Journals

  • Miner, Author, Singer, Lone-Actor Terrorist: The Lives and Death of Paul Joseph Chartier

    Written by guest blogger Steve Hewitt

    Paul Joseph Chartier led a colourful life as a miner, hotelier, private detective, author, and singer in pursuit of a recording career. He ended his life as a lone-actor terrorist. On 18 May 1966, Chartier expelled his last breath on a marble washroom floor outside of the House of Common’s in Ottawa after an explosive device packed with shrapnel he had constructed exploded prematurely before he could toss it into a chamber packed with politicians.

    The how and why of Chartier’s ending is what led me to research and write my article that appeared in volume 100, number 1 of the Canadian Historical Review. Although the incident occurred more than a half century ago, it is more pertinent than ever given an increase in acts of extreme violence carried out by men acting on their own as part of a phenomenon known as lone-actor terrorism. The House of Commons’ was the site of one such incident in October 2014 when a gunman, proclaiming allegiance to Islamic State, killed Corporal Nathan Cirillo, a soldier on ceremonial duty at the National War Memorial in Ottawa. He then managed to enter the Centre Block on Parliament Hill with his rifle before he was shot and killed. The reaction struck me as ahistorical, something I wrote about at the time, with media coverage suggesting that Canada had encountered serious terrorism for the first time. Missing, of course, were famous events the Air India bombing of 1985 in which over 300 people, including 268 Canadians, were killed, and the October Crisis that involved the kidnapping and murder of Quebec cabinet minister Pierre Laporte. Less surprisingly absent from Canadian historical memory was Paul Joseph Chartier.

    Chartier had a failed life and, fittingly, his failure extended into his effort to be a terrorist. In that sense, his story and trajectory resembles many of those who have received media attention in the present as a result of acts of extreme and deadly violence. There is a tendency in media, political, and event academic discourses to portray lone-actor terrorism as a modern phenomenon. This is inaccurate to say the least. Indeed, there is an opportunity for historians unburdened by the restrictions governing primary source material for more recent lone-actor terrorism to provide considerable insight into terrorism in general. The 1300-page police file at the heart of my research about Chartier was released almost with only a handful of redactions. Terrorism studies scholar Marc Sageman has pointed to history specifically as a discipline where innovative work is being done in a field dominated by social scientists.

    Another key aspect and one that my future research will examine is the place of masculinity within lone-actor terrorism. As with mass shooters, lone-actor terrorism is almost exclusively carried out by men. In Canada, between 1868 and 2018, I have identified 19 lone-actor terrorist attacks, 18 of which were carried out by men of all backgrounds, ethnicities, and religious beliefs. The common thread across the attacks is the male identity of the perpetrators. And yet, gender is largely ignored in the various discourses around terrorism unless women are involved. This must change because, as demonstrated in recent attacks in Christchurch and San Diego, men carrying out acts of lone-actor terrorism shows no signs of abating.

    Photo of Steve Hewitt

    Steve Hewitt is Senior Lecturer in the Department of History and the American and Canadian Studies Research Centre at the University of Birmingham in the United Kingdom. He has written a number of articles and books related to security and intelligence in the past and present, and in a Canadian, British, and American context, including Spying 101: The RCMP’s Secret Activities at Canadian Universities, 1917-1997 (University of Toronto Press, 2002), The British War on Terror (Continuum, 2008) and, co-authored with Christabelle Sethna, Just Watch Us: RCMP Surveillance of the Women’s Liberation Movement in Cold War Canada (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2018). Currently, he is working on two related projects: a history of lone-actor terrorism in Canada and a history of terrorism and counter-terrorism in Canada. In particular, he is interested in the intersection of masculinities and extreme violence, particularly among lone-actor terrorists He also has had a lengthy involvement in Canadian studies in the United Kingdom, including as president of the British Association for Canadian Studies from 2011 to 2014. He tweets regularly at @stevehewittuk and on the history of terrorism at @TerrorisingHis1

    His latest article in the Canadian Historical Review, ‘Happy-Go-Lucky Fellow’: Lone-Actor Terrorism, Masculinity, and the 1966 Bombing on Parliament Hill in Ottawa,” is free to read for a limited time here.

  • Hollywood Comes to Canada: The Making of Captains of the Clouds

    Written by guest blogger Dr. Jessica Leonora Whitehead

    During the Oscars this year a new PSA aired from the Canadian Media Fund, launching the MADE Campaign, which celebrates the work of Canadians in the film industry from both home and abroad. Narrated by Christopher Plumber, scenes from Hollywood productions like Deadpool, The Handmaid’s Tale, and Spiderman are shown as Christopher Plumber tells the audience: “This is Canadian content and it’s time we take credit for it. Starting now.” While today Canada is labeled Hollywood North with Canadian cities like Toronto, Vancouver, and even the Northern Ontario cities of Sudbury and North Bay acting as regular shooting locations for American productions, this was not always the case. My article for the Canadian Journal of Film Studies explores the historical roots of Canada as a shooting location for Hollywood films by examining one of the first Hollywood features shot in Canada, the 1942 war epic Captains of the Clouds.



    The concept for Captains of the Clouds was developed in conjunction with the Canadian government and Warner Brother Studios. In 1941, the United States had not yet entered the war, but many Americans were joining the Royal Canadian Air force (RCAF) thanks in part to Canadian lobbying groups like the Clayton Knight Committee, which encouraged Americans to join the war effort. The RCAF wanted to partner with Hollywood to showcase their air training plan and signed a contract with Warner Brothers on 28 January 1941 at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, which was also, probably not coincidentally, the headquarters of the Clayton Knight Committee. Shortly after the deal was signed, RCAF Lieutenant Owen Cathcart-Jones was sent to California to work as an advisor on the film about two Canadian bush pilots, who join the RCAF to support the war effort.

    Much to the chagrin of Hollywood, one of the Canadian government’s only stipulations about the film, other than they agree to show the RCAF in a positive light, was that the film had to be shot in Canada. The government hoped that the film would give jobs to Canadians, but instead the entire cast and crew came to Canada from Hollywood, which the North Bay Nugget described as a “Cavalcade to Canada.”

    A page from the North Bay Nugget about the production of the film dated 6 March 1941, 20

    One of the largest roles to go to a Canadian was Brenda Marshall’s stand in who was an Ottawa woman by the name of Rita Cross and she received front-page coverage in Canadian newspapers. The focused coverage for a stand in role is in many ways the perfect metaphor for Canada’s relationship with Hollywood because despite decades of attempts Canada remains as a peripheral force in the film industry. In the case of Captains of the Clouds, Warner Brothers completely rewrote the script, the production crew fought the inclusion of Canadian workers on the set, and most of the Canadian actors that appeared in the film were stand-ins and extras.

    Rita Cross on the cover of the North Bay Nugget dated 31 July 1941, 1.

    The American producers left with a negative view of the country and wrote in one of their reports that the people of North Bay were thirty years behind in everything and that they would never want to leave their studio in Burbank again. It would not be until decades later that Canada was made into a regular shooting location for Hollywood, but the production of Captain of the Clouds highlights the historical roots for Canada as a shooting location for Hollywood films. Although today the MADE Campaign is trying to label Hollywood films shot in Canada as Canadian content my article demonstrates how Canada often has a stand in role when Hollywood comes to town.

    Dr. Jessica Leonora Whitehead will be starting an Arts and Science Postdoctoral Fellowship at the University of Toronto in July and holds a PhD from York University. Her dissertation, Cinema-Going on the Margins: The Mascioli Film Circuit of Northeastern Ontario was funded by a SSHRC Joseph-Armand Bombardier Canada Graduate Scholarship, and was nominated for both York University’s Dissertation Award and the Barbara Godard Dissertation Award. Her research is also supported by the Italian American Studies Association Memorial Fellowship, which she was awarded in 2018. She has published articles in the journals Transformative Works and Cultures, Italian Canadiana and chapters in the books Cinema Outside the City: Rural Cinema-going from a Global Perspective and Mapping Movie Magazines. In addition, she is the co-editor of an upcoming collection in the journal TMJ: Journal for Media History. Her research has also been featured on the CBC’s radio show Up North and in the Timmins Daily Press.

    Read Dr. Whitehead's latest article, “Hollywood Goes North: The Making of a ‘Canadian’ War Epic, Captains of the Clouds” free to read for a limited time here.

  • Survey Research, Public Opinion, and the Canadian Market Research Industry

    Written by guest blogger Christopher Adams.
    Ten years ago, I was asked to write a chapter titled “Public Opinion Polling in Canada” for Mediating Canadian Politics, a collection of essays co-edited by professors Shannon Sampert and Linda Trimble. The focus of the piece was on polling during Canadian election campaigns. The chapter commenced with a description of how the American pollster, George Gallup, opened up shop in Toronto in 1941. The discussion then proceeded to how polls have evolved as an important tool for understanding what Canadian are thinking, and are now heavily used by the media and party strategists.

    Without being aware of this, I had set out on a much larger project: to write a history of public opinion research in Canada. The recently published article for the Journal of Canadian Studies, titled “Canada’s Early Developments in the Public Opinion Research Industry,” is part of this. Here I write about what could be described as the “pre-Gallup” days, about how the government, media, advertising agencies, and research firms became increasingly involved in using surveys to study Canadian attitudes, preferences, and behaviours in the early decades of the past century.

    Canadians were surveyed in many ways during the past century. This included face-to-face interviews, telephone interviews, and online surveys. There were also many ways by which completed questionnaires were processed, including the use of electronic tabulating machines and computer keypunching. Moreover, survey results were put to various uses, including providing media content, assessing the public’s mood on political issues, and developing brand strategies.

    It is no secret that the research industry is undergoing transformational change. Before jumping into my current career as a senior administrator for a university college, I worked in the industry for close to 20 years. Up until the late 1990s, the standard approach to gauging the public’s mood was by doing a telephone survey. This would involve designing a questionnaire, and then relying on live interviewers to call randomly selected households during a series of evenings.

    Things have changed, as made evident by how election polls are now done. Just recently, I have been working on a conference paper for the upcoming annual meeting of the Canadian Political Science Association (to be held in Vancouver in early June). As I write in this paper, many Canadians have become difficult to reach due to their increased reliance on mobile devices in place of landline telephones. The Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission (CRTC) reports that from 2012 to 2016, landline telephone subscriptions in Canadian households declined from 83.8 percent to 66.8 percent, while subscriptions to mobile devices such as cellular telephones, increased from 81.3 percent to 87.9 percent of Canadian households (CRTC, 2018). To address this phenomenon, polling firms now obtain sample containing both mobile phones and landline phones. One CEO of a polling firm informed me that his firm seeks to have close to 50% of their sample containing mobile phone numbers while another firm has pre-established quotas for their studies that a minimum of 20 percent of their completed surveys are done through a mobile device.

    To show how things have changed over the past 100 years, for my conference paper I have now reviewed a total of 43 polls that were released to the public in the final five days of all federal and provincial elections held from the beginning of 2015 to the end of 2018. Only one of these polls was based wholly on live telephone interviews, while five included both live telephone interviews and online surveys. All of the other 37 polls were based on either online surveys or Interactive Voice Response (IVR) surveys (IVR surveys involve automated calling and interviews by which respondents use their telephone keys pads to respond to questions).

    Research industry practices have come a long way over the past century, and the use of paper and pen surveys and telephone surveys using live interviewers now seem antiquated. Nevertheless, at the core of the industry there has been, and always will be, a need to ensure that survey questions are properly designed, and that samples are representative of the population under study. It is in the early era, i.e. the early 1900s and up to the early 1940s, as my piece for the Journal of Canadian Studies shows, that the survey research industry and its practitioners were developing the tools of their craft.

    Christopher Adams holds a PhD in Political Science from Carleton University, and worked in the market research industry from 1995 to 2012. Since 2012, he has served as the chair of the Arthur V. Mauro Centre for Peace and Justice and is rector of St. Paul’s College at the University of Manitoba. In 2018, he co-authored the MRIA-sponsored review regarding polling errors during the 2017 Calgary election (https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/calgary/calgary-municipal-election-poll-mria-report-release-1.4776633). Dr. Adams is a writer and frequent commentator on issues relating to Canadian politics and polling and is currently writing a history of the polling industry in Canada.

    His latest Journal of Canadian Studies article, “Canada’s Early Developments in the Public Opinion Research Industry” is temporarily free to read on UTP Journals Online.

  • Battle of the Somme: What the Audience Saw

    Written by guest blogger Seth Feldman.

    Battle of the Somme (Geoffrey Malins and J.B. McDowell, 1916) was the most seen non-fiction film made during the Great War and in wartime Britain, the most seen film, period. For a hundred years bits of its remarkable footage have appeared in documentaries to the point where they have become iconic of the Great War itself. Battle of the Somme was the first film inducted into UNESCO’s Memory of the World Register, inspiring a digitally restored print by the Imperial War Museum and a second premiere with full orchestra a new score. In recent years, some film historians have argued that it should be designated as the first true documentary.

    My problem in writing about Battle of the Somme was that to a twenty-first century audience the film doesn’t look like much. It is largely a procession of silent film intertitles, nearly one per minute, describing the shots we will see next. Almost all of these shots can be divided between preparations for the battle and its aftermath, with very few shots of the battle itself. Malins and McDowell, who worked separately, had been told to collect random shots to be used in newsreels. There was no idea for a narrative and, with wartime censorship in place, there was little mention of the bloodbath that had taken place while they were shooting.

    Yet Battle of the Somme is more than just an historical curiosity. My hope was to use it as an archaeological exercise, a tool for imagining the way in which the audiences of 1916 saw it. Usually, writing about film audiences is based on reviews, newspaper reports and in some cases research by a film’s producers. And there has been some excellent writing of this kind about Battle of the Somme. But what I hoped to do was to recreate the 1916 British audience from the emotional context in which they watched the film to the way they would perceive certain shot compositions by Malins and McDowell as well as the editing credited to Malins and Charles Urban (one of the lesser sung heroes of early non-fiction filmmaking).

    Battle of the Somme’s audience was an unusually homogeneous group. All of them were embarking on the third year of an unprecedented catastrophe; most coping with anxieties about friends and loved ones at the front. They were also increasingly resentful of the conditions the War had imposed upon them. As official propaganda, Battle of the Somme intended to raise their morale by connecting their sacrifices to soldiers at the front. What they saw was the enthusiasm of the troops, the care given to the wounded and, of course, what were then the battle’s small victories. Given the timing of the film’s release – while the four and a half month battle was ongoing - it also played upon the audiences’ desires for the “big push” that would finally end the conflict. Various shots in the film as well as the film’s editing and the wording of the intertitles show how this was attempted in a subtle or sometimes not-so-subtle manner.

    My work was to scrutinize writing on the film and the film itself. This was made both more arduous and rewarding by the many publications released during the Great War Centennial. I then made notes to myself on and off for about a year before I even began to write. In all, the paper took far longer to produce than did the film. And while its distribution will be dwarfed by Battle of the Somme, my hope is that this archaeological exercise will provide readers with insight into other peoples’ as it existed a century ago.

    Seth Feldman is an author, broadcaster, film programmer and Full Professor Emeritus at York University in Toronto. His latest Canadian Journal of Film Studies article, Battle of the Somme: What the Audience Saw” is temporarily free to read on UTP Journals Online.

  • From Zombies to Christ, Bringing Darkness to Light

    Written by guest blogger James R. Crooke.

    Zombies, as we know them in pop-culture—apocalyptic, cannibalistic, infectious-plague monsters—were first depicted in George A. Romero’s 1968 film, Night of the Living Dead, which pioneered an entirely new horror genre: the zombie apocalypse. This was the first time zombies communicated, and they have been communicating meaningfully ever since.

    A typical trope of their message is the indictment of human societies and, consequently, human nature. Philosopher-filmmakers aim to scare us with our nature and prick our consciences by bringing darkness to light, exposing what is evil and ugly.

    Danny Boyle's 28 Days Later (2002) exemplifies this par excellence. Its sufficiently zombie-like rage-monster was inspired partly by his objections to the social intolerance and distemper of the nineties, when rage was all the rage. It provoked him to ask: why are we like this?[1] One purpose of the movie, then, was to shine a spotlight on the audience, so that they might reflect on this predicament and ask the same question. Among other things, he achieves this by using two staple cinematic devices of the genre, disfiguration and comparison.

    Disfiguration concretises the human spirit, fashioning a monster in our image. Generally, it externalises some particular sub-rational, aberrant trait in order to give definite form to it. Boyle’s monster externalises rage, which mirrors our own rage back at us, so we might see it for what it is. Comparison reinforces disfiguration when survivors’ behaviour conforms to the monsters’. This blurs the lines between human and zombie, signalling the real monster: us. Boyle’s narrative develops so that one protagonist, Jim, eventually behaves so indistinguishably from a rage-monster that another protagonist almost dispatches him. Most startling is that his behaviour, whilst monstrous, is so recognisably human.

    Anyone who agrees with this comparison will recognise how relevant Boyle’s critique is to a culture wherein rage is still so pervasive that, since 2014, various media outlets have judged every year a year of outrage.[2] We are behaving like a horde of zombies biting and devouring one another. Zombies, then, cut through the philosophical fog of postmodernist agnosticism to expose boundaries, distant and hazy horizons recollected. Whatever intellectual doubts we might have about normative humanness, Boyle’s zombie reassures us that we know that rage is not it. Frozen in its headlights, we are exposed, and yet enlightened that rage dehumanises us. The corollary of this realisation is the sense that we are, or should be, greater than this; that our capacity to rage and our succumbing to rage indicate the loss of a significant stature or dignity.

    As my article, “Zombies! ‘They’re Us’”, demonstrates I am not only interested in cultural exegesis but in how a Christian theological hermeneutic of culture interacts with pop-cultural phenomena, their worlds and their transcendentals. With respect to the analysis above, Christian anthropology has continuities with Boyle’s representations. It affirms that rage-monsters tell the truth about ourselves: rage is a dehumanising, destructive evil, not a rational, creative good, and our capacity for rage is indicative of a ruined state. It affirms the desire for dignity this assumes, and the paradoxical juxtaposition of darkness and dignity in the human condition. But it wants to fill the conspicuous silence of his representation—and indeed in zombie movies generally—concerning the cause of this darkness. The Christian faith answers Boyle’s question by shining a light on an even darker, sub-rational force then rage: sin. Explanations of sin differ in Christian discourse (e.g. self-incurvature, pride, self-love, idolatry, enmity against the Creator, transgressing the Creator-creature distinction), but whatever the preferred term, this radical corruption at the centre of our personhood is the Christian answer to Boyle’s question, rejecting merely social explanations or justifications for rage.

    The Christian response, however, is not merely an epistemological claim, but a soteriological claim. Christianity responds to the human darkness and longings for human dignity exposed in ragemonster representation by reassuring us that all is not lost and inviting us to bring this darkness to the light, to a dignity restored in the image of the one, who said, “I have come into the world as light, so that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness”[3]—Jesus Christ.

    James R. Crooke is an independent scholar and contributor to the Journal of Religion and Popular Culture. His latest article, “Zombies! ‘They’re Us’” is temporarily free to read here.

    Notes

    1 Boyle, Danny and Dunham, Brent. Danny Boyle: Interviews (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2011), 72.

    Hollywood Archive. “’28 Days Later' Danny Boyle Interview”. youtube.com, YouTube Video, 4:25, 27 July 2015. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grm1oJYR25k (accessed February 15, 2019), 0:27-0:30

    2 Turner, Julia, et al. “2014: The Year of Outrage.” Slate.com, Slate Magazine, 17 Dec. 2014, www.slate.com/articles/life/culturebox/2014/12/ the_year_of_outrage_2014_everything_you_were_angry_about_on_social_media.html (accessed February 15, 2019).

    Berlatsky, Noah. “The Year in Outrage: Our Constant Indignation Is Wearying, but Often Necessary.” Latimes.com, Los Angeles Times, 22 Dec. 2015, www.latimes.com/opinion/op-ed/laoe-1222-berlatsky-year-in-outrage-20151222-story.html (accessed February 15, 2019).

    Hislop, Ian. “The Age of Outrage.” Newstatesman.com, New Statesman, 5 Dec. 2016, www.newstatesman.com/politics/uk/2016/12/age-outrage (accessed February 15, 2019).

    Hewitt, Hugh. “2017 Is the Year of Outrage at Anything and Everything.” Businesstimes.com, The Business Times, The Business Times, 1 Jan. 4200, www.businesstimes.com.sg/life-culture/2017is-the-year-of-outrage-at-anything-and-everything (accessed February 15, 2019).

    Friedersdorf, Conor. “Reflections on a Year of Outrage.” Theatlantic.com, Atlantic Media Company, 30 Dec. 2018, www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2018/12/year-of-outrage/579100/ (accessed February 15, 2019).

    Williams, Rob. “2019 Looks Like Another 'Year of Outrage' For Publishers. Mediapost.com, MediaPost, 23 Jan. 2019, www.mediapost.com/publications/article/330913/2019-looks-likeanother-year-of-outrage-for-publ.html?edition=112568 (accessed February 15, 2019).

    3 John 12:46 (ESV).

    Images Caption

    A shot of me finding light in the darkness.

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