“The city before the city”: Attempts at unravelling colonial violence in Canadian museums

Abstract

We examine if and how museums contribute to unravelling the fabric of settler colonialism in Canada and take them into view as institutions of the colonial education system: schools, universities and museums play key roles in constructing and spreading certain collective narratives and images, and in silencing others. While all states employ “imagined communities” to legitimate and reproduce the existing order, in colonial states this often includes images and narratives that emphasize the greatness of the colonizers as bringers of civilization. The violence perpetrated by colonization is usually left out. This is the case in Canada as well and is in stark contrast to the epistemic and structural violence that became established with colonial settlement. Our research investigated Canadian universities and museums’ efforts in working through their share in this colonial power system. Being key agents in general education, they select what and whose knowledge is in- or excluded but also have the potential to address conventionally learned misconceptions or distorted images. Canada started its official journey towards “reconciliation” in 2015. We ask whether and how museums take this up: What are they contributing to the declared effort to tackle the colonial system – of which they are a part? Results are presented from an online analysis of how universities and museums across Canada engage in communication strategies surrounding coloniality before we zoom in on museums and focus in more detail and in comparison, on how the Museum of Vancouver created a special space to grapple with the situation.

Introduction

In their epistemic role of being supposedly authoritative agents in public communication, museums play a crucial part in shaping our understanding of social reality (Anderson, 1983). History museums in particular often present narratives and images that are part of legitimatizing and power-maintaining structures. ¹ The inherent contentiousness of collections, of what stories they tell and what remains untold or invisible, has increasingly become an issue with anti-colonial and decolonial critiques of the existing colonial epistemologies. Not only is there an ongoing debate about the repatriation of artefacts and human remains that were obtained through colonial violence, but museums are also challenged on how conquest and colonial subjugation have been portrayed. In the same vein, universities, too, are significantly involved in the preservation, research, and communication of (what counts as) knowledge. They shape socialization and enculturation processes and contribute to the reproduction of the hegemonic societal and state order. Thus, both museums and universities have not only a past and present as colonial institutions, but also a possible role to play for the reappraisal of Canadian history. The expectation that existing museum and university spaces should be used to facilitate processes of unlearning the conventional readings of the past and to present balanced versions of history is of particular relevance when descendants of victims and perpetrators live in one and the same country – as in settler colonial states. Settler colonialism creates an enduring system which impacts social structure, economy, culture, politics, religion, health, education, historiography, and collective self-imagination, thus fundamentally reshaping all aspects of life (Wolfe, 2006). For the attempt at establishing relations that overcome historically rooted injustice, this is a difficult situation since the “mechanisms of redress risk perpetuating settler colonialism simply by operating under […] the authority of the colonial sovereign” (Woolford and Benvenuto, 2015: 375).

Against this background we have investigated if and how Canadian universities and museums relate to the declared task of unravelling the fabric of settler colonialism. Despite the continuing entrenchment of settler colonial structures in Canada, dealing with the past and healing domestic relations has been on the official political agenda for several years. The related terminology is part of our discourse analysis. Different actors employ different concepts – such as healing, reconciliation, or decolonization – and with different implications. For example, critics argue that the application of the concept of decolonization to societal domains like the education system belies the original repatriation claim and turns decolonization into a mere metaphor, an “empty signifier” (Tuck and Young, 2012: 7). This argument again ignores the crucial role of non-material resources for the actual allocation of material resources. With an eye to the empirical basic research that we conducted, normative definitions of the key concepts like decolonization would obstruct the view: our intention is to study how public education institutions interpret the wake-up call to confront colonialism, how they apply the concepts and thus also participate in the discourse, and eventually also in the changing of meanings.

The journey towards “reconciliation” started in 2015 when the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRCC) published its final report and leading politicians apologized and declared their intent to undo settler colonial domination in the country. Upon receiving the TRCC final report and 94 Calls to Action in 2015, Prime Minister Trudeau declared that “what is needed is a total renewal of the relationship between Canada and Indigenous peoples”. This political promise of “total renewal” raises questions inter alia about the role of education institutions as possible agents of change: do they contribute to this process by including the establishment and the lasting system of oppression in their depictions of the national history, of the making of the state and national unity? How are Indigenous people portrayed, and what is highlighted when speaking about Canadian state- and nation-building? Many colonial states have traditionally emphasized the supposed greatness of the colonizers as bringers of civilization. Is this image actually recast, and if so, how?

The important function of museums and of other public – often state-governed – educational institutions (like schools and universities) is explicitly addressed in the 94 Calls to Action formulated by the TRCC. Although this is not the only element in Canada’s struggle with its colonial system by far, the TRCC process is the most prominent part of it and one that can be seen as comparatively successful in terms of confronting the damage inflicted by colonial politics. The TRCC documented and analyzed the history of the Indian Residential Schools (IRS) based on documents and survivors’ accounts. In its final report, the 94 Calls to Action provide recommendations to various actors in Canada for their own areas of activity. ² One of the key questions arising from this concrete action program is: how are different actors and institutions responding – or failing to respond – to the demand to reassess the settler colonial system they were, and continue to be, a part of? In this paper, we focus on the role of universities and museums in general, with particular attention to museums as amplifiers of the presentation and engagement with their own colonial function. How are Canadian efforts at “reconciliation”, “healing”, “redress”, or “decolonization” being addressed within these spaces, and how is their own share in the process perceived?

Museums and universities are specifically called upon in the TRCC final report’s Calls to Action numbers 67 to 70, and 16, respectively. The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, which monitors the progress via the “Beyond 94” project ³ , has found that the museums and universities have, as of October 2024, only completed two of the five recommendations ⁴ , with the other three being in motion with varying degrees of progress. In order to properly assess the concrete work, that is, the initiatives undertaken by museums and universities, we employed a spectrum of approaches. By describing trends as well as comparing different examples, we highlighted the complexity and ambivalence of the “reconciliation” goals, on which the concept of Canadian redress politics is built (Kopp and Mannitz, 2022). The results are summarized in an overview that builds the first part of this paper. In a second part, we go into further detail by specifically focusing on the Museum of Vancouver (MoV). Its efforts are highlighted in comparison to the way the Canadian Museum of History (CMH) in the capital region of Canada approaches the same task, to show the variance of museum policies.

However, in order to contextualize the above-mentioned research questions, some aspects of Canadian settler colonialism must first be explained. We will briefly elaborate upon three key dimensions, namely colonial legality, its remodeling of social status and personhood, and the IRS system. These are not only prime examples of the interconnected political, cultural, and legal methods of discrimination and assimilation deployed by the Canadian settler state (Nagy, 2013), but also potential themes to be presented in museums that aim to challenge the national narrative of the “benevolent” settler history.

The setting: Canadian settler colonialism

Colonial legality

Generally, the creation of colonial legality plays a fundamental role in settler colonialism. Colonial laws and treaties usually covered several aspects, including trade, economic alliances, property and land ownership rights, and overall control (Miller, 2009). In what would become Canada, colonial legality was a “plural legal order” (Benton, 1999: 563), involving interactions between settler and Indigenous legal systems (Whitehouse, 1994). This practice was not unique to Canada and also occurred, for example, in New Zealand, the US, and India. Such interactions did not mean, however, that the actors found agreements on equal footing.

Using judicial means, particularly the Numbered Treaties and the Indian Act (see Joseph, 2018), the Canadian settler state established and has ever since sustained an asymmetric relationship between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people; with the latter being an extremely heterogenous population in the immigration country. The Numbered Treaties are a series of treaties between the British Crown and various First Nations written between 1871 and 1921, intended to secure territory for the Crown in exchange for restricted land rights, compensation, and participation promises such as education for the First Nations (Filice, 2016). The Indigenous people were not passive recipients of colonial legality but in fact active participants in the newly forming legal order (Miller, 2018) – even though they were ultimately backed into a corner. However, despite their agency in treaty-making, Indigenous peoples were often misled or inadequately informed, which led to legal arrangements that entrenched settler colonialism’s deep and lasting intrusion. In sum, due to the gross power imbalance, the treaties often translated to Indigenous dispossession and advanced their marginalization (Starblanket, 2019).

In 1876, several Indigenous policies became consolidated into the Indian Act, parts of which are still binding law in Canada today. It is “the primary law the federal government uses to administer Indian status, local First Nations’ governments and the management of reserve land” (Parrott, 2006). The Act essentially enabled the settler society to determine what Indigenous identity entails in terms of rights in the new state and who has access to it (Lawrence, 2003); this in turn had significant impacts on the contracting Indigenous parties of the Numbered Treaties. The Indian Act, which further institutionalized settler colonial violence (Byrne et al., 2018), will be discussed in further detail in the subsequent section due to its extensive discriminatory effects on Indigenous personhood and legal status.

Social status and personhood

In Canada, the intersectional discrimination experienced by Indigenous peoples under settler colonial rule is anchored in the Indian Act of 1867. The Act reserved critical rights and powers for the Canadian federal government, heavily impacting Indigenous identity, governance, cultural practice, and education (Parrott, 2006). This influence unfolded into intersectional discrimination on a legal, social, and cultural level, which was especially harmful to Indigenous women and girls. Prior to colonial rule and in the early phase of colonization, Indigenous women held economic, social, and cultural capital as well as positions of power and authority within many communities across North America (Kirkness, 1987). Matrilinear heritage and kinship logic were not unusual, that is, they followed female lineages (Kirkness, 1987). Although this neither means that pre-colonial North America was a gender equality haven nor that Indigenous societies lived up to today’s understandings of gender justice, women are recorded to have occupied work and visible authority in several fields, for example as chiefs, workers, warriors, translators, diplomats, and peace makers (Van Kirk, 1984). This all changed under the growing settler colonial influence and especially with the Indian Act. It imposed a patrilinear system (Kirkness, 1987), restricting Indigenous women’s mobility and roles within their communities (Carter, 2006), and regulated marital laws, effectively stripping Indigenous women and their future offspring of their status and their access to home reserves and heritage when marrying a white man. Social and cultural discrimination further marginalized Indigenous women. They were increasingly objectified, sexualized, fetishized, and exoticized (Van Kirk, 1984: 12). The colonial damage of their personhood has not only been affecting Indigenous people until today but is also attributed to be a root cause factor to the epidemic human rights crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (MMIWG) in Canada. This shows, using one population group, how the Indian Act has rendered grave and lasting effects on generations (Kirkness, 1987: 414).

The Indian residential school system

The Indian Act also contributed to the introduction of the harmful ‘educational’ system that would become the Indian Residential Schools (IRS), a system of institutions designed to the coercive assimilation and absorption of Indigenous peoples into the white settler society from the middle of the 19^th century until the closure of the last school in 1996 (MacDonald and Hudson, 2012). During this time, 150 000 children are estimated to have been enrolled in these boarding schools, while several thousands died due to the inhumane living conditions and physical, emotional, and sexual abuse (Mannitz and Drews, 2022; Nagy and Kaur Sehdev, 2012). This system not only ruptured social order and cultural practices but inflicted trauma on multiple generations.

The movement to acknowledge the damage caused by the IRS system began in the 1980s, driven by former students, Indigenous communities, and non-Indigenous organizations (De Bruin, 2013). Subsequent key developments included the establishment of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples from 1991 to 1996, the issue of a federal apology in 1998, and the creation of the Alternative Dispute Resolution in 2003. All this culminated in the Indian Residential School Settlement Agreement in 2007, which led to the establishment of the TRCC in 2008 and the reporting of its work in 2015 (De Bruin, 2013; MacDonald and Hudson, 2012). More recent developments include the Canadian National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls 2016-2019 (see Mannitz, 2024), the settlement of the Gottfriedson case and the subsequent settlement payment of $2.8 billion in compensation for the destruction of language and culture in the IRS (Mannitz and Kopp, 2023), and - maybe most importantly - the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act (UNDRIP) in June 2021, which formally transfers this Human Rights Resolution into Canadian federal law (Frogner, 2022). It had been among the TRCC Calls to Action to base relations in Canada on the UNDRIP.

Relevance of research question in this setting

The interconnection between the legal, social, and cultural implications of Canadian settler colonialism has material and immaterial consequences that can still be clearly demonstrated empirically today, directly affecting 1.8 million people who self-identify as Indigenous. Among the net-effects of the colonial system are disproportionately more poverty and financial instability, higher rates of unemployment, incarceration, children placed in welfare services, and less access to (higher) education and to adequate health care (Government of Canada, 2023; McCallum and Perry, 2018). The structural foundations of marginalization and discrimination of Indigenous peoples in Canada and the consequences described above illustrate the complexities involved in the aim to overcome the colonial system. It is therefore evident that the agenda of “reconciliation”, which politicians claim to be pursuing on a multitude of levels, challenges a diverse constellation of actors. Institutions for education, such as museums or universities, form just a small part of the pool of actors. And yet, their possible impact makes them particularly relevant. Ideally, they lead the way, as role models and guiding lights. So do museums and universities in Canada participate in this process, and how?

Step one: Investigation of online communication

The initial part of our analysis was conducted remotely and served the purpose of getting an overview of the positions communicated by respective institutions across the country. We did an online investigation to map the institutional landscape, to study how different museums and universities as a first and second strand, respectively, present and position themselves in regards of colonial structure. This general study of Canadian museums and universities is based completely on data available online. While this may be seen as a limitation affecting the comprehensiveness of the findings, it nonetheless offers valuable insights. Firstly, these days such institutions’ websites are more than just showcases. They present condensed mission statements, place their work in broader context and debates (or, significantly, fail to do so), and give an insight into what to expect on site. Secondly, in a country the size of Canada, the sheer distances render online resources of special importance. For that reason, the Canadian Museum of History, which is based in the capital region of Ottawa, has made large parts of its exhibition halls accessible online to fulfill its service role vis-à-vis the Canadian population. And this is no exception: smaller museums often lack the possibility to follow such an online policy comprehensively, but many give informative insights and/or make statements on their restitution policies or other aspects of redress on their websites. Our initial focus was precisely on this level of self-presentation and its variation. Specifically, the online study aimed to determine whether the institutions adopted critical perspectives, particularly regarding their own historical and ongoing roles within the colonial system, and whether they used their space for counter-hegemonic viewpoints.

The online examination covered a total of 40 museums and 77 universities, including 159 respective sub-institutions such as higher education study programs, colleges, exhibitions, and collections. ⁵ The analysis was conducted in three distinct steps: (a) a quantitative data research, (b) a descriptive keyword search, and (c) a qualitative in-depth analysis. We decided to submit the homepages of both the universities and the museums to a quantitative examination in steps (a) and (b), but we only approached the museums in the qualitative in-depth fashion of step (c). This is due to reasons of research economics and the sheer number of university structures and sub-structures, not all of which we were able to consider as intensively as the museums. The meaningfulness and validity of our results would have suffered if we had focused on just those higher education websites that are easiest accessible to a general public and taken them as a sample (without knowing about the rest). Also, it can be assumed that a lot of information on institutional policies, sub-units’ mission statements etc. are restricted in their access and only communicated to students after enrollment. ⁶ To be sure, the universities differ in the ways they advertise their Indigenous studies programs, if available, but the more nuanced statements on decolonization as a mainstreaming task across disciplines and subjects were harder to grasp from our remote research position. In addition, our analysis covered the majority of all Canadian public universities, whereas the thematic focus that is intrinsic to museums allowed us to hone in exactly on those institutions that are thematically most relevant, which meant that the number was smaller, and we were therefore able to delve deeper into the museums’ self-presentations and strategic communication.

The first research phase involved collecting data to establish a baseline understanding of the education institutions’ structures and functions. This enabled us to catalogue structures and initiatives, describe them in more detail, and gather a first general overview of the institutional landscape in question. In the second phase, a quantitative key-word search was performed, focusing on the explicit mention of terms such as “truth”, “reconciliation”, “TRCC”, and “decolonization”. This step aimed to gauge the extent to which higher education institutions are engaging with these critical concepts in their official communications and documentation. Thirdly and lastly, as explained above, the museums were subjected to a qualitative in-depth analysis to evaluate the presence of specific factors indicative of their efforts. These indicators included territorial acknowledgement, explicit reference to the TRCC, acknowledgement of colonial history, and information about restitution policies. A scoring system was developed based on these four factors to quantitatively assess the museums’ engagement. This resulted in a picture of museums with a lower score of commitment and those with a higher one; we then looked more closely at each group in order to further understand the range and differences, for example between the Canadian Museum for Human Rights (CMHR) as one example for a museum that showcased all four indicators, and the Royal Saskatchewan Museum (RSM), which was among those that displayed only one feature.

While the online study was our method of choice to create an overview and to identify majority clusters versus outliers, the actual visit of selected museums was indispensable to also gain insights into curatorial decisions on-site, the effect of presentations of crucial contents, or spatial arrangements.

Findings from the online research

Universities

Since we entered this research field with an inquiry into universities and museums as institutions that convey hegemonic epistemology and normative narratives, the study of the universities is part of the overall picture and will be very briefly summarized: In fact, the analysis of 77 Canadian universities revealed significant insights into their efforts, which focus in particular on Indigenous student welfare and the use of key terms pertaining to decolonization or reconciliation. The quantitative data collection (a) highlighted that about 50% of all sub-institutions at universities had some policies in place concerning Indigenous student welfare. This included the establishment of specific service centers or Indigenous offices, each comprising about 20% of the sub-institutions. Conversely, academic structures such as Indigenous colleges (2.5%) and research units (1.3%) were the least common. There seemed to be a greater emphasis on setting up support for Indigenous students, whereas quantitatively, there were less focused study programs and research institutions.

The key-word search (b) underscored a preference for terms associated with reconciliation over decolonization: “reconciliation” was the most frequently mentioned term, appearing in 41% of institutions’ online communication; followed by “truth”, which was referenced in 36% of institutions. The TRCC was mentioned by 27% of institutions, and lastly, “decolonization” was the least common, cited in only 16% of institutions. It is noteworthy that out of the 77 universities we analyzed, only five directly addressed decolonization, and only 14 prominently mentioned the TRCC on their main homepage. Concepts like truth and reconciliation, which are less contentious, were more commonly used. These terms can relate to, but do not necessarily have to be associated with, the explicit content of colonial violence, residential schools, the TRCC, or a practice of critique, insofar as they stress the forward-looking, positive vision of a reconciled Canadian society, without mentioning that coloniality persists as a system.

Museums

The next research step, namely (c) the qualitative analysis of 40 museums’ online presentations, provided a spectrum of engagement, with specific attention to territorial acknowledgment, colonial history, TRCC references, and restitution policies. The qualitative analysis showed that territorial acknowledgment and knowledge about or acknowledgement of the Canadian colonial history was covered by approximately three quarters of all the museums. However, the significance of this is relatively limited as territorial acknowledgement has become more or less common practice among Canadian public institutions and comes with little cost. It is therefore all the more remarkable that one quarter refrained from doing so: In other words, only 72% of the studied museums acknowledged the Canadian settler colonial history. This acknowledgement was operationalized in our research as the existence of some understanding of the violence that the history of settler colonialism entails. This was illustrated in many different ways, among them precise vocabulary about the violent acquisition of exhibition material, for example by the Royal Alberta Museum, which showcased a self-critical understanding of the museum policy in the past (Royal Alberta Museum), or else an apology by the Royal Museum of British Columbia for their past behavior towards Indigenous communities, nations, and staff (Royal British Columbia Museum, 2021: 4). On the other hand, some museums signified through the conspicuous absence of such statements that there may be more reservation against acknowledgement of the wrongs of colonial history and its presence.

Two thirds of the museums explicitly mentioned the TRCC in their mission statements, exhibits, or materials. Policies concerning or informing about restitution or repatriation were the least common, featured by roughly 40% of museum institutions. One must take into account, however, that the type of museum in question determines the degree of necessity of having restitution and repatriation policies. While it is obviously of great importance for museums concerned with Canadian history and Indigenous policy or for ethno-cultural collections to confront the restitution of looted objects, museums of natural science, natural history or modern art institutions may more easily continue to operate on the basis of having less of a need to do so. ⁷ The overall findings indicated a range of engagement forms among museums, with some meeting all four criteria and others meeting very few. To illustrate the diversity on this spectrum, we will present two contrasting examples: the Canadian Museum for Human Rights (CMHR) in Winnipeg (Canadian Museum for Human Rights, n. d) and the Royal Saskatchewan Museum (RSM) in Regina, Saskatchewan (Royal Saskatchewan Museum, n. d).

On the one hand, Indigenous history and the impact of colonialism are present throughout website components of the CMHR. It was one of two institutions to meet all four criteria; the territorial acknowledgment featured prominently, and there was a strong emphasis on critical self-reflection infused in the museum’s values, principles, and goals statements. The colonial history was addressed in several information packages provided by the museum; the TRCC and the IRS history in particular were highlighted prominently, and with an awareness of re-traumatization risks for example, by offering a “safe space button” to pause or exit reading. We cannot judge if this is meaningful for people at risk of re-traumatization, but it was comparatively exceptional. Moreover, the museum promoted special awareness raising activities such as workshops to complement the exhibition and to use it as a reason for more interactive social formats. Apart from educational efforts towards sensitizing for equal human rights, the museum has several intrinsic mechanisms in place, such as content review systems, anti-racism and bias training for staff, and a regular review and report system. All this indicates a comprehensive approach to dealing with colonial violence in both inward and outward direction. One should note, however, that the CMHR went through a number of scandals since its creation (2008-2012) but seems to have tackled the previous problems and mitigated conflicts. ⁸

On the other end of the spectrum, the RSM met only one of our four indicators. It exhibited a limited and supposedly neutral attention to Indigenous history and did not acknowledge the traditional Indigenous territory prominently, but surprisingly it did have a restitution policy. This is odd, considering that the former could be regarded a “cheap talk” form of conciliation efforts, while restitution policies constitute a complicated matter for museums, raising questions for example about who exactly is entitled to “get back” objects or even human remains that were looted from communities decades or centuries ago, especially if competing claims were raised and multiple, competing social identities create dilemmas of belonging (see Kurzwelly, 2023). The TRCC was not mentioned in any RSM material, and neither “colonization” nor “decolonization” were used on the Web site. The vocabulary used indicated a non-confrontational approach. Critical self-reflection was not visible: the colonization process was described without any mention of the lasting consequences for Indigenous people in Canada. In doing so, the RSM creates a narrative of settler colonialism as past history rather than an ongoing and harmful reality. What is more, the RSM even glorifies those who were, historically, responsible for the dispossession and the erasure of Indigenous populations, and by doing so takes an affirmative position towards the colonial project. This impression is confirmed by the inscription in the main entrance area of the museum. It dedicates the museum “to the honour of all the pioneers who came from many lands to settle in this part of Canada, a tribute to their vision, toil and courage which gave so much to Saskatchewan and this nation”. The ignorance of the RSM towards the violence of settler colonialism has been heavily criticized as white-washing, or of contributing to Indigenous erasure (White-Crummey, 2021). In sum, the RSM contributes actively to the continuation of colonization.

In conclusion, the findings of our digital research suggest that while universities were actively engaging in efforts to support Indigenous students and frequently used terms related to truth and reconciliation, we saw less focus on the broader perspectives or connections with the overall processes of dealing with the colonial system in Canada. Museums, on the other hand, showed a much more varied engagement, with some institutions demonstrating comprehensive critical approaches while others lagged significantly, either shying away from taking responsibility as an institution, or even glorifying and continuing colonization. That said, from the online research we could only get partial insights into how museums respond to the complex tasks of confronting Canada’s colonial violence. While online communication channels are (increasingly) important, the physical experience of visiting an exhibition on site comprises a lot more than mission statements can possibly convey. The order and placements of exhibits, their arrangement and eventual combination with other objects, lighting, sound documents, or participatory elements offered to visitors – to name just a few factors – influence how the stories that museums aim to tell are received on site.

Step two: On-site experiences

In order to illustrate the rather different curatorial strategies applied by museums in the face of the Truth and Reconciliation agenda, two examples will be presented. These are not the two outliers mentioned above. Instead, we focus on two museums that are particularly important in terms of their reach to broad audiences. ⁹ The first one is the Museum of Vancouver (MoV), governed by the city of Vancouver and among the major destinations of tourists, Vancouverites, and British Columbians at the Pacific Rim of Canada, and featuring an extraordinary exhibition on the Indigenous settlement history in the area. The second one is the Canadian Museum of History in the capital region. This one can be seen as among the most important national museums in the context of our research questions because school classes and many Canadian families who visit the capital go there. It is supposed to be the most visited museum in Canada.

Museum of Vancouver

The MoV deals with the city’s history and its present implications. It tries to raise awareness for different population groups and capitalizes on the transformative potential of museum practices. The MoV understands itself as “a place for redress and decolonization”. The “desire to work together is a significant focus for MOV”, as is also explained on the Web site (Museum of Vancouver, n. d. (a)). This desire materializes as one enters the first hall in the MoV’s city history galleries: the exhibition called “c̓əsna?əm, the City before the City” features ancestral settlements of the Musqueam First Nation and is not a topic relegated to a side wing. Everyone enters the city history galleries through that first hall. On display are ancient bones, stones, and shell objects. They were excavated in the 1920s and ’30s and were previously shown to the public as part of the story about Vancouver’s pre-history; that is, simply documenting that the City of Vancouver had precursors in ancient times. In a collaborative project with the local Musqueam people, the presentation of these objects was changed. They are no longer presented as “artefacts” but as “possessions”. While this terminological shift may seem insignificant, it is used to shift the attention from material to social aspects. The objects on display are explained in their lasting relevance as Indigenous heritage, symbolizing the broader web of local kinship relationships and existing bonds to the territory. Digital modelling is used to visualize how cultural objects were once used. The explanation of the curatorial concept is accessible online, but the major aim is to stimulate participation and real public debate:

The bone, stone, and shell objects from c̓əsna?əm, which have survived thousands of years, are great catalysts for conversations about the relationship between Indigenous and settler societies in the City of Vancouver. They are reminders of the connections between the history of colonialism and the continuum of Musqueam culture. (Museum of Vancouver, n.d.(b))

The importance of oral traditions for Indigenous culture is also reflected in the exhibition. Visitors are invited to pronounce words in the local language, to view an animated version of a Musqueam story, and to listen to community members through a series of recorded interviews about how the Musqueam understand their connections to this place, how they continue their teachings and traditions, and – most importantly – that they are not a chapter of the past.

The Musqueam cultural advisor explains that one aim of this approach is at “righting history” by creating a space for Musqueam to share their knowledge, culture, and history and to highlight the community’s role in shaping the City of Vancouver. Another member of his team, who also represents the local community, points out in a recorded statement that this move has not just one direction but that the exhibition is there to educate “ourselves and those outside the communities about what was here before the streets, before the buildings, and to respect that” – “and that we are still here; we haven’t gone anywhere” (Larissa Grant). She underlines that the recognition of Indigenous history and presence must not only be a symbolic gesture but has implications for rights and material living conditions. In further halls of the MoV this line of reasoning is followed in artistic works, which address – for example – the harm done to coastal wildlife by contemporary fast food, and aims at raising awareness for collective challenges that cut across the conventional boundaries within Canadian society (Figure 1).

Figure 1.

“Grease Dish Seagull”, Bentwood Box made by Kwakwaka’wakw artist Clinton Work, 2019; photo taken at the MoV exhibition by Sabine Mannitz (2022).

The museum’s board played a key role in making this policy of redress possible. Bruce Granville Miller, an emeritus professor of Social Anthropology at the University of British Columbia who served on the MoV board for almost two decades, explained in an interview how when he joined this body as an expert in Coast Salish peoples, Aboriginal law and ceremonies, and a person trusted by many communities, and told his fellow board members why it was necessary to develop a repatriation program, the board was very willing to do so. Miller pointed out that “the other people on the board are tremendous, but they’re all lawyers and accountants and businesspeople. So, Indigenous issues are beyond their personal experience” (Miller, 2022), meaning that before his appointment, there simply was no understanding in the governing body of the relevance of certain exhibits for ceremonies, or as being animated objects in the groups they were taken from. Meanwhile three local tribes have seats on the board.

Canadian Museum of History

When we look at the national history museum in the capital region ¹⁰ , it becomes apparent that a clearly different strategy was chosen to narrate the story of today’s Canada. The exhibition is structured along several halls: The Grand Hall “offers an introduction to the history, cultures and beliefs of the First Peoples of Canada’s Pacific Coast” (Canadian Museum of History, n. d). It is basically an exhibition of carved poles and traditional wood houses; they are impressing but it remains unclear why only the Pacific Coast peoples are given such prominence here. The First Nations Hall “celebrates the history, diversity, creativity, resourcefulness and endurance of Canada’s First Nations, Métis and Inuit peoples” (Canadian Museum of History, n. d) as a story of survival. The focus of the Canadian History Hall is on the events, personalities, and historical currents that have shaped the emergence of today’s Canada. The period of colonization is presented there as a time when First Peoples were confronting, and “adapting” to, European newcomers, and the concept of “colonial times” is restricted to Canada from 1763 to 1914 – while it was a nation within the British Empire (Canadian Museum of History, n. d).

The emergence of modern Canada from “1914 to the Present Day” is portrayed in the Canadian History Hall as one of prosperity and increasing inclusiveness. The latter refers to the Canadian profile at international level as a liberal nation and committed global citizen, and to the domestic politics of multicultural diversity in the immigration society; but it only occasionally touches upon the presence of Aboriginal populations. The Residential Schools issue ¹¹ is on display with a reference to the TRCC; the political struggles and ongoing Indigenous resistance against land-grabbing for “development”, environmental damage, and extractivist industries is shown, as in the “Oka crisis”, and is presented as a remarkable sign of survival and resurgence. This creates the image of Indigenous people as representing otherness within modern Canada. In this vein, the “Idle No More” social grassroots movement for Indigenous rights, the return of land and protection of water and sky – founded in 2012 as a hashtag flashmob call – is referred to in the exhibition as well. One could interpret this as a form of paying tribute to the movement as a significant political force. However, just after learning about this movement, one turns around a corner and is immediately confronted with the image of a huge promotion of hydropower in Quebec, a prime example of hegemonic Canadian settler identity, alleging the superiority of this way of life (Figure 2).

Figure 2.

Photo taken at the CMH exhibition by Sabine Mannitz (2023).

The colonial structures, epistemic and power hierarchies are clearly represented in this exhibition. They are not subjected to a systematic critique, a complimentary view, or an alternative voice, as is the case in the MoV. The high price of the colonial system and the persistent problems that Indigenous people have brought to the fore are not left out from the exhibitions at the Canadian Museum of History, but they appear as just an add-on to an otherwise uncontested narrative of national greatness, and as if the additional display cases could easily be dismantled again. While creating a positive collective vision for their populace is definitely among the functions all national history museums have to serve, the demonstratively reassuring tone used in the Canadian Museum of History is striking in view of the last decades’ TRCC process and the declared politics of redress (Figure 3).

Figure 3.

Photo taken at the CMH exhibition by Sabine Mannitz (2023).

Some conclusions

The entangled histories of violence, diverging historical narratives, struggles for power and other contested resources, structural imbalances, and conflicting social identities filter through all levels of Canadian society. Continued activities will be necessary on many levels to build positive relationships, to falsify and unlearn conventional settler storytelling about empty lands that were cultivated, or in social terms became “modernized” or “civilized” by white settlers. Museums, as conventional tools of storytelling, are integral to the colonial system and have long been used to legitimize its practices. It is therefore debatable to what extent they can live up to the missions they have received since Canada’s government decided to subscribe to the Truth and Reconciliation approach. Nevertheless, they can fulfill important functions, not only in projecting other narratives but likewise in stimulating public deliberation that also includes the many more population groups present in Canada as an immigration country today: where do they figure in the broader picture, and how can they come to terms with and relate to the country’s settler colonial violence? Where and how do they learn about it? – In their established role as public spaces for education and interaction, museums can indeed support the political promise of a “total renewal” (Trudeau 2015) of relations by offering activities that acknowledge the past and the enduring colonial system, share visions of present-future communality, and offer events that generate socially and politically positive experiences.

A related transformative intention is evident in Vancouver’s city museum. It is worth mentioning that the somewhat coincidental composition of the museum’s board seems to have been decisive in making the policy change materialize for including the marginalized survivors of Canadian colonization. Existing reservations toward a recasting of homogenized national identity narratives are reflected in several museums’ more hesitant strategies. The national museum of Canadian history in the capital region is one prominent example. It aims to cater for all Canadians and at spreading a positive collective image to identify with rather than to engage visitors in critical self-reflection. By and large, it therefore sticks to its conventional narrative about Canada as a pivotal force in modernity and does not scrutinize the lasting presence of coloniality within the exhibitions. Indigenous struggles for rights and justice are added on to the picture of progress as a “contested past”, but the general tonality is one of having left this past behind. More multi-vocal exhibitions that give space for alternative readings of the history and the present could do more to work through the complex system of power distribution and unsettle the domination in settler colonialism, but also to foster new intersectional solidarities.