these lines may well be happening in the case of The Reconciliation.
At present, it seems to be somewhat awkwardly wedged between the
views of those who see it as a memorial to Peacekeeping, as envisioned
by its creators, as a monument to the wider ideas of Peace, as promulgated
by the Canada 125 Committee, and as a memorial to the dead in the
manner of March’s National War Memorial, as it is increasingly
being viewed by peacekeeping veterans. Freighted with these various
levels of meaning and carrying much more interpretive baggage than
its spare and stark design originally intended, the memorial is
still able to inspire comment and often outspoken opinion. There
is evidence to suggest, however, as per Pierre Nora and James Young,
that the message it conveys to Canadians is at present in a state
of flux. Images Figure
1 General view of the Canadian War Memorial, Ottawa, sculptor
Vernon March, 1939 Figure 2 General
view of the Peacekeeping Monument, Ottawa Figure
3 Central corridor showing the ‘Green Line’ and
the ‘walls of destruction’ Figure
4 Inscriptions on the north wall of the Peacekeeping Monument,
Ottawa Figure 5 Peace Grove, Peacekeeping
Monument, Ottawa Figure 6 Peacekeeping
Monument with US Embassy building in background Figure
7 Peacekeeping Monument, - the three statues, sculptor Jack
K. Harman Endnotes
1
Jocelyn Coulon, Soldiers of Diplomacy: the United Nations, Peacekeeping,
and the New World Order (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998)
p. 165. For an analysis of peacekeeping in Africa see Bruce D. Jones,
Peacemaking in Rwanda: the dynamics of failure, (New York: Lynne
Rienner Publications, 2001). Further material on Canada and peacekeeping
can be found in J. L. Granatstein and David Bercuson, War and Peacekeeping;
from South Africa to the Gulf – Canada’s Limited Wars
(Toronto: Key Porter Books, 1991 and in in J. L. Granatstein and
Norman Hillmer, Empire to Umpire: Canada and the World to the 1990s,
(Toronto: Copp Clark Longman, 1994)
2
Joseph T. Jockel, Canada and International Peacekeeping (1994) in
Coulon, Ibid, p. 166
3
Competition Guidelines National Capital Commission and Department
of National Defence, 1990.
4
The eight principles required the monument to ‘include symbols
which were easily recognizable by a broad spectrum of the population’,
to ‘include the literal images and words necessary to explain
the activities commemorated’, to be ‘an effective formal
venue’, to ‘encourage and facilitate casual social interaction’,
‘contribute to the visual coherence and livability of the
urban environment’, ‘display artistic, design and technical
excellence’, work within ‘established construction schedules’
and, finally ‘the design should ensure the longevity of the
Monument’. Taken from Ibid.1990.
5
G. Dyer, The Missing of the Somme, (London: Penguin, 1994) p. 51
6
See P. Brock and N. Young, Pacifism in the Twentieth Century, (Syracuse
: Syracuse University Press, 1999); and P. Brock, Studies in Peace
History, (York: William Sessions, 1991). Jonathan F. Vance, Death
So Noble: Memory, Meaning and the First World War, (Vancouver: UBC
Press, 1997) pp 214–215
7
For a full bibliography see Paul Gough, ‘From Heroes’
Groves to Parks of Peace’, Journal of the Landscape Research
Group, 25 (2), 2000, pp. 213–229. Some of the ideas relating
to modern Canadian memorial architecture have been developed in
Paul Gough, ‘War Memorial Gardens as Dramaturgical Spaces’
International Journal of Heritage Studies, 1998, Vol.3, No. 4, pp
119–214, and the same author’s ‘Canada, Conflict
and Commemoration: An Appraisal of the new Canadian War Memorial,
London’ Canadian Military History, Vol.5, No.1 (1996) pp.
2-34
8
www.iol.iw/-mcmullin/cairn.htm/
last accessed in September 2001.
9
This is examined in Jonathan F. Vance “The Great Response”,
The Beaver, October– November 1996, pp 28–32
10
Ibid. p. 28.
11
T. Wayling, Maclean’s 15 December 1938, p.23
12
Quoted in Jim Garner, Ottawa Citizen, 27 May, 1978
13
Jonathan F. Vance, ‘The Great Response’ p. 28; Jacqueline
Tucker “Lest we forget: National Memorials to Canada’s
First World War Dead”, Journal for the Study of Architecture
in Canada, (1998) 23: 3, pp. 88–95
14
Vance, Death So Noble).
15
Roger du Toit, in Competition Guidelines, 1998 p.13
16
Colette Boisvert, “Images of Blood Carved in Stone: The National
War Memorials role in Defining a Nation”, Unpublished MA dissertation,
Carleton University, 1996. In addition to this excellent essay,
I amindebted to Laura Brandon, curator of war art at the Canadian
War Museum, Ottawa, for some of the ideas developed in this section.
17
Roger du Toit, An Urban Design Study for Memorials in the Core of
the National Capital,( Ottawa: National Capital Commission, 1988)
p.3; pp.24–25
18
The full design team consisted of Jack Harman, sculptor, Gibson's,
BC; Richard Henriquez, urban designer, Vancouver, BC; Cornelia Oberlander
Hahn, landscape architect, Vancouver, BC; Gabriel Design: lighting,
Ottawa, Ontario; J.L. Richards: engineering, Ottawa, Ontario.
19
See Uwe Schneider and Gert Groening, “Nature Mystification
and the example of the Heroes Groves”, Environments by Design,
2 (2) Autumn 1998, pp. 205–227
20
Canada 125 was a series of nationwide events coordinated in 1992
by the 125 Corporation designed to celebrate Canada's 125th year
in Confederation. The centenary had many manifestations from publications
to forest trails, as well as manufacturing and industrial projects.
In 1992, Louis J. D'Amore, founder of the International Institute
For Peace Through Tourism, launched "Peace Parks Across Canada"
as part of the Canada 125 celebrations. "Peace Parks Across
Canada" resulted in the dedication of more that 400 peace parks
in cities, towns and villages across Canada.The "International
School Peace Gardens" (ISPG) project was developed as a follow-up
to the Peace Parks Across Canada celebrations.
Source: http://www..geocities.com/RainForest/Vines/6016/ispg.
html See also information provided by the web sites for the International
Institute for Peace through Tourism / Institut international pour
la paix par le tourisme (accessed May 2002).
21
See for example www.rockies.net/-spirit/ the homepage for the Canadian
Peacekeeping Veterans Association which contains their authoritative
list of UN missions. Further views on the demerits of the monument
are listed in http://perc.ca/PEN/
Author’s note:
Paul Gough is Dean, Faculty of Art, Media and
Design at the University of West England in Bristol, U.K. Fieldwork
for this paper was made possible by a Canadian Studies Faculty Research
Programme Grant awarded by the UK Canadian High Commission. In 1999
the UK British Council also sponsored a lecture tour and visit to
Canada. I would like to thank Laura Brandon, Curator of Art at the
Canadian War Museum, and Professor Brian Osborne, Queen’s
University for their support. Special thanks to Dr. Cameron Pulsifer
and colleagues for their advice on drafts of this article.
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