Liberal Order and Climate Control: Ontario Parks As Environmental Settler Colonialism

Home , Chutes Provincial Park, Neys Provincial Park, Quetico Provincial Park, Rondeau Provincial Park

Liberal Order and Climate Control: Ontario Parks as Environmental Settler Colonialism

Johnathan W. L. Rose

A thesis submitted to the Graduate Program in the Department of Geography & Planning

in conformity with the requirements for the Doctor of Philosophy

Queen’s University

Traditional Anishinaabe and Haudenosaunee Territories

Kingston, Ontario, Canada

January 2020

Abstract

Ontario parks were born out of an oligarchic political structure in the 19th century that employed an enclosure-reserve practice to take control of wilderness lands for the preservation of lucrative timber resources, and bring those lands into a liberal order that functioned to help facilitate industrialization and build a home market. Economic resource interests were not the only motivations for park creation, as anxieties about climate and Indigenous land-use also motivated enclosure and land management. Bureaucrats had remarkable power to convince governments to create parks and reshape the land to meet British and Western European ideals, borrowing political practices (enclosure) and environmental ideas (e.g. regarding climate) from

British colonial and European experiences. A form of climate control was employed to manipulate and re-construct parks and exclude certain people(s). This political-environmental interplay reveals Ontario parks as a form of early ‘Indian policy,’ as park creation relied on ethnocentric ideas about Indigenous land-use and ultimately led to the result that enfranchisement and civilization policies were designed to achieve: Indigenous land dispossession. Settler authorities’ ethnocentric disregard for Indigenous peoples and their relationship to the land created the conditions to construct parks as a settler colonial environmental institution designed to serve a liberal order and environmental ethnocentrism.

Co-authorship Statement

This dissertation follows a manuscript-style format. All manuscripts are in preparation for submission.

Rose. J. and Godlewska A. Liberal Order and the Enclosure-Reserve Practice: Environmental Settler Colonialism in Ontario/Upper Canada. Submitting to Canadian Historical Review in Winter-Spring 2020.

Rose J. and Godlewska, A. Climate Control: The Colonial Environmental Nexus and the Construction of Ontario Parks. Submitting to Environment and History in Winter-Spring 2020.

Rose, J. and Godlewska, A. Ontario Parks as “Indian Policy”: Ethnocentrism through Bureaucratic Power. Submitting to Journal of Canadian Studies in Winter-Spring 2020.

Acknowledgements

I give sincere thanks to my supervisor Dr. Anne Godlweska. Her steadfast patience in tutoring me on scholarly writing is remarkable. I am indebted to her support as an academic supervisor and inspired by her dedication as an educator.

To my committee members, Drs. Laura Cameron, John Holmes, John Sandlos, and Mick Smith, thank you for taking the time to offer advice, criticisms, and observations.

I give a heartfelt thanks to my wife Kelly who was unbelievably patient with my ramblings, rants, and anxieties, throughout my studies. She is a thoughtful and generous ally.

Thanks to my parents for teaching me the respect, perseverance, and critical thinking that brought me to this point in my career.

A special thanks to Dr. Heather Castleden for providing encouragement and space for me to work as I neared the end of my studies.

A humble thank you to my friends and colleagues who form the foundation of my intellectual inspiration with their thoughtfulness, creativity, unbridled activism, criticism, remarkable solidarity and loyalty. Thank you all for encouraging a working-class yokel from the rust belt to aim toward high academic achievement. Dr. Doug Nesbitt, Dr. David Hugill, Iftekhar Kabir, Dr. Scott Carey, Cameron Willis, Dr. Christine Grossutti, Dr. Stacy Douglas, Dr. Matt Scribner, Lesley Jamieson, Dr. Nathan Manion, Dr. Katie Hemsworth, Dr. Matt Ventresca, Dr. Dinah Jansen, Dr. Gentry Hanks, Mitch Patterson, Sean Patterson, Alex Pysklywec, Dr. Sean Field, Dr. Nasya Razavi, John Haffner, Rob Stefanelli, Dr. Mike Couchman, Dr. Jeremy Milloy, and Dr. Chad Walker.

Dedicated to the Mysterious Electrician and the Happy Traveller

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Table of Contents

Introduction: The Problem of Parks

Motivational Context………………………………………………………………...……1 Project Description…………………………………………………….……..……………3 Methodology…………………………………………………………………...………….5

Literature Review | Placing Ontario Parks: ‘Indian Policy,’ Environmental Networks, Settler Colonialism, and Liberal Order.

Parks as Early “Indian Policy”: Disrupting Land Relations………………………..……..8 Ontario Parks as Administrative Settler Colonialism…………………………….……...11 The Environmental Nexus: Revealing Colonialism……………………………………..12 Disciplinary Approach…………………………………………………………..….……14 On History……………………………………………………………………….….……15 On Historical Geography………………………………………………………….……..16 On Territoriality………………………………………………………………………….18 On Political Ecology………………………………………………………..……………20

Chapter 1 | Liberal Order and the Enclosure-Reserve Practice: Environmental Settler Colonialism in Ontario/Upper Canada

Introduction………………………………………………………………………………34 The English Enclosure Movement as Liberal Land Policy…………………...…………36 Early Land Policy in Upper Canada: Enclosure-Reserve Practice……………..………..39 Liberalism and the Obstruction of Land Relations……………………………..………..41 The Liberal Order Framework: Situating the Enclosure-Reserve Practice……..……….45 Parks as Enclosure………………………………………………………………….……50 Algonquin Park Established: Enclosure and Dispossession for the Liberal Order………55 Algonquin Park as White Space…………………………………………………………58 Connecting the Liberal Order and Settler Colonialism…………………………….…….60 Tourism & the Contemporary Park………………………………………………………66 Concluding Thoughts…………………………………………………………………….67

Chapter 2 | Climate Control: The Colonial Environmental Nexus and the Construction of Ontario Parks

Introduction: Parks as Environmental Settler Colonialism………………………………76 The Duality of Early Conservation: Economics and Aesthetics…………………………77 The Social Construction of Forests………………………………………………………81 The Wilderness Dichotomy and Civilization Imperative………………………..………85 Climate and Empire………………………………………………………….…………..91 Climate Change Narratives………………………………………………………………92 Ontario Parks and Climate Change………………………………………………………95 Park Management and Settler Supremacy……………………………………..…….…106 Settler Mythologies and Park Evolution…………………………………….………….110

Chapter 3 | Ontario Parks as “Indian Policy”: Ethnocentrism through Bureaucratic Power

Parks as ‘Indian Policy’…………………………………………………………...……122 Land Relations………………………………………………………………………….124 Early "Indian Policy": Strategies of Dispossession………….…………………………128 Settler Representations: Building Ethnocentrism…………………………...………….138 Settler Naming Practices and Displacement……………………………………..……..141 Settler Mythologies: The Vanishing and Unproductive Indian……………………...…144 Algonquin Park: Dispossession by Administration……………...……………………..154 Concluding Thoughts…………………………………………………………….……..162

Conclusion: Images, History, and Reconciliation………………………………..………….179

List of Figures

Figure 1: Algonquin Territory………………………………………………………………….158

Introduction: The Problem of Parks

Motivational Context

My interest in parks as an object of scholarly inquiry began during my Master’s research.

I examined opposition to a land dispute in southwestern Ontario involving Caldwell First Nation, whose traditional land is now Point Pelee National Park. The Indian Affairs department neglected Caldwell ancestors when they negotiated a land treaty in 1790, and this was followed by years of settler encroachment. The government was unwilling to repatriate the land, creating a park from Caldwell lands in 1918 (Rose 2008). Through that research, I became interested in the history of park creation in Canada and its connection to land dispossession. Parks had always been an important part of my life as I grew up near Rondeau Provincial Park. I spent many of my teenage years cycling along dirt roads to the neighbouring township where my friends and I hung out on the park beaches. Although from a small, rural town with ample space to roam, the

Carolinian forest and the long beaches at Rondeau were a great escape. I was entirely unaware of the history of parks at the time, and the histories of the land altogether. Learning about Point

Pelee, and the struggles of Caldwell First Nation to retain their land, sparked my interest in the history of parks. I wondered if parks were less innocent than they seemed, how they materialized, and how their creation affected people.

As an increasingly aware white man of settler origins, I started graduate school with a desire to interrogate settler institutions, and I continue that scholarly trajectory with this dissertation. My undergraduate degree is in Political Science, so the nature of power has always been central to my scholarly pursuits. I am interested in who has power, how people and institutions wield it, and how it affects people. Human Geography has augmented that approach

1 to scholarship in its focus on the interrelations between power and place. Historical geography combines sensitivity to place with an understanding of change over time, and especially changes resulting from altering configurations of power. Ontario Parks are important places and, as products of provincial land administration, they also constitute an institution. When people refer to Ontario parks, they are generally referring to the places they can visit, but Ontario parks also encompass bureaucracy, park rangers, legislation and the legal apparatus. With this in mind, I sought to dig into the administrative genesis of the larger institution of Ontario Parks to learn something about how bureaucrats and legislators created the institution, and the repercussions of that creation.

As a scholar, I have always focused on speaking back to my own community, writing critical analyses of settler actions and institutions. The resolution of historical injustices requires settlers to question our histories and governing structures (Keefer 2008). As David McLaren, former Communications Director for the Chippewas of Nawash, remarked, it is “the white people’s job to take care of their own racism” (Wallace et al. 2008). I feel interrogating the history of parks fits into this trajectory. I chose not to pursue a participatory, community-based project. Much of my focus is on Algonquin Park as the first provincial park in Canada. The

Algonquins of Ontario have worked with many settler scholars on projects related to their land and history, and this is a critical time in their land claim negotiations and implementation. I felt this was not an appropriate moment to request time from Algonquin communities. Instead, I chose to focus my attention on a critical analysis of the history of Ontario parks. The Truth and

Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s Calls to Action (2015) calls upon educators to focus on histories of Indigenous peoples, the history and legacy of residential schools, and the history of

Indigenous-Crown relations. Following these Calls, this project is part of a trajectory of settler

2 scholarship dedicated to uncovering the heretofore denied history of the places we live in, and how institutions have shaped the land and affected people.

Project Description

This project is interdisciplinary in that it merges geography, history, and politics as each of the manuscripts touches on the cultural, geographical, and political elements of Ontario parks history. I argue that Ontario provincial parks history reveals that bureaucrats were influenced by

British and European environmental management (anxieties about climate), political policy (the centralization of power), and ethnocentricity to enclose non-arable lands, motivated not just by their hunger for timber resources but by a settler colonial environmental order aimed at preserving settler cultural hegemony through dispossession of Indigenous lands.

The first manuscript, “Liberal Order and the Enclosure-Reserve Practice:

Environmental Settler Colonialism in Ontario/Upper Canada,” uses political theory around liberalism and hegemony in early Ontario to contextualize the political order of the 19th century, as provincial parks administration used political control to enclose parklands and maintain a particular kind of order stemming from British enclosure policy. Ontario parks were born out of an oligarchic political structure that employed an enclosure-reserve practice to take control of wilderness lands for the preservation of lucrative timber resources, and to bring those lands into a liberal order that functioned to help facilitate industrialization and build a home market. In that process of establishing a liberal order, the enclosure reserve practice also dispossessed

Indigenous peoples of their lands. The liberal order and settler colonialism coincide by

3 mythologizing parks as pristine wilderness and neglecting the history of manipulation and dispossession.

The second manuscript, “Climate Control: The Colonial Environmental Nexus and the

Construction of Ontario Parks,” explores why parkland is unique, as non-arable wilderness, and how colonial environmental knowledge networks began to shape an environmental order through anxieties about climate disturbances (in conjunction with the traditional economic motivations of timber extraction). Parks administrators sought to control the climate through preservation of trees, and influenced government policy through a series of environmental reports in the late 19th century. Bureaucrats wanted to maintain a certain climatic equilibrium by preserving forests, thereby preserving precipitation and avoiding desiccation of the land. Climate was about more than just the economic value of trees, as the process of enclosure facilitated the ability for bureaucrats to control parklands. Controlling the climate meant manipulating flora, fauna, and the general aesthetic of parkland, including who (and what) was allowed in and out of parks.

Climate was not just about the prevailing weather conditions, but it included the broader environmental conditions subject to a settler gaze that (re)constructed parks. Climate control was about the social construction of parks, the exclusion of certain people(s), and re-making the environment. Once parks policy was in place, management became the priority, which meant bureaucrats had exceptional power in convincing governments to manipulate and shape park land to meet British and Western European ideals.

The final manuscript, “Ontario Parks as “Indian Policy”: Ethnocentrism through

Bureaucratic Power,” argues that parks are a form of early ‘Indian policy’, as they constitute one of the many ways in which governments made calculated decisions to acquire land, change it, and dispossess Indigenous occupants. Park creation in the 19th century satisfied the same

4 functions as 19th century enfranchisement and civilization policies, designed to acquire land for colonial endeavors. Bolstered by prejudicial representations of Indigenous peoples through literature, art, and travel journals, bureaucrats justified colonial land policy based on liberal

European notions of property and productivity, neglecting Indigenous relations to the land.

Bureaucrats helped build settler colonialism in the 18th and 19th centuries through legislation and institutions, informed by prevailing cultural stereotypes, and aimed at constructing a colony designed to replace Indigenous peoples with settlers.

Methodology

My approach includes content analysis with elements of grounded theory. I began my research by searching connections between parks history and Indigenous land dispossession.

Following a thematic content analysis approach, I identified themes salient in the secondary texts and primary documents (Attride-Stirling 2001). Working from a number of emerging themes, I identifying common language in the data related to my research questions around parks history, dispossession, land policy, and political culture in the 19th century (Berg, 2001, 245; Cope, 2016:

378; Dunn 2016; Watt, 2016, 303). In reviewing the literature on colonial Indigenous/Indian policy, parks administration, Crown land policy in the 19th century, as well as archival documents detailing policy reports and bureaucrat correspondence, I organized the material based on terms, phrases, and ideas related to enclosure, dispossession, settler colonialism,

Indigenous land relations, wilderness, parks, climate, environmental issues, and resource development. My objective, in the end, was to build an emerging theory around power and the environment in Ontario (Berg 2001; Urquhart 2007). Grounded Theory inspired my

5 methodology in that the research process was inductive, linking themes to the data as I moved forward with the research (Berg 2001) and persistently analyzing the data as I conducted the research (Bryant and Charmaz 2007; Hood 2007; Locke 2007; Oktay 2012). I used concurrent data gathering, analysis, and theory construction (Wiener 2007) as the project shifted and morphed through the research process. Using the case of Algonquin Park, I developed more broad conceptual ideas to explain or understand the relationships between settler/government institutions, the land, and Indigenous peoples (Charmaz 2004). I used elements of Grounded

Theory in conjunction with Content Analysis by taking the research questions and exploring links to larger issues (imperial power and land policy, colonial environmental policy) and creating new interpretations of historical geography and expanding on political theory (Charmaz

2004; Charmaz 2006; Corbin and Strauss 2008; Oktay 2012).

I reviewed primary documents related to early park creation in Ontario, including government commissioned reports regarding forests and land in the 19th century. These reports, as early colonial conversations about the land in Ontario, provided the dissertation with first- hand accounts of bureaucrats’ opinions and perspectives on forest policy and climate, and were essential to the analysis in Chapter 2 discussing climate concerns and Algonquin Park.

Chronologically, the most important primary documents include: (a) former Commissioner of

Crown Lands Alexander Kirkwood's "The Undeveloped Lands of Northern and Western

Ontario" (1878); (b) former Ontario Clerk of Forestry Robert Phipps’ “Report on the Necessity of Preserving and Replanting Forests” (1883); (c) Phipps’ "Reports on the Forests of Canada"

(1885); (d) Phipps’ 1891 “Forestry Report”; (e) the 1893 Report of the Royal Commission on

Forest Reservation and National Park (including Kirkwood, Phipps, and former Assistant

Commissioner of Crown Lands Aubrey White, former Director of Mines Archibald Blue, and

Ontario land surveyor James Dickson); (f) the 1893 Act to Establish the Algonquin National

Park of Ontario; and (g) Kirkwood’s 1893 "Papers and Reports upon Forestry, Forest Schools,

Forest Administration and Management.” The Reports include discussions of the value of forests, the relationships between forests and agricultural settlement, trees as resources, climate and environmental conditions (precipitation, desiccation, humidity, erosion), forest fires, lumbering methods, and comparative analysis with British colonial and European forest management in efforts to convince governing authorities to preserve forests for economic and environmental stability. Although previously published literature briefly makes reference to a couple of these reports (Barton 2004; Gillis and Roach 1983), linking them all together under a larger conversation about parks, economics, climate, and colonialism is novel.

Many of the primary documents, including the aforementioned reports, were available in libraries and archives, allowing a diverse approach to accessing materials. I also visited special collections at Queen’s University to consult primary documents, including travel diaries

(Ballantyne 1848; Bond Head 1846; Butler 1872; Grant 1873; Jameson 1838; Kane 1859; Laman

1854; McDougall 1895; Moodie 1871; Munro Mackenzie 1789-1793) and missionary documents

(Hennepin 1698; Ryerson Young 1897; Twaites 1897). These documents provided important first-hand accounts of art, life, and settler-Indigenous relations in 19th century Canada and

Ontario, mainly used for the discussion of settler representations of Indigenous peoples in

Chapter 3.

My archival research centred on visiting three locations between 2015 and 2019, including the Archives of Ontario, Library and Archives Canada, and the Algonquin Park

Archives. The Archives of Ontario provided documents on the bureaucratic history of early provincial parks in the province. The documents I reviewed included notes on the history of the

7 provincial Department of Lands and Forestry, documents detailing logging history in the 19th century, administrative reports and correspondence regarding park rangers and law enforcement, iterations of parks legislation, and instances of park administration interaction with Indigenous communities in the 19th century. The Archives of Ontario also provided newspaper Hansard reports that include debates between politicians about park creation and environmentalism in the

19th century. Library and Archives Canada provided some documents on the Crown Lands department, early land policy in Canada, and correspondence between Crown Lands and Indian

Affairs about Indigenous land-use. The Algonquin Park Archives provided yearly

Superintendent reports on Algonquin Park from its creation in 1893 into the early 20th century, as well as correspondence between park bureaucrats. These documents were essential to my arguments about the construction of a new, colonial environmental order in Ontario as they provided details about how the park land was manipulated for the first 20 years of its existence, and the ways that park officials spoke about Indigenous peoples, the land, flora, and fauna.

Literature Review | Placing Ontario Parks:

‘Indian Policy,’ Environmental Networks, Settler Colonialism, and Liberal Order.

Parks as Early “Indian Policy”: Disrupting Land Relations

This project contributes to a recent trend in parks literature that focuses on the repercussions of park creation, rather than merely focusing on the commercial resource stocks and tourist potential of park lands (Bella 1986; Hodgins and Benedickson 1989; Killan 1998;

Mortimer-Sandilands, 2009; Nelson 1970; Sandlos, 2007). Recent literature reveals how parks

8 administrations and agencies value accumulating capital, privatizing land, and exploiting resources in parks, while alienating and dispossessing people (Brockington & Duffy 2010; Igoe,

Neves, & Brockington 2010; Kelly 2011; West, Igoe, & Brockington 2006). Since their inception in Canada, the creation of national and provincial parks has caused the dispossession of

Indigenous peoples (Calverley 2018; Killan 1993; McNab 1999). Policy-makers have neglected

Indigenous occupancy of land, refused to acknowledge Indigenous claims to their land, excluded

Indigenous peoples from the park-making process, and forcibly removed Indigenous peoples from their land in their efforts to create parks (Huitema 2000; Killan 1998; Lawson 2001;

McNab 1999; Lac La Croix Band Removal 2013; Rose 2008; Sandlos 2007). Indigenous communities have met policies that resulted in dispossession or displacement with various forms of legal, economic, social, spiritual, and physical resistance (Borrows 2007; Coulthard 2014;

Huitema 2000; Martin 2011; Sherman 2010; Thorpe 2012). The repercussions of park creation deserve continued attention as parks continue to play a large role in Canadian society and parks policy affect peoples’ lives.

Bridging analyses of the repercussion of park creation and management with literature about land relations reveals the ways parks affect Indigenous peoples. Crown officials have augmented so-called “wilderness” lands, disrupting Indigenous ways of life without Indigenous input or consent. Changing the land shapes the future of a place, but also creates a rift between the present and the past for Indigenous people, cut off from their ancestral lands. A sense of continuity is important to all people but many Indigenous peoples see past events and fundamental cultural values as embedded in the land (Chandler and Lalonde 1998; Cummins and

Whiteduck 1998; Little Bear and Heavy Head 2004; Peta 2011). Creating new borders or park boundaries, and excluding Indigenous people from the land, disconnected them from an essential

9 part of their culture. Restricting access to the land meant disrupting communications with the land (Kulchyski 2016), and disrupting relationships that inform the cultural fabric of Indigenous peoples (Borrows 2007). Indigenous peoples often tie cultural exchanges and life lessons to places (Basso 1996), and ancestors (human and non-human) are often embedded in places

(Johnston 2006; Molina and Delgado-Shorter 2014). Disrupting boundaries can also disrupt agreements between Indigenous peoples (Simpson 2008). In dispossessing Indigenous peoples, park creation and management has disrupted cultural continuity.

The literature on early “Indian policy” in the 19th century focuses on dispossession through land policy and colonial institutions, but neglects parks as part of that same settler colonial framework. Although the literature on early ‘Indian policy’ generally does not place parks in the same framework as enfranchisement and civilization policies, policy-makers designed parks in ways that led to similar results – removing or alienating Indigenous peoples from their land. Early ‘Indian policy’ in 19th century Canada, post Royal Proclamation of 1763, was part of a policy framework designed explicitly to separate Indigenous peoples from their land (Dickason 1997; McMillan 1988; Milloy 1991; Tobias 1991; Venne 2002). As profound changes to the land form a monumental cultural challenge to Indigenous peoples, and national and provincial parks occupy huge swaths of traditional territory, it is important to place early parks planning and legislation in the trajectory of Canadian colonial “Indian policy.” Enfranchisement and Civilization policies in the 1850s and 1860s set rules for breaking apart and liberalizing Indigenous land, consolidated in the first Indian Act in 1876 that limited mobility, sovereignty, and cultural practices (Brownlie 2003; Carter 1999; Daschuk 2013; Jacobs

2002). Dominion policy-makers planned residential schools in the 1844 Bagot Report and 1879

Davin Report. The first iteration of residential schools began in the 1880s after amendments to

10 the Indian Act, with horrendous results for Indigenous youths and communities (Carneiro 2018;

Churchill 2004; Gordon and White 2014; Milloy 1999; Mosby 2013; Stirrett 2015; TRCC 2015;

Vowel 2016; Woolford and Benvenuto 2014). This policy framework, driven by the directive of establishing fee-simple private property and separating Indigenous people from the land (Tobias

1991; Venne 1981), is the context for understanding parks as a form of 19th century “Indian policy” specific to non-arable “wilderness” lands.

Ontario Parks as Administrative Settler Colonialism

The cultural power and nation-affirming influence of parks deserve more attention in settler colonial studies. Scholars have focused on territoriality and dispossession (Banivanua and

Edmonds 2010; Barker and Battell Lowman 2015; Bhandar 2016; Wolfe 2006; Veracini 2011;

Veracini 2015), and have interrogated cities as colonial spaces of exclusion involving policing and surveillance of Indigenous anti-colonial activities (Dafnos 2019; Hugill 2017; Porter 2019).

Settler colonial studies can benefit from deeper historical analyses of land policy and dispossession in relation to non-arable or “wilderness” lands, as focusing on parks reveals the practical genesis of settler colonial administration. Much of the analysis of settler colonialism in parks focuses on accumulation by dispossession and the economic drivers of dispossession

(Brown 2014; Kelly 2011), but settler colonialism is more than just an economic exchange

(Braun 2000). Settler colonialism in the 19th century was not only influenced by settler hunger for land and resources, but by European ideas about order and relations between people and environments. Settler colonialism “destroys to replace,” drawing on European political, cultural, and environmental ideas in the production of new colonial institutions designed to be permanent

(Veracini, 2011; Wolfe 2006, 388). Parks displaced Indigenous peoples from their lands, deemed non-arable by settlers, and to reiterate, this form of displacement is ultimately no different from enfranchisement and civilization policies. Parks policy established a new, permanent, and perhaps for settlers, a more innocent looking colonial institution in the service of national settler interests. Crown officials designed the “new” institution of the modern park to allow the bureaucrat, scientist, and politician to re-design vast areas of land for resource extraction and environmental management, and later for the settler tourism industry. It is no coincidence that

Crown Lands and Indian Affairs Departments were part of the same administrative unit during the 19th century; policy-makers communicated about land issues and debated land transfers around claims (Holmes 1993; White 1895). The departments were part of the same settler colonial institutional framework.

The Environmental Nexus: Revealing Colonialism

Combining literature on colonial environmental knowledge networks in the 19th century with literature on British and Canadian political practice provides a base for arguing that Upper

Canada/Ontario parks administration was part of a larger, trans-colonial settler network.

Bureaucrats from overseas influenced bureaucrats in Canada about ecology and the climate

(Barton 2004; Gillis and Roach 1983) helping form an environmental order built on white supremacy (Livingstone 1994; Thorpe 2012). The political power structure in Upper Canada was formed through British channels that favoured oligarchy and enclosure (Durham 1839; Ryerson

1983; Lambert and Pross 1967) as a means to maintain power and therefore easily advocate for changing the land through park creation. British and European colonial environmental policy, not

12 just in Canada but also in the “colonial tropics” of India and the Caribbean region, relied on a nexus of information shared between bureaucrats (Grove 1995; Grove 1997; Holleman 2017).

One of the common issues discussed in 19th century environmentalist circles was climate, and how the desiccation of land could lead to environmental catastrophe, exacerbated by the perceived misuse of land by Indigenous peoples (Davis 2007; Grove 1997). Policy-makers were involved in these environmental networks, and in many cases public figures advocated for changing colonial landscapes for fear of environmental catastrophe (Kirkwood 1878; Phipps

1885). They equated unproductive climates of colonies to the unproductive nature of Indigenous inhabitants, linking climatology and moral evaluation (Davis 2007; Livingstone 1994). Parks officials changed the land to satisfy colonial concerns about the climate, creating a link between anxieties around the land and the people. Officials deemed separating Indigenous peoples from non-arable land necessary for resource extraction and for the new environmental order based on settler (therefore British and European) superiority (Barton 2004; Braun 2002; Thorpe 2012). In

Upper Canada/Ontario, the construction of an environmental order through colonial knowledge sharing represents an alternative narrative outside the conventional economic-resource narratives in parks history literature. This alternative narrative reveals a more culturally-centred approach to settler colonialism focused on environmental control.

There is a strong academic literature demonstrating that 19th century Canada was part of a larger ‘liberal order’ (Constant and Ducharme 2009; Dafnos 2019; Mckay 2000) directly related to the English enclosure movement (Mingay 1997; Reaney 1970; Turner 1984; Yelling 1977), while the ecological and Indigenous implications of that order are largely unexplored. Individualist oligarchs of the Family Compact managed to monopolize land for their own interests (resources and political power), much to the chagrin of republican dissidents

13 influenced by American radicalism (Ryerson 1983; Schrauwers 2009). Political actors used institutions and the centralization of power to take control of and reshape parkland for the benefit of few. Ian McKay’s” Liberal Order Framework” challenges previous nationalist ‘Laurentianist’ explanations of Canada’s political history (Creighton 1971; Innis 1956; Morton 1961) and argues that the exclusive nature of liberal order took hold of the political mechanisms and alienated many people in the process (Ajzenstat & Smith, 1995; McKay 2000; McKay, 2005). McKay’s

Liberal Order Framework is a theory of hegemony formation in Canada (Gramsci 1971), where the ruling class used coercion to convince the public of a particular way of controlling the land to benefit wealthy settlers. A policy trajectory based on liberal order and enclosure, secured by an oligarchy, enforced and propelled policy-makers to change parks and the ecology of Upper

Canada/Ontario. The environmental, ecology, and Indigenous implications of McKay’s Liberal

Order Framework are largely unexplored (Constonguay and Kinsey 2009), and this project aims to proceed with what McKay calls a reconnaissance of Canadian history (2000), finding new ways that liberal order guides power, in this case to change the environment and dispossess. The literature on early “Indian policy,” settler colonialism, environmental knowledge, and liberal order connect in ways that help re-conceptualize the historical development of a particular form of land policy. Parks created new physical barriers to the land for Indigenous peoples and a powerful mythological space for settler nationalism.

Disciplinary Approach

This project considers the fluidity of power through time, and the importance of politics in changing social and environmental spatial relations. I draw from the disciplinary traditions of

14 geography, history, and politics to provide a hybridity, merging analysis of space and time (Peta

2011). Ultimately, the project falls under the auspice of historical political ecology, as a subfield of human geography, examining how power interacts with land over time. The overlap and relationship between the disciplines deserves some comment, as the relationship between history, geography, territoriality, and political ecology forms the theoretical context of the project.

On History

History as understood here is not static, fixed and removed from the present, as it abides with us and continues to unfold. Leroy Little Bear and Ryan Heavy Head (2004) argue that

Blackfoot language does not compartmentalize the relationships between past-present-future in the way English does. In Blackfoot, when something happens in a place, it is understood to continue to happen there. Little Bear and Heavy Head describe their language as focused more on the constant movement of events and happenings, where “time,” (past, present and future) as the English speaker knows it, is all connected (Little Bear and Heavy Head 2004; Povinelli

2011). Blackfoot language describes ongoing occurrences with fluid words, unlike English which uses measurable units pieced together to describe distinct elements over time. Inspired by this conception of time, I am less interested in locating anything squarely in “the past” as we commonly refer to it. I am more interested in locating power, no matter where in a chronological timeline, and interrogating where powerful actors obtain their knowledge, how they wield power, and who is abidingly affected. In 19th century British North America, and subsequently in

Canada, the Crown (via the Colonial Department) granted oligarchs the power to reserve land, which they used to enclose non-arable wilderness lands to secure control and regulation. They

15 then transferred knowledge of ecology from British colonial and European experience elsewhere, and used the fear of climate catastrophe to build an environmental order on liberal European terms. Indigenous peoples who depended on those lands (to hunt, to eat, to sleep, to live as communities) were ultimately denied access through ethnocentric notions. This power does not reside squarely in some static “past,” but morphs and moves through time and forms the foundation of contemporary settler colonial institutions.

Interpreting history is not “value-free” enterprise but a social practice (Kurtz 2001;

Moore 2009). Sensitivity to past social and political processes can inform us about the conditions under which the information we analyze has been produced, used, and evaluated (Ogborn 2003).

It also explains much about our current conditions. Forgetting the past means “becoming prisoner to it”, or repeating it (Morrissey et al. 2014, 1). Connecting the past and present (or understanding past-present as an unbroken continuity) enhances self-conscious and informed living (Harris 2008, 413). Believing that the past and present are so inextricably connected (or even one in the same) means that every project is (or ought to be understood as) historical. Part of the purpose of this project is to influence future policy and challenge popular notions of parks history. Historical interpretation includes reconceptualizing the past, or using contemporary ideas to create new lenses for viewing the past (Hanlon 2001; Moore 2009) in ways that are open to recognizing past wrongs. This research is not “value-free.” It is anti-colonial and anti-racist.

On Historical Geography

The historical geographer’s approach of interrogating the production of space, politics and power through time is rich and powerful (Gregory 2005; Lefebvre 1991; Smith 2003). Often

16 concerned with the ways in which the past is remembered and represented, the historical geographer interrogates the “politics of the past” and of the present to reveal history as power laden chosen stories (Graham and Nash 2000). Traditional histories of British geography focused on celebrating the emergence of national geographical institutions (e.g. the Royal Geographical

Society and the Institute of British Geographers), or uncritically chronicling institutional and disciplinary progress in geography (Cameron 1980; Scargill 1976; Steel 1984; Stoddart 1989).

More recently, geography has been influenced by Marxist and post-modern sensibilities, and increasingly does not consider knowledge production “value-free” (Bell, Butlin, and Heffernan

1995; Livingstone 1992; Smith and Godlewska 1994) as histories and geographies are always

“context-bound and subjective” (Ploszajska 2000). Historical geography includes a commitment to challenge exploitative relations to avoid negating the “deep asymmetries of both human history and historical representation” (Morrissey and Nally 2014, 2), and contextualize how power functions in the present (Sparke 2007; Wacquant, 2009).

Historical Geography considers specific or local events and relations as well as the larger economic, cultural, and political processes and institutions that affect those events and relations (Graham and Nash 2000). Land, human activity, and individual experience are intertwined and people are embedded in places and to some extend formed by it. This is particularly true in early Canada as settlers arrived on the land and, while reconfiguring it, were reconfigured by it (Harris 2012, 438). Those ‘reconfigurations’ reveal things not only about the past, but about how and why places and people(s) exist as they do today. The larger political project of liberalism and the individual acts of bureaucrats and settlers are part of scalar settler colonial processes that change places over time.

On Territoriality

This project is about how settler institutions controlled and changed wilderness spaces to dispossess; the coalescence of power and land is central to the analysis. Western territoriality requires marking boundaries, asserting control over a geographic area and influencing human interaction in multiple ways, necessarily involving power dynamics (Delaney 2005; Lefebvre

1991; Soja 1989; Whelan 2014). Asserting control over geographical areas involved drawing boundaries and creating exclusions, which makes territoriality social and geographical (Corson

2011; Sack 1986). Parks enclosure is a form of “internal territorialization” in that a state institution draws boundaries and establishes acceptable practices supported by legislation to exert control over resources and people by excluding some, re-locating them, and/or incarcerating them (Corson 2011; Vandergeest and Peluso 1995). The form that state territorilization takes is historically-contingent, as it is the product of negotiations (albeit uneven negotiations) between state and non-state actors, including bureaucrats, settlers, and Indigenous peoples (Corson 2011, 704-705). The territorialization of parklands is also a product of market forces (resource development needs on a global scale), but also political and cultural forces that, in the case of this study, formed governmental and environmental order (hegemony) in the 19th century (e.g. liberalism and the effects of climate in the “new world”). Internal territorialization played a large role in the formation of the modern state (Vandergeest and Peluso 1995), as well- defined borders became important markers in the post-Westphalian era.

Connections between territorialization and state formation are not unique to Canada.

Scholars have analyzed the ways that controlling the land have opened up spaces for settler nation-building in the U.S., while forcing Indigenous peoples from their lands. The agricultural foundations of economic and social life for 19th century settlers in the United States depended on dispossession (e.g. Trail of Tears) and land acquisition, where territorial control worked to break

Indigenous relations with the land (Holleman 2017; Holleman 2018)). The western “frontier” in

U.S. history represents the foundation of American settler independence and power. Frederick

Jackson Turner lamented a disappearing frontier, and therefore the decline of American identity

(Cronon 1995; Turner 1921). Turner described American history as synonymous with colonization of the west, and promoted the idea that the domination of the frontier was due to an inherent expansive territorial power in American settlers (Turner 1921). Territorial control meant expanding westward, but that continuous expansion motivated preservation initiatives. The myth of the vanishing frontier laid the seeds for wilderness preservation in the U.S.; if the frontier land was so important to building the U.S., it was worth preserving (Cronon 1995). The state played a major role in early park creation in both the United States and Canada. Certainly, the creation of

Yosemite (1865) and Yellowstone (1872) in the U.S. inspired Canada’s first national park at

Banff (1885) (Nash 1967). Creighton argued that the power of the frontier in building America awakened Canada’s interest in the north-west (Creighton 1956, 277), but the two countries had different relationships with “frontier” or wild lands, and the significance of land (as individual or state property) played a part in the formation of national identities (Blomley 2003). The frontier in the U.S. represents freedom and, the thrust of the nation westward to create civilization. For

Canada, park creation was more about engaging in acquiring and developing resources in the hinterland for commercial, transport, industrial, and financial functions (Carless 61; Wadland

1998). In the U.S., the frontier, and the preservation of parks, was about preserving the image of the individual against the wild. American civilization depended on the existence of the frontier and therefore preservation meant continuing to engage in that mythology (Cronon 1995). In the

Canadian context, the overarching narrative is about order. Canadians, historically, do not live out an individualist nationalism through parks, but participate in leisure through a well-managed veneer of pristine nature often absent of the colonial relations that formed them. For settler

Canadians, wild lands are a convenient façade that allows us to experience a seemingly un- tainted natural experience. The frontier or wilderness is not about conquering the wild for settlers in Canada, it is about denying Indigeneity.

On Political Ecology

This study falls under the rubric of historical political ecology, as it merges historical geography and politics. Ecology, as a field of study, was born out of observing the “economy of nature,” investigating relations of animals to the environment (Kormondy 1984). Humans, as a part of the environment and as its major manipulators, render ecology political as power, institutions, and ideologies, shape environmental change and how it is understood. Researching the environment means researching on places, where ecology focuses on relations within those environments. Nuemann (2005) argues that, where there are ecological problems, there are environmental and social problems and exploring these links is crucial to political ecology.

Conversely, political and social problems influence ecology. Environmental change can result from political practice and the ideology of a moment, while the people affected by that change are subject to the cultural hegemony that results. The sub-discipline of political ecology

20 interrogates the relations between nature and society in particular “forms of access and control” over lands (Watts 2002). Political ecology usually includes a focus on the “shifting dialectic” between society and land-based resources (Watts 2002), and considers how powerful interests have taken control of land and dispossessed. Putting land management in historical, political, and economic context is at the centre of political ecology (Blaikie and Brookfield 1987; Watts 2002) as a field of human geography, or as an “approach” to research relating politics and the environment (Neumann 2005).

Ontario parks are a product of 19th century liberal thinking, and of a colonial environmental order hinged on eliminating Indigenous peoples from wilderness lands. Political ecologists write about conservation enclosures as territorial instruments of the state for resource privatization and excluding people from natural spaces (Corson, 2011; Grandia, 2012; Heynen and Robbins, 2005; Malhi, 2011; McCarthy 2001; Neumann, 1998, 2004; Peluso and Lund,

2011; Robbins and Luginbuhl, 2005). Scholars write about conservation as a form of primitive accumulation (in the Marxist tradition), a form of privatization or a kind of “land grab” to expand capitalist production and satisfy capital’s spatial-fix (Harvey 2003; Igoe and Brockington

2007; Katz 1998; Kelly 2011). This is true, but conservation also includes cultural influences such as certain ideas about progress, peoples, and land-use that shape the ways authorities change the land. I embrace Coulthard’s (2014) warning that we cannot simply apply European economic analysis to the land in North America, as the European experience with the proletarianizing dynamic does not consider Indigenous relations with the land. The dynamics of parks enclosure were not about proletarianization, rather they were about building an environmental order through colonial networks by exerting oligarchic power through a budding liberal hegemony. Parks were also about control, power, and settler supremacy. The economic

21 value of parks is obvious – trees built the colony through trade and construction. The nature of power requires further explanation: Who ruled? From where did authorities draw knowledge?

How did authorities exert power over wilderness? Human interaction with the environment cannot be understood without considering the political, economic, and cultural influences that motivate those interactions (Neumann 2005). Studying parks reveals something about the modern territorial state and nationalism (Carroll 2014; Neumann 2004). In this case, the settler colonial nature of parks, born of blatant disregard of Indigenous peoples and informed by colonial liberal ethics, saw no problem with dispossessing people of their lands.

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Chapter 1 | Liberal Order and the Enclosure-Reserve Practice:

Environmental Settler Colonialism in Ontario/Upper Canada

Introduction

This paper builds a new political-geographical framework for understanding parks in a colonial context, interrogating Upper Canada/Ontario history to understand how a liberal order informed the creation of parks as a type of enclosure. Enclosure was a foundational force in early

Upper Canada land policy. Borrowed from the English experience, an enclosure-reserve practice in Upper Canada became a territorial component of colonial administration where powerful government administrators enclosed land for financial gain and colonial expansion. The enclosure-reserve practice was an environmental component of what Ian McKay calls the

“liberal order framework,” which worked to keep land in the hands of a wealthy British oligarchy while dispossessing Indigenous peoples and alienating settlers. Parks, as a form of enclosure, gave governments and business interests exclusive access to non-arable land and resources through a parks bureaucracy that became a form of administrative settler colonialism.

Parks are often seen as neutral spaces of beauty and leisure but are liberal settler-colonial constructs that re-made forests as “productive” on European terms while obstructing Indigenous land relations.

McKay calls for a “reconnaissance” of Canadian history, meaning re-evaluating history to see “our present-day politics afresh” (McKay 2000, 632). He refers to Canada as a “specific project of rule,” and his approach to history demonstrates how “certain politico-economic logic”

(i.e. liberalism) took root in the colony (McKay 2000, 621). McKay does not explicitly implicate parks in his discussion of the liberal order framework, but his work inspires a need to interrogate

34 the political motivations and mechanisms that created parks, and how those entities work to strengthen the liberal order from an environmental perspective.

The liberal order, as a frame of analysis, highlights the territoriality of early politics in

Canada. Since property is central to the notion of liberalism, exploring land policy is an effective way to see how power dynamics changed the land and excluded peoples. Parks are a unique lens through which to view the liberal order framework because they involved the administration of non-arable lands, setting them outside the traditional practice of agricultural settlement. State institutions – civil organizations – draw boundaries, set limits (on hunting, fishing, entry) on enclosed wilderness lands by exerting political power (though legislation, land grants, force)

(Robbins and Luginbuhl, 2005). Scholars note that primitive accumulation explains the political and economic mechanisms behind enclosures, and the ways that conservation has been used for the commodification of nature (Kelly 2011). Framing parks as enclosure through McKay’s liberal order is useful because it takes into consideration the specific political and geographical history of Upper Canada/Ontario and the political and social dynamics that motivated park creation. The liberal order explains the early centralization of power in Ontario and how parks administration exerted it to enclose and dispossess. The liberal order and settler colonialism work hand-in-hand.

Land enclosure movements often displaced original inhabitants or users of land. In land policy in England and Upper Canada from the 18th and 19th centuries, the politically and economically powerful wielded wealth and influence to enclose and control the land. The

English enclosure movement was a foundational force in early liberal land policy that displaced people, while in Upper Canada the enclosure-reserve practice was a territorial component of a larger colonial administration that impinged upon Indigenous peoples from multiple angles and

35 helped build the commercial capacity of the colony. Canadian national mythologies have normalized parks as places of beauty and tranquility (Ontario Parks Instagram), obfuscating the inherent anti-democratic political forces that constructed them as part of a project designed to reinforce and defend the power of an oligarchy in Upper Canada and uproot Indigenous peoples to solidify the construction of a settler colony.

The English Enclosure Movement as Liberal Land Policy

The English enclosure movement ended open-field land tenure, as powerful land interests privatized farms to serve a growing liberal property and labour regime, displacing people who had worked collectively on the land for generations. The open-field system was a popular, historic form of land tenure for subsistence farming in England, in which fields were used in common for grazing sheep, subsistence, and raising crops (Bradley 1918; Mingay 1997; Tate

1967). Fields operated through flexible customary law, with land-use regulations enforced by farmer committees and land held by “toft” based on historic title (Mingay 1997; Reaney 1970;

Slater 1907). Enclosure began in the early 17th century, but parliamentary acts to enclose became more popular in the late 18th century and into the 1840s (Turner 1984; Yelling 1977). Over 80% of enclosures were completed by 1850 by which time over 5,000 enclosures had taken place

(Turner 1984, 17). The process of enclosure occurred through local sponsorship, general applications, and Acts of Parliament (Turner 1984), and Lords and churches used their wealth and influence to privatize land to make land tenure in England suit their needs. Lords would expand their estates by purchasing agreements from collective proprietors (toft-holders), maneuvering to become the largest proprietor in an area, and then petitioning parliament to

36 enclose large tracts of land (Yelling 1977). This sometimes involved illegally encroaching on open-field lands (Reaney 1970). Proprietors who privately owned three-quarters of the land in a district could petition for an enclosure alone, displacing other local proprietors (Mingay 1997,

58-60). Churches also acquired land through tithes from farmers, then sold the land for enclosure rather than using it for the parish (Reaney 1970). A system of severed plots of land with physical boundaries replaced traditional, cooperative methods of agriculture and communally administered holdings resulting in the “disintegration and reformation” of the open-field system into individual ownership (Turner 1984, 11). Enclosure meant surrounding farms with hedges, ditches, stone walls, or fences to keep stock and crops inside, or out of, a private area (Mingay

1997; Slater 1907; Tate 1967; Turner 1984).

Enclosures were economic and ideological; private property was part of the shifting political ideology favouring liberalism in the 18th and 19th centuries (Linbaugh 2010). The

English enclosure movement demonstrates the shift to building a liberal property regime in

England, concentrating wealth and changing collective farms to serve private owners, markets, and industry instead of subsistence economies (Linbaugh 2010). Enclosures uprooted farmers from land they had worked for generations according to established ways of life, forcing them into crowded cities with poor housing for industrial waged labour (Mingay 1997; Slater 1907;

Thompson 1964). E.P. Thompson (1964) argued that enclosures destroyed traditional subsistence economies and were a form of “class robbery,” creating an English proletariat. Enclosures, for

Thompson, signal the beginning of fundamentally different economy and labour relations (213-

239). Landowners used enclosed lands for industrial agriculture and tenancy, with rents increasing 15-50% after enclosure (Slater 1907, 94, 262; Turner 1984, 41). Enclosures and land prices increased during the Napoleonic Wars stimulated by growth in food markets (Mingay

1997; Turner 1984). Enclosures were good for business. The interests of wealthy landowners, rather than democratic interests as we might understand them today, supported the enclosure movement. Early liberal thinkers pointed to the natural rights of landed individuals (life, liberty) and the “sacred rights” of private property (Locke 1690; Smith 1776). Locke and Smith argued labour and agriculture were at the heart of a functional property regime, where enclosing land from the commons and appropriating it for oneself is part of the process of making the land and

God’s England productive (Locke 1690; Smith 1776). C.B. Macpherson’s (1962) critique of early liberal thinking, points to a “possessiveness” in early liberalism, articulated by Locke, to allow individuals to owe nothing to society and to reduce society to economic relations designed to protect private property. Lords, churches, and governing officials often facilitated the enclosures of common fields, focusing on economic productivity, arguing that common lands were not sufficiently “improved” to be productive (Mingay 1997, 33; Tate 1967). From the perspective of the English enclosure movement, the commons was the product of ignorance, and liberal property ownership an inevitable development from open-fields (Linebaugh 2010; Slater

1907). Agricultural output and farming practices varied from place-to-place and it is not clear that enclosures created more efficient and productive land-use (Turner 1984; Yelling 1977) but those who benefitted from the productivity of the land did change. Farmers resisted enclosure but were forced out by the enclosure processes and political maneuvering. The evidence of this resistance problematizes what constitutes “productive” or efficient land-use. Village communities, connected and dedicated to the use of common land, saw the loss of their “whole world” with enclosure (Linebaugh 2010, 19) and the dynamic between the purveyors of enclosure and farmers was one of anger, hostility, and opposition (Mingay 1997; Yelling 1977).

Early Land Policy in Upper Canada: Enclosure-Reserve Practice

In 19th century Upper Canada/Ontario, the power regime worked to reserve lands for speculation. An ‘enclosure-reserve practice,’ that resulted from land hoarding by/for wealthy administrators, military personnel, and the clergy, formed a territorial element of the colonial administration that dispossessed and displaced Indigenous peoples, and also alienated settlers by keeping land out of reach for agricultural use. The Family Compact in Upper Canada consolidated political and economic power by simultaneously occupying positions in both the government and business and making each work for their interests, especially by controlling land for speculation and profit (Harris 1991; Ryerson 1983). Wealthy speculators from Britain were able to charter the Canada Land Company because land management was weak and relatively unregulated in the colony. The Crown approved land grants for merchants, clergy, and military officers or privileged people deemed deserving, allowing a land monopoly to develop (Lambert

& Pross 1967; Lee, 2004; Ryerson 1983). By 1825 the Crown had granted the Company over two million acres in Upper Canada (Hodgetts 1955, 128). The Clergy Endowments Act or

Constitution Act of 1791 also established clergy reserves as land grants to Protestant clergy to support parish ministers (glebe land). In Upper Canada in 1838, there were three million acres of clergy reserves while only one-tenth of land was occupied by settlers, meaning much of the land was “unsettled” (Durham 1839, 220-223). Commissioners of the Canada Land Company, such as former President William Allen and Commissioner William “Tiger” Dunlop, were speculators and held positions in the military, judiciary and medical fields (Lee, 2004; Lizars & Lizars,

1896), also consolidating power between the company and state and professional institutions.

Pressures from the Imperial Colonial Office exacerbated a land policy focused on profit over settlement, as colonial agencies functioned less as service providers, then as money-makers; colonies were not to be a financial burden on the mother country. This political environment was intentional, as Upper Canada’s first Lieutenant-Governors were committed to paternalistic government and envisioned the colony as “capped by aristocracy” (Harris 1991, 113). The

“primary policy” for land was surplus, and the “secondary policy” was to foster settlement to enhance and protect productivity (Hodgetts 1955, 128).

Patronage land grants angered settlers who felt that it left much good land “unproductive” and unsettled (Durham 1839). Republican settler opposition and resistance to the land monopoly developed to release lands to settlers for farming (Ryerson 1983). Opposition grew to a power structure that was less interested in settling land and more interested in keeping profitable lands in the hands of the few for speculation or industrial projects (Hodgetts 1955; Ryerson 1983).

Critics saw the Canada Company as interlopers buying land for cheap and doing no good for the colony (Lizars & Lizars 1896, 131). Settlers saw the distribution of land grants as an impediment to the growth of the colony. Robert Gourlay’s “Address to the Resident Landowners of Upper

Canada” in 1817 voiced frustration with lands reserved for “Crown and Clergy” as a hindrance to settlement. Settlers characterized landlords as “distant owners” and “men of fortune” and saw the development of a clear class divide between settlers and wealthy merchants and officials

(Ryerson 1983, 86-88). William Lyon Mackenzie led republican opposition and rebellion against political authority in Upper Canada in the 1830s, arguing the Family Compact were “land jobbers” who divided public revenue amongst themselves, worked against common public institutions and legislative checks and balances (Ryerson 1983, 91-92), and distributed public lands based on “patronage to the Crown” (Lambert & Pross 1967, 24). Lord Durham’s Report in

1839 reinforced settler anger at land management, showing that settlers felt undeveloped clergy reserves that maintained wilderness and swamps impeded road development and prevented agricultural use (Durham 1839). Durham admitted that the distribution of lands to certain classes of people was at the heart of the government’s unpopularity (Durham 1839). He felt the U.S. land distribution policy, without clergy reserves, was more advanced as settlers cleared more forests, founded more settlements, and produced greater prosperity (Durham 1839).

Though the Upper Canada oligarchy wanted land initially for speculation, trees became lucrative in trade and essential for industrialization. Ontario provincial parks began as a process of forest reservation, and although state-managed, they were spaces that held great value to a growing lumber market. Land hoarding for speculation, particularly on non-arable lands, gave way to timber stores that helped build infrastructure (rail, canals, etc.) in early Ontario (Innis

1956; Lower 1938). Land policy around parks and trees took on a different form than the agricultural land settlers and oligarchs fought over. Both types of land were part of the same framework that helped push the colony into a new liberal order. Reserving land in Upper Canada was similar to British enclosure; the Family Compact tried to mimic the process of working against democratic land management and projects to advance the interests of a growing resource market (Cain & Hopkins 1993; Schrauwers 2009; Smith 2008).

Liberalism and the Obstruction of Land Relations

Those who suffered the consequences of enclosure differed between the English enclosure movement and land policy in Upper Canada. In England, open-field farmers were forced into labour in the cities signalling the beginning of industrialization and waged labour.

Especially for Marxists like E. P. Thompson, the urbanization of labour was an important transition that signals the beginnings of modern capitalism, where land is expropriated as

“primitive accumulation” to serve capital (owners of production). In Upper Canada, a significant wage-based labour market was not yet present in the early colonial period. Indigenous peoples had very different relationships to land than Europeans, and liberal ideas of private property constituted an important part of colonial policy undeniably designed to acquire Indigenous land, thereby impinging on Indigenous livelihoods and identities. Indigenous nations have diverse histories, cultures, and land relations that are generally quite different than the property regimes of Europe. Without essentializing, there are common principles in Indigenous land relations such as communal land-use, adherence to conservation, and maintaining social boundaries focused on resource and resource sharing rather than territorial perimeters (Usher, Tough, & Galois 1992).

Indigenous peoples and Europeans related to the land in radically different ways and that created significant problems for sharing the land. Different approaches and concepts of space and time received little attention, perhaps because it served Europeans and settlers to see land only as property and time as related to productivity, authoring Canadian history in a way that neglects other ways of understanding the land. Altering the land has consequences not just for the present- time, but for all past and future relations (Little Bear & Heavy Head 2004, 19; Cummins &

Whiteduck 1998). Many Indigneous legal traditions are connected to the land, guided by relations between the land and all living things that inform behaviour and worldviews. In his discussion of the Teaching Rocks/Petroglyphs near Peterborough, Peter Kulchyski argues that naming, encasing, and controlling Anishinaabe lands restricts meanings communicated through the land (Kulchyski 2016). Shifting borders pose problems when places have multiple interpretations, complex inscriptions, and engaged relations between people and the land

(Kulchyski 2016). Changing the land can disrupt or obscure those original relationships that inform the cultural fabric of a people (Borrows 2007). Liberal private property stemming from the new demos of the Enlightenment period encourages cultivation, adornment, and enclosure of property for private and market use. This is not to say that Indigenous peoples did not recognize boundaries, as pre-contact land-use agreements existed between nations (Simpson 2008), defined hunting territories (Speck 1915), and agriculture was practiced by some nations. Colonial authorities in British North America were interested in fee-simple agricultural settlements as central to European ideas of progress (Reaman 1970), but also the value of resources on so- called “wild” lands. Liberal conceptions of land are primarily focused on exchange-value, or the quantitative value of a commodity in relation to other commodities, represented by money (Marx

1867). Exchange value is at the heart of markets where exchanging commodities generates profit

(Harvey 2014). Use-value is realized through consumption rather than exchange (Marx, 1867).

Exchange-value assigns monetary value to an object, while use-value denotes the benefit an object provides to people; exchange-value is an “abstraction” from use-value (Marx 1867, 36-

38). Land can be “developed” and exchanged for profit (exchange-value) or used for shelter, food, etc. (use-value).

For many Indigenous communities, land is not an “exchangeable” or “useful” commodity, but the foundation of identity, culture, and all relations. Expressions of the depth of importance of land to Indigenous peoples are many. For example, Apache elders teach lessons about behaviour and cultural norms, tied to specific places and embedded in the landscape so that the landscape reminds them of the lessons every time they encounter or think of those places. In this way, the cultural fabric of Apache people is embedded in the land (Basso 1996, 123).

Anishinaabe tradition also links people with the land, as identity comes directly from the land,

43 animals, and plants expressed through totemic identity. The land is a rich geography as there are physical and spiritual aspects to the land “embedded with regenerative potential” for Indigenous peoples linked to ancestors (human and non-human) (Johnston 2006, 2-7).

The Marxist primitive accumulation narrative, although descriptive of the European experience, does not explain how land policy in Canada affected Indigenous peoples. Marx identifies primitive accumulation as an historical process of separating workers from their land where they become detached from their “means of subsistence” and turned into “unattached” proletarians (waged labourers) (Marx 1867). David Harvey (2003) notes that this process involved expelling people to create a labour reserve, allowing land to be expropriated for markets. Glen Coulthard (2014) notes that focusing on the “proletarianization” of labour and the beginnings of capitalism falls short of providing adequate analysis of Indigenous land dispossession (8-10). Marx is focused on the “emergent status” of proletarians and exploitative relations between workers and owners – which is how capital is produced (Coulthard 2014, 13).

Indigenous people were not emergent in any sense, but were subject to a colonial administration intent on eliminating them; they were not eliminated, but rather remain as peoples with histories of land ethics distinct from liberal or Marxist conceptions. Coulthard argues that land is not only materially important but represents “reciprocal relations and obligations” that can teach us about how we relate to one another and the natural world in “non-dominating and non-exploitative terms” (Coulthard 2014, 13). Coulthard posits a land-centred theory that both challenges and complements the Eurocentric economic frame of analysis that Marx uses. Coulthard’s “grounded normativity” focuses on “modalities of Indigenous land-connected practices” and experimental knowledge that guides ethics (Coulthard 2014, 13). The state-managed parks system focused on

44 the exchange-value of timber for trade, timber berth profits, and infrastructure and the architects of early parks did not, in anyway, work with Indigenous peoples in regards to park creation.

Parks, as a form of enclosure, worked in conjunction with enfranchisement legislation, treaties, and residential schools to separate Indigenous peoples from their land – the heart of cultural reproduction and identity. The enclosure-reserve practice is part of the broader

Indigenous policy regime of the 19th and 20th centuries designed to eliminate peoples. Changes in land regime can be detrimental to the livelihoods and ways of life of any people, for peoples with the deep historical and spiritual relationship with the land of Indigenous people, it can be devastating. Parks and early environmental policy realized the territorial urge of colonialism to enclose, displace and dispossess. This urge was part of a liberal order whose facilitators saw something productive in wilderness lands. In enclosing wilderness lands, government officials in

Upper Canada worked toward similar goals as those enclosing lands in Britain. They all worked toward making the land productive in a liberal regime, but in the case of Upper Canada/Ontario, productivity sometimes required state intervention.

The Liberal Order Framework: Situating the Enclosure-Reserve Practice

Ian McKay’s “liberal order framework” challenges traditional understandings of the genesis of politics in Canada. He argues that liberalism played a much more powerful role in the early colony and opens a discussion of the ways early political institutions marginalized people. The

“Laurentian” approach dominated Canadian political history from the 1930s to the early post-war period, emphasizing economic relations and tory conservatism while neglecting the marginalization caused by the early political development of Canada. Laurentianism is a framing

45 of Canadian history that solidifies the colonial elite; it glorifies merchants and the St. Lawrence trade route as a conduit to colony building. Donald Creighton, one of the founders of the

Laurentianist position, posited a realist explanation of Canadian political development, as about the economic interactions of states with no discussion of the ideological forces that discriminate, exclude, and cause disparities between people and peoples (Creighton 1971). Writing from the

1950s to the 1970s, he was concerned with whether there was hope for Canadian nationalism, squeezed between U.S. economic imperialism and Quebec separatism. He rejected his predecessor’s view that the only major struggle for Canada was winning independence from

Britain, and looked more to the role of economic enterprises in building Canada-U.S. relations and the Canadian nation (273). Creighton drew on Innis (1956) who argued that the east-west trade route via the St. Lawrence River and Great Lakes built the initial political structure of

Canada supported by the British military, markets, and commercial organizations (Creighton

1956, 280-282; Careless 1989). Creighton’s focus on Canada-U.S. economic relations was largely concerned with powerful tory merchants and institutions and left little room for discussion of equality and equity in the genesis of Canadian politics. The rigid nationalism of the

Laurentian position is exemplified in historian W. L. Morton’s assertion that Canadian history has “one narrative” with “permanent” defining characteristics (Morton 1961, 48). Morton (1961) based his interpretation of Canadian identity upon a rugged, moral “northern orientation” (49) in a staples-based hinterland economy (53), led by a “humane” monarchical power (58) that provided discipline and tempered populist republican sentiments (68). The Laurentian position emphasized authority, order, and stability rather than individualism (Ajzenstat & Smith 1995;

Careless 1989; Christian & Campbell 1983).

Scholars in the mid-20th century debated whether liberalism or toryism (Laurentianism) were more influential in the genesis of Canadian politics, but generally acknowledged that liberalism was a powerful and pervasive political ideology in early Canada (Ajzenstat & Smith 1995; Hartz

1955; Hartz 1964; Horowitz 1966; Lipset 1963; Morton 1961). Gad Horowitz argued that liberalism in early Canada was elitist “whiggery” that delayed democracy, compared to the more democratic Jeffersonian and Jacksonian movements in the U.S. (Horowitz 1966, 152). Although

Horowitz is largely concerned with how Loyalist tory influence explains the existence of socialist tendencies in early Canadian politics (Horowitz 1966, 143), his exploration of political ideology propels the argument that liberalism (influenced by a “tory touch”) has been a powerful influence, encouraging further interrogation of how liberalism shaped Canada (Horowitz 1966,

148). Like Creighton and Morton’s Laurentianism, Horowitz’s characterization of politics in early Canada largely employs a state-centred approach, concerned with Canada-U.S. relations and tory influences.

McKay’s “liberal order framework” provides a more critical understanding of the history of

Canadian politics that recognizes the pervasiveness and exclusive nature of liberalism and recent developments in intellectual, political, and legal history (McKay, 2000; Ducharme & Constant,

2009). Critics of Laurentianism, including Ian McKay, argue that the traditional explanation of the genesis of Canadian politics built on a liberal-tory dichotomy is outdated, as liberalism was much more pervasive than tory ideology in Upper Canadian/early Ontario political economy

(Ajzenstat & Smith, 1995; McKay, 2005). Although 19th century conservatives were not necessarily individualists and deferred to a traditional social order that favoured “community,” a liberal order prevailed in defining early Canadian institutions, with liberals and conservatives sharing common liberal principles of property, liberty, and equality before the law. McKay’s

47 framework reconstitutes the study of early Canadian politics in terms of powerful theoretical movements rather than political allegiances (Ducharme & Constant 2009, 4-11). He argues that the British ruling class brought liberal ideology to the colony as wealthy administrators, clergy, and loyalists imported liberal political economy from the metropole. A liberal hegemony, or

“order,” became entrenched from the 1840s to the 1870s as Canada built its “enduring institutions” (the Constitution, political systems, etc.) (McKay 2000, 628; McKay 2005, 15) and as dominion subjects internalized and normalized liberal assumptions.

By liberalism, McKay means the primacy of the individual or the proprietor as opposed to

“society” or “community,” and exclusive individual rights predicated on the possession of property (McKay 2000: 625). The “holy trinity” of the liberal order, which McKay borrows from

Fernande Roy, includes liberty for the individual (adult male), equality (for individuals before the law), and perhaps most fundamentally property (the basis of individual sustenance), leaving out women, Indigenous peoples, and others not deemed citizens (McKay 2005: 59-60).

Liberalism in 19th century Ontario is complicated by the temporal and geographical nature of the situation. The evolution of the colony meant that bureaucrats, merchants, and investors had to construct a home market. The relationship between public and private actors, as the Family

Compact demonstrates, was blurry. The role of private property in early Ontario liberalism, then, is complicated. The literature on liberalism suggests diverse interpretations of the word. McNairn

(2009) interrogates McKay’s use of the term liberalism in relation to some intellectual history on the topic. Some scholars associate liberalism with moral quality, the rationality of “man,” and constitutionalism; liberty and equality may be essential to liberalism, and not just the existence of private property, but rather how it works and affects society (Freeden 1986; Gray 1995;

Hobhouse 1964). Traditionally, for property to exist, it must be habitable and arable in order that

48 it can be improved. In the case of non-arable lands in Upper Canada/Ontario, the state encouraged and facilitated resource development that bolstered industry and helped build the home market. As we will see, parks became timber reserves essential to industrialization and liberalization (through construction of timber-dependent industries). John Locke wrote that turning someone loose “to an unrestrained liberty, before he has reason to guide him, is not allowing him the privilege of his nature to be free; but to thrust him amongst the brutes” (Locke

35). The state, in this case, intervened to make the land productive and facilitate liberalization.

McKay’s liberal order framework analysis is more flexible than the Laurentianist approach, in that it allows for questions of inequality, identity, and exclusions. Ducharme & Constant

(2009) note that there is a distinction in liberal thought between those considered “individuals and those who are not,” meaning only a privileged few could take advantage of the rights and privileges of the early liberal order (7). Since the “right of property trumps all” as a

“precondition of liberal identity,” not everyone has the status of an individual and the exclusions in liberalism are obvious (Ducharme & Constant 2009, 7). McKay’s framework complicates the distinction between political and economic liberalism in the study of Canadian history

(Ducharme & Constant 2009, 10). Looking through McKay’s lens, one not only interrogates the economic consequences of institutions, but the political forces behind them and whom they affect. For example, republicanism (civic humanism) and the rebellion in Upper Canada in the

19th century reveals the character of a “liberal order” more interested in the rights of privileged commercial interests rather than democracy (Ajzenstat & Smith 1995; McKay 2005).

McKay’s framework is, in essence, a theory of hegemony. A crisis of the ruling class – in this case, democratic resistance to an oligarchic land monopoly in Upper Canada – prompts government to find ways to coerce the voting public into allowing it continued control over the

49 economic apparatus of the colony (Gramsci 1971). The rebellions in Upper Canada and Lower

Canada helped usher in democratic reforms with the Act of Union in 1840, increasing the power of elected members of the legislative assembly. However, the governments of the new Province of Canada, and eventually post-Confederation Canada in 1867, found other ways to maintain the authority of powerful administrators and government officials. One way was through the enclosure-reserve-practice. Although clergy reserves largely ended after 1840 and the government opened lands for agricultural settlement, administrators continued to find ways to use non-arable lands to satisfy a liberal order. Environmental policy was one way the 19th century Ontario liberal order framework propagated the enclosure-reserve-practice. Park creation brought lands deemed unproductive into the liberal order by opening them up to markets and industrialization while simultaneously making them inaccessible to the people who originally inhabited them. Parks policy was an environmental arm of the liberal order framework, and its exclusive nature fulfilled the territorial drives of settler colonialism.

Parks as Enclosure

Forested lands are generally peripheral to traditional discussions of liberalism and the liberal order. Government officials and business interests often considered forests and marshlands “waste” land and unproductive/unsettleable (Durham 1839; Lambert & Pross 1967;

Locke 1690; Mingay 1997). Locke argued for the primacy of proprietor with emphasis on private property and cultivated land as the epitome of progress (Locke 1690). Similarly, for Adam Smith private property, improved and cultivated, was the most intelligent and effective use of land

(Smith 1776). As non-arable land, forests could be brought into the liberal order not through the

50 conventional struggles of settlers against the oligarchy to open land for agricultural use, but by the state opening forest land to markets and allowing exclusive access to lumbermen

(proprietors) and administrators (managers) to build the colony. McKay attends to “when” liberal order achieves hegemony in Canada, and “where” it does, thus mapping the spread of liberalism across space and time to explain Canada outside the generalizations of traditional historical paradigms (McKay 2000, 642). Parks offer key insight into the functioning of the liberal order that McKay considers vital to a new reading of Canadian history.

Trees were lucrative because Canadian wood helped build the “scaffolding for industrialism” and urbanization in Britain and the United States and proved a great source of profit for government and lumbermen in Ontario (Innis 1956, 250-251). Demand for Canadian timber was first driven by the imperial needs of Britain, then by industrialization in Canada and the United States. The American Revolution and Napoleonic Wars prompted the acquisition of oak and pine for hulls and masts for the British Navy fleet (Lower 1933, 42-43). The British allowed preferences for Canadian imports, as authorities initially deemed Canada's forests

“inexhaustible” (Lower 1933 43; Lambert & Pross 1967, 29). Timber preferences ignited early trade while the construction of canals and railways prompted a drastic increase in timber trade with the United States. The Colonial Trades Acts of the 1820s and abolishment of Navigation

Laws of 1840s also opened up British colonial ports to US timber trade (Lower 1938, 104). An economy “built up to meet the demands of Great Britain” began to shift to support US expansion

(Innis 1956, 243). The Reciprocity Treaty of 1854 was the first large catalyst to increasing timber trade between British North America and the US, allowing the free-entry of raw materials between the two (Lower 1938, 125). Even though the Reciprocity Treaty was repealed in 1866, most US duties were removed from timber in the 1890s and exports of forest products to the US

51 began to rise exponentially at the turn of the twentieth century (Lower 1938, 156-158). The expansion of the timber trade illuminated the finite realities of Canadian forests, prompting political action to regulate timber. Upper Canada initiated land surveys and licensing systems as early as the 1820s, but it was not until 1849, when the Act for the Sale and Better Management of Timber upon Public Lands was passed, that a formal licensing system began to evolve in

Canada West. Timber operators were required to pay licensing dues and state what timber would be cut (Lambert and Pross 1967, 131-132). A series of regulations between 1849 and the 1860s resulted in the first comprehensive licensing system to ensure producer accountability (Lambert and Pross 1967, 148). Timber resources were lucrative, and reserving forests was becoming a popular idea to protect timber from fire and overcutting, and create government revenue through licensing berths to lumbermen. (Hodgins, Gillis, & Benidickson 1998, 78).

Trees, their commercialization and control over this resource lay at the heart of the development parks policy and the liberal order. According to McKay, the liberal order grew through government-assisted construction (McKay 2005, 59). Roads, railways, and parks were legislated into existence when trees became an important economic commodity. Maintaining control over the resource proved difficult. After the Mackenzie revolt in Upper Canada in 1837, the Durham Report in 1839 censured the Family Compact for hoarding lands. In response, the

Crown signed the Act of Union in 1840 uniting Canada East and Canada West (Ontario and

Québec) and creating a government more responsible to male propertied settlers. The government subsequently had to open lands for settlement in response to massive immigration from the U.K. between 1830-40 and the federal government eventually passed the Dominion

Lands Act (1872) to manage the westward expansion. The Macdonald administration pursued the national policy, which focused on building the “scaffolding” of industrialization (Innis, 1956).

As trees were needed for trade and construction, forest lands became a prime focus of the dominion bureaucracy (Lower 1938), and parks became an important part of early government- assisted construction. Mercantilism was necessary to facilitate the timber trade, but the economic levers necessary to build a liberal economy benefited from state-managed wilderness lands. In the beginning, parks were resource enclosures that protected trees to service a growing economy.

Canada became a “timber colony” after the fur and fish industries subsided. The canal, rail, and ship building projects of the 19th century depended on timber, laying the foundations for the formation of a home market and independent commodity producers like grist millers and carpenters (Palmer 1983, 8-10). Industrialization, independent business, and the division of labour in Canada relied on timber, and the protection of parks was crucial to preserving wood.

Public projects, managed and financed by the state, were part of the process of liberalizing the socioeconomics of the colony. The canal system is a perfect example of a series of public projects that relied on British taxpayer funds from the 1820s to the 1840s, while intensifying the division of labour in Canada (Pentland 1950, 464-471). A “sophisticated” home market began to appear in the 1870s (Pentland 1959, 455).

Although early conservation initiatives began for multiple reasons related to preserving flora and fauna, economic motivations, and exploiting and managing resources, were the driving force behind the creation of parks and related bureaucracy. Wildlife conservation management in

Canada remained local and fragmented (Loo 2006) as long as the economic value of trees and wilderness were not apparent. Large-scale government involvement in conservation took over when economic opportunities became clear. Economic motivations for park creation began with

Canada’s first National Park at Banff (1885), where government officials hoped to profit from the hot springs, to attract tourism through the new CP railway (1881), and create commercial

53 development that coincided with Macdonald’s National Policy to expand the colony (Mortimer-

Sandilands, 2009; Bella, 1986). Timber was a prime motivator for park creation all over Canada

(Gillis & Roach 1986), Algonquin Provincial Park (1893), Canada’s first Ontario provincial park, began largely out of desire for commodity management (Killan 1998), maintaining reliable timber supplies (Hodgins, Gillis, and Benidickson1998), and the sale of lucrative timber licenses

(Killan 1993). The American Forestry Congress of 1882 highlighted timber as an exhaustible resource, which stimulated the creation of forestry bureaucracy in Ontario (Gillis & Roach

1986). Lumbermen from Canada and the U.S. pressed governments to establish reserves of forest lands "unfit for agriculture” and create regulations to protect those lands (Gillis and Roach 1986,

47). After the 1882 Congress, there were significant political and bureaucratic changes in

Ontario related to forests. In 1883 Robert Phipps became the first Clerk of Forestry, established under the Department of Agriculture, and the government passed the Trees Act to begin planting measures to maintain tree growth. The government passed the Forest Reserves Act in 1898, which enhanced the power of the Clerk of Forestry and gave the Lieutenant-Governor-in-Council powers to set aside public lands for timber reserves. The post-Congress era saw forestry become a “full-scale profession” in Ontario with the purpose of protecting “sound practical business” in timber (Lambert and Pross 1967, 181-188). Park creation became an effective way to enclose land and place it in the hands of administrators to force lumber companies into licensing agreements, ensure timber for industrialization, constituting a form of primitive accumulation

(Hodgetts 1955; Hodgins & Benidickson 1989; Innis 1956; Kelly 2011; Killan 1993). Colonial bureaucrats had extensive freedoms to create policy that exploited local resources and bolstered their economic interests with a readily accessible source of revenue (Hodgetts 1955) as long as it demonstrated the financial viability of the colony to the metropole (Currey 1916). Parks became

54 reserves of timber, not only for trade and to help build infrastructure and cities, but to help populate the west and expand the colonial territory.

Algonquin Park Established: Enclosure and Dispossession for the Liberal Order

A series of government-commissioned reports in the late 19th century provided advice on how to manage forests and timber resources, inspired the initial planning of Algonquin Park, and influenced the process of enclosure for timber extraction. Alexander Kirkwood, former

Commissioner of Crown Lands, wrote The Undeveloped Lands of Northern and Western Ontario in 1878 to investigate “the latent industrial resources” of Ontario (Kirkwood 1878, 2). He characterized the forests between Ottawa and Georgian Bay, particularly the area west of

Pembroke, as “unfit for settlement” and acknowledged the importance of forests for timber

(Kirkwood: 1878, 2-3). Kirkwood opened discussions of what to do with “undeveloped” forest lands “unfit for settlement.” Robert Phipps, Ontario’s first Clerk of Forestry, wrote two influential reports identifying the usefulness of forests and called for the creation of parks in

Ontario. Phipps’ Report on the Necessity of Preserving and Replanting Forests in 1883 was the first Ontario government document that responded to the American Forestry Congress in 1882

(Gillis & Roach 1983, 42). Phipps acknowledged the importance of the lumber industry and he argued that preservation would ensure the continuous reproduction of timber. (Phipps 1883, 1-

10). Phipps wrote Reports on the Forests of Canada in 1885 to assess the approximate exhaustion of forests throughout the Dominion of Canada. With regards to forests in Ontario, he argued for the preservation of “merchantable timber.” Concentrating on the amount of land designated for renewable timber limits (which lumbermen had purchased to cut) he estimated

“timber lands” in the Dominion as about 280,000 square miles. He noted that the Ontario government was already considering preservation, and he argued that large districts should be set aside for “forest purposes” to prevent forest fires and “careless” methods of lumbering (Phipps

1885, 7-8). Concern over the viability of Ontario forests was a topic of debate in the legislative assembly before the government passed formal legislation to create Algonquin Park. Although provincial Treasurer Richard Harcourt argued that timber was “inexhaustible” for the current generation, he believed timber licenses were necessary for settlement and railway construction

(Harcourt 1893). Harcourt’s address to the legislature came one month before Crown Lands

Commissioner Arthur Hardy presented the Act to create Algonquin Park in the legislature and demonstrates that concern over timber resources in Ontario was growing in the 1890s and preservation initiatives were on the agenda.

The Royal Commission on Forest Reservation and National Park followed Kirkwood and

Phipps’ reports, continuing recommendations for the establishment of a park in Ontario to preserve timber. The Ontario government created the Commission in 1893 to “inquire into and to make full report respecting the fitness of a certain territory [...] for the purposes of a Forest

Reservation and National Park” (RCFRNP 1893, 4). The Commission included Alexander

Kirkwood, Robert Phipps, and Aubrey White who was the Assistant Commissioner of Crown

Lands, and the former Director of Mines Archibald Blue and Provincial land surveyor James

Dickson (RCFRNP 1893, 5, 40). The “Report of the Commissioners” acknowledged that the

“well-stocked” valuable timber in the area and that the land was not valuable for agricultural development because of the rough, stony terrain and the marshes (RCFRNP 1893, 11-12). The commissioners noted that the preservation of the forest was crucial for protection of animals, for maintaining an area for forestry experiments, and had potential for a health resort. The Report

56 was followed by Kirkwood’s “Papers and Reports upon Forestry, Forest Schools, Forest

Administration and Management” in 1893 which was as an addendum to the Royal Commission.

In this report, he elaborated further on the economic value of forests for timber and by-products.

The Ontario government passed the Act to Establish the Algonquin National Park of Ontario in

April of 1893, which was largely concerned with outlining prohibited conduct in the park and the consequent penalties for violating the Act.

Administrators like Kirkwood, Phipps, and others on the Commission, had a significant influence on the legislation that created Algonquin Park and shaped early environmental policy in Ontario. During the second reading of the bill, Commissioner Hardy acknowledged that

Kirkwood and Phipps’ reports were valuable in considering the bill and how to manage land that was not unfit for agriculture. Colonial administrations in Upper Canada and early Ontario had extensive freedom to create policy that served their economic interests. In C. H. Curry’s analysis of British colonial policy from 1783 to 1915, he emphasises the “liberty of management” that characterized early colonial governance. He argues that the Colonial Office delegated powers to representatives and bureaucrats, and early parliament hardly made decisions for colonies. The governing structures in 19th century Canada reveal power concentrated in the executive, through existing legislative apparatus. According to Curry, while early Governors worked with instructions from the British Colonial Office, there were no ministers responsible for guiding them and they could fall “into the hands of an interested bureaucracy” looking to advance their own interests (Curry 1916, 15-25). Kirkwood, Phipps, and the Commission Report represented the influence of such interests on the Crown Lands Department, and for securing timber for trade and the liberal order of the colony.

A notable example of dispossession occurred at former Lawrence Township in the south- west part of Algonquin Park. Disagreements between Algonquin communities and governments began after the Royal Proclamation of 1763 and continued until the current period of land claim negotiations. Government officials, confused about Algonquin territorial movements and land- use, made numerous mistakes about where people lived and what land they considered theirs

(Huitema n.d.). Algonquin communities sent many petitions to the government in the 19th century expressing anger over lumbermen cutting trees on their land (Hansen 1986). Although the Crown allocated land at Golden Lake for the Algonquins of Pikwàkanagàn in 1873, the

Algonquin community at Lawrence Township petitioned the government throughout the 19th century (Huitema 2000; Lawson 2001) to no avail and were ultimately forced off their land by encroaching loggers, and parks officials explicitly forbade Indigenous people to enter park lands

(White 1895). The new park enclosure simultaneously satisfied the resource needs of the growing markets and excluded Indigenous peoples; the burgeoning liberal order was inextricably linked to settler colonialism.

Algonquin Park as White Space

Crown Lands officials constructed Algonquin Park as a white space by explicitly excluding Algonquin people and calling for the relocation of Indigenous communities (White

1895; Kirkwood 1874). Parks legislation in the late 19th century only allowed colonists with particular titles and expertise (administrators, clerks, rangers, scientists) entry into the park. The

Act to Establish the Algonquin National Park of Ontario in 1893 limited hunting, fishing, timber cutting, and settlement in the park and posed harsh penalties for violations. For example, the

Superintendent or Park Ranger could “without warrant or legal process” arrest violators and bring them before a justice or the park superintendent “to be dealt with according to law,” and park rangers had the “power and authority of constables” within park limits (Algonquin Park Act

1893). The Act afforded considerable power to the park Superintendent who could add neighbouring lands to the park and had jurisdiction up to a mile outside of park limits. The definition of “preservation” was entirely up to the Superintendent. The power of parks administration posed an obvious threat to Algonquin people living on parkland as the legislation gave unprecedented power to colonial authorities who, like Assistant Commissioner of Crown

Lands Aubrey White, were explicitly opposed to Indigenous occupancy in the park. The well- being of Indigenous peoples was not a priority for colonial administrators: there is no mention of

Algonquin people in the legislation. An early draft of the legislation penned by Alexander

Kirkwood in 1888 declared that the land was to be completely “withdrawn from sale, settlement and occupancy” (Kirkwood 1888). Given the importance of land to Indigenous peoples, outlawing occupancy constitutes an attack on Algonquin cultural continuity.

The exclusion and erasure associated with the park was a consequence of constructing a kind of “white spatial imaginary” that George Lipsitz argues shapes places into controlled environments with predictable patterns appealing to white North America (Lipsitz 2011, 28). The white spatial imaginary is based on exclusivity and exchange-value, which becomes the foundation of social policies in cities and suburbs (Lipsitz 2011, 28). This imaginary controls environments and promotes individual escape rather than revealing social problems and discussing social relations (Lipsitz 2011, 29). Although Lipsitz focuses on race relations in urban

United States, his analysis is useful for a discussion of parks history in Canada. The ideals informing the construction of a “proper” space for white America that marginalizes people of

59 colour (e.g. suburbia), is analogous to early parks management ideals. The exclusivity and exchange-value Lipsitz writes about is apparent in the history of the construction of timber reserves. Park creation, and the creation of a new white spatial imaginary, thereby limited (both explicitly and implicitly) Indigenous presence and power (Porter 2010, 105) creating a “white” or settler space. Bureaucrats expected Indigenous people to live outside the park boundaries, thus erasing Indigenous peoples from the settler narrative of parks.

Connecting the Liberal Order and Settler Colonialism

Parks fit into the liberal order framework because they were essential to the commercial viability of the colony. Their construction ensured a reliable reserve of timber for railways and therefore settlement expansion westward, building new urban centres where labour markets grew and trade expanded. In Hall’s (1987) examination of the relationship between liberalism and the state, he argues that an increase in state power is not necessarily inconsistent with liberal goals

(95). Although distrust of the state has been common among liberals, particularly those who espouse laissez-faire economics, Hall argues it is too simple because there is a strong relationship between some types of state power and liberal economic growth (102). It is altogether a mistake to see state action as an impediment of liberalism, as constitutionalism requires state power to protect individual rights, whether democratic or for the privileged few

(Starr 2007, 35). Hall argues that a state can wield an “infrastructural power” to tax society and provide certain services like education and justice (103). He provides contemporary examples where the German state provides seed money to encourage computer firms to develop, still allowing the market to decide which strategies are best (e.g. dumping public funds into a state-

60 run company) (107). In the 19th century, the state was undoubtedly working to manage timber reserves to foster infrastructure growth.

In the traditional liberal sense, although parks were state-managed, the land was

“worked” in the sense that loggers were cutting trees and selling them, and those trees were used to build infrastructure. Administrators groomed, manicured, and managed the land to eventually become middle-class settler leisure grounds. This is a liberal project in the sense that the land became “productive” to the settler for the timber industry and later for tourism. The commercial function of parks never ceased. Where the land is not workable or rocky, but the timber is lucrative, the liberal character of parks was realized through allowing (though regulating) lumbermen access to timber berths. Industry, market growth and diversification then, depended on parks. State-managed parks were not an impediment to liberalism; the state felt obligated to fulfill the role of integrating parks into a productive liberal economy. We cannot fetishize the public management of parks because the ultimate repercussions of their creation are more important. They helped establish a home market, industry, infrastructure, and the division of labour – all essential to the construction of a liberal socio-economic framework in

Canada. Bureaucrats also advocated for park creation in the late 19th century to ensure the colony had agricultural stability. In his “Forestry Report” of 1891, Forestry Clerk Robert Phipps argued for state forestry programs and forest reservations (Phipps 1891 8). His intention was to avoid soil desiccation through forest (and therefore precipitation) maintenance in order that land remained fertile for farming (Phipps 1891, 15). For bureaucrats, the success of settler farmers, who were a cornerstone of the early liberal economy, depended on state-managed forestry programs. Parks also dispossessed Indigenous peoples of their lands, and it is clear that park bureaucrats did not appreciate (or more importantly, understand) Indigenous land relations and

61 land-use. Parks were not just some simple public service initiative to preserve trees. They were a state-managed environmental element of a larger liberal force in the socio-economic fabric of a colony moving from mercantilism to a liberal market economy. The liberal order framework is about the exclusion and subordination of certain people, and attempting to transform them into particular types of individuals often through undemocratic and sometimes seemingly illiberal means (McNairn 1009; McKay 2000, 625).

Since parks administrators and legislation explicitly outlawed Indigenous occupation of the land, Algonquin Park was settler colonial from its inception. Patrick Wolfe argues that the

“primary motive” for eliminating Indigenous peoples is land acquisition, and the “irreducible element” of settler colonialism, is territoriality (Wolfe 2006, 388). Acquiring territory, for Wolfe, is the primary means by which settlers create a new colony, as settler colonialism “destroys to replace” (Wolfe 2006, 388). Park creation is part of the environmental arm of settler colonialism, as parks policy was used to acquire non-arable land and timber resources necessary to building the colony. As Wolfe notes, settler colonialism coordinates a diverse set of agencies, from the metropolitan to the frontier, to eliminate Indigenous societies (Wolfe 2006, 393). Parks are one agency, or political entity, used to dislocate Indigenous peoples and create something newly colonial out of the land.

Settler colonialism alone does not adequately explain how and why dispossession and

“elimination” take place. The political culture of Upper Canada/Ontario, and its English roots, are inextricably linked to the nature of parks policy. The liberal order framework grounded settler colonialism in a concrete political establishment, namely oligarchy, and an elite liberal foundation that worked explicitly to concentrate wealth and commercialize resources. The liberal order framework, in guiding the political mechanisms of Upper Canada to “civilize” wilderness

62 through enclosure and exclusion, provided the space for settler colonialism to become realized.

The concentration of power, and the English tradition of enclosing land for liberal endeavors, provided the colonial regime with a template to proceed with an enclosure-reserve practice used to build the colony through land expropriation and dispossession. The liberal order framework drove parks policy in Upper Canada/Ontario; it was territorial and concentrated wealth and resources in the hands of few. Colonialism is all about land, so re-imagining and re-designing non-arable land into a park satisfies the liberal order while replacing Indigenous land-use with a civilization imperative: environmental preservation. This re-tooling made wilderness “civil,” palatable and pure to European sensibilities. Park creation was a deliberate, planned ordering of the land with specific goals. Parks administrators were producing space in the way that they thought necessary and useful for the construction of settler society, using colonial spatial technologies (maps, surveys, etc.) to make the land legible and productive for Europeans (Porter

2010). Wolfe sees settler colonialism as a “structure” not an event (Wolfe 2006, 388), and the liberal order framework works together with settler colonialism to maintain a foundational power imbalance in environmental policy in Ontario history. Ian McKay sees the liberal order framework as a “specific project of rule,” which we should see as continuing and not relegated to the past (McKay 2000, 621). Although the construction of parks (and the subsequent new borders and exclusions) could be framed as a discussion of sovereignty, the colony was not yet in full form. The liberal order framework provides a critical view of the ideological forces underpinning settler colonial institutions, in a proto-sovereign environment. With full sovereignty not yet intact in Canada (e.g. with such reliance on Britain in the 19th century),

McKay’s liberal order framework provides a unique lens through which to view the political-

63 economic-environmental genesis of Ontario parks, and the power that facilitated settler colonialism.

Interrogating parks requires a disrobing and unmasking of mythologies, which entails discovering what forces drive dispossession and who is behind the processes. The Truth and

Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s Call to Action number 45(i) calls on Canadians to

“repudiate concepts used to justify European sovereignty over Indigenous lands” (Calls to Action

2015). Canadian national mythologies often refer to rugged and enterprising settlers breaking the land and bringing European agriculture and democracy to Canada, where settlers are seen as entitled to the land (Razack 2002; Jacobs 2009), while universalizing European-Canadian cultural superiority and truths (Furniss 1999). Settler colonialism obfuscates colonial violence and portrays settlers as victims of the climate, hardship, and Indigenous violence (Jacobs 2009).

Interrogating settler colonialism requires challenging the traditional notions of settlers as the great bearers of “civilization” and the multiple ways that settler colonialism attempts to destroy

Indigeneity and replace it with settler structures and ideas. Agriculture was not the only means by which dispossession took place. Parks, as a colonial environmental entity, are important locus of colonial power.

Tourism & the Contemporary Park

Tourism became an additional step in solidifying the liberal order framework and entrenching parks as spaces of environmental settler colonialism. Part of the process of

“civilizing” the wilderness and making it acceptable to settlers was interweaving the idea of

“pristine” or empty wilderness into settler historical mythologies. Parks administrations (and

64 many park users) continue the work of the liberal order and settler colonialism by perpetuating the mythology of untouched nature and neglecting Indigenous occupancy and land disputes.

Public engagement with parks has increased exponentially since the late 19th century as camping, hiking, tourism, swimming, limited hunting, limited logging are all part of park business in

Canada. Parks are still enclosed spaces to an extent, but they are much more popular.

Settler administrators continue to influence how we perceive the land. It is easy for settlers to accept forests as empty, and empty them of cultural history, to make settler mythologies seem natural (Braun & Wainwright 2001). Settlers often see forest landscapes as without political-cultural claims, while Indigenous peoples often see landscapes as part of ongoing centuries-long relations (Braun & Wainwright 2001). Settler imaginations of forests are challenged by Indigenous experiences and understandings of the land. For example, the Tla-o- qui-aht community’s mapping of “culturally modified trees” challenges “erasures” that had informed forestry in B.C. since the 1940s (Braun & Wainwright 2001, 58-59). Bruce Braun argues that the marginalization of Nuu-chah-nulth from forest politics in B.C. was the result of legally and politically based conceptions of the forest, and to speak of the rainforest is to speak of colonialism (Braun 2002, 8). In Ontario, Jocelyn Thorpe argues that “Temagami has been made – imaginatively and materially – as a site of wild Canadian nature,” through historical processes and relationships of power that “disguised themselves as natural and worked to dispossess” Indigenous peoples of land (Thorpe 2012, 1). She uses examples of historical classifications of nature and humans (e.g. by Swedish naturalist Carl Linnaeus) that divide people based on racial “types,” naturalizing myths of European superiority (Thorpe 2012, 12).

Thorpe argues that tracking the production of nature requires understanding how power separates nature from culture, and how that separation has benefitted some groups at the expense of others

(Thorpe 2012). Braun argues that wilderness is often positioned outside history, and therefore denies multiple histories of occupation (e.g. Indigenous peoples) (Braun 2002). Settler constructions of wilderness deny multiple cultures and relations to the land. To reiterate

Lipsitz’s: exchange-value and individual escape (tourism) are valued over the real repercussions and relations of parks history (Lipsitz 2011).

Contemporary branding and marketing of parks continues to obfuscate the history of dispossession. Brian Osborne identifies ‘eras’ of environmental consciousness. Lands began as

Indigenous home and hunting grounds. They became “managed” and subject to a colonial transformation or so-called ‘civilization’ as forests became stores for a resource-based staples economy. Gradual settler recognition of conservation to preserve resources for the future replaced this harvesting period. In the final stage, settlers were subject to a contemporary national-aesthetic-spiritual connection to forests through parks (Osborne 2003, 11). The aesthetic appeal, through the marketing and commercialization of parks by government and private sector partners, exists to meet tourist targets (Murphy 2003). Parks are an investment. When a park becomes normalized as a place of leisure, where people go to hike, camp, and swim, the liberal order has redefined the wilderness (physically and ideologically) as a space for individual settler leisure. A recent video by The Friends of Algonquin Park provides insight into the ways in which the park is marketed and how certain elements of history are privileged over others. The narrative relies on romantic notions of nature to draw people into the space, characterizing the park as a "vast expanse of form and colour" with "infinite beauty" and "wild sounds." It is defined as a place to "rediscover a world far from stress and commotion of the city [...] a place to renew our ancestral ties with nature [...] a precious fragment of our Canadian heritage" (APYTE,

2018). The idea of ‘getting back to nature,’ or of exploring some ethereal ancestral ties to nature,

66 is an effective way to appeal to romantic notions of the landscape. There is no ‘getting back’ because the settler experience in North America only began at contact. The video briefly acknowledges that humans have altered the space through logging, and that Algonquin Park has changed, revealing a false cultural and environmental continuity to those not lulled into sublime contemplation by the video’s dulcet tones. The narrative silences the political history that motivated park creation and altered the space and the roots of the park are buried in national mythologies and romantic notions of wilderness. The video relegates discussion of Indigenous peoples to “primeval” times and makes no mention of the contemporary land disputes that are rooted in a history of disruption and dispossession. The park is ultimately marketed as an uncomplicated good and an integral part of Canadian heritage.

Concluding Thoughts

There is more to parks history than just economics. Other factors, beyond timber acquisition, motivated park creation. Concerns about climate, and further investigation of the political ecology of parks, can broaden the way we look at the history of environmental policy.

In the tradition of political ecology, understanding how resources are controlled is important to understanding ecological and social sustainability; who manages land is important as they affect our political, historical, and economic relationship with nature (Watts 2002). Environmental problems, or land problems, are inextricably linked to social and political problems (Neumann

2005). A park can become “fetishized nature” in the Marxist sense that the commodity — the physically accessible leisure park marketed as bountiful playground — obscures the relationships that went into establishing it (Katz 1998, 49). Conversations on how political structures have

67 made our current settler colonial realities must continue and acknowledge how ideas were borrowed from the UK and Europe. The liberal order, in a post-industrial quasi-virtual world, is an insightful lens to look at political geography – it contextualizes processes of exclusion, isolation, and polarization in Canada’s past.

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Chapter 2 | Climate Control: The Colonial Environmental Nexus and the Construction of Ontario Parks

Introduction: Parks as Environmental Settler Colonialism

The ecological/environmental motivations for initial park creation in Ontario were settler colonial in three important ways. First, as Patrick Wolfe argues, territoriality is settler colonialism’s “irreducible element” as access to territory is the primary motive for eliminating

Indigenous peoples from the land (Wolfe 2006, 388). Administrators demarcated specific non- arable lands as forest reserves to protect timber resources and ward off ecological crises. Second, settler colonialism destroys to replace; it creates a new colonial society on expropriated land

(Wolfe 2006, 388). With agriculture, these changes are obvious: trees are cut, the land is ploughed, seeds are sown. With parks, the changes are not always as obvious: park managers planted new plants and introduced new trees, culled animals, erected borders, and limited human access; they re-imagined and re-designed park spaces to meet European standards. Thirdly, settler colonialism relies on “a comprehensive range of agencies, from the metropolitan centre to the frontier encampment” including networks of environmental/ecological knowledge (Wolfe

2006, 393). The first parks bureaucrats in Ontario were agents of settler colonialism because they manipulated non-arable lands, not only to secure timber profits, but also to construct a new ecological/environmental order based on European ideals. Bureaucrats explicitly denied

Indigenous occupation, and established a new, permanent settler structure in the form of the park, which became resource reserve, tourist haven, and a symbol of national pride.

Settlers have perceived wilderness through a series of competing and complementary lenses since contact, but all perspectives nonetheless include a civilization narrative that places

Indigenous peoples (literally and figuratively) outside the wilderness through park creation.

Whether settlers see wilderness as beautiful or dangerous, as a scientific laboratory and a health resort, or as economically lucrative or ecologically necessary, the park became a mechanism of control. Investigating settler ecological narratives about parks – in this case the fear of climate catastrophe – reveals how a particular view of nature oriented around European values shaped parklands, and facilitated the ultimate goal of settler colonialism which is the elimination of

Indigenous peoples from the land. Cole Harris argues that managing dispossession includes

“disciplinary technologies” like maps, numbers, and laws that provide a framework to recalibrate the land on colonizers’ terms (Blomley 2003; Harris 2004, 179). The environmental nexus between colonial bureaucrats ought to be included as part of those technologies, or as the intellectual network that built institutions that wielded those colonial technologies. Park creation was not just about the economic value of timber, but ecological considerations that guided the social construction of Ontario parks.

The Duality of Early Conservation: Economics and Aesthetics

Pastoral care and science have defined the English tradition of ecology and set the tone for early conservation in Ontario. Donald Worster (1979), in tracing the roots of English ecology to the eighteenth century, argued that it has an entangled but discernible dual-genesis. Many early nature-writers were committed to stewardship of the land, flora, and fauna. They had a pious belief in a vitalism that created harmony between humans and their natural surroundings, in which nature was a holistic unity. Scientists (e.g. botanists) were more concerned with both using nature to economic advantage and creating order through categorization and classification of organisms. Worster saw this dual tradition as fundamental to early industrial thinking about

77 land, nature, and the environment in the imperial tradition (Worster 1979, 18-37). Tracing the observations and approaches of early nature-writers, botanists, and scientists, Worster created a map of early ecological thinking that allows historians to see the roots of colonial environmental traditions.

In early Ontario conservation history, there were those who favoured forest management for economic gain and those who wanted to preserve forests for aesthetic reasons (Killan 1993).

Some proponents of conservation in the 20th century adhered to the “Gospel of Efficiency” and were interested in utility, scientific management, and profit from the extraction of natural resources. Proponents of the “Doctrine of Unselfishness," felt an aesthetic and moral responsibility for future generations to protect scenery and wildlife (Killan 1993 1). Those concerned with early land protection in Ontario would have included naturalists interested in flora and fauna, businessmen interested in timber and tourist revenues, and sport hunters interested in preserving game (Killan 1993 2). Conversation history in Ontario shares a similar dynamic as the English experience.

The drive to preserve timber resources was a powerful force overshadowing other motivations for the creation of provincial parks. Forests served as timber reserves for the government, which profited from selling timber berths to lumbermen and trading timber to

Britain and later the United States (Hodgins, Gillis, and Benidickson 1998; Killan 1993; Killan

1998). Throughout the 19th century, wood was the scaffolding of industrialism and urbanization in Britain and the United States and proved a great source of profit for government and lumbermen in Ontario (Innis, 1956: 250-251). Imperialism opened up the initial timber industry in Canada, and industrialization sustained it. The British Navy needed oak and pine for fleets in the American Revolutionary and Napoleonic War fleets (Lower 1933, 42-43). In an economy

78 that favoured home and colonial products, the Crown preferred Ontario timber to nearby Baltic timber, which was penalized with duties (Lower 1933 43; Lambert & Pross 1967 29). Britain opened its ports to timber trade through the Colonial Trades Acts of the 1820s and Navigation

Laws of the 1840s, while new canals and railways significantly increased the timber trade with the United States (Lower 1938, 104). The Reciprocity Treaty of 1854 allowed raw materials to flow freely between Canada and the U.S. (Lower 1938, 125), and although it was repealed in

1866, timber exports rose between the two countries in the 1890s as most duties were again removed (Lower 1938, 156-158). Imperial administrators considered Canada’s forests

“inexhaustible” (Lower 1933 43; Lambert & Pross, 1967: 29), but the rapid growth of timber trade combined with advocacy from lumber operators revealed the finite nature of forests and set limits on timber production. The 1849 Act for the Sale and Better Management of Timber upon

Public Lands initiated a formal licensing system and ensured accountability from producers by forcing timber operators to pay fees and keep records of cut areas (Lambert & Pross 1967, 131-

132, 148). At the American Forestry Congress in 1882, Canadian and American lumbermen urged governments to establish reserves of forests lands “unfit for agriculture” and called for further regulation of forests (Gillis & Roach 1986, 47). Concerned to protect their investments, lumbermen pressured the government of Ontario to pass the Report of the Forest Protection

Commission and the eventual Forest Reserves Act in 1898, which allowed the Lieutenant

Governor in Council to set aside lands for reserves after the establishment of Algonquin Park in

1893 (Hodgins, Gillis, and Benidickson 1998, 82-83). Forest Reserves were designed to protect timber from fire and overcutting, sustain a lucrative resource in international trade, and maintain revenue through licensing berths sold to lumber operators (Hodgins, Gillis, and Benidickson

1998, 78).

While the protection of timber was clearly a concern of participants in the1882 Forestry

Congress, the meeting also stimulated significant bureaucratic change in Ontario where an environmental order was forming. The Congress prompted the government of Ontario to hire conservationist Robert Phipps as the first Clerk of Forestry in 1888 (Lambert and Pross 1967).

The government also passed conservation legislation including the Trees Act in 1883 to restore forest lands already cut, and the Ontario Game Protection Act of 1892 to prevent overhunting.

The Forestry Congress had a significant influence on the genesis of parks infrastructure in

Ontario, not only because it was partially organized by the lumber industry and motivated the creation of parks bureaucracy, but because it stimulated conversations between lumbermen and conservationists about environmental issues. The Congress was not just concerned with trade and economics, it was about ecology; bureaucrats began to question how lumber interests and governments related to flora and fauna in wilderness environments. Lumbermen advocated for their financial interests at the Congress, but it was also a moment where conservationists deliberated about the relationship between forests and climate in the Dominion. The Congress was concerned with “the effects of forests on the climate and the role of deforestation in the creation of desert wastes,” in addition to fire protection (Gillis & Roach 1986, 41). Park creation began shortly after the Forestry Congress with the creation of Banff National Park in 1885 as

Canada’s first national park, followed by Ontario’s Algonquin Park in 1893 as the first provincial park.

Scholars, especially Marxists, have criticized the exploitative facets of conservation history (Igoe, Neves, and Brockington 2010.; Kelly 2011; Marchak 1995), but ecological concerns and motivations also deserve attention. Timber was undeniably valuable in Upper

Canada/Ontario, but insecurity over climate and environmental change pervaded bureaucratic

80 thought as they conducted the government-commissioned research that motivated the creation of

Algonquin Park. Bureaucrats drew from an imperial environmental nexus, informed by experience in Europe and British colonies outside of North America. The architects of Algonquin

Park borrowed environmental management knowledge from administrators in India, Germany,

France, and Russia (among other places) to make decisions about parks in North America.

Experience of land management and displacement elsewhere informed the new colonial environmental order. In the process of reinventing forest space, the architects of parks ignored

Indigenous experience with the land, which they associated with the wild, savage, uncontrolled nature of North America. The nexus of Eurocentric environmental knowledge served the settler colonial desire to build a new safe, orderly forest at the expense of Indigenous peoples; it was a creative cultural force in environmental settler colonialism. Early parks became colonial laboratories for the preservation of settler landscapes – dispossessing, manipulating, and changing the land for the European gaze and settler colonial interests.

The Social Construction of Forests

Definitions of nature reflect land use, land relations, and culture. To understand the history of parks in Ontario, the actions bureaucrats took to manipulate and augment the land must be contextualized with a discussion of the social construction of nature. David Demeritt

(2001) argues that a social constructionist position challenges the idea that nature and the physical environment exist independently from social practices (24). Our preconceptions bias empirical observations of nature (Demeritt 2001, 26). Thinking about nature as socially constructed can “denaturalize” what is claimed to be essential or biologically determined, and

81 therefore change how we understand nature (Demeritt 2001, 34). The “objects of scientific knowledge are the outcome of carefully contrived practice, not pre-existing objects waiting to be discovered and correctly represented by science.” (Demeritt 1998, 178). For example, European understandings of private property are historically unique to the Enlightenment movement and articulated through Lockean principles of enclosure, cultivation, and progress (Locke 1690). In contrast, Indigenous relations with land are about generational relations with ancestors and the animals, where land holds history and cultural continuity, and where land is shared (Basso 1996;

Johnston 2006; Kulchyski 2016). Demeritt’s (2001) work on New England forests, for example, criticizes claims that wilderness was “natural” or untouched when Europeans arrived, as

Indigenous peoples had been actively engaging with and modifying “nature” for a long time

(24). Nature depends on the intentions and perspectives of those wielding it. Constructivism does not “deny ontological existence of the world” but argues that reality cannot be assumed

(Demeritt 1998, 178), and tempers tendencies to “worship science for objectivity” (Demeritt

1998, 189). While there is an external world beyond humans, we can only access it through lenses of culture and history (Thorpe 2012, 14). Landscape is anthropocentric; it places the world into a perspective that defines how we feel in relation to it (e.g “threatening” weather,

“relentless” sunshine) and what we need from it (habitability, perhaps) (Seddon 1997, 16-17).

Historically, disciplines are conduits of domination, as knowledge of the natural has been used as a technique of control (Haraway 1991, 8). For Donna Haraway (1989) there are many

“determinants of scientific knowledge” (11) and the history of science is not objective.

Narratives and facts are created from often unconsciously borrowed and/or contested ideas.

Diverging and differing histories and cultures make “environment,” “nature,” and “wilderness” flexible and inconstant in our conceptions and language. Science orders nature through a political

82 negotiation of boundaries, which mark territories structured by categories like sex/gender or nature/culture (Haraway 1989, 11). There are reasons why the world becomes objectified as a thing, not as an agent; nature becomes a raw material of culture (appropriated, preserved, enslaved, and disposed of) (Haraway 1991). For Haraway (1991), there is no “logic of discovery” of a real world but “a power-charged social relation of ‘conversation’” and conversion (198).

The social construction of nature, as we see from Haraway and Demeritt, is about power.

Parks history is not only about taking control of land, but also changing the understandings of what the land means. Bruce Braun and Joel Wainwright (2001) argue that “nature is an effect of power” and discursive practices are what makes nature “intelligible” (41-42). They question the underlying assumptions about forests and forestry (mainly in B.C.), and what is assumed about the forest as an ontological entity. In their analysis of the Royal Commission on Forests

Resources in B.C. in 1945, readers were asked to imagine a fictional forested mountain landscape, instead of a mountain they actually know. The thought experiment shows that what we know is just as freighted with preconceptions as anything we might imagine (Braun &

Wainwright 2001, 52-53). They draw on Foucault’s studies of madness and sexuality where he argues that metaphors, understandings, and gestures govern “what can be said about entities at certain times and places” (Braun & Wainwright 2001 46). Braun situates forests in larger cultural and historical practices and relations of power and questions the cultural and political meanings of forests. He argues that nature is “artifactual” and consists of “objects made materially and semiotically by multiple actors” (human and non-human) through time and space (Braun 2002,

3). Braun and Wainwright (2001) argue that ideas of pristine “nature” draw a line between resources and cultural relations and the people who rely on them; making it easier for settlers to

83 accept forest space as “empty” in spite of the evident presence of Indigenous people: disavowing forests’ cultural history to make settler imaginaries appear “natural” (Braun & Wainwright 2001,

53).

Indigenous understandings and relations to the land challenge settler imaginings of forests. Settlers often see forest landscapes apart from any political-cultural claims, while First

Nations see landscapes as being connected to people and animals for centuries (Braun &

Wainwright 2001, 58-59). The marginalization of Nuu-chah-nulth from forest politics, for example, was the result of how the legal and political institutions conceived it (Braun 2002, 8).

Jocelyn Thorpe (2012) notes that “Temagami has been made – imaginatively and materially – as a site of wild Canadian nature,” through historical processes and relationships of power that

“disguised themselves as natural” and worked to dispossess Indigenous peoples of land (1). It is not just that forests are “made,” but historical classifications of nature and humans (e.g. by

Swedish naturalist Carl Linne) divided people based on racial “types,” and naturalized myths of

European superiority (Thorpe 2012, 12). Tracking the production of nature requires understanding how power separates nature from culture to benefit some groups at the expense of others (Thorpe 2012, 14). Settlers, governments, bureaucrats, and people of letters have often positioned wilderness outside of history, and therefore denied multiple histories of occupation

(e.g. Indigenous peoples) (Braun 2002, 12-13). I would argue further that such a construction denies multiple relations to the land. Indigenous land relations (e.g. through mapping, stories, and everyday life) challenge “erasures” that have defined forestry in Canada since contact

(Braun & Wainright 2001, 59).

Returning to Worster and Killan, the dual-perspectives of environmental history have something important in common; they are two sides of the same colonial coin that worked to

“civilize” the land. Governments and industrialists depended on timber to build the colony and swell their coffers, but the desire to preserve certain aesthetics in nature played an important role in building an environmental order for the colony. Settlers sought to replace what they deemed

“wild” with something more familiar. Forests become manageable to settlers, not only through exploiting timber resources, but by re-defining what the forest was and what it meant.

Understanding the social construction of wilderness peels back the colonial veneer of parks to reveal an environmental manipulation serving settler understandings of ecological relations and the environment. In the 19th century, Europeans made sense of forests by drawing on Eurocentric environmental narratives that disregarded Indigenous relations with the land.

The Wilderness Dichotomy and Civilization Imperative

Historical perceptions of wilderness provide context for the shifting European view of the land as dangerous, beautiful, and eventually lucrative and useful. From the 16th to the 20th centuries Europeans defined wilderness as both dangerous and beautiful. Surveys of the etymology of the word “wilderness” reveal definitions of wilderness as "disorderly" and

"unruly," as a "place of wild beasts" outside the control of humans (Castree 2001, 6; Cronon

1995, 70; Nash 1967, 1-2). Roderick Nash's survey of European folklore and mythologies found consistent descriptions of wilderness as "alien to man" and dangerous (Nash 1967, 11), and

English literature between the 16th and 18th centuries commonly characterized wilderness as

"uninhabited, "gloomy" (Nicolson 1959; Nash 1967, 12), “remote,” “rugged,” and “primitive”

(Lesslie and Taylor 1985, 311-313). Biblical descriptions often identify wilderness as dry places cursed by divine power, like deserts and places for the “fallen,” where Jesus was bewildered and tempted by Satan, and where people stray from proper paths (Marx 2008, 10; Nash 1967, 13-14;

Olwig 1995, 399). In the early 20th century, the U.S. forest service and recreation commissions attempted to redefine wilderness as "primitive," outside of human activity, or lacking usable roads (Nash 1967, 4-5). Studies in early Canadian colonial literature characterize wilderness as

“beyond the reach of authority” of English common law, or as unowned land (individual fee- simple), with no acknowledgement of Indigenous occupancy, unlike the English garden as a conventional European space that was seen as civil (New 1997, 29). European travellers to North

America in the eighteenth century often describe wilderness as “vast” or “strange,” constructing space on European cultural terms (New 1997, 58). What constituted the “state of nature” in

European theoretical circles during the Age of Enlightenment varied. Hobbes wrote of a nasty and brutish state of nature, and as a space without law and social contract. By contrast, Locke and Rousseau saw goodwill and cooperation as inherent to the state of nature (Williams 1980,

76). Biblical visions of a “myth of Eden” as paradise permeate American history in settlers' drive to break the wilderness (Nash 1967, 25; Williams 1980,74-76). Nature was often used to refer to the “essential quality of things” or inherent laws of the world, often portrayed as metaphysical or

God-like (Williams 1980, 68-71). In literature, poetry, and painting, nature might also be portrayed as “mother” as the “minister” of God (Seddon 1997, 8; Williams 1980, 69). For some writers, artists, scientists, and explorers also appreciated wilderness and for some it had "become a novelty which posed an exciting, temporary alternative to civilization" (Nash 1967, 57).

American literature and letters from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries reveal a primitivism that contrasted the purity of wilderness with the imperfections and unhappiness in civilization (Nash 1967, 56-57). How could settlers hold a binary perception of wilderness as both dangerous and bucolic? How could Thoreau see nature as “God’s own temple” as refuge from civilization, while contemporary English preacher Smith Wigglesworth saw it as “Satan’s

86 home” (Demeritt 2001, 24-25)? The transformation of landscapes from positive to negative has often been conditioned by exposure to the landscape and people finding ways to engage with it

(or manipulate it) to suite their needs (Nicolson 1959).

Although settlers have described wilderness as both dangerous and beautiful, they have consistently defined it in contrast with civilization. Wilderness, even it its purity, was a form of disorder for early North American settlers who felt that progress demanded that their civilization must impose control and order over wilderness (Braun and Wainwright 2001; Nash 1967, 7).

Wilderness was a barrier to "progress, prosperity, and power" and "godliness" in the settler drive for their version of civilization (Nash 1967, 40). American political leaders in the nineteenth- century considered that "progress was God." It was the "hand of God" that forced wilderness to relent to colonial "civilization" (Nash 1967, 41). Settlers and "pioneers" also routinely promoted

"taming" the wilderness in the name of agriculture and cities (Nash 1967, 41). American settlers and explorers, while relishing the "sublime and beautiful" natural scenery of the wilderness, believed that it must be conquered (Nash 1967 67, 72). The obverse of wilderness was civilization, readily defined by 19th century colonial authorities. Lord Bishop of Ontario John

Travers Lewis said civilization meant literate knowledge, formal education, advanced science and technology, and arts and literature. To many other early upper-class colonists it also meant having a justice system, representative government, capitalism, Christianity, and urbanity (den

Otter 2012, xiii). Robert Ballantyne, in his journals on working for Hudson's Bay Company

(HBC) in the 1840s, described wilderness as a state of "primeval simplicity" and "undefaced by the axe of civilized man." As the bearer of civilization, the HBC represented a radical reorientation of the land that the settler gaze reduced to "a few roving hordes of Red Indians, and myriads of wild animals" (Ballantyne 1972, 28). Colonists based the notion of civilization on

European law, letters, cosmology, and economics (agriculture, trade, etc.), which informed the ways in which settlers interpreted and defined forests.

Early perceptions of nature in Canada vary, but regardless of their political or moral inclinations, settlers share a desire to “civilize” wilderness and a commitment to “civilizing” the colony. Louis Hennepin (1626-1704), the Recollet missionary travelling in the 1690s, expressed a clear desire to exert control over the wilderness in a quest to Christianize Indigenous peoples.

He wanted to “enlarge the boundaries of Christ’s Kingdom” and “enlarge the limits of

Christianity” in North America that involved the subduing of both wilderness and Indigenous peoples (Hennepin 1690, 2, 11). Explorer Alexander Mackenzie (1764-1820) wanted to expand empire and scientific inquiry. In diaries that record his travels from Fort Chipewyan to the Arctic and Pacific in the 1790s, he cited his “inquisitive mind and enterprising spirit,” to explain his physical and emotional constitution for travel through the wilderness (Mackenzie 1970, 57). His travels were a test of his own intellectual and personal mettle. Wilderness existed as a “perilous” challenge to a man dedicated to extending the “boundaries of geographic science” and adding

“new countries to the realms of British commerce” (Mackenzie 1970, 57). Unlike Hennepin, the

Recollect motivated by God and religious Truth, Mackenzie, the liberal, was motivated by personal challenge and expanding the limits of science and commerce. Although different, both represent facets of the colonial project. Hennepin, concerned with preserving a righteous order, sought to subdue wilderness and convert peoples thought to be “savage” and “barbaric” to fulfill religious destiny. Mackenzie wanted to breach wilderness to expand the limits of trade, commerce, and European science – which used Indigenous knowledge, without acknowledgement. The experiences of Hennepin and Mackenzie suggest some of the complexity

88 in British and European approaches to the colonial ‘civilization imperative’ in relation to wilderness lands.

Popular literary figures also expressed desires to change the land in order to make it productive on European terms. Susanna Moodie (1803-1885), one of the most influential writers on settler life in the Canadas of the 19th century, subscribed to a civilization narrative. For her, colonists proved their zeal by purchasing "wild land in remote and unfavourable situations” to

“reclaim the waste spaces of the earth, and make them subservient" (Moodie 1871, xvii).

Similarly, Anna Brownell Jameson (1794-1860), historian and writer in the 19th century, expressed a commitment to civilizing the wilderness through agriculture. A contemporary of

Moodie, she noted the strategic potential of cities (e.g. near waterways) and land (for agriculture) and argued that intelligence and “better employment of capital” would develop the “gifts of nature” that would otherwise run “to waste” (Jameson 1838, 302-202).

Travellers and colonists’ perspectives on wilderness changed as government and businesses added infrastructure between the 17th and 19th centuries. The concept of wilderness morphed through time, as settlers sought to remake wilderness as compatible with European ideals. Hennepin’s experience at Niagara Falls captures a critical shift in the relationship with nature. He observed that the falls were “wonderful” and an “incredible” but also a “horrible precipice” (Hennepin 1690, 22-23) and demonically terrifying (Jasen 1995, 31). As the Erie

Canal was built in 1821, entrepreneurs opened Inns to take advantage of the view of the Falls to increase exposure, making it an “icon of the sublime” and a more romantic place for tourists

(Jasen 1995, 31-36). Transportation began to shape how tourists and settlers perceived wilderness spaces. Early boat tours around the Thousand Islands region in the 19th century provided a distant “romantic” perspective on the scenery in what Patricia Jasen (1995) calls

“panoramic tourism” (59). With increased use of rail and steam, the upper Great Lakes region also became more accessible to Europeans who were looking for a “wilderness paradise” (to the

European gaze) unaffected by human agency (Jasen 1995, 81-83). As transportation and business transformed the land, settler perceptions changed. Susanna Moodie initially thought the wilderness was a "monotonous" landscape, but eventually began to see the forest as beautiful, providing her with a "thirst for knowledge and a love of variety" (Moodie 1871, 188, 155). Like

Moodie, Jameson first described the "tall and dark" pines rising on either side of her as she travelled through southwestern Ontario as "monotonous" (Jameson 1838, 249). Her perspective changed as she noticed the diversity in the woods, and the oak plains near London as "park-like" and beautiful (Jameson 1838, 250).

All of these settler imaginings of the wilderness tended to erase Indigenous peoples from the land. According to Sherill Grace, Canada was a “northern” place for artists and writers who often depicted the north, like wilderness in general, as deadly, cold, barren, isolated, and empty but also spiritual, beautiful, and abundant (2001). Often emerging from these depictions were stereotypes, ethnocentrisms, racisms, and exploitations produced by characters (usually men) mapping, claiming, or controlling “unconstructed space.” (15-17). Jonathan Bordo suggests the use of the Jack Pine in Group of Seven paintings simultaneously represents the denial of human presence in wilderness paintings, and becomes a sign of human presence (1992). A powerful argument, as Jack Pine propagation is enhanced by fire and harvesting. For Bordo, the Jack Pine is a visual symbol of roots and structure representing anthropomorphic monuments on land portrayed as otherwise vacant (98-128). The evolution of Euro-settler perspectives on wilderness indicates an ability for settlers to reconstitute space to suit their understandings of “civilization.”

Climate and Empire

In the 19th century, colonial conservationists became preoccupied with the moral and racial implications of climate catastrophe. British administrators in India and the colonial tropics began conservation initiatives in response to fears of climate catastrophes (Grove 1995; Grove

1997). Concern about rainfall reduction and its impact on arable land was dependent upon desiccation concepts, or a “desiccationist discourse” influential in Tobago, St. Vincent, St.

Helena, Mauritius, and India (Grove 1997, 7-8, 10-15). Conservation organizations perpetuated the desiccation discourse and importing it to colonies. The British Association for the

Advancement of Science began conservation initiatives in India because of concern about the physical and economic consequences of deforestation in the 1850s (Grove 1997, 16). The Royal

Geographical Society (RGS) helped popularize the “globalization of desiccation concepts”

(Grove 1997, 17). The RGS also represented “British expansionism” and was an extra- parliamentary avenue for conversations about empire and colonial exploitation (Livingstone

1994). The nexus of information shared through environmental and geographical organizations constituted an ecological arm of the civilization imperative as it contributed to the “conversation and conduct of empire” (Grove 1995; Grove 1997; Livingstone 1994, 135). By 1865 the RGS produced a study that argued desiccation was not “natural” but an “artificial” consequence of human action, legitimating “a notion of global environmental crisis" (Grove 1997, 21). RGS members debated the consequences of deforestation and the idea of colonial forest control became popular (Grove 1997, 27). David Livingstone believes that in the 19th and 20th centuries political and moral evaluation were “part of the grammar of climatology” and climate’s “moral economy” (Livingstone 1994, 137). Members of the Royal Geographical Society and

Ethnological Society of London routinely made connections between climate and “racial

91 constitution,” using climate as a way to position Indigenous peoples as “savage” or subordinate to the British or European subject (e.g. the argument that northern European climates increased brain activity) and dangerous to productive nature (Livingstone 1994 138). Central to the moral evaluation of climate was a concern with “white acclimatization” or making land fit for white habitation and British geologists and naturalists spoke of improving climate to attain a “higher type of humanity” (Livingstone 1994, 137-139). Changing the land, not just to obtain resource capital but to instill racial hierarchy, requires the subjugation of peoples as a precondition

(Holleman 2017, 242).

It is possible to trace the evolution of environmental settler colonialism in the 19th century through the climate discourse. Concerns with climate stability drove bureaucrats to advocate for forest reserves, excluding all use, apart from that of state administrators, foresters, and scientists (Algonquin Park Act 1893; Kirkwood 1888). Through the idea of climate control parks administration worked to add and remove elements (flora and fauna) of the park, and ultimately dispossess people of their land. The birth of Ontario parks administration coincided with the creation of Algonquin Park, and therefore signified a crucial moment of colonial development. Narratives of parks as “pristine wilderness,” act as a veneer of colonialism that hides and obfuscates the work of administrators to change the land in accordance with their own views of climate and ecology.

Climate Change Narratives

Contemporary climate change narratives are different from those espoused in the 19th century. Whether we are informed about climate change through popular media such as Al

Gore's An Inconvenient Truth, or through Intergovernmental Panels and United Nations

Framework Conventions, contemporary science explains climate change through empirical evidence with a global focus. Of course, modern climate change discourse is also political and both the problem and any solutions connect to global inequity that is at least partly a consequence of colonialism (Holleman 2018).

Early discussions of climate change were deterministic and local. The Enlightenment period included literary musings that linked climate to culture. L’Abbé Du Bos, (1670-1742) for instance, argued that a country's “creative spirit” depended on the air and atmosphere.

Montesquieu (1689-1755) was convinced that being in the climate of one's place of birth was essential to the maintenance of good health. Both men had reservations about colonialism, arguing that the movement of people to new places would cause exposure to new climates and negatively affect health (Fleming 1998, 12-18). These early climate change narratives focused on local areas or zones, without conceiving of the climatic links between places. Climate narratives in the Enlightenment period emphasized links between deforestation and changing weather patterns. David Hume (1711-1776), for example, argued that deforestation and land cultivation increased temperatures because it decreased the shade provided by trees. He believed that the settlement of North American warmed the local climate, making it more suitable for Europeans.

Enlightenment climate narratives had an imperial quality that largely portrayed European climates as synonymous with thriving culture (Fleming 1998, 17-18).

Climate change narratives shifted in the 19th century. Empirical observations about land and weather challenged older literary opinions about climate. Lexicographer and editor Noah

Webster (1758-1843), for example, criticized “poorly reasoned and unscientific modes of climate discourse,” and military surgeon Samuel Forry (1811-1844) used statistics gathered by army physicians to disprove arguments that the climate was warming in America (Fleming 1998, 46-

53). Climate change narratives in the 19th century were still concerned with changes to local land and weather. The fear of terrestrial desiccation due to deforestation was not a global issue, but rather a colonial issue informed by experiences in certain colonies that administrators could be transport to others. The language used to describe this form of climate change focused on the local sites, interpreted by colonial experts and legislators. The process was not 'global' in the contemporary sense.

Contemporary and historic understandings of climate change differ, but a shared anxiety about potential climate catastrophe has persisted over the last 300 years. Since the 1970s, climate change has been associated with carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions in the atmosphere and rising global temperatures due to infrared radiation. Politicians may debate the major causes of CO2 emissions (oil, industrial coal), but the scientific consensus is that climate change is anthropogenic, and accounts for a drastic and unprecedented rise in global temperatures, causing changes in water levels and inclement weather patterns (Broecker 1975; Gore 2006; IPCC 1996;

Mann 2014; Solomon et. al. 2009; UN Framework Convention on Climate Change 1992).

Contemporary narratives see climate change as involving multiple systems and affecting the world in different ways in different places, contrasting sharply with the local nature of older climate narratives. The creation of parks to maintain watersheds and timber resources is quite different from discussions about geo-engineering to lower CO2 levels. Yet both conversations involve modifying the earth to prevent potential climate disasters. The commonality is important because there is an ongoing awareness of anthropomorphic change.

Ontario Parks (Algonquin) and Climate Change

Interrogating climate narratives in 19th century Crown Lands literature reveals an environmental settler colonialism that is not necessarily visible when reading the economic history of parks. Climate discussions contribute to the construction of an environmental order that demanded the elimination of Indigenous people from parkland, and from new settler colonial environmental mythologies. Algonquin Park, the earliest of all provincial parks in Canada, began as a laboratory for environmental settler colonialism. The earliest parks administrators in Ontario were concerned with experimenting – manipulating flora and fauna to make parkland more appealing to settlers. Parks administrators’ 19th century environmental vision rested upon a

Eurocentric plan, compelled by climate anxieties, as bureaucrats drew on imperial knowledge from British colonies and Europe to inform their decisions on how to manage the park and the climate of the colony. These climate anxieties and management approaches began with the creation of Algonquin Park.

Bureaucrats sought control over land and the environment through state administration of parklands as an effective strategy to manipulate the land and create a stable climate. Grove

(1997) and Livingstone (1994) provide compelling evidence of the colonial knowledge-networks informing climate management, while Gregory Barton (2004) provides insight into the importance of climate in early environmentalism initiatives in Ontario. Like Grove, Barton draws a connection with colonial environmental practices in India, acknowledging that early forest preservation initiatives depended on concerns over “climate stability,” and that fear of climate change and catastrophe “haunted empire forests” (Barton 2004, 530). Ontario Crown Lands bureaucrats argued intently for the management of climate (as noted below) and this was a recurring theme in the documents motivating environmental preservation in 19th century Ontario.

Concern for reliable resources in the context of climate anxiety was a significant motivator for government control of parklands. Barton traces government control of parklands to Lord

Dalhousie's Charter of Indian Forestry in 1855, which established forests as state property in

India (Barton 2004, 531). This concern was not restricted to India, as Crown Lands reports in

19th century Ontario reveal the same concern with climate and resource availability. A detailed survey of 19th century Crown Lands reports reveals the role that climate anxieties played in propelling a settler colonial environmental order in Ontario; Ontario bureaucrats cited climate anxieties as a reason to use state apparatus to gain control of wilderness lands for parks, thereby creating settler colonial ecological/environmental spaces.

Alexander Kirkwood's "The Undeveloped Lands of Northern and Western Ontario" began a discussion about what to do with “undeveloped” lands deemed “unfit for settlement,” and it was the first significant government report to highlight the value of forests (Kirkwood

1878, 2). The Ontario government commissioned the investigation of lands and reported in 1878 to promote settlement and immigration. Kirkwood used reports from land surveyors and Crown

Lands agents to investigate “the latent industrial resources” of the province (Kirkwood 1878, 2).

Although much of the report dealt with the suitability of lands for settlement and agricultural use, timber was also prominent as Kirkwood defined the geography of the province by breaking the land into sections according to the types of trees that predominated. He characterized the forests between Ottawa and Georgian Bay, particularly the area west of Pembroke, as “unfit for settlement” (Kirkwood 1878, 2-3). His comments on forestland in the Lake Superior region were similar, and he noted the area was better suited to health improvement and mining than settlement. Those areas he deemed unfit for settlement are now home to Algonquin and Quetico

Provincial Parks. Kirkwood’s survey of forests was integral to building parks infrastructure in

Ontario. Kirkwood became the Commissioner of Crown Lands and participated in the creation of

Algonquin Park.

Robert Phipps, the first Ontario Clerk of Forestry and architect of Algonquin Park, sought to prove that the depletion of forests created terrestrial aridity and sterility. Using comparative analysis and scientific inquiry, Phipps' 1883 “Report on the Necessity of Preserving and

Replanting Forests” argued that deforestation would have negative implications for the climate of Ontario. It was the first government-commissioned document to respond to the American

Forestry Congress meeting in 1882 (Gillis & Roach 1986, 42). He consulted works from

“distinguished writers on the subject” from around the world and pointed to the decline in water levels in rivers and streams, the destruction of waterways, decrease in rainfall and moisture, reduced humidity, soil erosion, and landslides resulting from deforestation. He drew from the work of Dr. P. H. Bryce (1853-1932) from the Ontario School of Agriculture who argued that the destruction of forests produces aridity and sterility, and the Canadian climate was undergoing changes due to human activity (Phipps 1883, 35). Phipps argued that although it is necessary to clear some land for agriculture, inferior or mountainous lands ought to be preserved to maintain necessary watersheds essential to agricultural lands. Phipps also had an eye on the lumber industry, especially in the “pine districts” in northwest Ontario, arguing that preservation would ensure the continuous reproduction of timber. (Phipps 1883, 1-10).

Phipps believed climate change was anthropogenic and state regulations were necessary to guard against the environmental dangers posed by deforestation. He drew extensively from environmental policy in Western Europe including Germany, Prussia, France, Switzerland,

Russia, Sweden, and Great Britain to inform his opinion on forest management. He also briefly considered experiences in Australia and New Zealand. Much of his international analysis

97 focused on seeding and planting methods for trees, quantitative analysis of forest acreage that was under state control, and establishment of forestry schools. Phipps did not limit himself to

European experience, as he consistently referred to George Perkins Marsh's (1801-1882) treatise

“The Earth as Modified by Human Action” and his view that changes in water levels, rainfall, and moisture levels cause “climactic disturbances” (Phipps 1883, 57). Phipps was conscious of the possible effects of forest management on the environment. He argued that legislation was necessary to plant trees for "the improvement in climate by the retention of the moisture” (Phipps

1883, 72-73). The Trees Act was passed in Ontario the same year as his report to formalize state planting measures.

Phipps believed forests were not just economically profitable but essential to the maintenance of an "equilibrium" between temperature and humidity, essential to a stable climate

(Phipps 1883, 96). He argued that the government ought to keep forests in highly elevated areas and maintain them at good depth and length to preserve moisture and watersheds. He cited areas of Switzerland that experienced floods caused by clearing forests on mountains, and how forests regulations in Italy guarded against soil denudation. His analysis of Prussian forest management noted that restrictions in 1875 protected lands where the destruction of forests would wash away the soil, causing floods, or caving in canals and streams. In France, he argued that private forest interests had been free to clear trees without regulation, causing the disappearance of soil for vegetation. Phipps warned that similar ill effects might occur in Ontario, noting that the climate in Ontario was already becoming dryer, but adding that there was still time to avert "the evil" before things became worse (Phipps 1883, 91-92). He ended his report on a hopeful note with a section entitled “The Position in which Forests would Best Affect the Climate of Ontario,” reiterating the importance of state regulation and planting measures. Phipps felt that it was

98 important that Ontario forest managers learn from European forest policy (Phipps 1883, 76, 92-

93). The continuous and adamant comparative analysis that forest bureaucrats employed in the

19th century constituted the context for remaking non-arable wilderness land.

Phipps gleaned the most substantial information about forest management from the

German, French, and Indian experiences. Much of Phipp's analysis drew from the opinions and experiences of the Indian Commissioner and advocated for state control of forestlands in order to ensure stability of soil and vegetation to prevent floods due to fast-moving waters. The Indian colonial government laid the foundation for forest administration from 1850-1864, then sent

Indian forest administrators to forest schools in France and Germany in 1866 (Phipps 1883, 95).

The Indian Commissioner drew from European experience to learn about how governments took control of forestlands, surveying and planting practices, methods of moving timber, and effects of clearing trees on the environment (Phipps 1883, 74-80). The Commissioner noted that although Germany and India had differences in "climate and local conditions," principles of

European forest management could “be applied with success to…Indian forests" (Phipps 1883,

80). Phipps agreed that trees were "well cared for" in Germany, but in Canada forests were under

“assault” by settlers and lumbermen who cut trees without regard for the future of forests;

European forestry practices were "more applicable" to Canada than Indian because the climate presented “no difference" (Phipps 1883, 80). The colonial experience in India influenced Phipps’ position as an advocate for state-centred forest management in constructing a new forest management regime in Ontario.

Phipps continued to write about forests and the dangers of climate change into the late

19th century, advocating for preservation and state regulations. The government issued its

"Reports on the Forests of Canada" in 1885 to assess the approximate exhaustion of forests

99 throughout the Dominion of Canada. Phipps provided a brief report on forests in Ontario arguing large districts ought to be set aside to prevent forest fires and careless lumbering methods

(Phipps 1885, 7-8). In his “Forestry Report” of 1891 as Forestry Clerk, Phipps promoted state forestry programs, including the creation of government forest reservations, and the remission of taxes on woodlands. All of these efforts, he argued, would increase tree planting exponentially

(Phipps 1891, 8). He praised a “money bonus” program where the province and townships shared the cost of paying settlers to plant trees (Phipps 1891, 11). Phipps drew from the work of

Bernhard Fernow (1851-1923), former U.S. Chief of Forestry, who argued that the forest was an

“object of scientific management” that influenced “climatic soil and water conditions” (Phipps

1891, 113-116). Fernow praised reforestation efforts in Europe and argued for state control of forests (vs private enterprise) citing effective British forest policy in Australia and India as effective (Phipps 1891, 123). Phipps consistently emphasised the importance of forests to climate regulation, but in this report he also emphasized the connection to agriculture more intently than in his 1883 report. Phipps sought to control indiscriminate settler cutting, formulating a more robust connection between forests and farming:

“...the settler in general has pursued one course. He has cleared more of the land than he

can farm to advantage: the absence of a sufficiency of trees has seriously diminished the

crop of grasses, and thus it is hard to obtain enough manure to allow it to be kept in good

tilth. The result is, emphatically, that the land is drying up and being washed away into

the water courses...We have been too long, both in Ontario and Quebec, washing our land

in this way into the St. Lawrence and the lakes. This is one of the great evils which the

forest movement is intended to check…” (Phipps 1891, 2)

Phipps particularly emphasized the necessity of preserving forests to preserve crops:

100

“There is every proof that by deforesting we have rendered Ontario no longer the fertile

land it once was. The climate had deteriorated, but as in the case of springs which, dry for

years, were renewed with fresh growth of trees was planted round them, so our climate is

capable, without any unreasonable care or expense, of being renewed again to perhaps its

pristine vigour” (Phipps 1891, 15).

He drew from former Québec Premier H.G. Joly de Lotbiniere (1829-1908) who argued that the forest “exercises great influence on the climate, and on agriculture” by ensuring steady rainfall through condensation of vapour in the atmosphere (Phipps 1891, 63). Again, Phipps referred to

Dr. Bryce who argued the “phenomena of climate” depended on forests to ensure public health and agricultural productivity:

“To most of us the value of our forests, as direct, revenue producers, must naturally

appeal first, while to many others their indirect value from the influence they exert on

agricultural productiveness will appear important; but few, indeed, have carefully

considered how far-reaching are the influences which their existence and non-existence

may exert upon the public health…We thus have, through the beneficent agency of trees,

an equability of climate, obtained in no other way, and in so far as this is a factor

favorable to health, we have a distinct advantage to be gained by the preservation of

trees.” (Phipps 1891, 87-91)

Phipps also expanded his argument noting that forest reservations would also guard against the

“extirpation” of birds, mammals, and flowers (Phipps 1891 9). He bemoaned insufficient planting in America and again routinely cited Europe as the template for forest regulation

(Phipps 1891, 11).

101

In his assessment of how forests regulate climate, and indeed his fear of the dangers of climate change, Phipps created a narrative that positioned forests as integral to environmental equilibrium. For Phipps, the Ontario climate was inextricably linked to the maintenance of agriculture, which is at the centre of colonial definitions of civilization. “Climate” did not just mean regulating water and soil, it meant regulating civilization. The preservation of the forest was integral to the preservation of settler-colonialism. Phipps’ support for state control over forests added a certain formalized order to forest policy, and was consistent with government desires to preserve timber for trade and infrastructure. As the government legislated parks into existence, the boundaries, limitations, and exclusions of forest management – in the name of climate control – become more apparent. European and colonial policy elsewhere was integral for Phipps to articulate his position as a statist forest bureaucrat.

The "Royal Commission on Forest Reservation and National Park" quickly followed

Phipps' Reports and continued the trend of identifying forest reservation as important to climate stability. This Commission was the driving force behind the establishment of Algonquin Park.

While the timber trade was a key component of this report, there was also a strong focus on climate and the creation of Algonquin Park. Timber was essential, but conceptions of climate and climate change were also fundamental the environmental settler colonialism of the document.

The Commission was created by the provincial government in 1893 to “inquire into and to make full report respecting the fitness of a certain territory [...] for the purposes of a Forest Reservation and National Park,” with a particular focus on what was to become Algonquin Park (RCFRNP

1893, 4). The Commission included both Alexander Kirkwood who was then the Commissioner of Crown Lands, Robert Phipps who was then Head of Forestry Branch, as well as Aubrey White who was the Assistant Commissioner of Crown Lands. The Report of the Commissioners noted

102 that, in older countries, the “indiscriminate slaughter” of forests turns “fertile plains into arid deserts, springs and streams are dried up, and the rainfall, instead of percolating gently through the forest floor [...] descends the valleys in hurrying torrents, carrying all before its tempestuous flood” (RCFRNP 1893, 9). It also argued that “the influence of forests upon climate is always beneficial” as they promote humidity, preserve moisture and rainfall, and temper winds.

Therefore, the destruction of “large portions” of forests of an area leads to “a deterioration of its climate” (RCFRNP 1893, 10, 28-29). The Commissioners also drew attention to local waters and the importance of the forest in maintaining streams through the slowing of rainwater evaporation

(RCFRNP 1893, 12). The report acknowledged the “well-stocked” valuable timber in the area and that the land was not valuable for agricultural development because of the rough, stony terrain and the marshes (RCFRNP 1893, 11-12). The commissioners reported that the waterways were necessary for lumbermen to float timber to market and for farmers to draw water from springs, wells, and streams. Therefore, they argued, the hills especially needed heavy forests growth (RCFRNP 1893, 20). The Commissioners also noted that creating parks was crucial for protection of animals, for maintaining an area for forestry experiments, and as a health resort.

However, the maintenance of water supplies appears the most important environmental justification for park creation in the report.

Alexander Kirkwood was concerned with the economic value of forests, but he compiled an extensive comparative analysis of forest policy, for Ontario legislators, that further emphasized the link between forest preservation and climate change. As a supplement to the

Royal Commission, Kirkwood provided detailed notes about forests that reinforced the link between forest preservation and climate change. His "Papers and Reports upon Forestry, Forest

Schools, Forest Administration and Management" was written in 1893 as an addendum to the

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Royal Commission, designed to further investigate environmental and economic issues around the creation of Algonquin Park. He covered a number of topics including timber resources and value, forest management in Europe, America, and the British colonies, and forest protection.

Kirkwood pointed to studies in Prussia and France that indicated increased rainfall in forests compared to open areas, and he maintained that forests preserve moisture, feed springs and rivers, and protect soil against erosion (Kirkwood 1893, 9-12). He drew on the Russian forestry experience, noting that rivers and streams shrank with deforestation, which also caused a decline in spring and summer rains and increased exposure to winds (Kirkwood 1893, 15-16). Kirkwood characterized the drastic decrease of forests in Russia as “threatening catastrophe” (Kirkwood

1893, 15). He compared forest policy in the British colonies, including India and New Zealand in late 19th century, where new forest laws gave the state control of the land to preserve the soil, the climate, and Kauri wood (Kirkwood 1893, 48). Kirkwood also discussed forest preservation in Australia, where the government had initiated the formation of state forests in 1884 in reaction to poor timber licensing and overcutting. Kirkwood considered that new state forests were a response to fears of “some of the climate changes which are traceable to the destruction of forests” (Kirkwood 1893, 51). Forest policy in India was especially important to Kirkwood as the dense forests that once grew throughout the country were destroyed, particularly after British colonization. The evaporation rate of moisture in open areas was extremely high, so less forest meant a great need to preserve water (Kirkwood 1893, 55-56). India's first comprehensive forestry laws passed in the 1860s and 1870s, preserving hundreds of millions of acres of land under state control (Kirkwood 1893, 57-58). Much of Kirkwood's analysis of India was about moisture retention and rainfall, and he argued that one must first understand the climate to understand forest policy; the two are inextricably linked (Kirkwood 1893, 55). Like Phipps,

104

Kirkwood entertained state-control as an appropriate means for forest creation, and environmental management in Europe and the British colonies influenced his position.

The Act to Establish the Algonquin National Park of Ontario focused on outlining prohibited conduct in the park and the consequent penalties for violations of the Act. The Act limited hunting, fishing, timber cutting, and settlement in the park and posed harsh penalties for violations. For example: in cases where violations of the Act occurred, the Superintendent or

Park Ranger could "without warrant or legal process" arrest violators and bring them before a justice or the superintendent "to be dealt with according to law." Rangers had the "power and authority of constables" within park limits (Algonquin Park Act 1893). The Act afforded tremendous power to the Superintendent of the park as he could add neighbouring townships or parts of townships to the park and had jurisdiction up to one mile outside of park limits. More importantly, the definition of what constituted "preservation" was left entirely to the

Superintendent.

The second reading of the bill described environmental concerns as a motivation for the park’s creation. Commissioner Hardy made reference to Kirkwood and Phipps’ reports and emphasized that the land in question was not agricultural. He noted the important natural elements of the area including the source of major rivers, animals, and the possibilities of health resorts in the area (Hardy 1893). Debate in the legislature about the creation of Algonquin Park was wide-ranging and included concerns over timber, animal preservation, and use of the park for health and recreation. The Crown Lands Department used Kirkwood and Phipps’ work in the construction of the bill and were aware of the discussions about environmental concerns throughout the British colonies. It is the work of Kirkwood and Phipps, in drawing on the colonial environmental nexus between Britain and the colonies, that allowed the government to

105 gain significant control over the land, which would allow officials to further change the land to meet their needs.

Park Management and Settler Supremacy

Parks bureaucrats worked to establish a colonial environmental order in Upper

Canada/Ontario by drawing on European and British environmental policy. Phipps and

Kirkwood both explicitly favoured state-controlled parks, signifying the importance of concentrated power around environmental administration. This magnitude of control over non- arable lands allowed bureaucrats to accomplish three things: (a) exclude people from the parks;

(b) manipulate the land; and (c) make money from timber (licenses and trade). All of these actions constituted re-designing and re-imagining the land as a new settler colonial place.

Excluding Indigenous peoples from their land meant separation of communities from the land that reinforced their identities and cultures (Borrows 2006; Johnston 2006; Kulchyski 2016).

Manipulating the land allowed Algonquin Park to become more “European” and eventually a centre of tourism and Canadian national mythology, while creating a reserve of timber for the infrastructural and commercial viability of the colony.

Bureaucrats were explicitly against Indigenous people entering the new boundaries created for Algonquin Park. Aubrey White, the former Assistant Commissioner of Crown Lands and member of the Algonquin Park Commission along with Phipps and Kirkwood, wrote to

Deputy Superintendent of Indian Affairs Hayter Reed in 1895 arguing that Algonquin people were detrimental to the park and preservation, judging them based on European standards of land tenure and development (White 1895). Kirkwood, former Commissioner of Crown Lands and member of the Algonquin Park Commission also misjudged the lands that Indigenous

106 communities were connected to, recommending peoples be confined to a small, specific area of

Ontario (Kirkwood 1874). The Algonquin Park Act of 1893 explicitly outlawed access to the parkland, limiting hunting, fishing and settlement within park boundaries. The Superintendent of the park or Rangers could detain violators “without warrant or arrest” and bring them before a justice, and park Rangers had the authorities of constables within park limits (Algonquin Park

Act 1893). The park was designed, even in early drafts of the legislation, to be withdrawn from sale, occupancy, and settlement (Kirkwood 1888). The processes of exclusion included the work of park Rangers who notified Algonquin people in the 1890s that they could no longer trap or hunt on park lands (Baker 2000 201). Ontario passed the Provincial Parks Act in 1913 and accessibility remained constrained. Park Rangers at Quetico Park (created simultaneously with the Act) north of Lake Superior, referred to Indigenous trappers and hunters in the park boundaries as “outlaws” who they chased and arrested for trespassing, forcing them to dress in

European clothes (Hendrickson 1964). Authorities ultimately forced Lac la Croix First Nation from their land in order to create Quetico Provincial Park. Park rangers were hostile to

Indigenous trappers and hunters within park boundaries well into the 1930s and the government continued to deny Lac La Croix people’s existence in the area into the 1980s (Killan 1993;

McNab 1999; Native Bands, Reserves, and Land Claims Files, 2013).

The explicit power of agents of the State to exclude people from the new parklands was a direct product of the previous environmental policy that Kirkwood and Phipps referenced in

Europe, India, Australia and other British colonies. The global nexus of climate anxiety that

Livingston and Grove argue was so influential in the 19th century, prompted the power of the settler colonial state to take control of non-arable land and demarcate new legal consequences for trespass and habitation. As settler colonialism depends on the ‘elimination’ of Indigenous

107 peoples (Wolfe 2006), it is easy to see how the creation of the first provincial park in Canada, born through the fear of climate change, was directly responsible for separating Algonquin people from the land.

One of the ways bureaucrats manipulated parkland was by introducing European tree varieties. Members of the Fruit Growers’ Association of Ontario, who advocated for conservation in the 19th century (Killan 1993), also promoted the introduction of Nordic trees into the province. B. Gott, a farmer from Arkona, Ontario, supported settlers planting Norway spruce near the north shore of Lake Erie in Morpeth, Ontario. Gott praised the trees’ “beautiful symmetry, as living testimonies of the designing intelligence and…order and beauty” (Phipps

1891, 12). T.M. Grover, another conservationist, disagreed with raising trees from Ontario seeds and preferred importing Norway spruce (Phipps 1891, 29) for the climate and health of the region (Phipps 1891, 35). Grover praised European forest literature and schools as templates for

Ontario (Phipps 1891, 37). Prominent Mason and conservationist J. McP. Ross repeated support for planting Norway Spruce, praising them as a “handsome tree” superior for parks than maples

(Phipps 1891, 46). The preference for “Nordic” trees is telling. The construction of Canada as a northern nation, or northern settler culture, is connected to the mythologies built around robust, hearty, settlers who came to ‘civilize’ the land. ‘The North’ poses a challenge to settlers as an isolated, mysterious place not only as terra nulius but as terra incognita, where the possibility of settlement drove efforts to reconstruct the land as it was viewed as “unconstructed” (Grace 2001,

17). Trees were not the only thing bureaucrats introduced into parks. Algonquin Park superintendents introduced wild rice from the Peterborough area in 1894 in an effort to attract more ducks, introduced bass into the lakes, and capercaillie grouse from Norway (Bartlett,

108

Thomson, and Simpson 1893-1913). Administrators turned the parkland into a laboratory for experimentation but also made it more European.

One of the most telling changes to parkland resulted from the 19th century policy designed to eradicate wolves from the land. Park superintendents and rangers worked to rid

Algonquin Park of wolves in the 19th century through organized, direct campaigns. The initial reports from Chief Park Ranger Peter Thomson in 1893 described wolves as "noxious" animals that "should be destroyed without mercy," and the government extended a previous Upper

Canada bounty on wolves from 1793 (Bartlett, Thomson, and Simpson 1893-1913). Park officials felt the animals were "destructive" to deer, and with "no beast of prey to make war upon them," wolves were considered the deer's "greatest enemy" (Bartlett, Thomson, and Simpson

1893-1913). Park rangers put out large quantities of poison to kill wolves in 1899 through to the early 1900s in an effort to "rid the woods of this pest" (Bartlett, Thomson, and Simpson 1893-

1913). In 1911 park officials killed nearly one hundred wolves, over one hundred again in 1912, and another sixty in 1913. Many were poisoned (Bartlett, Thomson, and Simpson 1893-1913).

Anxieties around wolves as destructive to deer populations were perhaps misguided in retrospect, as lumbering and climate were likely the most significant factors causing deaths in an already abundant deer population (Rife 1972). Superintendent Reports repeatedly admitted that game was abundant while simultaneously calling for the eradication of wolves (Bartlett,

Thomson, and Simpson 1893-1913). The simple argument made in the 19th century that wolves ought to be eradicated because they were a threat to deer contradicts evidence that white-tailed deer have adapted, when faced with logging, harsh weather, and wolves combined: the population has continually rebounded since the 19th century (Quinn 2005, 338). Furthermore, wolves cannot control a large population of deer easily only with predation (Pimlott 1967, 276),

109 and deer populations were abundant in Algonquin Park by the 1880s and did not become drastically reduced until the 1920s due to fire and logging (Quinn 2005, 333; Forbes & Theberge

1996, 1512). Wolves do not only feed on deer but also beaver, small mammals, and even moose

(Forbes & Theberge 1996, 1515-1516).

Wolves represented an uncontained wilderness that parks officials wanted to change in order to make the park more acceptable to European sensibilities. Just as transportation and access made settlers more comfortable with the land, creating a semblance of safety on European terms fulfilled a similar goal. The attitude to wolves exemplifies the rash ignorance present in colonial environmental thinking, bent on eradicating all things deemed an impediment to

European notions of civilization and dispossessing living things that stood in their way. Deer were protected as they provided food for people and later became a major attraction for the park

(No Deer Hunt in Algonquin 1957) and a source of revenue through tourism, whereas wolves were a detriment to those goals of economic and social progress. Today, a large, bronzed statue of a howling wolf greets people at the Algonquin Park Visitors Centre, where a plaque adorns the base of that statue and asks for donations to help support the educational and interpretive programmes at the park. The plaque does not mention that from the park's inception in 1893 until well into the early twentieth century, there was a concerted effort to completely eradicate wolves from the parklands. The changing “nature” of parks has always been political, and contemporary administration manicures the park image for the settler gaze.

Settler Mythologies, Appropriation, and Park Evolution

As wilderness became parkland, it morphed physically and ideally. The unknown and dangerous – the potentially catastrophic – became an industrious reserve, then beautiful, serene,

110 or leisurely. Within the process of nation building, the park became a symbol of national pride.

For urban dwellers, the wilderness is a refuge and a reminder of something “pristine” or forgotten (APYTE 2018). Wilderness was woven into the larger national mythologies where settler stories in school texts, popular culture, and everyday language position Europeans as the bearers of civilization while relegating Indigenous cultures to the distant past (Razack 2002, 2).

Stories of empty lands focus on the “hardy and enterprising settlers,” and the “imagined rugged independence” and self-reliance of settlers that gave birth to liberty and democracy (Razack

2002, 3). The idea of European superiority further manifests itself through stories of national history that focus on Eurocentric “fairness” and “justice”, as well as the “hardships” endured by pioneers (Mackey 1999, 34-35). The cultural fabric of “settler-colonialism” obfuscates colonial violence and instead portrays European settlers largely as victims of the climate, hardship, and

Indigenous violence (Jacobs 2009, 4-6). On constructing wilderness, John Wadland (1995) argues that we attempt “to make the unknown knowable” and “render the wilderness human”

(13). Wadland notes that traditional lines of thinking (I would say European), indicate that culture is a product of civilization, and the growth of civilization is equated with the rise of cities

(Wadland 1995, 12). Colonial wilderness management allows us to think critically about how urbanity informs colonial ways of knowing, and how “othering” wilderness leaves out possibilities for re-considering or decolonizing Canada. Is wilderness an “escape” from urban realities? Or, is it much more than that? Does wilderness hold keys to understanding how colonialism constructs places and dispossesses? More important to this study: The desire for a stable climate and, subsequently, an aesthetically pleasing forestland drew from the European experience to re-construct forests in a way that tempered settler perspectives of wilderness as dangerous. In the process of re-construction, knowledge about the environment and climate

111 marginalized Indigenous peoples and their experience on the land. Settler colonial nation- building includes a geography of displacement, creating new societies that function, often unnoticed, to continually disavow Indigenous history and culture in relation to the land.

Wilderness, as they become parks, are re-constituted to form an environmental arm of this settler colonial process. Parks, as an environmental administration, reveal something about how the settler colonial process worked to manipulate wilderness to make it European. One of the most fascinating elements of the re-construction of wilderness is the emphasis on climate catastrophe and the need to re-shape park land to meet colonial standards.

The manipulation of parks by bureaucrats exemplifies how social construction operates in the genesis of settler colonial administration. It is easy to see how a social constructionist position challenges the idea that nature exists independently from social practices (Demerrit

2001), and that “nature is an effect of power” where practices are aimed at making nature

“intelligible” (Braun & Wainwright 2001, 41-42). Bureaucrats made clear decisions on how to manage non-arable land. The result is a “new” space, as settler colonialism “destroys to replace,” drawing on European templates (Wolfe 2006, 388) and appropriating land in the process. Settler colonialism needs Indigeneity as a signifier to establish the colony apart from the metropole, thereby building new national mythologies around the people and the land, replacing temporary imperialism with permanent settler colonialism (Wolfe 2006). Parks administration re-designed parks by appropriating and re-branding (mythologizing) the wilderness as quintessential

Canadian, neglecting the historical importance of the land to Indigenous peoples (APYTE 2018;

Ontario Parks Instagram). There is a long history of settler appropriation of Indigeneity, and parks are an example of expropriation for appropriation. Settlers have often appropriated

Indigeneity to forge unique colonial identities separate from Great Britain and Europe, and to

112 ground the settler identity in North America. Philip Deloria, using D. H. Lawrence, argues that

American consciousness developed by defining itself by what it was not, and the most convenient way to define American identity in the post-revolutionary period was in relation to

Indigenous peoples. The settler quest for American identity included an attraction to and repulsion from Indigeneity, where the myth of the “Noble Savage” allowed settlers to idealize

Indigenous peoples, while not in any way protecting them from dispossession. Deloria argues that Americans wanted to feel a natural affinity with the continent, and Indigenous peoples could teach settlers a kind of "aboriginal closeness," while settlers could simultaneously seek to control the land (Deloria 1998, 3-5). There were numerous occasions where Americans of European descent, early in the country's post-Revolution history, appropriated “Indian costume” to symbolize a break with British conventions or laws. The original protagonists of the Boston Tea

Party, those protesting the Mass Tree Law of the 1730s, and settlers involved in property disagreements in New England in the 1760s all “played Indian” as part of their political activities

(Deloria 1998, 2, 11-12). Indian "playgroups" (groups of colonists who dressed up as “Indians” and staged events) were common in America in the 18th to 20th centuries. The Gordian Knot

(1840s) consisted of propertied white men in New York State reciting poetry and sharing nationalist histories and literature to find their identities in the "New World." These new

Americans wanted to identify with Indigenous North America rather than as immigrants, and constructed their identities against their notions of "the Indian" and “Iroquoian principles” by donning “Indian garb,” studying Haudenosaunee tradition, and “doing as one thinks Indians do”

(Simpson 2014, 78). Boy Scout groups also performed “Indianness,” as troupes of non-Indian explorer scouts dedicated themselves to learning dances (Strong 2012, 129). An Indian Lore merit badge dating to 1911 emphasized knowledge of “authentic traditions” (Strong 2012, 129).

113

Deloria notes that practices of "playing Indian" clustered around two moments: the Revolution, resting on creating national identity, and modernity, using Indian play to "encounter the authentic amidst the anxiety of urban industrial and postindustrial life" (Deloria 1998, 7). Defining

European-American identities also meant resolving ambivalence about the anxieties of the violence of the colonial history – to appropriate Indigeneity meant to soften the history thereby strengthening colonial claims to the land (Huhndorf 2001). Appropriation of “Indianness” worked to affirm the distinctive identity of colonies (Scheckel 1998). Settlers have interpreted wilderness, like Indigeneity, through a European gaze and appropriated it as new, colonial spaces

“camouflaged” on colonial terms (Bhabha 1994).

The motivations for changing the land are not always simply economic. Parks were effective money-makers; they were a mechanism for the state to manage and sell timber and impose a licensing system on timber companies. Fear of climate catastrophe was also a powerful motivation. Colonialism sets the preconditions for climate policy (Holleman 2017), and in the case of parks in Ontario, climate anxieties allowed bureaucrats to build a colonial administrative environmental order. Managing the climate was not just about moisture and soil (agriculture), it was about making the land legible and accessible to settlers. The Nordic Spruce and the eradication of wolves were practical examples of how the park was constructed – how social and political power shaped the park. An examination of Algonquin Park history confirms Edward

Soja’s (1989) observations that “space can be made to hide consequences from us…relations of power and discipline are inscribed into the apparently innocent spatiality” of parks (Baker 2002,

199; Soja 6). Algonquin Park’s “ecological features,” through they may appear natural, are “the result of many years of human occupation, intervention, policy, and administration;” the park history is “a consequence of social production” (Baker 2000, 199).

114

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Chapter 3 | Ontario Parks as “Indian Policy”: Ethnocentrism through Bureaucratic Power

Parks as ‘Indian Policy’

The purpose of this chapter is to trace the development of ethnocentric settler representations of Indigenous peoples in the 18th and 19th centuries to contextualize the power and willingness of Ontario bureaucrats to dispossess within that Eurocentric mindset. Parks bureaucrats held considerable power as they worked closely with the Indian Affairs department in regards to land management issues (Holmes 1993), and their perspectives relied on common, long-standing stereotypes about Indigenous peoples, which framed them as unproductive and detrimental to park lands. Parks were lucrative resources reserves (Gillis and Roach 1983; Lower

1933) and laboratories for ecological experimentation (Bartlett, Thomson, and Simpson 1893-

1913), but they were also sites of power that fulfilled a similar role as early “Indian policy”1 in

Canada. The architects of Algonquin Park, who were the same people who participated in the process of constructing a parks bureaucracy in Ontario, were at least partly responsible for dispossessing Algonquin people of their land. This form of dispossession was not limited to

Algonquin Park, as it continued in the construction of other early parks in Ontario like Quetico.

Bureaucrats, governing authorities, and people of letters built settler colonialism in the 18th and

19th centuries through language, legislation, institutions, and culture. Ontario parks administration, as a state institution, is a product of colonial territoriality and part of the processes of settler representation of Indigenous peoples. Ontario Parks constitute an

1 By early “Indian policy”, I mean government policies in the 18th to 20th centuries designed to control Indigenous peoples and their lands (see Tobias 1991, Milloy 1991, Dickason 1997).

122 understudied but powerful element of settler colonial administration, and must be a part of any discussion of early “Indian policy” in Canada.

A complete, critical discussion of early “Indian policy” must include parks administration because it facilitated the restructuring of lands deemed non-arable or “wild.” Governments and the media often historicize parks as uncomplicated wilderness spaces "protected" for their natural beauty and resources (APYTE 2018). Since early parks included land deemed unsuitable for agriculture, gaining control of these lands was motivated by economic and environmental concerns not necessarily associated with agricultural (for example, concerns over timber licensing, climate, etc.) (Barton 2004; Killan 1993; Gillis and Roach 1983). The 19th century

Crown Lands Department, which was responsible for early parks administration, worked closely with Indian Affairs on matters relating to Indigenous land and claims (White 1895). Scholarship often excludes parks from discussions of early Indian policy, while conventional "settled" lands are often limited to discussions of agriculture-related activities. To leave parks out of discussions of early Indian policy is to eliminate Indigenous peoples from the history of parks and preservation initiatives, and disregard dispossession. Parks deserve careful attention because they developed outside conventional settlement narratives, yet parks administration, since the 19th century, has neglected Indigenous relations with the land, and dispossessed Indigenous peoples of their land (Killan 1993; McNab 1999; Sandlos 2007; Thorpe, 2012).

Governments legislated parks into existence, but a simple political analysis does not consider the nuances of how parks fit into the historical fabric of a settler colonial state. To define parks as “Indian policy” they must be understood in the context of the time in which parks administration was first created. Decisions made by legislators in the 19th century, whether regarding Crown Lands policy or Indian Affairs department policy, were a product of the larger

123 settler cultural hegemony. The perspectives of legislators, and more importantly bureaucrats who formed policy and advocated for policy changes, were intertwined with popular perceptions of

Indigenous peoples and the land. Settlers of certain privilege (educated, literate, and wealthy) perpetuated and communicated these perceptions through literature, travel journals, paintings, performances, and news media.

Land Relations

European settlers and Indigenous communities value land in different ways (Huitema

2000, 192), and land has meant and means different things for Indigenous peoples and settlers.

Agriculture was the cornerstone of settler “development” in that it sustained settlers and constituted early economic production (Reaman 1970; Harris 2012; Holleman 2017). Wealthy loyalists used land as a commodity. Crown policy granted merchants, military, clergy, and bureaucrats land, which many hoarded for speculation (Lambert & Pross 1967; Lee 2004;

Ryerson 1983). European Lockean ideas of property (Locke 1690) differ significantly from

Indigenous land relations that are more connected to ancestry and building and sustaining relationships with the natural world, where land is centred around relations and holds culture

(Basso, 1996; Johnston 2006; Kulchyski 2016; Piper 1997).

The cultural necessity of land to Indigenous communities cannot be over-stated, as

European and Indigenous differences in land relations help explain why parks policy has been so damaging. The difference between land as individual private property and land as culture are integral to understanding the damage that settler colonialism inflicts. Park creation in late 19th century Ontario included drawing new boundaries, and enforcing new rules and regulations

124 imposed by colonial governments; authorities enforced who could and could not enter parklands, they created timber licenses, and brought new flora and fauna to parks (Algonquin Park Act

1893; Bartlett, Thomson, and Simpson 1893-1913). Authorities did not just change the land, but forced a wedge between Indigenous communities and their ways of life. When settlers engage with parks, places that have existed in the collective minds of Ontarians or Canadians for generations, it is easy to think the land was just 'set aside' for conservation and our leisure. It is easy to ignore the multiple histories and experiences embedded in the land. This colonial amnesia ignores the fact that the crux of colonialism is land expropriation and the destruction of

Indigenous land relations (King 2015) through a process of de-territorialization and re- territorialization (Piper 1997).

European Liberal-capitalist land relations are not uniform but focus largely on private property and monetary value in considering the productivity of land. Private property is central to Eurocentric economic liberalism, which advocates removal of land from the commons to better serve and support humanity (Locke 1690, 19-23). Encouraging the cultivation, adornment, and improvement of private property through agriculture is a cornerstone of liberal economics

(Locke 1690, 21-13; Smith 1776, 516). Accordingly, colonial authorities in British North

America in the 18th and 19th centuries became focused on fee-simple settlement and agriculture as central to notions of progress (Reaman 1970, 21). Private ownership and the monetary value of land were so powerfully linked to "civilization" and "development" during early settlement, that they often eclipsed other forms of value associated with land. These conceptions of land focus primarily on exchange value, which is the quantitative value of a commodity in relation to other commodities and can be represented by (and exchanged for) money (Marx 1867, 36). The aim of producing commodities in a capitalist market is to create exchange values that facilitate

125 exchange and generate profit (Harvey 2014, 17). Alternately, the 'use-value' of an object becomes realized through consumption rather than exchange (Marx 1867, 36). A house's use- value is providing shelter, and food's use-value is providing nourishment. A house, or land, does not have to be exchanged to have use-value. Where exchange-value assigns monetary worth to an object, use-value emphasizes the benefit of an object to a person’s use. In this way, exchange- value can be seen as an "abstraction" from use-value (Marx 1867, 37-38). The exchange-value of parks is evident in their use as timber reserves and tourist destinations. A preoccupation with the monetary worth of land shifts focus away from the many ways that people relate to land.

For many Indigenous communities, land constitutes identity, culture, and connections to human relations rather than an "exchangeable" or "useful" commodity. Cultural teachings and lessons are often embedded in the land, as stories emerge from and are attached to interactions with places over time (Basso 1996). Ancestors are often located in the land (and waters) where places become connections between people and ancestors (Molina and Delgado-Shorter 2014).

In Ontario, Anishinaabeg people come from the land and are shaped by it, as identity is connected to all living things including ancestors who lived there (Johnston 2006). The dynamic, durational, and interactional nature of Indigenous relationships with land can pose problems for those who understand land in more static ways. Indigenous land can extend to past and future generations, and belong to all living things (Cummins & Whiteduck 1998, 6). Intimate relations with land as spiritual places can be highly personal for Indigenous people and therefore sacred lands can mean different things to different people. Unlike a conservative monotheistic view of holy lands, which is generally rigid or static (Hassner 2010), Indigenous sacred lands can allow for diverse experiences and include prior traditions and new visions (Cummins & Whiteduck

1998, 6-7). Leroy Little Bear describes Blackfoot land as part of an "interrelational network" that

126 is in flux and "always happening" (Little Bear 1998, 19). Blackfoot language does not make a static distinction between the past, present, and future, unlike the English language. When something happens in a place, in Blackfoot language, the repercussions continue to happen in that place (Little Bear & Heavy Head, 2004). The contrast between fixed and fluid land relations is apparent in a comparison between conventional European maps and land-title versus the stories, songs, and ceremonies of Indigenous peoples that constitute different ways of mapping places (Little Bear 1998, 19). In his critique of wilderness, Peter Kulchyski argues that the naming, encasement, and control over Indigenous land can constrict meanings that communities communicate through the land (Kulchyski 1998, 22). This poses a problem for communities who must shift "borders to accommodate shifting needs," where places are open to multiple interpretations and complex inscriptions that require engaged relations between people and land

(Kulchyski 1998, 23).

Settler colonialism employs institutions to eliminate Indigenous peoples from their lands in order to meet European economic and cultural needs, thereby disrupting the cultural continuity of Indigenous peoples. Patrick Wolfe argues that the central motive for the elimination of

Indigenous people was not only race but territory, the "irreducible element" of settler colonialism

(Wolfe 2006, 388). A variety of agencies (from metropolitan centres to frontier settlements) focused on eliminating Indigenous peoples through (or without) formal state institutions (Wolfe

2006, 393). Early settlers felt Indigenous people "obstructed" their access to land and a "logic of elimination" became a driving force to clear the land of Indigenous people (Wolfe 2006, 388).

Struggles to retain, obtain, and sustain land are key to understanding colonialism in North

America. Government institutions support and facilitate settler understandings of land, society, and history and redefine land and peoples. They also create barriers for Indigenous peoples as

127 these institutions and definitions conflict with already existing Indigenous governance and ways of life (Borrows 2007). These projects constitute the apparatus of settler-colonialism by constructing new definitions of land and peoples. They also function to create barriers for

Indigenous peoples as new institutions and definitions conflict with already existing Indigenous livelihoods. Parks constitute one such strategy, as bureaucrats designed them to exclude peoples, manage resources, and eventually appeal to nationalist settler sensibilities. The existence of parks, as timber reserves or environmental museums, challenge Indigenous histories and understandings of the land.

Early "Indian Policy:” Strategies of Dispossession

Government policies work in conjunction with settler practices to dispossess, and the work of 19th century park bureaucrats constituted a realm of practice where ethnocentrism and ignorance guided policy-making. For Cole Harris, colonialism is less a centrally driven imperial plan than a series of daily practices of dispossession that take place on the periphery. It is important to investigate the strategies and tactics of colonialism, or the "actuality and materiality" that cause dispossession and repossessions (Harris 2004, 166-167). Harris asks how colonial power was "deployed" to achieve certain geographical effects, largely in the interest of capital and profit, and he notes the importance of technologies like maps and laws to reorganize life and land "on the colonizer's terms" (Harris 2004, 179). In early parks policy, colonial administration drew new boundaries around lands that authorities deemed wild and non-arable, and developed resource and environmental policy to enclose the land. Settler practices build settler colonialism, but government institutions also constitute legislated dispossession.

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Government policy has influenced how settlers understand Indigenous peoples and parklands, along with a complicated colonial hegemony. Paige Raibmon argues that settler practices and Indian policy were part of a "mutually sustaining dialectic" that did the work of colonialism in the places where practices of settlement conflict with the life ways of Indigenous peoples (Raibmon 2008, 57-58). Raibmon and Harris argue for analyzing practices where colonialism takes place. Supporting the on-the-ground building of settler society were new colonial institutions and definitions that worked at the expense of Indigenous peoples. Those who administered policy could also benefit directly from land acquisition, as settlers, regardless of position, are permanent agents of terrestrial and cultural change (Veracini 2011, 6). A brief survey of certain legislative and cultural practices will situate Ontario parks in the larger historical development of settler colonialism in Canada, and provide insight into how parks are

“Indian policy.” The laws that settler authorities enacted and the media (art and literature) in the

19th century worked together to build a colony predicated on Indigenous dispossession.

The changes to Indian policy in the years just before and after Canadian Confederation set the trajectory of Indigenous land appropriations. Unlike parks policy, conventional “Indian policy” was not veiled by resource or ecological concerns; it was purely designed to dispossess and assimilate. This history of “Indian policy” is essential to contextualize parks as a form of land management affecting Indigenous peoples. Legislation from the 1850s encouraged “gradual civilization” and “enfranchisement” of Indigenous peoples. The Management of Indian Land and

Properties Act of 1860 allowed the Dominion government to take control of Indian administration from the Imperial Crown Office (Dickason 1997). The government passed the Act for Gradual Enfranchisement of Indians in 1869 and the Indian Act in 1876, consolidating formal powers and administration over Indian affairs. John Milloy argues that between 1763 and

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1860, when the British imperial government had control of Indian affairs, Indigenous communities were essentially self-governing with “exclusive control over their population, land, and finances” (Milloy 1991). With the legislation of the 1850s and 60s, culminating with the

Indian Act, Canada imposed controls on Indigenous communities and reserves (Milloy 1991).

The foundations of the Canadian Indian Policy were assimilation and paternalism; Indian agents determined Indian status and land-use policy on reserves (McMillan 1988). The ultimate strategy with these policies was to separate people from their land and therefore culture.

The Indian Act included an intimate and grounded form of control by consolidating laws in a nation-wide framework that gave new powers over Indigenous lands to the Superintendent-

General of Indian Affairs (Dickason 1997). Not unlike the Indian Act, early parks legislation empowered bureaucrats to manipulate and re-constitute Indigenous lands. The Algonquin Park

Act (1893) allowed the Park Superintendent to add lands to the park and shift the boundaries, while Park Rangers had the power to arrest trespassers. The Forest Reserves Act (1898) allowed the Lieutenant-Governor-in-Council to set aside public lands for forest reserves, creating new boundaries for future parks. The Indian Act was more concerned with breaking lands apart, rather than the enclosure tactics used in parks legislation. Enfranchisement through “location tickets” (1869) was an important innovation that created a system for the adoption of private property on reserves (Tobias 1991). With consent of the band, the government could allot land to any “Indian” man or unmarried woman for the purpose of enfranchisement. After the band had granted land to an individual, the Superintendent-General of Indian Affairs could grant a probationary location ticket. Therefore, an “enfranchised Indian” would have private ownership of an allotted portion of their reserve (Venne 1981). This legislation aimed to eliminate reserves altogether (Tobias 1991).

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The Indian Act has a long history of restricting the movement, land, political sovereignty, and identity of Indigenous people. Since its inception in 1876, the Act and its subsequent amendments have restricted access to legal recourse to defend land claims, voting rights, traditional governing structures, ceremonies, marriages, and the definition of "Indian" status.

Indian Agents, assigned by Indian Affairs to “manage” reserves had extraordinary powers. For example, the “pass system” (1885) forced Indigenous people to obtain a permit from an Indian

Agent to leave their reserves (Daschuk 2013; Carter 1999) and Indian Agents enforced an autocratic rule by disrupting council meetings in communities and withholding treaty funds

(Brownlie 2003; Jacobs 2002). Accordingly, relationships communities have with reserves, band councils, and the Indian Act are complex. Reserves represent home and identity to many and people look to band councils for support. This does not negate a long history of neglect and dispossession, which continued through the construction of assimilative institutions. Early parks policy, by comparison, included a form of enclosure and boundary creation that either denied entry to Indigenous people, or justified exclusion for economic and ecological interests – both of which depended on ethnocentric assumptions about Indigenous land use – constituting a different form of mobility restriction (Holmes 1993; White 1895).

The residential school system in Canada was operational and pervasive from the last quarter of the 19th century through much of the 20th century, and inflicted incalculable harm on

Indigenous children, communities, and culture. There were over nine thousand children in seventy-nine residential schools by 1939. The system officially began in 1879 and functioned under a church-state partnership until the 1980s with the last school closing in 1996 (Milloy

1999, xii). Canadian authorities removed Indigenous children from their communities and brought them to residential schools where administrators and clergy forbade them to speak their

131 native languages or live in their own ways. School authorities verbally, physically, and sexually abused the attendees, children were underfed, unprotected from disease and many children died

(TRCC 2015). John Milloy's A National Crime documents the creation and justification for the schools. He notes that the residential school system is characterized by "persistent neglect and abuse of children" and Indigenous communities (Milloy 1999, xii; Vowel 2016). Even though there was a discourse of "civil and spiritual duty" in the framing of the school system, there was systemic neglect and abuse of children (Milloy 1999, xiv).

In the residential school system, policy-makers and clergy created an institutional framework designed to alienate children from their homes and families and destroy communities.

The school system began from a series of commissions and reports (e.g. the Bagot Report in

1844 and the Davin Report in 1879) recommending the assimilation of Indigenous people. The imperial policies of the 1830s to the 1850s, in addition to federal legislation just after

Confederation in 1867, provided the rationale for the construction of residential schools (Milloy

1999, 9). Policy-makers argued that the mission of the schools was to "elevate" Indigenous peoples from "savagery" to good citizenship (Milloy 1999, 3; Vowel 2016). Politicians and civil servants were interested in national development and had no respect for Indigenous knowledge and experience, which they deemed undesirable for European industry and culture (Milloy 1999,

4-5). Both the church and state wanted to convert "wandering hunters" into farmers and tradespeople (Milloy 1999, 6). The schools forced children out of their communities, encouraging subsequent residence in towns or settlements controlled by settlers (Milloy 1999,

40). In some cases, Indian Agents monitored Indigenous people as they moved from residential schools to work in agriculture, in an attempt to use the reserve as a space for surveillance and

“betterment” strategy to manage Indigenous lives (Bednasek and Godlewska 2017). Even though

132 residential schools were designed to place Indigenous peoples in agricultural work, the Indian

Act placed restrictions on Indigenous farmers’ ability to sell crops and access loans (TRCC

2015), and implements and livestock promised in treaties were often inadequate (Carter, 2006).

Transitional policy, post-residential schooling, was wholly assimilative and neglectful. While the residential school system promoted agricultural skills without the necessary technological supports, parks officials justified wilderness land enclosure through the ethnocentric judgement of agricultural skills in Indigenous communities (Holmes 1993; Lawson 2001; White 1893).

Both institutions worked to create a double bind for Indigenous peoples, where the possibility of satisfying a settler-induced move to agriculture was stifled by restrictions.

Through the denial of homeland, family, language, and spirituality, residential schools were a multifaceted approach to extinguishing cultures and peoples. In Kill the Indian, Save the

Man, Ward Churchill argues that residential schools were part of genocidal policy in the United

States and Canada; schools were "consciously designed" to use education to do harm (Churchill

2004, xii-xiv). Scholars draw parallels between the definition of genocide from the United

Nations Convention on Genocide in 1948 and residential schools, arguing that killing and harming Indigenous peoples, preventing Indigenous births, and the forced transfer of children constitutes cultural genocide (Churchill 2004; Mosby 2013; Woolford and Benvenuto 2014).

Physical and sexual abuse, enforcement of language prohibition, attacks on spiritual practice

(other than Christianity), hair-cutting, renaming, and forced labour were tactics employed to "kill the Indian" in the child (Churchill 2004; De Leeuw 2007; Kelm 1998). Ultimately, residential schools led to intergenerational trauma affecting livelihoods, education, health, and well-being of

Indigenous peoples (Castelden and Martin 2016; Gorton and White 2014; TRCC 2015).

Assimilationist policy did not end with residential schools, as government authorities continued

133 to take Indigenous children away from their families and put them into foster homes or put up for adoption as part of the “Sixties Scoop,” as authorities took tens of thousands of children from their homes between the 1950 and 1980s. This was a new method of removing children from their homes under the auspices of “child services.” Disrupting cultural continuity continued as young people lost their families, names, and languages (Carneiro 2018; Stirrett 2015). Some redress has begun for survivors as the Canadian government apologized in 2008 for the treatment of Indigenous people at residential schools, agreed to the Residential Schools Settlement

Agreement (McIntyre 2017), and Indigenous communities won a significant lawsuit around the

Sixties Scoop (Deer 2019). Even with monetary settlements, many of the individual and collective harms remain as intergenerational traumas continue, and current health and child- welfare policies do not address community needs (TRCC 2015). Even though the former government issued an apology for residential schools in 2008, the same Prime Minister Stephen

Harper, at a G20 meeting in Pittsburgh in 2009, said that Canada has “no history of colonialism”

(Wherry 2009). This apparent paradox partly explains why Indigenous communities have had to use the legal system and other policy mechanisms to fight for land, resources, and survival as governments suffer from a dangerous historical amnesia. The institutional frameworks that induce judicial challenges do not end at residential schools, as the park system includes a long history of petitions and court challenges, where Indigenous leaders fought to retain title to lands in the face of legislated dispossession (Huitema 2000; Lawson 2001). Although parks do not include the same, specific forms of violence as residential schools, they nonetheless constitute another method of denying Indigenous peoples their homeland, thereby threatening their cultural continuity.

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The pre-Confederation treaties, the Numbered Treaties, modern comprehensive treaties, the Nuanvut and Nuavik Agreements, and the Nunatsiavut Treaty are amongst the treaties that cover most of Canada and continue to be part of a process of land acquisition crucial to expanding the Dominion and controlling lands for settlement and resource exploitation. Crown authorities and Indigenous leaders signed hundreds of treaties during European settlement

(Dickason, 2002). The earliest agreements between nations were "peace and friendship" treaties, serving the practical function of outlining strategic alliances in military and political struggles

(Venne 2002, 44; Sprague 1995, 341). The Royal Proclamation of 1763 required the Crown to approve treaties and rights to land. In response, settler bureaucrats negotiated large land treaties in exchange for cash or goods (Feng and Aldridge 2015; McMillan, 1988). Colonial authorities signed a number of Upper Canada Treaties in southwestern Ontario in the 18th and 19th centuries, the Robinson Treaties around Lakes Huron and Superior in 1850, and the Numbered Treaties, which spanned from Ontario into the western provinces and into the northern territories from the

1870s to the 1920s. Much of British Columbia was unceded and remains sovereign Indigenous territory. Settler desires, propelled the Crown to negotiate for lands for agriculture, to exploit resources like timber, and build the Canadian-Pacific Railway were all part of the land-centred process of expanding the Dominion and creating legal controls over Indigenous peoples

(Calverley 2018; Sprague 1995, 345-346). Crown officials facilitated the post-Royal

Proclamation of 1763 treaty-making processes to extinguish Indigenous title to large areas of land, with "vague assurances" for hunting and fishing rights and promises to reserved lands and annuities (Sprague 1995, 344).

These treaties were a powerful tool of dispossession. Crown authorities often began treaty negotiations in times of great need, initiating the process with uneven power dynamics.

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The Canadian government used food crises to control Indigenous communities as smallpox and tuberculosis spread through communities (Daschuk 2013). Treaty 6 negotiations (1871-1877) between the Crown, Cree, and Assiniboine in what is now Alberta and Saskatchewan began when nations were devastated by European disease and the loss of bison as a major food source.

Crown officials used the collapse of bison herds and resulting famine as a bargaining tool to convince communities of relocation and railway development on their lands (Daschuk 2013).

Crown officials and Indigenous leaders had different interpretations of treaties due to differences in interests, understanding of fundamental concepts such as land relationships, and the technologies of record keeping. Interpretation is particularly challenging due to differences between written and oral traditions. Some Canadian legal scholars regard most treaties as oral agreements between parties, while written agreements were partial accounts of the oral compacts. Written treaties allowed "ample opportunity for misunderstanding and distortion," and recorded matters largely of interest to the European parties (Slattery 2000, 208). Furthermore,

Indigenous leaders argue that Crown officials omitted language about land surrender from original oral treaty agreements, creating deliberate discrepancies between Indigenous and Crown records (Krasowski 2011; Treaty 7 Tribal Council 1996). Crown officials often disregarded or devalued Wampum belts, which are "inviolable" records of treaties for Anishnaabeg or

Haudenosaunee communities (Slattery 2000, 208; Johnston 2006, 16). Crown officials infantilized Indigenous peoples (Long 2010) whom they deemed vanishing in any case (more on this below).

Treaties and associated oral accounts are legal documents and Indigenous peoples have increasingly re-deployed them to demonstrate title to land (Napoleon 2005). Indigenous peoples believe treaties guarantee rights (hunting, trapping) and their own land tenure practices

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(Calverley 2018). Where treaties have not existed, Indigenous communities have used the judicial system to force Canada to recognize ancestral title to their land. Two ground-breaking cases (Calder v. Attorney General of British Columbia, 1973 and Delgamuukw v. British

Columbia, 1997) recognized Indigenous title to land and the importance of oral history in land claims cases. The government of Canada established a new land claims policy in 1973 due to pressure from Indigenous communities demanding claim settlements, and on the heels of large- scale comprehensive agreements with Nisga’a, James Bay Cree, and Inuit communities. The government designed this mechanism to provide a process of negotiation for lands where no previous treaties existed (comprehensive claims) and for lands where existing treaties were in dispute (specific claims) (Land & Townshend 2002). Many Indigenous communities have challenged the federal government with Specific Claims where the Crown did not fulfill treaty promises, or have negotiated self-governing agreements on lands never surrendered. Hundreds of claims are outstanding in Canada, which demonstrates some willingness to resolve disputes, but governments are also committed to a strategy of rights extinguishment that drains Indigenous communities of resources by forcing them to justify and prove claims to their ancestral lands.

Treaties have been at the centre of land disputes involving parks in Canada, where governments have created parks on treaty lands without consultation with First Nations, resulting in petitions and land claim proceedings that last hundreds of years (Rose 2008).

The state has undoubtedly been a powerful force in challenging Indigenous sovereignty by legislating barriers between peoples and their lands. Reflecting on Harris and Raibmon’s emphasis on the importance of settler tactics in colonialism, there is an interplay between state powers through government institutions and settler actions. To argue that parks are “Indian policy” requires demonstrating how parks policy, from its inception, dispossessed Indigenous

137 peoples, but also contextualizing the cultural hegemony of the 19th century. Settler representations of Indigenous peoples, as popularized by literature and art of the time and the mythologies they perpetuated, re-appear in the language of bureaucrats who were the architects of Ontario’s first parks.

Settler Representations: Building Ethnocentrism

Bureaucrats relied on (and helped construct) perceptions of wilderness that motivated changing the land, and in this construction of wilderness lands, settlers and bureaucrats alike were engaged in a process of representation that extended to Indigenous peoples. As a form of land acquisition, the earliest parks performed a function at one with early enfranchisement and civilization policies; they are the result of processes that took lands from Indigenous peoples for colonial endeavors (whether for settlement, resource exploitation, or environmental management). Converting so-called “wilderness” lands into a park required that settlers have some sense of what wilderness was. Canada (and the U.S.) has long embraced a geographical mythology that identifies expansive, empty, and pristine wilderness with the nation’s character, while simultaneously neglecting the history of colonialism that carved parks from this

“wilderness” (Thorpe 2012; Calverley 2018). Settler perceptions of Indigenous peoples are as important as the legislative changes that governments made to control lands and separate

Indigenous peoples from them. To understand parks as a form of “Indian policy” we must elucidate how settler colonial representation helped motivate park policy and inform the work of bureaucrats and park architects. Missionaries and travellers from the 17th to 18th centuries had described wilderness lands as uncivilized, horrible, and perilous (Hennepin 1690; Mackenzie

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1970). Popular Canadian literature from the 19th century routinely referred to wilderness as

“waste space,” monotonous, and positioned it in opposition to what settlers saw as productive agricultural land (Moodie 1871; Jameson 1838). Settlers viewed wilderness as “barren” and wild

(Castree and Braun 2001; Cronon 1995; Grace 2001; Thorpe 2012), and Indigenous peoples as vanishing, or “savage.” The literature framed wilderness lands, and by extension the Indigenous people that lived on the land, as hostile, uncivilized, and unproductive. For settlers, separating

Indigenous people from wilderness lands was necessary to the “civilization” of each.

Settler perceptions formed a cultural hegemony in the colony, in that the relationships between farmers, missionaries, writers, travellers, artists, politicians, bureaucrats and the news media formed a general consensus on myths about Indigenous peoples (Gramsci 1971; Mackay and Stirrup 2013). Colonial writers, painters, performers, and scholars conveyed powerful images and descriptions of Indigenous peoples and the land. Early exploration narratives, including letters and novels, spoke with authority of truth, while promising both entertainment and utility (Sayre 1997, 83). Art and literature, like museums, involve a “politics of looking” which shapes images, stories, and interpretations (McLoughlin 1999, 141; Phillips and Phillips

2005). There is a power dynamic in this shaping, where creators and consumers of cultural material co-shape representations (Gidley 1992; Strong 2012). The privileged classes, in this case writers, artists, and men and women of influence, publicized their perspectives on

Indigenous peoples. The public consumed them and defended them as truth, constructing a

“dominant discourse” in early Canadian society (Derrida 1994, 51). The emerging public discourse, in the Foucauldian sense of a system of representation and knowledge production, blurred the lines between science and popular anthropology in the 18th and 19th centuries and shaped European ways of life as superior (Hall 1997, 232-233; Lidchi 1997, 196). Berkhofer

139 suggests that popular culture became the “defining medium” of the image of Indians by 1840

(Bird 1996). Although what was truly popular in the 19th century is difficult to determine, as not everyone was literate or had access to performances in large cities. Certainly, art, literature, and performance worked in tandem with advertising, politics, and conversation in building agreement between cultural producers and consumers (Cronlund and Roberston 2011); art, literature, and performance both constructed perspectives and reflected social views (Molholt

2012). These cultural forms created the commonly accepted (“unmarked”) settler perspective

(Mackey 1999, 93), made it normative, and contributed to the “normalizing logics” of settler colonialism (Smith 2010, 41-42), at the heart of which is an authoritative knowledge of others

(Mackey 2016). Early and mid 20th century scholarship by Pearce (1953) and Berkhofer (1978) on settler representations of Indigenous peoples left little space for nuance in our understanding of settler perspectives of Indigenous peoples (Strong 2012). Their understandings of language are out of date, but they inspired later works such as Daniel Francis’ The Imaginary Indian

(1992). Writing a popular survey of settler representations of Indigenous peoples, Francis took a more nuanced approach that identified diverse settler perspectives. Francis reveals common

“tropes” or myths in settler literature, travel diaries, art, and performances. His work is a starting point for any analysis of cultural representations and state power working in tandem to dispossess.

The “dominant narrative structure” about Indigenous peoples reveals the ethnocentrism and socio-economic motivations of the 19th century settlers (Clifton 1994, 32; Colin 1999). This

“representational regime” created mythologies that de-humanized or represented Indigenous peoples as caricatures or apparitions and was often fatalist (Bergland 2000; Trudelle Schwarz

2013, 1). Myths in literature, art, and performance became “strategic practices of representation,”

140 whether intentional or not, that worked to erase or obscure Indigenous presence on the land

(Drane 2003). This was an era of great political and economic change in Canada, where the colony was not only being legislated into existence but also constructed as a nation (Smith 2000).

This cultural hegemony linked settler representations of Indigenous peoples and of the land.

Parks, as “Indian policy,” capture settler perceptions because the architects of parks relied on constructions of Indigenous people as irrelevant or a barrier to colonial endeavors (White 1895;

Kirkwood 1874). The imperative of economic production impels the state to build particular moral and cultural aspirations, necessitating gaining control of Indigenous lands (Gramsci 1971,

258). Images and descriptions of Indigenous peoples as wild, uncivilized, and vanishing made dispossessing them from non-arable lands acceptable to settlers, and developing the lands for resource exploitation, environmental management, and tourism self-evidently good. If settlers deemed Indigenous peoples “vanishing” then land became “vacant,” or if settlers thought them

“savage” or wild, then the land required development in the European sense. The colonial narratives that settlers propagated were paternal, ethnocentric, and made dispossession essential to colonial development. The earliest and continuous form of (mis)representation employed by settlers was re-naming.

Settler Naming Practices and Displacement

Europeans misconstrued Indigenous identity due to geographical ignorance and language barriers. Historians often trace the beginnings of European-Indigenous contact in the western hemisphere to the arrival of Christopher Columbus (1451-1506) and the incorrect assumption that the "new world" was India, with subsequent incorrect application of the term "Indian" to

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Indigenous peoples. Columbus' naming of the “new world” as Indies and the assumption that the land was east of the River Indus in Asia had lasting effects on how colonists spoke about

Indigenous peoples (Berkhofer 1978, 5; Mann 2011). This well-known example is symptomatic of the many ethnocentric practices that systematically led to dispossession. As we will see,

Ontario parks bureaucrats made assumptions about Indigenous communities, their names, and the location of their lands, which exemplified this kind of ignorance. There is an “ethnocentric power” in naming as colonial names for Indigenous peoples and their territories reflect the perspective of the one naming over the one being named, and written records cement those labels as truth (Sayre 1997, xii-xvii). French and English settlers chose different names to refer to the same peoples, and Indigenous peoples referred to themselves by their own names. Communities and movements have reclaimed the term "Indian” and employed it as a symbol of both colonialism and liberation, particularly the American Indian Movement (AIM) in 1960s and

1970s United States. Oglala Lakota activist Russell Means (1939-2012) once stated he abhorred the term “Native American” and insisted he would gain his freedom as an “American Indian”

(Mann 2011), though America is also an imperial name. The history of the term “Indian” reminds us of the impact of colonial ignorance, and the complexity of reclamation. Critical historical geography of place names is daunting because the records of names of peoples change with outsiders’ perspectives and insiders’ engagement with those perspectives (Johnston 2006,

12).

Colonial naming practices have disrupted Indigenous communities profoundly. English and French settlers have used the terms Ojibwe, Ojibwa, Chippewa, and Saulteaux to refer to

Anishinaabe peoples, which is not to say that these terms are wrong, as Indigenous communities also often refer to themselves by these names, but settler misunderstandings have complicated

142 relations between these peoples and their territories. This has caused significant loss of

Indigenous land and rights. The Crown was often ignorant of community boundaries and mistook peoples on multiple occasions in the late 19th and early 20th, such as which Ojibwe and

Chippewa people inhabited and controlled which Anishinaabe territory (Huitema 2000; Hodgins and Cannon 1998; nin.da.waab.jig 1987; Rose 2008). Bkejwanong (Walpole Island) First Nation in southwestern Ontario belongs to Ojibwe, Potawatomi, and Odawa peoples, all related as

Anishinaabeg (nin.da.waab.jig 1987). Bkejwanong people also refer to themselves as Chippewa, as a derivation of Ojibwe (Jacobs 2002). The community has multiple Anishinaabe and English identifiers used to communicate identities through colonial temporal and geographical thresholds. In the same region in southwestern Ontario, Crown authorities signed Treaty No. 2 of

1790 with Ojibwe, Potawatomi, Wyandot, and Odawa Chiefs covering a tract of land from present-day Windsor to London centred around the Thames River (Palmer 2017). Crown authorities omitted Caldwell First Nation from the treaty meetings, which denied that Chippewa community protection from settler encroachment. Squatters subsequently moved on to their territory and the Crown leased land to settlers creating a series of events that forced Caldwell people off their lands (Rose 2008). On multiple occasions between 1880 and 1923, Indian

Affairs officials, confused about the distinction between Bkejwanong and Caldwell people, suggested that Caldwell people move to Bkejwanong, which was soundly rejected by both communities (nin.da.waab.jig 1987). Crown officials employed a pan-Indian essentialism that was in itself an assault on the diversity of Indigenous peoples. Incorrect naming practices, exacerbated by an Indian Affairs department that took little interest in learning about distinctions between peoples, set the tone for a long history of problematic representations that supported a divide and rule strategy and facilitated dispossession.

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In the case of Algonquin Park, settler authorities were aware of the origins of the name when they created the park, and understood it as representing displacement. In the Speech from the Throne from the last session of the Ontario legislature in 1893 (the year Algonquin Park was created), Lieutenant-Governor George Kirkpatrick said, “The name Algonquin, by which the park is to be known, will form a connecting link between its former and its future occupants”

(Kirkpatrick, 1893). In making a distinction between the “former” and “future” occupants,

Kirkpatrick spoke as if a predetermined future would inevitably lead to the displacement of

Algonquin people. The name represented the changing of the land from Indigenous to settler – an insidious and inherent component of the settler colonial process. For settlers, the name

“Algonquin” has been a geographical identifier that marks a specific territory; the park has long been a space where settlers fetishized the land, equating the name “Algonquin” with pristine and untouched wilderness. In reality, the name reveals a long history of struggle to retain land and culture. The persistent struggles of Algonquin people to retain their land has continuously challenged settler attempts to turn the word into a reference to a relic culture. Algonquin people have worked for over 200 years to force the government to negotiate for land they never surrendered. In those negotiations, especially in the last 10 years, the name “Algonquin” has almost certainly become more complex to the settler observer. The name that once denoted a park of pristine wilderness is actually entangled in a history of settler colonialism.

Settler Mythologies: The Vanishing and Unproductive Indian

19th century colonialism was the intellectual heir to the Christian conviction that moral advancement followed conversion and trade. This conviction, combined with the argument that all peoples fit into a developmental hierarchy (the European Medieval theory of stages of

144 civilization, the Great Chain of Being) (Lovejoy 1936), became a potent and intolerant argument for European domination (Bayly 1999, 34; Berkhofer 1978, 47). European settlement brought a new edge and utility to these hierarchical imaginings, when states consolidated power and claimed territories. Belief in stages of development and that Indigenous peoples were not civilized, was the justificatory argument for dispossession. Colonists believed that Indigenous peoples had not improved the land by European liberal standards, that therefore had no rights to land or and would either assimilate or die. Soon after 1812, the value of Indigenous peoples to

British North America as allies diminished. Legal and administrative strategies of marginalization, displacement, and dispossession were developed and exercised. It was in this period that the “Vanishing Indian” became a popular myth. Settlers created Indigenous imagery to position Indigenous peoples as a temporary obstacle to European expansion (Francis 1992, 5,

23). The architects of Algonquin Park, and therefore the leaders of Ontario parks administration in the 19th century, relied on these kinds of myths in their decisions to keep Indigenous people off parkland.

There is no need to conduct an exhaustive survey of travel literature, paintings, and performance in the 19th century to demonstrate the common threads in colonial representations, but pointing to a few popular works will illuminate common myths that settler explorers, writers, and painters applied to Indigenous peoples. These ‘common threads’ cast light on the nature and function of appropriation and begin to explain the peculiar contradiction that although settlers represented Indigenous peoples in a negative way, they also sought to appropriate Indigeneity.

We can place parks in a larger institutional and social framework used to gain control of land, and place them in a more mythologizing process, where “wild” nature was re-positioned from representing uncivilized Indigenous savagery to representing the strength of settler perseverance.

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Indigenous peoples were not "vanishing" in the 19th century; they were under pressure from disease, legislative assault, government strategies to acquire land, settlement, and later residential schools. The recurring theme of the so-called "Vanishing Indian” in 19th century literature, art, and performance implied Indigenous peoples were dissolving into thin air. This myth reflects the desire of settlers to remove a perceived obstacle to total control of land, resources, and the polity. Indigenous peoples did not “lay down and die” as Audra Simpson

(2011) writes, “they persist, and in doing so, defy all expectations” (212). Writers and artists were active participants in a settler colonial environment that included constructing images of

Indigenous peoples, which worked alongside laws and regulations designed to dispossess.

European settlers saw Indigenous peoples as moveable objects. In terms of park policy, as

“Indian policy,” it is not enough to say that Indigenous peoples “vanished” from wilderness places, but rather absences are a reflection of policy, which worked in tandem with popular representations of the land and people to dispossess Indigenous peoples of these lands.

Painters created works in the 19th century that contributed to the "vanishing Indian" myth, but their work and words were witness to settler agency in dispossession. Paul Kane, most famously, travelled through Canada in the 1840s and 1850s in search of Indigenous subjects to paint. Although Kane’s paintings depict Indigenous peoples in a variety of settings, he paints a sombre and often desolate picture of Indigenous peoples. “Wigwams and Canoes on Shoreline”

(1845) and “Jasper House” (1847) show seemingly abandoned Indigenous dwellings. His depictions of Indigenous peoples are often lone portraits with sombre facial expressions

(“Casanov, Noted Warrior” 1846, “A Flathead Woman” 1847), or dreary “empty” landscapes

(“Half Breeds Travelling” 1846, “Red River Settlement” 1849) (Eaton and Urbanek 1995). On his own experience with Indigenous peoples, Kane noted in his journals:

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"I had been accustomed to see hundreds of Indians about my native village, then Little York, muddy and dirty, just struggling into existence...But the face of the red man is now no longer seen. All traces of his footsteps are fast being obliterated from his once favourite haunts, and those who would see the aborigines of this country in their original state, or seek to study their native manners and customs must travel far through the pathless forest to find them" (Kane 1859, vii).

Arlene Gehmacher argues that Kane’s paintings had “all the hallmarks” of what later became the

“salvage paradigm,” where settler art attempted to document Indigenous cultures artists felt were at risk of vanishing, inspired by the work of George Catlin who painted Indigenous portraits in response to U.S. policies that forcibly removed Indigenous peoples from their lands (Gehmacher

2014; Clifford 1986). To characterize Indigenous peoples as vanishing, suggests belief in a certain fate, but Kane’s use of “obliterated” suggests some awareness of the role settlers in colonial violence and active removal of Indigenous peoples from their land. The artist’s role was to identify a “gap” in the landscapes to be filled by settler occupation and possession (Bordo

1992).

Kane’s paintings, much like the settler approach to naming, represent his own (or the larger settler community’s) view of Indigenous peoples rather than who they were, and where they were. Comparisons between original sketches in his journals and finished paintings show

Kane’s studio modifications. Between his watercolour Kee-akee-ka-saa-ka-wow or “The Man that Gives the War Whoop” (1846) and the finished oil painting (1849-56) Kane elongated the model’s facial features, painted in a “foreboding sky” and added items such as a fringed shirt and headdress. These added features are what Arlene Gehmacher calles “accoutrements” or markers of “Indianness” for the viewer (2014). Seeking to appeal to settler aesthetics, Kane often painted

North American “wilderness” as manicured English turf and made portraits of Indigenous peoples redolent of Greek Gods (Harper 1966). Kane’s views of Indigenous peoples represented

147 not only his own observations but the workings of his editors who took liberties in embellishing or altering his words (McLaren 1989). This kind of literary relationship, between a painter who did not excel in writing and his editor, represents part of the dialectical push and pull between what was being produced (travel journals) and already-entrenched settler perspectives. Indeed, painters and artists were subject to “artistic fashion and public taste” and it was fashionable to paint romantic landscapes and stoic portraits at the time (Rees 1976).

Although the "vanishing Indian" appears in the literature of the time, settlers and administrators knew on some level that Indigenous peoples were very much present as they worked hard to displace them. Military personnel often had the means to travel great distances and hire secretaries to document their travels, meeting and residing (however briefly) with

Indigenous communities. Captain William Francis Butler (1838-1910) travelled through the

Canadian prairies and northern Ontario and wrote that Indigenous people were "passing away” with European settlement (Butler 1870, 243; Francis 1992, 47). George Munro Grant (1835-

1902), secretary of the Sandford Fleming expeditions through Canada, wrote in his travel diary in 1872 that Indigenous people "signed their own death warrants" by allowing settlement and that they would soon "die out" (Grant 1873, 48). Grant neglects the critical conditions of starvation, duress, and miscommunication under which Indigenous peoples signed treaties

(Daschuk 2013; Krasowski 2011). “Vanishing” implies mystery or an ethereal disappearance, but there is nothing mysterious about why Indigenous peoples were moving from their land, and active language around barriers, mobility and relevance suggest that settlers were aware of their active roles in constructing the “Indian” as an object (Vizenor 1999). Butler described the settler as a “death-dealing vendor” and “exterminator” (Butler 1870, 242). Grant describes the role of

Christianity and settler schools in removing Indigenous peoples from their lands and life ways to

148 settle them “down to steady farming work” (Grant 1873, 166). The "Vanishing Indian" myth was convenient for colonial doctrines of expansion. Literature and art supported settler ideologies of dispossession and colonial expansion by suggesting its inevitability. Settler cultural producers used the “Vanishing Indian” myth to cover settler active involvement in land theft and the removal of Indigenous peoples

Exhibitions at the World's Fairs from the 1850s through to the early 1900s, public performances, and photography provide effective examples of the conscious efforts of settlers to promote the “vanishing Indian” myth to audiences in the US, UK, and Europe. The World's Fairs were public events attracting millions of people in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, designed to demonstrate the effectiveness of Empire and promote the U.S. doctrine of manifest destiny

(Welch 2011, 339-342). Canada participated in many exhibitions, including those at the 1851

Crystal Palace Exhibition in London, the Paris Exposition Universelle in 1855, the world

Columbian Exposition of 1893 in Chicago, and similar events for visiting imperial officials such as the Prince of Wales in 1860 (Blanchard 1983; Heaman 1999). Many exhibitions about

Indigenous peoples were structured around narratives of "assimilation or extermination” (Welch

2011, 339-340). Focusing on “artefacts” and relegating Indigenous peoples to the past was a way to represent peoples as “primitive” or ultimately disappearing (Zegas 1976; Kosminder 2001;

Lidchi 1997, 196). The first World's Fair in London in 1851 featured "The Wounded Indian," a statue that depicted the death of American Indians, with a souvenir handbook describing

Indigenous people as a "fallen race" (Welch 2011, 339). The Chicago World's Fair midway in

1893 included portraits of Indigenous peoples with accompanying texts declaring the extinction of Indigenous peoples as they succumbed to all the vices without the virtues of the "white man."

An exhibit on Indian training schools in the Louisiana Purchase exhibition at the St. Louis

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World's Fair in 1904 characterized Indigenous people as ignorant, helpless, and primitive (Welch

2011, 339-342). Exhibitions sensationalized progress through grandiose displays of national achievements, sponsored by city and state political forces. The displays of tensions between national and imperial cultures, and the catastrophic results for Indigenous peoples were consumed with great relish by attendees (Bennet 1995; Hoffenberg 2001; Roche 2000; Rydell

1987). Working in conjunction with early American theatre and photography, public performances (whether at exhibitions or onstage) left little room for a future of Indigenous sovereignty. One of the first popular American tragic plays Metamora; or, the Last of the

Wampanoags (1829), began with calm settler-Indigenous relations, but spiralled into seemingly inevitable violence and terror in an Indigenous community (Jones 1996). As photography became more accessible in the late 19th century, photographic exhibits, or “photographic westerns” became common. Wealthy impresarios commissioned photographers and exhibits documenting the “disappearance” of Indigenous peoples in the west alongside the “advance” of settlers (Goodyear 1996, 32-38). There was institutional power in exhibitions and performance; they were created in specific contexts according to dominant power relations (Lidchi 1997, 185).

They reinforced a sense of settler superiority, and the “inevitability” of Indigenous disappearance resulting from settler activity (Hoffenberg 2001; Radforth 2004).

The "vanishing Indian" myth was little more than a justification for dispossession and the erasure of any Indigenous presence, present or future. Colonists felt settler supremacy was inevitable (Bird 1996; Thorpe 2011). A later variant of terra nullius, which ignored Indigenous relations with the land to justify European territorial possession, the "Vanishing Indian" obscured

Indigenous presence to justify settler land appropriation, satisfying a “possessive logic” that rationalized Indigenous peoples as diminishing to reaffirm the colony’s ownership and control of

150 land (Moreton-Robinson 2015). Intertextuality (the tendency of literature, art, performance, news coverage, and political debate to cite and reflect back on each other) was part of the colonial discourse, or regime of representation, built around myths like the “Vanishing Indian” (Hall

1997, 232-233) which, in the parlance of settler colonial studies, was all about the "elimination of the native" (Wolfe 2006).

While arguing that Indigenous peoples were vanishing, writers, travellers, advertising, and scientists commonly referred to Indigenous peoples as wandering and unproductive (in terms of European notions of agriculture), which furthered colonial motivations to appropriate land.

Former Lieutenant-Governor of Upper Canada Sir Francis Bond Head (1793-1875) wrote in

1846 of Indigenous people as without " fixed abodes," rambling "through the trees as freely as the wind [...] In the hidden recesses of this vast wilderness, man and beast, unseen by any living witness" (Bond Head 1846, 84-85). Powerful political figures, including Bond Head and former

Lieutenant-Governors of Upper Canada Sir Peregrine Maitland and Sir John Colborne, agreed that civilization of Indigenous peoples was "against their nature" because of their "hunting propensities" (Bond Head 1846, 123-124) – insinuating that European agriculture was essential to civilization. Writers also characterized the land as open, disconnecting Indigenous peoples from the land in an effort to encourage settlement. General William Francis Butler (1838-1910) wrote about the The Great Lone Land ready for “civilization” (Butler 1872) and minister and political activist George Munro Grant (1835-1902) remarked that Indigenous people had made little use of the land, and had “little conception of scale or bearings” in terms of map-making

(Francis 1992, 48; Grant 1873, 6). Grant was not only applying the common ethnocentrism of evaluating Indigenous land-use by European standards, but also neglecting Indigenous understandings of space through privileging a narrow conception of European geographical

151 technologies. Painters were no exception, as Paul Kane argued that Métis "half-breeds" were a

"very hardy race of men" but "their Indian propensities predominate, and consequently they make poor farmers, neglecting their land for the most exciting pleasures of the chase." (Kane

1859, 75). Some public figures were more sympathetic to the struggles of Indigenous peoples.

Manitoba-based missionary John McDougall (1842-1917) noted the honesty and respect Cree and Ojibway people had shown him and he argued for Indigenous rights to participate in their own ceremonies and festivals (McDougall 1895). Yet, he ultimately believed he was one of the

“forerunners of a Christian civilization,” part of a religious force, building empire (McDougall

1895). He spoke of his family as part of “the grand army of pioneers who took possession of the wilderness in Ontario, and in the name of God and country began the work of reclamation”

(McDougall 1895, 11-12). He expressed a feeling of possessiveness common for missionaries at the time that characterized Indigenous peoples as drifting through the forest, seemingly without purpose and in need of salvation (McDougal 1895; Ryerson Young 1897). Although writers in the 18th and 19th centuries were sometimes more sensitive to Indigenous ways of life, they still largely considered Indigenous cultures prone to inevitable extinction (Trigger 1985, 19). Pre-

1900 advertising also positioned Indigenous peoples outside “civilization.” Early “trade cards” distributed to promote local business often used Indigenous imagery for their “exotic appeal.”

Advertisers sketched Indigenous characters in a “narrow range of actions and occupations,” usually in traditional attire and often looking onto the city from the forest, positioned outside

“civilization,” which did not reflect the reality that many Indigenous people worked and lived in or near cities (Steele 1996, 47-49; Molholt 1996, 152-154). Kay Anderson reminds us that scientists, botanists, zoologists and naturalists also played a role in perpetuating 19th-century conceptions of difference, as organizations formed around the study of natural history often

152 conflated Indigenous peoples with nature. Anderson argues that imperial organizations like the

New South Wales Linnean Society saw Indigenous peoples as lacking agriculture and "settled abodes" and therefore attached Indigenous people to nature on a culture-nature dichotomy. In this way, colonial organizations constructed settler knowledge about the landscape and

Indigenous communities (Anderson 1998, 3-4). Early Euro-Canadian art, literature, and science portrayed Indigenous peoples as aimless, roaming; part of a wild country not civilized by

Europeans, contributing to the justification for taking control of territories. These representations propagated a value judgement that made any appreciation of Indigenous beliefs or ways of life impossible (Délage 1993, 49).

Popular settler representations of Indigenous peoples as “vanishing” or "unproductive" worked in conjunction with attacks on Indigenous peoples’ appearances and ways of life, further limiting any potential for settler empathy or solidarity with Indigenous peoples and legitimizing colonial land policy. Settler writers, travellers, and missionaries from the 17th to 20th centuries consistently referred to Indigenous peoples as unattractive, dirty, treacherous, swarthy, cruel, and war-like (Francis 1992; Hennepin 1690; Jameson 1838; Lanman 1854; Mackenzie 1970; Marsh

1864; Moodie 1852; Shrubsole 2013; Volney 1803). Religious context was often at the centre of many perceptions as colonists routinely referred to Indigenous peoples as “godless” or devilish in their moral character and spirituality (Axtell 1985, 12-13; Bataille 2001, 2; Berkhoffer 1978,

19-20; Hennepin 1690; Ryerson Young 1897). Settlers discriminated against Indigenous and mixed-raced women, seeing them as threatening, poor mothers, and ugly and often assumed that relationships between white men and Indigenous women would turn men more "savage" (Perry

2001, 50, 70). Settlers believed that preserving forms of European economic and social institutions (marriage, agriculture) was at the core of the survival of colonial settlements (Carter

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2008, 5-8). In the late 19th century, missionary and educator Egerton Ryerson Young (1840-

1909) wrote of the "evils" of Indigenous marital practices and settlers often criticized the amount of work that women did in communities in comparison to European aristocratic and middle-class women (Ballantyne 1848; Francis 1992; Mackenzie 1970; Ryerson Young 1897). Not only did settlers deem Indigenous peoples vanishing and unable to consistently make appropriate use of the land (by European standards), their entire existence was deemed outside a European-

Christian paradigm, beyond the pale of civilization and therefore less than human.

Bureaucrats in the 19th century, having authority over wilderness lands, were certainly influenced by popular notions of Indigeneity. The 19th century forestry branch was the administrative body in charge of parks. Bureaucrats in this department eventually became the architects of Ontario’s first provincial parks and they explicitly justified the denial of access and dispossession of Indigenous people from parkland in the name of resource protection and environmental policy. In the section below, these dispossessions are clear, as are the perspectives of parks officials as part of the larger legislative, bureaucratic, and cultural movement to

“vanish” and vanquish Indigenous peoples and expropriate their lands for colonial purposes.

Algonquin Park: Dispossession by Administration

Investigating the repercussions of early parks policy is one way to see how popular settler mythologies of Indigenous peoples motivated the practice of bureaucrats in the 19th century, to create parks as exclusionary settler institutions. Algonquin Park is an exemplary case of how bureaucrats relied on popular ethnocentric settler mythologies to justify using legislation to

154 dispossess. Algonquin land-use and struggles must contextualize the actions of parks bureaucrats. Algonquin attempts to retain their land and the inadequate responses from governments, properly frame the actions of parks bureaucrats in an administration that systematically misunderstood Algonquin relations to the land.

Long before Europeans arrived, Algonquin people lived, hunted, and traded in the area around the Ottawa valley and their movements in the area are important to understanding settler misconceptions. Although communities moved with the seasons and later to cope with colonial conflict, the Ottawa valley remains Algonquin land and spans both the north and south sides of the Ottawa River with hunting territories as far north as Lake Nipissing (Hansen 1986; Huitema n.d.; Trigger & Day 1994) including a large part of eastern Ontario (see Figure 1). The recent

Algonquins of Ontario (AOO) land claim (1988) involving the governments of Ontario and

Canada includes nine million acres of land in the watersheds of the Ottawa and Mattawa Rivers

(OTN 2015). Algonquin people traditionally held large gatherings in the summer months along the Ottawa river to fish, hunt, and socialize, with smaller groups spreading out in family hunting camps in the winter (Hansen 1986; OPH 2015; Trigger & Day 1994). Conflict with

Haudenosaunee communities in the 1630s caused Algonquin people and their Nipissing allies to relocate to the outer limits of the Ottawa Valley (OPH 2015; Dickason 1997; Huitema n.d.;

Trigger & Day 1994). A mission at Lake of Two Mountains in present-day Québec became a main contact point for Algonquin and Nipissing communities in the early 1700s, but did not reflect the large area the communities occupied. In 1791 Algonquin and Nipissing communities permanently relocated their summer gathering place to Seminary St. Sulpice on the north shore of Lake of Two Mountains near Montréal. Algonquin people would stay at the mission for a few summer months to trade furs then leave for hunting grounds all through the Ottawa Valley in

155 winter, unlike some Haudenosaunee communities who would stay at the mission year-round and farm (Huitema n.d.). Algonquin family hunting groups were around 30 people, and each family had a hunting territory of about 1,000 square kilometres (HAN 2018). Even though Algonquin people occupied the lands of the Ottawa Valley, many communities moved throughout the region.

Euro-Canadian misunderstandings of Algonquin seasonal movements, propagated by anthropologists and missionaries, contributed to early ignorance around Algonquin land-use. In the early 20th century, anthropologist Frank Speck challenged a common belief in settler scholarship that Indigenous family hunting territory systems depended on the specialized economy of the fur trade, and that Indigenous communities adapted their economic patterns to that of the trade and Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC). Speck, whose research objective was to investigate the “hunting territorial divisions” of Algonquin communities (Speck 1915, 1), pointed out that Algonkian2 people had always relied heavily on beaver for fur and food, especially where ungulates were not plentiful (Speck & Eiseley 1939). Beaver were part of

Algonquin livelihoods and reliance on non-migratory animals encouraged links between families and particular winter hunting territories (Speck & Eiseley 1939). According to Speck, the HBC adjusted to the already existing economics of Indigenous territories (Speck & Eiseley 1939).

2 In accordance with the anthropological language of the time, Speck defined Algonquin as a “tribal designation” distinct from, but included in, the term Algonkian which referred to a larger linguistic community of Indigenous peoples (Speck 1915, 2). Speck’s use of these terms is consistent with the Algonquins of Ontario as they identify

Algonquian as a “cultural linguistic group comprised of many “tribes” of which Algonquin is one” (APO 2015;

Trigger & Day 1994, 64). Members of Algonquian communities (Algonquin, Ojibwa, Chippewa) may also identify as Anishinabe/Annishinabeg and it is important to note that identity is complicated by politics, history, geography and interpretation (Lawson 2001, 143).

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Algonquin communities occupying lands along the Ottawa River prior to European contact had lifestyles that necessitated summer gathering and movement to family hunting territories in winter. Speck refuted early Jesuit claims that Algonquin communities “wandered” through territory, arguing that their movement was not “directionless.” Jesuits saw winter hunting as chaotic or unplanned because they associated land use entirely with European agriculture and because it made Algonquin children unavailable for education in Jesuit schools (Speck & Eiseley

1939, 275; Thwaites 1897). Speck argued that territory may have been more “fluid and adjustable” than was typical in 19th or 20th century Europe, but ultimately there were fairly well- defined winter hunting territories for each family in a community (Speck & Eiseley 1939, 276).

While spending time with communities at the head of Lake Timiskaming for the Geological

Survey of Canada in 1913, Speck noted hunting “lots” or “territories” for families which were

“fixed tracts of country” with boundaries determined by rivers, ridges, lakes, and other “natural landmarks” (Speck 1915, 1). He noted arrangements around hunting territory boundaries including complex land-use agreements (Speck 1915, 4). Much care must be taken when considering the observations of non-Indigenous anthropologists in the early twentieth century, but Speck’s claims are consistent with Algonquins of Ontario (AOO) characterizations of land- use and economics at contact. Speck lived with a number of Algonkian communities in areas near Temagami, Timiskaming, and along the Ottawa valley. His challenge to the anthropological community in the early 20th century highlights the prevailing ignorance of Algonquin land relations. Whether the hunting territory system existed pre- or post-contact, Algonquin communities were certainly moving from summer gathering spaces to winter hunting grounds.

The seasonal economic lifestyle of Algonquin communities, paired with close proximity to other

157 communities with different economic patterns, confused European understandings of territories and boundaries.

Figure 1: Algonquin Territory

Since the 18th century, government and settler misinterpretations of Algonquin territories challenged Algonquin occupancy of land and motivated Algonquin resistance. The evolving governments of Canada and Upper Canada/Ontario consistently worked to establish agricultural settlement and sell timber licenses in the Ottawa valley, prompting Algonquin communities to

158 launch petitions and claims to prohibit encroachments. Treaty negotiations after the Royal

Proclamation of 1763 led to disagreements around territories. Algonquin people claimed the

Crawford Purchase in 1783 included their territory around the Brockville area, while officials on behalf of Governor Haldimand only included Mississauga people in negotiations (Huitema n.d.).

Algonquin communities also petitioned Upper Canada in 1791, 1796, and 1798, seeking reprieve from Haudenosaunee and settler encroachment on hunting grounds (Hansen 1986). Chiefs at

Lake of Two Mountains demanded title to land promised by French priests in 1787 and 1795, but the British government ignored demands (Hansen 1986; Huitema n.d.). The Constitution Act of

1791 separated the Province of Quebec into Upper Canada and Lower Canada at the Ottawa

River, dividing Algonquin hunting territory between two colonial jurisdictions and further complicating an already unresponsive bureaucracy (Hansen 1986; Huitema n.d.). In 1816,

Mississaugas claimed there were no Algonquin lands on the south side of the Ottawa River, and the Rideau Purchase of 1819-1822 excluded Algonquins but compensated Mississaugas (Hansen

1986; Huitema n.d.). Algonquins demanded compensation but the government provided none

(Hansen 1986; OPH 2015). In 1838, Algonquin and Nipissing communities petitioned against the encroachment of settlers on hunting territory on both sides of the Ottawa River, and

Haudenosaunee people living at Lake of Two Mountains signed a declaration of support in the same year (Hansen 1986). A comprehensive petition to Governor-General Sydenham in 1840 cited a number of grievances including the activities of lumbermen and settlers encroaching on hunting grounds on both sides of Ottawa and Mattawa Rivers (Hansen 1986). Petitions continued throughout the 19th century, and even though Golden Lake reserve was established in 1873 for

Algonquin people it “only secured a tiny portion of what once had been the original homeland of the Algonquins” (OPH 2015). Complicated political and social relationships with the Crown and

159 neighbouring communities made it difficult for Algonquin people to continue to occupy their land. Parliament signed the Act of Union in 1840, uniting Upper and Lower Canada into the

Province of Canada and bringing Algonquin land under a unified colonial authority, but left the many Algonquin petitions unanswered (Lawson 2001).

The history of Lawrence Township, now in Algonquin Park, reveals the exclusionary nature of Algonquin Park and the lengths administrators went to keep the land inaccessible to

Algonquin people. Algonquins of Pikwàkanagàn petitioned the Governor General for land in the

1850s amidst timber exploitation and settlement in the Ottawa Valley (Lawson 2001), and the

Crown granted a land patent in 1873, which became the Golden Lake reserve (Huitema 2000;

OPH 2015). Algonquin chiefs petitioned for 4,000 acres of land in Lawrence Township in 1863, now the north-east corner of Haliburton county and the south-west portion of Algonquin Park

(see Figure 1), with further petitions in 1886 and 1888 (Huitema 2000; Lawson 2001). The

Departments of Crown Lands and Indian Affairs sent conflicting responses to Algonquin people from the 1860s to the 1890s about the land at Lawrence Township. Crown Lands agreed to reserve land in 1866 but Indian Affairs argued the land would have to be purchased fee-simple

(Huitema 2000). Even though the local Indian Agent E. Bennet supported Algonquin claims with a letter to Indian Affairs, senior officials recommended that the Algonquin people at Lawrence relocate to Golden Lake. Bennet remarked that Algonquin people at Lawrence did not “belong” at Golden Lake and there was no room for them on the reserve (Lawson 2001, 392-393).

Parks bureaucrats used common-place 19th century stereotypes of Indigenous peoples to justify excluding Algonquin people from park lands. The Assistant Commissioner of Crown

Lands Aubrey White, who worked on the Algonquin Park Commission with Crown Lands

Commissioner Alexander Kirkwood in 1893, blocked providing lands to Indian Affairs to create

160 a reserve. In a letter to Deputy Superintendent of Indian Affairs Hayter Reed in 1895, White insisted there were few Indians in the Lawrence Township area and those present made only a

“small improvement” to the land. He felt the land was “well adapted” for settlement and needed to be cleared more thoroughly to prove adequate occupancy. He insisted that the “predatory habits” and tendency of Algonquin people to “roam about” in Lawrence Township would pose a

“great danger to the preservation of the game in the park” and make it difficult to keep track of them and have them recognize that new laws apply on the park land (White 1895). White’s insistence on excluding Algonquin people from the park exemplified the common settler perception that Indigenous people were wild, unproductive people dwindling away. There were strong self-serving contradictions in his position as he simultaneously insisted that land in the park was valuable for agriculture and good only for timber preservation. The Algonquin Park

Commission was clear in its insistence that the land was not arable (RCFRNP 1893). Whatever the capacity of the land, White deemed the Indigenous people of the region unwelcome by virtue of their poor methods of clearing the land and preparation for agricultural use: he described any work that had been done as “roughly underbrushing in the Indian style” (White 1895). White, a bureaucrat in a powerful position in the Crown Lands department, relied on common ethnocentrisms of the day to justify excluding Algonquin people from the parkland. Algonquin

Park Superintendent G. W. Bartlett reinforced similar stereotypes in 1914 when he asked the

Department of Lands, Forests, and Mines for rifles for park rangers because, “They have to deal with Indians and bad ones” (Bartlett, 1914).

Aubrey White was not the only Crown Lands public servant espousing ignorant and exclusionary views on Indigenous land occupancy. Alexander Kirkwood, Chair of the Algonquin

Commission and long-time Crown lands employee, had peculiar opinions about where

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Indigenous peoples ought to live. Kirkwood, in a letter to the Earl of Dufferin from 1874, proposed creating an “Indian Colony” where land would be granted in fee to Indians “who understand something of agriculture.” He thought land at the head of Lake Temiscaming, encompassing two townships, would be suitable for “all young Indians…conversant with agriculture.” He suggested that this permanent settlement could include people from all across the colony toward “perpetuating an almost extinct race, and incorporating them as members of the Empire” (Kirkwood 1874). Kirkwood’s remarks emanated from concern for Indigenous peoples, but were as dangerous as those of Aubrey White. Kirkwood’s suggestion that

Indigenous peoples all converge at Lake Temiscaming demonstrated ignorance on the importance of land, place, and territory to Indigenous communities. A movement of such proportions would further disconnect people from the places and rhythms they had lived with since time immemorial, and disrupt cultural connections to the land. His commitment to the supremacy of agriculture demonstrated a further ignorance of Indigenous economics and its importance to cultural continuity. Kirkwood’s suggestion also demonstrated a significant ignorance about the number of Indigenous people living in the area and the complicated land agreements already in place (Délage 1993), relying on and perpetuating the myth of the

“vanishing Indian.”

Concluding Thoughts

Colonial administrators were a powerful contingent of those interested in conservation, as they were both the architects of early parks and involved in larger networks of environmental thinking. Civil servants felt a "growing sense of responsibility" toward wildlife conservation and

162 created new concepts that influenced government policy (Foster 1998, 13). The civil service was undoubtedly a powerful influence over the creation of parks in Ontario, even more so than government, as administrators carried out the research, surveys, and parks policy. Foster acknowledges that civil servants were not biologists and, based their knowledge on "practical experience" and sharing ideas (Foster 1998, 15). Bureaucrats are at the heart of a nexus that involved sharing colonial ideas about the environment, and fostering paternalism in early conservation administration that had "racist overtones" and neglected Indigenous communities

(Sandlos 2007, 12).

Policies and practices of colonialism co-evolved in Canada to create self-reinforcing structures of exclusion. Colonial policy-makers in the years around Canadian Confederation were not only architects of institutional power, but also physical occupants of the land as settlers.

The creation of provincial parks administration in Ontario in the late 19th century is a useful example of administrative capacities creating the conditions for dispossession of land through the re-drawing and re-imagining of boundaries and landscapes, and guided by a cultural tendency to label Indigenous peoples in ways that privileged European values. Lorenzo Veracini notes that settler colonies "tame" wilderness to extinguish Indigenous "alterities" (Veracini 2011, 3). The notion of wilderness as empty land creates spaces of non-arable land more accessible to settler use. Discussing parks as a means of dispossession in Ontario necessitates context by the tactics

Canada has employed to attempt to create the conditions necessary to motivate changing the land.

This paper is concerned with the contextual processes used to build images of Indigenous people as vanishing to open the land to settler manipulation, and inform bureaucrats who made important decisions on land management in relation to parks. Settlers, but particularly

163 bureaucrats and people of letters, took little concern in the livelihoods of Indigenous peoples and places. Government institutions built legislation and institutions to break up land and separate people from it, and literature and art displayed Indigenous peoples in a way that largely erased them from the land or placed them in static caricature. The combination of policy and practice that effectively worked to erase language, land, and peoples is devastating. Parks are one institutional example of where those erasures allow bureaucrats to shift the landscape. Parks began as extremely exclusionary spaces that depended on a settler vision of vacancy to exploit timber and maintain a certain environmental standard.

Parks are not uncomplicated and natural. Governments, administrations, and the media have constructed representations of lands and peoples through history, helping motivate changes to the land. There are many cases where parks have caused dispossession or displacement throughout Canada. As mentioned, Caldwell First Nation lost their traditional land due to Crown neglect and ignorance in treaty negotiations, with the government establishing Point Pelee

National Park on Caldwell territory (Rose 2008). John Sandlos (2007) documents the tensions in the Northwest Territories between Indigenous communities and conservation initiatives, where policies excluded Indigenous peoples and their land-use practices in the creation of Banff, Riding

Mountain, and Prince Albert National Parks. Indigenous hunters and trappers resisted government efforts to create Wood Buffalo National Park and Kluane National Park (Martin

2011). Ivvavik National Park (formerly Northern Yukon National Park), created as part of the

Inuvialuit Final Agreement in 1984, faced considerable opposition from the Inuvialuit to state- run environmental protection (Martin 2011). These are only a few cases, but nonetheless highlight the ongoing tensions that parks policy creates, and the importance of interrogating the decisions we make around environmental spaces.

164

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Conclusion: Images, History, and Reconciliation

The inception of Ontario provincial parks depended on a political structure that allowed governments to enclose wilderness lands quickly to make parks productive for settler economics and environmental sensibilities. Settler authorities’ ethnocentric disregard for Indigenous peoples and their relationship to the land created the conditions to construct parks as a settler colonial environmental institution. Bureaucrats had remarkable power to convince governments to create parks and reshape the land to meet British and Western European ideals, borrowing political practices (enclosure) and environmental ideas (e.g. regarding climate conditions) from British colonial and European experiences. Economic resource interests were not the only motivations for park creation, as anxieties about climate and Indigenous land-use also motivated enclosure and land management. The nature of political power and the ways bureaucrats saw the environment worked in conjunction to create an enclosure-reserve-practice that characterized early environmental settler colonialism in Ontario. This political-environmental interplay reveals

Ontario parks as a form of early ‘Indian policy,’ as park creation ultimately led to the result that enfranchisement and civilization policies were designed to achieve: Indigenous land dispossession.

In regards to the relevant literature, this project has proposed looking at both the traditional economic narratives of park creation and the political and environmental cultures of settler (white) supremacy to see how culture and economics combine to create a dangerous impediment to Indigenous peoples’ well-being. This project challenges conventional history of

Ontario parks by exploring the historical influence of political power on the environment, placing parks in the larger settler colonial framework that defined early Canada. This project connects power and place by interrogating how bureaucrats used their influence and knowledge

179 of ecology to create parks. Parks did not just appear; they resulted from government-initiated planning. Bureaucrats facilitated that planning process and their actions led to the disruption of

Indigenous livelihoods.

I have explored the institutional genesis of parks, but the role they play as images of

Canadian national culture, that obfuscate histories of dispossession, requires further investigation. Gerald Vizenor draws on Baudrillard’s Simulacra and Simulation in his discussion of the relationship between symbols and society. Baudrillard suggests that images can move from a reflection of reality to an obfuscated “masking” that can become a complete simulation of reality (Baudrillard 1981; Vizenor 1998 148). Images depend on those who control their creation, promotion, and distribution. Again, Vizenor describes Indigenous people as

“poselocked” (in portraiture, photography, etc.) through history as “fugitives of ethnocentric discovery” (Vizenor 1998 146). Portraiture and imagery, and in more contemporary cases film, advertisements, sports, and music, often “transposes a native presence” in “spectacles of dominance” (Vizenor 1998 146). Recent conversations about sports team names (the NFL’s

Washington franchise, for example) and advertisements (e.g. the 2019 ad for Dior’s Sauvage cologne) continue a long tradition of settlers constructing particular Indigenous imagery in popular culture to suit settler spectacles (sports, consumerism). Parks, as land where people live(d), and places of great cultural importance to Indigenous peoples, can also become

“poselocked.” The advertisements for great, happy, vast leisure grounds are a prominent example of the simulacrum Vizenor and Baudrillard write about (Ontario Parks Instagram). Government administration (and hegemony) is central to the processes that present parks as a simulacrum, where coercion and consent through well-managed images can present a place as incredibly innocuous or innocent. Canadian cultural imagery is often “constructed through objects whose

180 very banality belies their crucial role in rendering both the crisis of national identity and its reproduction” (Margot 2011 12). Seemingly innocent narratives can prompt powerful forms of nationalist sentiment (Billig 1995), and mythologies perpetuate them (Mackey 1999). In reality, parks are part of real struggles for communities and nations to maintain sovereignty and cultural continuity. Parks, as institutions, have caused undeniable harm to Indigenous peoples. Parks, as images, continue to exacerbate that damage by obfuscating the truth of history. The image of parks prompt powerful settler sentiments. This project focuses more on historical power relations and the foundations of Ontario parks administration, but there is room for more work on parks as images and their roles in national mythologies.

Although researching the history of all parks in Ontario is beyond the scope of this dissertation, focusing on Algonquin Park limits the discussion when many other park histories are implicated in similar settler colonial processes. The example of Quetico Provincial Park suggests that Algonquin Park was not the only provincial park formed through ignorance, misunderstanding, and ethnocentrism. Situated northwest of Lake Superior, Quetico Provincial

Park sits on the traditional lands of the Lac La Croix First Nation and Sturgeon Lake First

Nation. Both nations signed Treaty 3 (1873), and the federal government and Lac La Croix First

Nation established a reserve in the area post-Treaty. The government then turned part of the area into a forest reserve in 1909 to preserve timber resources and game (McNab 1999). The

Provincial Park Act in 1913 consolidated parks under a new legislative framework and turned the Quetico forest reserve into an official park, thereby withdrawing all lands from sale, settlement, and occupancy (Hodgins and Cannon 1998; Killan 1998; Quetico Provincial Park

History 2013). Although Sturgeon Lake First Nation chose a 6,000-acre area for a reserve, a scarcity of game forced people to relocate temporarily to nearby areas, and construction of a

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CPR line attracted some people from Sturgeon Lake First Nation for work (McNab 1999). With the rail line moving through the area, the scarcity of game, and the new Provincial Parks Act limiting hunting, fishing, and settlement, access to the land became difficult. Provincial officials eventually demanded Sturgeon Lake First Nation people leave the area and some people took refuge with Lac La Croix First Nation nearby (Killan 1998; McNab 1999; Quetico Provincial

Park History 2013). The government forcibly removed the remaining Sturgeon Lake First Nation members from their land at present-day Quetico Park (McNab 1999; Killan 1998). Post-

Provincial Parks Act, Rangers were hostile to Indigenous hunters and trappers, referring to them as “outlaws” and arresting them for “trespassing” within park boundaries (Quetico Provincial

Park History 2013). Even though the Assistant Commissioner of Crown Lands Aubrey White insisted that Indigenous reserves would not be affected by establishing Quetico Park (Killan

1998), the people were dispossessed. More recently, Lac La Croix First Nation responded to a government paper celebrating the history of the Quetico-Superior area in 1986. The document neglected Indigenous relationships with the land and did not discuss the removal of people from the territory, instead referring to local Indigenous peoples as violent and “wild” (Native Bands,

Reserves, and Claims Files 2013). The lessons from Quetico are important to note because the same bureaucrats were in charge of parks policy (namely Aubrey White and Alexander

Kirkwood) and the case strongly suggests that the Provincial Parks Act in 1913 was a continuation of the Algonquin Park Act in 1893, and that the Algonquin Park experience could be generalized across the province.

The temporal limitations of my project open possibilities for future work that focuses on contemporary parks. As communications change in the 21st century, the nature of research changes. The historical analysis relates to current trends with parks in social media. Ontario

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Parks has recently increased its social media presence on an Instagram account, which includes images and statements that almost completely neglect Indigenous histories and praises the so- called “pristine” character of parks and their ability to improve Ontarians’ health. The account largely represents parks as a commodity, in that it presents photographs of treed landscapes, open waters, flora and fauna, appealing to people’s love of the outdoors. Many posts are geared toward selling equipment rentals (boats, RVs, cabins), education programs (exploration camps, interpretation walks, forest camps for kids), and annual passes. The posts largely focus on ecology and geology, but there is little mention of history and human geography. The few historical conversations point to settler structures like an old fire tower at Restoule Provincial

Park and the still-standing stonework pillars at the Chutes Provincial Park entrance sign (Ontario

Parks Instagram May 29, 2019; Ontario Parks Instagram Mar. 29, 2019). The posts sometimes cover settler history, such as the use of Neys Provincial Park to house German “prisoners” during

WWII. The posts mention the Group of 7 artists a few times, even asking visitors to retrace their footsteps to exact locations where their sketches were drawn (Ontario Parks Instagram Apr. 11,

2019). One post notes that Sleeping Giant Provincial Park was originally named after the former

President of Silver Islet Consolidated Mining Company, but there is no mention of the significance of the Sleeping Giant or its history (Ontario Parks Instagram May 3, 2019). Another post curiously notes the definition of the German word Waldeinsamkeit meaning the feeling of being alone in the wilderness (Ontario Parks Instagram Apr. 22, 2019). With so many Provincial

Parks named from Indigenous words, it is interesting that there were no posts regarding

Indigenous names. The few mentions of Indigenous peoples are brief. One post mentions

Indigenous rock carvings alongside the War of 1812 and Group of 7 paintings at the Lake St.

Peter Provincial Park Visitor Centre (Ontario Parks Instagram Mar. 15, 2019). Two posts include

183 more significant Indigenous content. One post mentions that Anishinaabe and Haudenosaunee people use the back of a turtle as a lunar calendar (Ontario Parks Instagram May 7, 2019).

Another post mentions that Inuit have many stories about the Northern Lights, one of which says it is the light of fires held by ancestors to light the way for the souls of the dead (Ontario Parks

Instagram Jan. 29, 2019). The account includes a post about 84 unique park crests developed by

Ontario Parks, and though it did not mention the use of Indigenous symbols in some of the crests, a user inquired and Ontario Parks responded saying a First Nations staff member sketched the original drawings (Ontario Parks Instagram Mar. 28, 2019). Ultimately, the Ontario Parks account focuses on the “pristine” nature of “wilderness,” the health benefits of people who use the park spaces, and the importance of preserving natural spaces. The images and words are geared toward appealing to a sentiment of settler “cultural heritage,” and promoting equipment rentals and programs, rather than exploring the stories that made parks what they are today, who was affected by park creation, and how the land has changed to meet the needs of settlers. The use of social media could expand the discussion of the liberal order and settler colonialism, intertwined with nationalist sentiments, as a representative analysis of contemporary parks.

We cannot reconcile colonial relationships without acknowledging the actions settlers have taken upon so-called “wild” spaces, and how those actions affected Indigenous peoples.

When we are critical of the spaces we value, and we understand who is/has been affected by changes our ancestors made to the land, we can have a much more honest and healthy relationship with each other and the land. The actions we take continue to reverberate (in obvious and understated ways) in the present. To illuminate histories of dispossession is to re-place parks in a more honest and healthy way. Even though parks are beautiful spaces that many of us enjoy, their existence continues to perpetuate a settler colonial order by mythologizing a pristine

184 wilderness and neglecting the history of manipulation and dispossession. As part of the process of reconciliation, we must uncover the obfuscated histories of power imbalance and dispossession. This does not desecrate these so-called “natural” spaces but it can bring us closer to them by understanding how and why they came to be as constructed spaces. Parks are not uncomplicated, and to neglect their fraught history continues the denial of our shared colonial realities.

Tensions between governments, commercial resource interests, and Indigenous peoples continue, as struggles to maintain the health of the land continue. Parks are but one manifestation of environmental settler colonialism. Although some Indigenous nations have negotiated sub- surface rights in self-governing agreements, this is not the case for most nations. For any settler willing to learn, Canadian history is full of examples of resistance to encroachment and attempts to enclose, re-design, and subject “wild” lands to change and development – often without consultation or accommodation of Indigenous peoples who have never ceded territories or who live in the areas. Major conflicts occurred when the Teme-Augama Anishinaabai, along with settler environmentalists, blockaded loggers in the 1980s as they encroached further into NDaki

Menan/Temagami in Ontario. Loggers clashed with the Tla-o-qui-aht First Nation and Ahousaht

First Nation and environmentalists in Clayoquot Sound, B.C. in the 1980s and 1990s. The so- called “Oka Crisis” of 1990 was a painful example of how many settlers valued large swaths of land for middle-class leisure sports over the protection of sacred Mohawk lands. Now, with impending environmental crises on the horizon due to climate change, we must take time to criticize government action in the name of “green policy,” as those policies (e.g. resource development in the north as ice melts, fracking, etc.) affect people. The absence of consultation

(at the very least least) or participatory, community-based projects is a major impediment to

185 reconciliation in regards to land development. With fracking at Elsipogtog, polluted rivers at

Grassy Narrows, and bitumen-related health issues in the Fort Chipewyan region, the health of the land is of utmost importance for everyone. In this way, this project continues a tradition of questioning what we (settlers) value in the land, questioning traditions of enclosure and private property, and questioning how our actions and our ancestors’ actions, even in the name of conservation or climate change, have affected Indigenous peoples.

Works Cited

Baudrillard, Jean. (1994). Simulacra and Simulation. Glaser, Sheila Faria. (Trans.). Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

Billig, Michael. (1995). Banal Nationalism. London: Sage.

Hodgins, Bruce A., and Cannon, Kerry W. (1998). “The Aboriginal Presence in Ontario Parks and other Protected Places.” In Hodgins, Bruce W., and Marsh, John S. (Eds.). Chaging Parks: The History, Future and Cultural Context of Parks and Heritage Landscapes. Toronto: Natural Heritage.

Mackey, Eva. (1999). The House of Difference: Cultural Politics and National Identity in Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

Margot, Francis. (2011). Creative Subversions: Whiteness, Indigeneity and the National Imaginary. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press.

McNab, David. (1999). Circles in Time: Aboriginal Land Rights and Resistance in Ontario. Waterloo: Wilfred Laurier Press.

Native Bands, Reserves, and Land Claims Files. (Accessed 2013). Archives of Ontario. RG 1- 568. Accessed Ontario 2013.

Ontario Parks. Instagram. Posts from March 2019 to May 2019.

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Quetico Provincial Park History. RG 47-64, B239956. Archives of Ontario. Accessed October 2013.

Vizenor, Gerald. (1998). Fugitive Poses: Native American Indian Scenes of Presence and Absence. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press.

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